Disclaimer: I know I don't own GW. Do you have to rub it in my face?
Warning: yaoi, language, lime, religious themes, smoking, sexual activity between minors, cynicism, and sarcastic humor
Award: Third Place Romance in the Vault's Spring Songfic Challenge
Fandom: Gundam Wing
Pairing: 1x2x1
A/N: This bit of fiction was inspired by Tori Amos' "Icicle." I fully intend to defy format protocol and paste the song lyrics before the fic, in order to properly set the mood and tone. Lyrics are denoted in italics. This is not meant to bash Catholicism. To suit the purposes of the author, the church is a catalyst for interaction. Think of it as a means to an ends. My father is Catholic and my mother is Episcopalian, so I actually know what I'm talking about.
all encompassing passage of time
Definitions you may need:
catechism: book or class on guidance in religion set in a question and answer format
sacristy: room in a church that holds the sacrements (bread and wine)
narthex: entrance area to sanctuary, a foyer of sorts
sanctuary: main room in church, where the service takes place
tithe: parishioners are expected to contribute 10 of their earnings to the church every week
creche: nativity scene (statues of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, wisemen, etc. set up at Christmas time)
midnight mass: Catholic service on Christmas eve which lets out at midnight to welcome the birth of Christ
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Asymphototropic for being a lovely and extremely helpful beta-reader. And thanks, as always, to my dear Harmonie Des Anges for being my support in writing, my sounding board, and always giving me a swift kick in the ass when I need one. You girls are wonderful!
Summary: In the unlikely setting of a church, two boys set out to learn about their beliefs, their opinions, sexuality, friendship, and love.
Icicle Icicle Icicle where are you going greeting the monster in our Easter dresses and when my hand touches myself Getting Off Getting Off while they're all downstairs I could have
By Tori Amos
I have a hiding place when spring marches in
will you keep watch for me
I hear them calling
gonna lay down
gonna lay down
Father says bow your head like the Good Book says
well I think the Good Book is missing some pages
gonna lay down
gonna lay down
I can finally rest my head
and when they say take from his body
I think I'll take from mine instead
singing prayers sing away he's in my pumpkin p.j's
lay your book on my chest
feel the word
feel the word
feel the word
feel it
I should have
I could have flown
you know I could have
I should have
I didn't so
Catechism
By Solanum Dulcamara
Standing to the side of the chapel, near the sacristy, he let his eyes wander over the congregation, paying the actual mass no attention. If he'd heard one sermon, he'd heard them all. And in the years since he'd been taken in by Saint Francis of Assisi Holy Catholic Church, he'd definitely listened to a lifetime's worth of sermons. It wasn't that he was ungrateful, quite the contrary. He was more than glad to be off of the streets... he just didn't buy into the whole "eternal damnation" thing.
He amused himself, instead, by contemplating the "flock." From the predominantly glazed over or dazed expressions, he guessed that most of them weren't listening to the sermon either. He knew the type: capitalist Christians. They came to the "board meeting" once a week, paid their ten percent investment in their after-life retirement fund, and left with a clean conscience. Salvation is a highly marketable commodity.
His scan stopped abruptly when he realized he was being watched. His gaze met blue eyes, which gave him pause: no one had taken notice of him before.
The blue eyes belonged to a boy about his age. He saw mingled cynicism and curiosity in their expression. Interesting.
Anything was better than hanging around for more "fire and brimstone" and hearing how humanity was doomed to failure, so he casually pushed off of the wall against which he'd been leaning, never losing eye contact with the boy. One brown eyebrow raised in question to his movement. He just threw a half-smile over his shoulder as he exited the sanctuary.
He stepped out into the cool of the breezeway knowing that he wouldn't have to wait long. The hazy gray of late winter stretched from horizon to horizon, dulling the world below. They wouldn't be able to stay outside long. Chill winter breezes, moistened by impending spring, seeped through clothing and skin.
The blue-eyed boy didn't disappoint. A mere moment later, the kid appeared out of the narthex. He watched the newcomer for a moment, before turning in the direction of a door at the side of the chapel. He lead the way up an old wooden staircase and into the steeple. The kid stood in the entryway, quietly watching him as he sat and pulled a box of matches and discarded candles out of a convenient hollow. At this the boy again raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes, I come to the bell tower for a little privacy," he offered by way of explanation as he lit each candle in turn, letting a little wax drip onto the wood and nestling the lit taper in the cooling puddle, "I'm Duo."
"Heero," Blue Eyes returned as he sat down next to the advent collection: three purple candles, one pink. They sat in silence after that, watching each other in the flickers that lit the dim Sunday morning.
After an indeterminable amount of time, Heero pulled up a freshly pressed pant-leg and dug a slightly crushed package of cigarettes out of his sock. At this, Duo simply tossed Heero the matches and retrieved a retired collection plate from his cubby-hole. Ash remnants in the former offertory vessel told Heero that the plate had served a similar purpose before. He took a drag and passed to Duo, who repeated his action.
They passed the rest of the service in this way, quietly sharing cigarettes. After stubbing out the fourth, Duo turned and blew out the candles. He watched the trails of smoke swirl and dissipate, leaving patterns in the misty air; gray on gray, the whole world in shades, the only color perceived in the blue eyes across from him.
He stood and offered Heero his hand, which was taken. He helped his companion to his feet, but then didn't relinquish his hold on the hand. Instead, he stepped closer to the boy with blue eyes.
The two came together easily, as lips found lips in an uncomplicated, inexperienced, inevitable kiss. "You should go before your parents start to wonder," Duo said.
Heero only nodded before descending the narrow spiral staircase.
Days melted into weeks which passed unnoticed save for the hours between 10:00 and 12:30 in the morning on the Christian sabbath. The boys congregated weekly in the bell tower, sometimes sharing cigarettes, sometimes sharing words, oftentimes sharing silent communication lip to lip. The kisses were many and varied, but always without pretense or question: an inevitability.
One such Sunday found the boys tucked up in the tower, Heero sitting against a wall with Duo's head resting in his lap. Their previously immaculate clothes bore the wrinkles of passionate postures, as they lay looking through a window at the bleak drizzle of March. Heero idly ran his fingers over Duo's braid as the silence stretched between them, accented by the constant patter of rain.
"Heero," Duo asked at length, "Do you believe in God, creation, evolution, what have you?"
The blue-eyed boy briefly glanced down at his companion. Leave it to Duo to ask such a difficult question during a comfortable silence on a lazy morning. "I think," he responded after a moment's thought, "That the vastness and complexity of the universe and its origins are beyond the human capacity for comprehension."
"You're an agnostic existentialist?"
"I'm not fond of labels... but I suppose so."
Duo nodded, as if mulling this all over before asking, "Hey Heero, do you ever think that rain is a desperate attempt to cleanse a world that can never really be clean?"
Heero had to smile at the odd combination of whimsy and cynicism implied by the question, before answering, "I suppose that all things can be whatever you make of them."
"What do you make of me?"
Taken aback, Heero took a second to just look down into Duo's steady gaze; the wide violet eyes were bright even in the dim lighting and his skin pale in the gray of the morning. He framed the face below his with his palms and leaned down slightly, speaking just above a whisper, "You are very like this universe: complex but beautiful." He felt more than heard Duo gasp as he leaned down the remaining distance to trail his lips over Duo's.
Duo's hands found their way into Heero's hair and the two stayed that way for some time, as organ strains wafted up into the steeple. Duo knew it was the recessional hymn, knew their time for the week was over, but couldn't bring himself to let go right away.
Heero felt a momentary tightening of the fingers in his hair before Duo's lips left his. To soften his hasty retreat, Duo chuckled into the scant inch between their mouths, "We should head down to the parish hall. You wouldn't want to miss cake and sweet tea, would you?"
"You know I hate that syrup you call tea."
"Yeah. How did you ever end up in Virginia?"
Heero shrugged as he stood to straighten his clothes, smiling as he watched Duo do the same, "It's not all bad, after all."
The braided boy returned his smile before assessing his friend's appearance, "You look like you took a quick tumble."
"Close enough. And you look about the same, so we're even."
They headed down the stairs and into the fellowship, going their separate ways, and independently ignoring any odd looks they were given.
Early spring sunlight peeked between wisps of clouds to wash over the bell tower and tumble through the windows over two boys wrapped in an enthusiastic embrace. Clothing hung limply from limbs or lay crumpled beneath bodies, forgotten for awhile, as fingertips trailed over familiar paths and mouths coasted over flesh, relearning every dip and plane.
Heero felt the rough of the wood-grain wall behind his back and the saliva cooling on his skin. His hands fisted in Duo's hair of their own volition and he watched a few of the impossibly soft tresses escape the braid to drape over his thighs, noting absently that his pants were still caught on one ankle. He spared no further thought in that direction as he was suddenly awash in pleasure, pleasure only found in the sanctuary of the steeple. He watched Duo's mouth descend and rise, felt the loose hairs tickling his legs, heard murmurs of the sermon drifting up from the chapel. Duo's hand crept down between his own legs, and Heero's hands, tangled in chestnut, tightened slightly in response to the sight. The chorus of Duo's soft humming, his own stifled groans, and the pedagogy of the room downstairs mingled strangely in the air about him, inspiring thought, "Duo, what makes a priest?"
The boy in question paused in his ministrations to look up curiously. Heero attempted to clarify, "I mean, what does it take to make a priest? Strength of belief?"
Duo gazed thoughtfully up at him from where he knelt. He languidly caressed his partner as he considered the question. "Faith or belief has little to do with being a priest. The formula is pretty simple: you take a baptized and confirmed Catholic male, with a flair for the dramatic and a bit of a power complex, and send him to seminary, also known as college for Christian leaders of tomorrow, where he'll be schooled in all manner of dogma, stigma, and bible-ology. He gets a degree and ta-da, insta-priest."
"It seems rather shallow."
"The church is shallow. It only follows that its leaders are, as well," and with no further comment, Duo returned to previous activities in earnest. As Heero looked at the boy kneeling between his legs, his last thought was of a parishioner bowed in supplication before an altar, as his body shook with orgasm. They lay for some time after, listening to the muted sounds of pipe organ and choir.
Duo sat up rather suddenly from where he rested on Heero's chest, and set about dressing. His actions caught the still supine boy by surprise and he must have seen a question in those blue eyes because he laughed and explained, "I have to go hide the eggs for the kids."
"It's Easter?"
"Apparently," Duo laughed again, buttoning up his shirt.
"I've never understood the significance of bunnies, eggs, and disgustingly sweet marshmallows shaped like birds," Heero replied as he stood to dress, as well.
The other boy paused in rebraiding his hair to chew on a few thoughts before answering, "Easter, like most Christian holidays, is really a bit of a sham. When the Catholic church first began its reign of terror in Europe, the Romans needed a way to convert the "heathen" masses. Their answer was to set up all major days of Christian remembrance around pagan celebrations, making Catholicism seem adaptable and enjoyable. Easter ended up mated with a fertility festival that used to happen on the vernal equinox. Hence, the bunnies, eggs, and chicks."
Heero pondered this information. "The Catholic church is certainly a shrewd political force."
"You have no idea. Now, hurry up. You're going to help me."
A bemused Heero was summarily lead down the stairs to participate in plastic, baskets, and pastels.
Summer rolled over the South in a wave of heat with little wind and even less rain... and it was only June. The boys in the steeple had abandoned matches, candles, and cigarettes as the temperature rose. The air was thick as they sat shoulder to shoulder against the wall; Heero in his boxers, Duo in his skin. Their Sunday finery lay in a careless heap near the cubby. In his lap, Heero wound loose strands of Duo's hair around and between his fingers, while Duo's hand traced gentle patterns on his thigh, fingers trailing through the light sheen of sweat; aftermath of their earlier activities.
Duo looked down at where his hand lay and followed the expanse of skin up until he meet Heero's curious gaze. "You know, Heero, you're beautiful."
The blue eyes widened momentarily, before Heero shrugged and said, "Thank you," so softly, Duo almost missed it.
"So, what do you think sin is?"
Heero often found it difficult to understand the leaps that Duo's mind made, so he took a moment to process the question before answering. "It's a mix of fear and ignorance, usually."
"Sounds a lot like prejudice."
Heero only shrugged.
"And perhaps a little jealousy, too? Like: they're doing something that we don't understand and that makes us nervous, and they seem to like it, but we don't want them to have something we don't, so we'll call it a sin and make it taboo?"
Heero smiled, "Something like that."
The braided boy let out an exasperated sigh, "I can understand calling things that hurt other people a sin, but most of the time people are just looking for an excuse to judge others."
"It's odd, isn't it..." Heero asked after a pause, "That razing a city with nuclear weapons is a sanctioned act, but we are an abomination?" The question hung in the air and drowned in the humidity.
Sometime during the conversation, Duo's hand found its way from Heero's thigh to his lap, and fingers once wrapped in hair now clasped his hand. His gaze drifted up to watch the specks of dust dancing in the sunlight, letting his thoughts wander. Absorbed in particles and thoughts, he almost didn't hear the question directed at him.
"Why don't you ever wear underwear? Doesn't the church provide any?"
The randomness of the question shocked Duo into laughter. It took a moment of recovery before he could speak, "Yeah, they give me tighty-whiteys."
"Briefs?"
"Yeah, but I don't wear them."
"Why? Are they uncomfortable?"
"Not particularly... I guess I just like to have a bit of control, and I usually prefer to do whatever's unexpected. Keep them wondering, you know?"
"Like your hair?" Heero asked, reaching up to brush a slightly damp clump off of Duo's face.
"Exactly like my hair! When I first got here, they expected me to get a proper haircut, since I had the chance. Wrong. Then they thought I was going through a phase, and when I grew out of that, would get it cut. Not likely... especially because they're expecting it," Duo finished with a shrug.
The blue eyes followed the length of chestnut from roots to where it pooled on the floor, and Heero smiled, "I like your hair." They sat with hands entwined, just looking at each other as they heard the congregation noisily exiting the church.
"Time to go," Duo sighed. They stood and dressed with no further words. "Same time next week?" Duo joked, as they turned towards the stairwell.
Heero paused, throat suddenly tight. "I won't be here next week. My family is visiting relatives."
"Oh..."
Heero waited. For what, he didn't know.
"Well, I'll be here when you get back," Duo answered with a wink and a smile.
And Heero let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding to return the smile.
Heero returned, Duo was there, and for both, it was as if no time had passed.
Duo leaned his head back on the window ledge, letting his cheeks feel the burn of the steady sun. Not for the first time, he silently wished that "back to school" also meant cooler weather. The summer had dragged by with record highs in both temperature and humidity. The damp heat clung to his skin, contrasting with the moist warmth of Heero's mouth on his throat. Heero's hand moved into his lap as his trailed down Heero's stomach. Both gasped. Duo let the delicious burn wash over him as the hand tugged and smoothed knowingly. His own hand moved on instinct, as concerted effort was beyond him. In that moment, the world narrowed to Heero's calloused palm and soft lips and the cloudless sky above them that wished it was as blue as Heero's eyes. He bit his lips (wouldn't do to have the happy church-goers hearing his carnal moans) and took a minute to catch his breath, before redoubling his efforts on his partner. He heard Heero groan into his shoulder, felt the tightening of his body, and smiled because he knew he'd soon be supporting all of Heero's weight. The blue-eyed boy collapsed in his lap, as he predicted, and he stroked sweaty bangs back from the sweaty forehead and held Heero as their heart rates slowed.
Before things became uncomfortable, he shifted Heero aside to retrieve a washcloth from his cubby. Duo returned to the lounging form and set about wiping down Heero and himself. He was slightly startled when Heero broke the silence, asking, "Doesn't the Bible talk about sin?"
Duo took a second to connect this question with one about defining sin he'd asked much earlier that summer, before answering with a shrug, "Yeah."
"Why not use that as a reference?"
Duo sighed. Why not, indeed. "The answer to that could keep us here for weeks, but I can summarize if you want..." Heero nodded, so Duo continued, "Well, first and foremost, because men wrote it. People make mistakes and beyond human error there is also human bias. Then there's the fact that a shit-load of the books, especially the Old Testament, were oral history for awhile. When stories get passed from mouth to mouth, by the time someone writes them down they hardly resemble the original event or message and often take on mythical proportions. Add to that the shoddy translations from language to language, and old English to modern vernacular, and the context has been shot to hell. On top of all of that, a lot of the original instruction was based on the limited health, life, and hygiene knowledge of the time and is, therefore outdated."
Heero blinked in the aftermath of the speech, as he absorbed all the details. Finally, he said, "So what you're saying is the Bible is an archaic and inaccurate book based on the opinions of men?"
"Pretty much."
"Makes you wonder why people put all of their stock in it."
"People need guidelines," Duo shrugged, searching for his pants.
In the clothing hunt that ensued, Heero let the conversation fade, changing subjects when he spoke again. "When does summer end in this ridiculous state?"
Duo choked on surprised laughter. "When winter hits. Then we'll be snowed in."
"We should go down now. The heat up here is stifling."
"And beat your parents to the car! Whatever will they think?"
"I tend to let them think whatever they want," Heero's response was a verbal shrug. Duo only nodded and they departed.
He couldn't see them from where he lay in his sanctuary, but he knew, if he looked, the leaves would be a dazzling array of browns, reds, and golds; like Duo's hair. Wrapping a hand around the leaf-colored braid, Heero informed his companion, "You're autumn."
Duo didn't respond immediately, studying all facets of the statement. "I think that makes you the end of winter, right before spring, when the snow's melting and all the flowers and green shoots are first popping out."
Heero thought it was an oddly cheery view of himself, but accepted Duo's assessment readily.
It wasn't a cold morning, but the wind brought a slight chill through the window. Heero unconsciously shifted closer to Duo, resting his head on the available shoulder. Looking up, he regarded the feet propped on the ledge. Duo's feet weren't overly large or small, simply average, and he wore inexpensive, slightly faded black socks, his only clothes at the moment. Although the feet and their garments were generally unremarkable, he thought they were exactly as feet should be.
His intense study of Duo's feet was broken by their owners voice, "If I'm autumn and you're late winter... together, are we chilly and slightly breezy?"
"And partly cloudy."
Duo chuckled and wrapped his arms around Heero, pulling him closer. They stayed that way, watching the clouds, for a time, before Heero spoke, "Duo, why haven't we ever been deafened by the bell?"
The braided boy chuckled again and turned his gaze to the metal monstrosity in question, "This church quit using the bell a long time ago."
"Why is it here in the first place?"
"Bells were often used to let the city know it was mass time, and during traditional Latin services, the bells let the uneducated , non-Latin-speaking church-goers know when an important part of the service was coming up. With yellow page ads and English services, the bell lost its usefulness, but it's easier just to leave it up here."
"I'm glad they left it."
"Me too."
Heero's parents waited by their car for a long time, that day, wondering what could keep their punctual son. When Heero arrived, they asked no questions, knowing he would provide no explanations, and were simply left to wonder.
They needed the light of Duo's candles in the dark of night. The bright lights of the creche didn't reach the high window of the steeple, as midnight mass wore on, unheeded, below them. The small flames cast ever-moving patterns on their skin. Duo's body lifted over Heero's, descending just as quickly. One set of hands splayed over a broad chest, the other's gripping narrow hips. Skin was covered in a cold sweat and ragged panting formed puffs of air. Duo bent, his lips searching Heero's, as his body continued its own search for release. The clump of snow that fell in from the window ledge was ignored, as were the Ave Marias of the choir. They were two boys, two bodies, lost in the feel of each other. All too soon, as is often the case with the young and inexperienced, it was over. Duo collapsed with a shudder and stifled cry on Heero's chest, trapping rapidly cooling moisture between them.
Heero's arms wrapped around Duo's back, one hand automatically grasping the braid. The worship went on in the cold, impersonal chapel below. Snow blew with freezing winds outside. But in that little bell tower on Christmas Eve, it was warm.
They spoke little, communicating instead through touch; hands, lips, fingers soothing flushed but chilled skin. Time was ignored. The outside world was forgotten.
Duo lay listening to the steady rhythm of Heero's heart, pulling his arms in close to draw on the comfortable heat of the body under his. When he did speak, his words were soft, like the candle-light. "Heero... what do you think love is?"
Heero took time to answer, feeling the weight of the question, his voice coming in similar tones. "I think love is just being with someone and wanting to be there."
"Oh... Heero, I think I love you."
"I know. Me too."
Fin