Swing Kids, Out of Ruins Chapter 2
Oct. 17th, 2009 05:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deloritaOut of Ruins
Chapter 2
by Delorita
Fandom: Swing Kids
Pairing: Peter/Thomas
Rating: Pg13
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. They belong to the moviemakers. I don't make any money out of this.
A/N: Again, warning about sappynessssss…Guess it depends on how touchy, feely you are.
Double mega thanks to my wonderful patient beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rustie73
++++++++++++++
Peter traced the scars on Thomas’ bare chest with his index finger again. He’d done it so often during the past weeks; he knew them in his sleep. He never dared to ask Thomas about them though. Right now he was sure Thomas was sleeping, his soft breath and rising and falling chest indicating it. So Peter asked more to himself, “How’d you survive that?”
“I thought of you.” The very low answer came instantly.
Peter was a bit startled by it and looked up, meeting Thomas’ amber eyes with a surprised glance. He felt Thomas’ caressing hand in his hair, on his shoulder, his neck.
“I’m not sure if it was thinking or dreaming,” Thomas pulled Peter’s head down for a leisurely kiss. Then continued, “It was right after I had to go to the front line,” he swallowed. “They didn’t tell us that the enemy was as well trained as we were, that they had equally modern tanks and grenades.” Thomas had to close his eyes, his voice getting very unsteady.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Peter whispered, flopping on his back and pulling the equally tall man against his shoulder. Thomas nestled against his lover, curling his arm tightly around Peter’s stomach and murmured, “But I have to.” He threw his leg over Peter’s to have as much body contact as possible.
Peter had to strain his ears to hear what Thomas was saying next.
“Emil and I were on a recon mission…” Thomas hesitated, his hand absentmindedly drawing circles around Peter’s navel, “And then we were ambushed.” His hand stilled and he pressed himself even closer to Peter’s body. “He must have been killed instantly…”
Peter felt Thomas tense and he massaged his neck with a very firm grip. Thomas bent into the touch, enjoying it for several moments until he was able to go on. “I woke in the field hospital a few days later. I could barely breathe.” He stopped again, feeling the pain reoccur in his lungs. “I still don’t know who found me.”
Thomas took some steadying breaths, “The doctor said I was very lucky…” His voice trailed off and he turned, supporting himself on his right elbow to look at Peter again, who was studying him very closely, stroking his arm. His brown eyes full of concern and love.
“They ordered me to rest.” Thomas just wasn’t able to tell everything in one go. It seemed still so fresh and he had never told anybody. He bent and stole another kiss. Peter held his head to kiss him more thorough, more reassuring.
After a few moments, Thomas curled into his former position; he just couldn’t look Peter in the eye while speaking about his nightmare.
“So I tried to rest. It wasn’t easy with all the horror that was going on around me. Blown off legs and arms…faces…” He started to shake uncontrollably, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the images out. Which of course, didn’t work. So he swallowed several times, tried to concentrate on Peter’s gentle hand in his curls and on the small of his back and found the strength to speak again. “For some reason, I started to hear our music in my dreams. Django Reinhardt, Benny Goodman.”
Thomas blinked away the tears in his eyes, when he stared at Peter again, adding, “All played by Arvid, on his guitar.” They kissed again. It was just too much.
“It must have been the medicine they gave me.” Thomas leaned into the stroking palm, focusing on Peter’s chocolate brown eyes when he continued. “One night I woke, because I was doing our dancing steps in my dream, felt you…felt you take my hand while dancing our crazy ‘Shout and Feel It’.” Thomas suddenly moved and hid his head on the side of Peter’s neck, in his long hair. “I felt you hug me.”
Peter’s eyes had started to get moist in the beginning of the story, now his tears were running freely down his cheeks. He felt Thomas’ sobs against his whole body and he tightened his arms around his lover as hard as he could. He figured Thomas hadn’t let go like that since the terrible ambush and his near death wounding.
He didn’t dare to say it’s all right because it never would be. He knew that from own experience. But they still could try and make it better. He kept stroking the back of Thomas’ head while Thomas’ fingers curled almost painfully into Peter’s hair.
“I heard you say again and again, that I am no murderer…that…that I’m not like th…them.” He hiccupped. Thomas didn’t want to cry like a girl, but he just couldn’t help it. All the pain he had felt over the years, all the guilt and helplessness, it all seemed to break over him in this moment. He suddenly started to murmur like a mantra, “Peter…Peter…Peter.” And “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His grip tightening more and more around the very slender figure of his lover.
Peter buried his face into Thomas’ long curls, embracing him with equal strength, breathing heavily.
They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity. Holding onto each other and loosing it completely. Peter’s whispers of “Thomas,” were like caresses to Thomas’ battered soul.
“When I was back in battle, I always somehow tried to stay behind and not shoot at all.” Thomas finished his statement in a harder voice. “I suddenly was determined to survive and find you again.” They stared at each other. Then met halfway for a very deep kiss.
Even though they were both half hard, they didn’t feel like having sex this time. The mental pain was just too strong. Thomas broke the kiss to confirm the words Peter had told him so long ago when their ordeal had started, “You were right, I never was a murderer. How could they make me believe I would be?” He hung his head and sat, about to get up. He felt completely exhausted and confused.
“Thomas,” Peter sat behind him, their bodies matching exactly in size, his arms sneaking around Thomas’ waist to restrain him from getting up. “They were very smart; they tricked people into believing what’s right. And those who didn’t go along with their propaganda…those got punished…” Peter stopped abruptly.
Thomas turned, trying to look into Peter’s eyes again from that awkward angle, “you gonna tell me your story?” Peter nodded, kissing Thomas’ shoulder. “But not now, all right?”
“Yes, all right.” Thomas let his head fall onto Peter’s shoulder, his back pressing into the other’s front. His hands curling into Peter’s pajama bottoms and holding their thighs together.
He became suddenly aware of how happy he should be. After all, he found his best friend again. Only a few people did get that lucky these days. And on top of that, it turned out for them to be each others love interest.
He felt Peter’s lips against the side of his neck, felt him weave their fingers together and Thomas determinedly decided, the war had swallowed enough of their lives. It was time to try and enjoy it again.
A familiar melody was hummed into his ear as though Peter had just read his thoughts. A smile tugged at the corners of Thomas’ mouth. He hummed along for a few notes and then started to sing lowly, turning again while singing and meaning it towards Peter, “Bei mir bist du schön…” Thomas’ smooth baritone was like honey for Peter’s ears.
They stared at each other, singing along, their bodies starting to move with the melody, the Swing getting to them. When they had finished, they just began anew, a tad faster now, until Thomas couldn’t sit anymore and jumped up, turning and pulling Peter up with him.
It was as though their feet suddenly remembered the steps from so long ago. Holding hands, they were dancing through the small room, getting faster and faster, singing louder and louder, until Frau Müller called from outside, “Everything all right in there?”
They burst into laughter, catching their breath. And when she carefully opened the door, Peter just swept her into his arms and Thomas got carried away and took her hand and they started to sing again, swirling her around.
She started to laugh too, liking the dance, playing along with them. It felt so good to be happy for a few moments.
When they all couldn’t move anymore, she just reached up to both of them, messing up their hair even more, muttering, “That’s how I like my boys.” and quickly disappeared out of the room.
Her mother’s instinct told her that there was something unusual going on between the two. The strange noises that sometimes came from Peter’s room at night didn’t escape her ears. But she decided to turn a blind eye on it. She was so happy to have her older son back alive.
When the two had shyly asked her if Thomas could move in with them since his parents were both dead, she agreed without hesitation. She’d forgiven him instantly. She already saw him as her third son.
on to part 3: http://delorita.livejournal.com/72909.html
Chapter 2
by Delorita
Fandom: Swing Kids
Pairing: Peter/Thomas
Rating: Pg13
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. They belong to the moviemakers. I don't make any money out of this.
A/N: Again, warning about sappynessssss…Guess it depends on how touchy, feely you are.
Double mega thanks to my wonderful patient beta
rustie73++++++++++++++
Peter traced the scars on Thomas’ bare chest with his index finger again. He’d done it so often during the past weeks; he knew them in his sleep. He never dared to ask Thomas about them though. Right now he was sure Thomas was sleeping, his soft breath and rising and falling chest indicating it. So Peter asked more to himself, “How’d you survive that?”
“I thought of you.” The very low answer came instantly.
Peter was a bit startled by it and looked up, meeting Thomas’ amber eyes with a surprised glance. He felt Thomas’ caressing hand in his hair, on his shoulder, his neck.
“I’m not sure if it was thinking or dreaming,” Thomas pulled Peter’s head down for a leisurely kiss. Then continued, “It was right after I had to go to the front line,” he swallowed. “They didn’t tell us that the enemy was as well trained as we were, that they had equally modern tanks and grenades.” Thomas had to close his eyes, his voice getting very unsteady.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Peter whispered, flopping on his back and pulling the equally tall man against his shoulder. Thomas nestled against his lover, curling his arm tightly around Peter’s stomach and murmured, “But I have to.” He threw his leg over Peter’s to have as much body contact as possible.
Peter had to strain his ears to hear what Thomas was saying next.
“Emil and I were on a recon mission…” Thomas hesitated, his hand absentmindedly drawing circles around Peter’s navel, “And then we were ambushed.” His hand stilled and he pressed himself even closer to Peter’s body. “He must have been killed instantly…”
Peter felt Thomas tense and he massaged his neck with a very firm grip. Thomas bent into the touch, enjoying it for several moments until he was able to go on. “I woke in the field hospital a few days later. I could barely breathe.” He stopped again, feeling the pain reoccur in his lungs. “I still don’t know who found me.”
Thomas took some steadying breaths, “The doctor said I was very lucky…” His voice trailed off and he turned, supporting himself on his right elbow to look at Peter again, who was studying him very closely, stroking his arm. His brown eyes full of concern and love.
“They ordered me to rest.” Thomas just wasn’t able to tell everything in one go. It seemed still so fresh and he had never told anybody. He bent and stole another kiss. Peter held his head to kiss him more thorough, more reassuring.
After a few moments, Thomas curled into his former position; he just couldn’t look Peter in the eye while speaking about his nightmare.
“So I tried to rest. It wasn’t easy with all the horror that was going on around me. Blown off legs and arms…faces…” He started to shake uncontrollably, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the images out. Which of course, didn’t work. So he swallowed several times, tried to concentrate on Peter’s gentle hand in his curls and on the small of his back and found the strength to speak again. “For some reason, I started to hear our music in my dreams. Django Reinhardt, Benny Goodman.”
Thomas blinked away the tears in his eyes, when he stared at Peter again, adding, “All played by Arvid, on his guitar.” They kissed again. It was just too much.
“It must have been the medicine they gave me.” Thomas leaned into the stroking palm, focusing on Peter’s chocolate brown eyes when he continued. “One night I woke, because I was doing our dancing steps in my dream, felt you…felt you take my hand while dancing our crazy ‘Shout and Feel It’.” Thomas suddenly moved and hid his head on the side of Peter’s neck, in his long hair. “I felt you hug me.”
Peter’s eyes had started to get moist in the beginning of the story, now his tears were running freely down his cheeks. He felt Thomas’ sobs against his whole body and he tightened his arms around his lover as hard as he could. He figured Thomas hadn’t let go like that since the terrible ambush and his near death wounding.
He didn’t dare to say it’s all right because it never would be. He knew that from own experience. But they still could try and make it better. He kept stroking the back of Thomas’ head while Thomas’ fingers curled almost painfully into Peter’s hair.
“I heard you say again and again, that I am no murderer…that…that I’m not like th…them.” He hiccupped. Thomas didn’t want to cry like a girl, but he just couldn’t help it. All the pain he had felt over the years, all the guilt and helplessness, it all seemed to break over him in this moment. He suddenly started to murmur like a mantra, “Peter…Peter…Peter.” And “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His grip tightening more and more around the very slender figure of his lover.
Peter buried his face into Thomas’ long curls, embracing him with equal strength, breathing heavily.
They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity. Holding onto each other and loosing it completely. Peter’s whispers of “Thomas,” were like caresses to Thomas’ battered soul.
“When I was back in battle, I always somehow tried to stay behind and not shoot at all.” Thomas finished his statement in a harder voice. “I suddenly was determined to survive and find you again.” They stared at each other. Then met halfway for a very deep kiss.
Even though they were both half hard, they didn’t feel like having sex this time. The mental pain was just too strong. Thomas broke the kiss to confirm the words Peter had told him so long ago when their ordeal had started, “You were right, I never was a murderer. How could they make me believe I would be?” He hung his head and sat, about to get up. He felt completely exhausted and confused.
“Thomas,” Peter sat behind him, their bodies matching exactly in size, his arms sneaking around Thomas’ waist to restrain him from getting up. “They were very smart; they tricked people into believing what’s right. And those who didn’t go along with their propaganda…those got punished…” Peter stopped abruptly.
Thomas turned, trying to look into Peter’s eyes again from that awkward angle, “you gonna tell me your story?” Peter nodded, kissing Thomas’ shoulder. “But not now, all right?”
“Yes, all right.” Thomas let his head fall onto Peter’s shoulder, his back pressing into the other’s front. His hands curling into Peter’s pajama bottoms and holding their thighs together.
He became suddenly aware of how happy he should be. After all, he found his best friend again. Only a few people did get that lucky these days. And on top of that, it turned out for them to be each others love interest.
He felt Peter’s lips against the side of his neck, felt him weave their fingers together and Thomas determinedly decided, the war had swallowed enough of their lives. It was time to try and enjoy it again.
A familiar melody was hummed into his ear as though Peter had just read his thoughts. A smile tugged at the corners of Thomas’ mouth. He hummed along for a few notes and then started to sing lowly, turning again while singing and meaning it towards Peter, “Bei mir bist du schön…” Thomas’ smooth baritone was like honey for Peter’s ears.
They stared at each other, singing along, their bodies starting to move with the melody, the Swing getting to them. When they had finished, they just began anew, a tad faster now, until Thomas couldn’t sit anymore and jumped up, turning and pulling Peter up with him.
It was as though their feet suddenly remembered the steps from so long ago. Holding hands, they were dancing through the small room, getting faster and faster, singing louder and louder, until Frau Müller called from outside, “Everything all right in there?”
They burst into laughter, catching their breath. And when she carefully opened the door, Peter just swept her into his arms and Thomas got carried away and took her hand and they started to sing again, swirling her around.
She started to laugh too, liking the dance, playing along with them. It felt so good to be happy for a few moments.
When they all couldn’t move anymore, she just reached up to both of them, messing up their hair even more, muttering, “That’s how I like my boys.” and quickly disappeared out of the room.
Her mother’s instinct told her that there was something unusual going on between the two. The strange noises that sometimes came from Peter’s room at night didn’t escape her ears. But she decided to turn a blind eye on it. She was so happy to have her older son back alive.
When the two had shyly asked her if Thomas could move in with them since his parents were both dead, she agreed without hesitation. She’d forgiven him instantly. She already saw him as her third son.
on to part 3: http://delorita.livejournal.com/72909.html
