Author's Note: The inspiration for this came out of nowhere. This one is completely without dialogue, and still fluffy enough to smother you. Inspired by a lot of listening to The xx and Eels, and really just wanting to explore the softer side of two of our favorite characters. ^_^ I'm not sure if I'm happy with the way this one turned out, but this is how it's turned out.
xStealthxSniperx: My words are motherfuckin' art. ~_~ haha. Depending on the mood, I can really get sucked into the angsty side of things, so no worries. Next update is heeeeere. :D
Reg: Yes, the ending was terribly depressing, but I'm glad you still managed to enjoy it. :)
Dibs on money: One day, I will utilize all of my advanced vernacular and create something inexplicably pulchritudinous and likely magniloquent and bombastic! Aaaaand this is why I regret Freinding my 11th grade AP English teacher on Facebook. -_-; lol. Glad you enjoy the writing.
Arhani "Hanny" Daforcena: Sorry for the near crying incident. D: But I warrrrned youuuu! lol. I have seen the MW3 trailers, and I have fangirl'd all over the damn place accordingly. ^_^
GranBoy: I have missed the hell out of you. D: But yes, life is crazy hectic and unforgiving. :/ Three cheers for Good-Timing Postman, eh? haha. Yes, I do what you mean, and I try to avoid writing angst that just downs you for the rest of the week. Not. My. Style. P:
xGhostxStealth: Oh, my secret past of poetic angst is revealed! Still thyself, o' heart beating so rapid within my traitorous chest! Yeah. I went there. /dork moment. I couldn't bring myself to not write the angst there, though. It just fit so well with everything, and it's been a long while since I wrote a post-deathfic. I'm glad it turned out so well.
duvalia: Yeah, you and your angst... The disjointed motif was really telling of my own thought process, though it's considerably less poetic and more disjointed/random... Heh... But, you best write that which you know, eh? Glad you managed to enjoy both endings. ^_^
As unfortunate as it was, waking up early was just part of life for Simon. His internal alarm clock went off around sunrise every morning. Some days, he would turn the internal alarm off and get a few more hours of sleep. Today, however, he had better ideas. He was careful to avoid waking his bedmate on his way out and towards the bathroom. He showered quickly, brushed his teeth, dressed, all without waking his lover up. He stood in the bedroom doorway for a moment, leaning against the door frame, watching Gary sleep. He was so beautiful when he slept, especially with the way the light coming through the blinds painted him with streaks and stripes of light and the way he looked like he was finally at peace.
Simon eventually tore himself away from the doorframe and silently made his way to the kitchen. He turned on the MP3 player connected to his speakers in the kitchen and set about making breakfast. He wasn't all too worried with waking Gary up; Sanderson could be one hell of a heavy sleeper when the mood struck him. They had just landed home from a mission, and were healing up a little at a time. Technically, they were on medical leave, despite the fact that they'd sustained worse injuries from more strenuous missions. The simple fact of the matter was that they were in desperate need of the time off and were dangerously close to working themselves to death.
Riley had made quite a fair bit of progress on breakfast when he heard Gary start the shower. He smiled to himself at the thought; the Sergeant had a way of looking almost adorable when he was waking up in the morning with the way he stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Simon was still smiling when Gary joined him, starting the eggs while Simon monitored the bacon. They worked together in companionable silence, never feeling the need to say anything. Once the food was taken off the heat and was no longer in danger of burning, Riley backed his Sergeant up against one of the counters and kissed him with a surprising degree of gentility. Gary smiled into the contact and wound his arms around Riley's neck.
They took breakfast on the patio in the sunshine, still maintaining their quiet companionship. Simon's house was on the far edge of civilization, distant enough so he wasn't bothered, but close enough so that he wasn't inconvenienced. There was a sprawling patch of forest that seemed to stretch on endlessly just beyond his back fence. It was a quiet, pleasant existence for the two of them, where nothing was expected of them, and they could come and go as they pleased with few exceptions.
There was a large clearing about two miles into the woods behind Simon's house, a place he liked to go and think and do nothing and be bothered by nothing. It was too close to the city for hunting or fishing, and too far from the city for joggers, meaning they were guaranteed an afternoon alone in the forest. Gary enjoyed packing a lunch for the two of them and walking the two miles so they could have a quiet afternoon with one another. Gary made a few sandwiches and threw them into a backpack, along with some trail mix, various fruits and vegetables, a few bottles of water, a few cans of beer, and some freeze-packs to keep the food cold while they walked. Simon stuffed a large, old quilt into the bag along with his MP3 player and a set of portable speakers. He zipped the bag up, threw it over his shoulder, locked the doors, and started walking towards the woods, Sanderson following close behind him. Simon took his lover's hand as they wound through the trees, following a path that only they could see as they walked deeper and deeper into the forest.
The clearing was several hundred yards across, and could have been more accurately described as a "meadow", but that was a word that Simon hated for reasons he didn't quite understand himself. He threw the blanket out in the middle of the clearing and set up the MP3 player to continue playing something mellow and calm. He dropped down onto the quilt and stared up at the brilliant blue sky. Gary settled in next to him and hummed along with the song that was playing.
Simon wasn't entirely sure how long they were lying there before his lover stood up and began wandering through the grass. Simon wasn't particularly bothered by that, and knew that Gary wouldn't be wandering off too far, and not for long. Sanderson soon returned to the blanket in a manner that was almost comical; he dropped down to straddle his Lieutenant's hips with a bundle of bright red Drummond Phlox flowers gripped in his teeth, which were bared in a mischievous grin. Simon smiled up at him, a rare, soft, gentle, genuine smile, that made him seem so much more real in that moment than any action had ever made him seem before. Heavy hands settled on his hips and Gary set his red flowers to the side. He leaned forward and pressed light, gentle kisses to his lover's temples, the bridge of his nose, and the corners of his lips. He smiled down at his British lover and traced a healing cut that ran parallel to his hairline, though his eyes were still locked with Simon's. They were both battered and beaten and scraped and bruised and still only half-healed. Gary smiled faintly and kissed his lover properly, right on the lips.
It wasn't long before they were again lying side by side, Sanderson tracing the soft petals of his picked flowers, and Riley watching him with a smile hinting at unspeakable contentment. Between the sun shining down on them through the opening in the canopy of trees and the unmoving, unshakable warmth of Simon by his side, Gary was sure that cold in any degree was a punishment of some kind. He also decided that he could be a mile underground, surrounded by walls of concrete and lead with an endless supply of food, water, and oxygen, and he would never feel as safe as he did right then, unarmed, out in the open, almost half-asleep, and lying with his lover. It was a strange way to feel, but it was how he felt, regardless of how silly it seemed, and likely stemmed from the fact that he was having a surprisingly difficult time telling where he stopped and Simon started.
It took a bit of coaxing some hours later, but Simon eventually convinced Gary that they should eat the food they'd packed. They ate the sandwiches with no issue, but the trail mix was a different story. Gary threw raisins at his lover, who responded with dried banana chips, and the fight soon escalated to entire apples and oranges, and it was only a few more moments before Simon had his Sergeant tucked beneath him, hands held harmlessly out of the way. Riley soon abandoned his initial plan of "abusing" the Sergeant into submission and decided that it would be far more beneficial to change tactics. He left fluttering trails of kisses along the side of Sanderson's neck, pausing for a moment at a nearly-healed but particularly gruesome wound. He had taken a sniper bullet to the throat, got lucky when it grazed and didn't hit any major veins or arteries. It left a hell of a wound that would lead up to be a hell of a scar.
Not long after their "fight", Gary nestled down in a particularly warm patch of sunshine and watched as the tiny motes of dirt and pollen floated through the sunbeams. He heard Simon wandering around, rustling in the grass, and he knew that it would be a matter of time before his Lieutenant rejoined him. The American gathered up enough strength to turn over and face his lover when he returned. Simon had wild mint leaves clamped between his teeth. He offered a sprig of mint to Gary, who declined. Riley had always had issues with oral fixation, which he remedied with smoking in high school, and then chewing gum, pen caps, fingernails, anything once he realized that lung cancer wasn't going to do his military career any favors. Sanderson pulled his lover back down onto their quilt and pressed against his side.
They watched a pair of birds circle overhead, fighting one another, though whether over a mate or territory was uncertain. It was a beautiful dance either way, and Gary found himself captivated. It wasn't long, though, before he tired of watching the birds and again straddled Simon, who simply gazed up at him with the same complacent look as before. Gary loved these silent moments between them; these pockets of quiet were often the only moments they had to be completely honest with one another. There was no room in the field for these long lazy hours of doing absolutely nothing, and the words they whispered to the silence at times like this were similarly forbidden anywhere else. It was an unfortunate separation, but one that they had to make. Gary leaned forward and kissed his Lieutenant, conveying every taboo word and emotion into the single action.
His fingers again trailed the new cut on his lover's face. He remembered when it had happened and he'd seen all the blood dripping down his face and he'd thought that his Simon would be coming home with only one blue eye. He was glad to have been proven wrong. He was caught up in the flashback of the explosion that had injured Simon and the subsequent sniper fire that almost killed him and he felt a bubble of fear begin to swallow him up before it burst and three words fell from his lips unbidden. The moment he realized what he'd said, he paused and searched his British lover's face for a moment before repeating them, this time with a little more conviction. Riley smiled up at him and repeated them, with the calm confidence that had started the American's head-over-heels fall for the blue-eyed man beneath him. There was a new, hard, fierce edge when the Sergeant kissed his Brit again. They had always confessed their love without words, always during these silent moments that remained silent, always without verbalizing. To have their emotions made more tangible was a rare and new brand of high for them. It was something that skipped like electricity over their skin and tasted like sweet spice as they spoke their forbidden words.
It didn't take many more words for them to decide to pack up and return home. They had spent their few hours in the silence and the sunshine, and it was time for more devious activities indoors. They weren't so careful when their backpack was tossed on to the couch; their care was directed at one another. It was almost strange that hands so soaked with blood and hardened through the killing of others could be so gentle and careful when brushing over the damaged skin of a lover. It was amazing that eyes so clouded with years of witnessing death and destruction could still find beauty in everything someone they loved could offer up.
They were still and silent again two hours later, wrapped up in one another, and Simon smiled when he realized he could no longer tell where he ended and Gary began. They could speak without words, could pick up on the tiniest indicators that something was wrong with the other, and operate as a single unit with more effectiveness and efficiency than anyone else could ever hope to. He could feel every dull thud of Gary's heart within his own chest, could feel himself expand with every breath his lover, his love, took. Gary shifted and, for a moment, Simon almost felt as though it were his own muscles slithering beneath the sun-kissed American skin. He whispered his three new favorite words to his sleeping lover and wasn't entirely surprised to hear them repeated. He knew better than to believe Gary would sleep through being told how loved he was. Simon kissed the back of his Sergeant's neck and whispered the words again, just so he could hear them said back to him. He was suddenly almost upset that neither of them had ever said those words before. Gary shifted again to face him and wrapped his arms around his Brit's waist and said his new favorite words for the umpteenth time in the past few hours, mumbled them around his exhaustion. Simon smiled and murmured the words into his bug's hair.
In the course of a few hours, everything had changed by accident, and they had become their lover's religion. "I love you" was whispered like a prayer, and touches lingered like reverent worship. They drifted in and out of sleep for the duration of the night, always taking those half-wakeful moments to whisper, taking advantage of this silence and peace. The words felt foreign before, heavy on their tongues like a dead language, but after practicing the words in quiet, half-heard whispers, the words flowed much more easily, no longer stumbling beyond their lips but moving with purpose. The words were no longer "Hail Mary", but "Ave Maria"; the same, but different. Exactly as they were before, but somehow more beautiful after so much practice, after so much more effort to take them from words to something somehow more. As the sunrise started and they began drifting off again, Simon decided that their very relationship had changed and their silent moments would never quite the same again. He also decided that he was fine with that.