The Time of Our Darkness
Title : The Time of Our Darkness,
Author : dalehead
Pairing : VigBean
Rating : NC-17 - no sex, no kink but please read the warning below.
Summary: Sean says good bye.
A/N : The last few weeks have not been the best ever and I wanted to write a deathfic. This is it. There is no violence, no heart wrenching scenes of desolation and tragedy. It is an attempt at writing something that I felt the need to write and with characters I know and love. In the midst of life we are in death. A cliché? Quite probably. But considering the times we live in, maybe a cliché for a reason. Don’t hesitate to walk on by if this is not your bag. Otherwise, I hope at least some of you will see beyond the tag of deathfic.
When the news came through, Viggo couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe fate could be so cruel. Two days before Sean was due to come home for good. Life couldn’t do this to him. Not after the years and years of waiting for his lover, his husband, his everything and more, to come home to him.
On that morning, on the morning that spring seemed finally to have arrived, the sunshine peeping through the crack in his curtains, alerting him to the beginning of the new day. Viggo had got up, no he’d leapt up, anticipation and excitement making sleep impossible.
When he heard the knock on the door, the sunlight dimmed and never shone as brightly again.
~~
They’d met in a pub. No one who knew Sean was surprised by that. Viggo was playing darts. He and Sean had got talking over the oche. They’d discovered a surprising amount in common considering Sean was a working class Yorkshire lad and Viggo an artist from across the Pond.
“What’s a nice bloke like you doing in a place like this? Sean has asked.
“Whooping your ass at darts,” Viggo drawled.
“Touché” Sean had smiled, his expression one of such promise Viggo had felt almost breathless.
One drink had led to another then another and they’d ended up in bed together. After a night of the most fantastic sex Viggo had ever had, he’d thought that was it.
“Bye…” he’d said casually, getting dressed quickly.
“Eh…”
“See you around…”
“Why are you rushing off? Don’t you want coffee?”
“Coffee?” Viggo hated English coffee, that is to say he hated the way they made it here. “Um yeah … I guess, but don’t I mean, why do you want me to stay?”
“Vig, we just fucked all night, you fucked me first, then I fucked you then I sucked my come out of your arse, I think all of that is worth coffee and some toast, don’t you?”
Laughing Viggo got undressed again. “Do you have marmalade?”
“God yes, I make my own as it goes.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“Nope, right hand up to God, I make my own jam as well.”
It appeared that Viggo had been picked up by a housewife superstar…
~~
Two weeks later, Sean had gone off on tour. Not seeing him shouldn’t have been that bad not after such a short time. Viggo threw himself into his work and begun a series of works that were collectively known as The Years of Hope.
When it was time to come home again, it was to Viggo Sean returned and continued to return.
The Years of Hope were followed by The Years of Plenty. They sold Sean’s little flat and bought somewhere larger, somewhere Viggo could work and Sean could make jam and marmalade which he did. In copious amounts.
“When I ask you to marry me, Sean, I want the kitchen to smell of newly potted raspberry jam.”
“Not blackberry, you know we have a surfeit of blackberries,” they were naked, splayed out on the kitchen table, both of them covered in stewed blackberries and apples that had been destined for a pie.
“Whatever you like.” Viggo replied.
“And when? When are you going to ask me to marry you?”
“Next time you’re home. You’re off again tomorrow aren’t you.” Viggo could always tell. There was an air of suppressed excitement around his love.
“Yeah, m sorry. I love it. I know I shouldn’t but I do. Please Vig…”
But Viggo had long since made his peace with Sean’s career choice. “It’s fine Sean, just don’t forget how much I miss you.” There were other words that lay between them; but of them, there was no need to speak.
~~
They got married at Chelsea Town Hall. Ian was there of course, best man to them both. Lots of other friends joined him, friends who wanted to help them celebrate the plighting of their troth.
Viggo’s lawyers took out a press injunction to stop there being any photographs and there weren’t any. Instead it was a day full of laughter and happiness followed by two weeks in the Lake District.
Sitting on top of St Sunday Crag, Viggo turned to his husband. “I want you to give it up soon. Not yet, I know you have to finish your contract but now we’re married…”
Sean wrinkled his nose but nodded. “Fair play Vig, I guess I can find something to do, hey … maybe I can start my own jam factory?”
“That’s a great idea,” laughing Viggo stood up, holding his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get going. I want to get you back in good time to fuck you.”
“Always time to fuck me, Vig … you know that,” Sean grinned, standing up too, his face alight with love and happiness.
Hand in hand they made their way back to Fairfield, then down to Grisedale Tarn before trekking back to the pub where they were staying.
“I’ll never forget this day,” Viggo whispered later, poised on the brink of orgasm. “I love you Sean.”
“I love … you too,” there was green starlight twinkling in Sean’s eyes as he came, crying out.
It was a day Viggo never forgot.
~~
On the morning Sean left for the last time, Viggo got up with him. Made coffee, made breakfast, sat watching him.
“I won’t miss this. Watching you leave.”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Yeah, I know but…”
“I promise you this is the last time. My last tour of duty. I’m going to head up the most fantastic training programme, but thank you for letting me do this.”
“I know you love it. I am so scared though. Supposing…”
“Not gonna die Vig, we’ve got too much to do.”
“I’m scared Sean, so fucking scared. Scared you’re going to get yourself blown up at the eleventh hour. That you won’t come home to me.”
“If I die…”
“No, fuck off Sean, don’t say it.”
“Let me Viggo please, if the worse happens, promise me you won’t give up on life? I’ll do my best not to get killed but if I do, you must live the rest of your life for me too, kay? Live it doubly well, please Vig? That’s the best memorial you could give me…”
Viggo couldn’t speak through his tears.
“Besides, you gimp, I’m not gonna get killed…”
~~
A soldier has been killed in Afghanistan. The Ministry of Defence said the bomb disposal expert was one of six Nato troops killed in a series of incidents on Monday. The soldier was killed by an explosion in the Musa Qaleh area of Helmand Province. His family have been told.
Author : dalehead
Pairing : VigBean
Rating : NC-17 - no sex, no kink but please read the warning below.
Summary: Sean says good bye.
A/N : The last few weeks have not been the best ever and I wanted to write a deathfic. This is it. There is no violence, no heart wrenching scenes of desolation and tragedy. It is an attempt at writing something that I felt the need to write and with characters I know and love. In the midst of life we are in death. A cliché? Quite probably. But considering the times we live in, maybe a cliché for a reason. Don’t hesitate to walk on by if this is not your bag. Otherwise, I hope at least some of you will see beyond the tag of deathfic.
When the news came through, Viggo couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe fate could be so cruel. Two days before Sean was due to come home for good. Life couldn’t do this to him. Not after the years and years of waiting for his lover, his husband, his everything and more, to come home to him.
On that morning, on the morning that spring seemed finally to have arrived, the sunshine peeping through the crack in his curtains, alerting him to the beginning of the new day. Viggo had got up, no he’d leapt up, anticipation and excitement making sleep impossible.
When he heard the knock on the door, the sunlight dimmed and never shone as brightly again.
~~
They’d met in a pub. No one who knew Sean was surprised by that. Viggo was playing darts. He and Sean had got talking over the oche. They’d discovered a surprising amount in common considering Sean was a working class Yorkshire lad and Viggo an artist from across the Pond.
“What’s a nice bloke like you doing in a place like this? Sean has asked.
“Whooping your ass at darts,” Viggo drawled.
“Touché” Sean had smiled, his expression one of such promise Viggo had felt almost breathless.
One drink had led to another then another and they’d ended up in bed together. After a night of the most fantastic sex Viggo had ever had, he’d thought that was it.
“Bye…” he’d said casually, getting dressed quickly.
“Eh…”
“See you around…”
“Why are you rushing off? Don’t you want coffee?”
“Coffee?” Viggo hated English coffee, that is to say he hated the way they made it here. “Um yeah … I guess, but don’t I mean, why do you want me to stay?”
“Vig, we just fucked all night, you fucked me first, then I fucked you then I sucked my come out of your arse, I think all of that is worth coffee and some toast, don’t you?”
Laughing Viggo got undressed again. “Do you have marmalade?”
“God yes, I make my own as it goes.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“Nope, right hand up to God, I make my own jam as well.”
It appeared that Viggo had been picked up by a housewife superstar…
~~
Two weeks later, Sean had gone off on tour. Not seeing him shouldn’t have been that bad not after such a short time. Viggo threw himself into his work and begun a series of works that were collectively known as The Years of Hope.
When it was time to come home again, it was to Viggo Sean returned and continued to return.
The Years of Hope were followed by The Years of Plenty. They sold Sean’s little flat and bought somewhere larger, somewhere Viggo could work and Sean could make jam and marmalade which he did. In copious amounts.
“When I ask you to marry me, Sean, I want the kitchen to smell of newly potted raspberry jam.”
“Not blackberry, you know we have a surfeit of blackberries,” they were naked, splayed out on the kitchen table, both of them covered in stewed blackberries and apples that had been destined for a pie.
“Whatever you like.” Viggo replied.
“And when? When are you going to ask me to marry you?”
“Next time you’re home. You’re off again tomorrow aren’t you.” Viggo could always tell. There was an air of suppressed excitement around his love.
“Yeah, m sorry. I love it. I know I shouldn’t but I do. Please Vig…”
But Viggo had long since made his peace with Sean’s career choice. “It’s fine Sean, just don’t forget how much I miss you.” There were other words that lay between them; but of them, there was no need to speak.
~~
They got married at Chelsea Town Hall. Ian was there of course, best man to them both. Lots of other friends joined him, friends who wanted to help them celebrate the plighting of their troth.
Viggo’s lawyers took out a press injunction to stop there being any photographs and there weren’t any. Instead it was a day full of laughter and happiness followed by two weeks in the Lake District.
Sitting on top of St Sunday Crag, Viggo turned to his husband. “I want you to give it up soon. Not yet, I know you have to finish your contract but now we’re married…”
Sean wrinkled his nose but nodded. “Fair play Vig, I guess I can find something to do, hey … maybe I can start my own jam factory?”
“That’s a great idea,” laughing Viggo stood up, holding his hand out. “C’mon, let’s get going. I want to get you back in good time to fuck you.”
“Always time to fuck me, Vig … you know that,” Sean grinned, standing up too, his face alight with love and happiness.
Hand in hand they made their way back to Fairfield, then down to Grisedale Tarn before trekking back to the pub where they were staying.
“I’ll never forget this day,” Viggo whispered later, poised on the brink of orgasm. “I love you Sean.”
“I love … you too,” there was green starlight twinkling in Sean’s eyes as he came, crying out.
It was a day Viggo never forgot.
~~
On the morning Sean left for the last time, Viggo got up with him. Made coffee, made breakfast, sat watching him.
“I won’t miss this. Watching you leave.”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Yeah, I know but…”
“I promise you this is the last time. My last tour of duty. I’m going to head up the most fantastic training programme, but thank you for letting me do this.”
“I know you love it. I am so scared though. Supposing…”
“Not gonna die Vig, we’ve got too much to do.”
“I’m scared Sean, so fucking scared. Scared you’re going to get yourself blown up at the eleventh hour. That you won’t come home to me.”
“If I die…”
“No, fuck off Sean, don’t say it.”
“Let me Viggo please, if the worse happens, promise me you won’t give up on life? I’ll do my best not to get killed but if I do, you must live the rest of your life for me too, kay? Live it doubly well, please Vig? That’s the best memorial you could give me…”
Viggo couldn’t speak through his tears.
“Besides, you gimp, I’m not gonna get killed…”
~~
A soldier has been killed in Afghanistan. The Ministry of Defence said the bomb disposal expert was one of six Nato troops killed in a series of incidents on Monday. The soldier was killed by an explosion in the Musa Qaleh area of Helmand Province. His family have been told.