Fic: First, last.

[munnin]

Title: First, last.

Pairing: David Detector/Kit Evans
Rating: PG but for man kissing.

Disclaimer: All fun, no cash

Author’s notes: 100% organic. May contain minor flaws and imperfections that beta-treated slash wouldn’t.
Summery: this is just a scrap I wrote very quickly and very late last night. Bittenfeld’s shared an idea of there being a murdered lover somewhere in the Inspector’s past and ever since this has been rattling about in my head so I scribbled this down while the image held.

I wouldn’t consider this fan-canon or continuity – just a piece of detritus I felt compelled to write. Thanks again Bit for letting me play.

They told us about this in basic training. About dealing with a life and death situations. Not the situation itself – that’s what the training was for but what comes after, the high of surviving. The rush of knowing that you’re still here despite what you’ve been through. The urge to celebrate it with every fibre of your being.

I never understood what that meant till now. Kit and I fell through the door of my tiny flat, high on the sheer fact there still air in our lungs. “Beers! God we need beers!” He tumbled over my futon in an effort to find the fridge. “David! You need a bigger place!”

“Yes. Yes I do,” I fell flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with its interesting network of cracks and stains. “But from here I can reach everything.”

He giggled, dragging open the door of my fridge. “You have no beer!” He turned on me. “David? How do you expect to survive if you have no beer?”

I waved a hand at him. “Top shelf. Left hand side.”

He pulled down a ceramic bottle. “And this shit is what exactly?”

“Sake you fool!” He refused the give up the bottle, even as I snatched it from him, pulling him on to the bed beside me.

He kept the bottle upright even as he fell. “And I drink it how?”

I rolled onto my stomach as he popped open the bottle. “Hot...normally.” Rice wine trickled down his chin and onto the mattress. “Kit! You’re a...I have no words for what you are.” I snatched the bottle, taking a deep slug myself. Not that there was much left. “Greedy creature.”

I don’t know what possessed me but I caught his face in my hands, his chin wet with rice wine and his eyes still bright with the fight. He tipped his head back as I licked a swath over his skin, lapping at the corner of his mouth. He parted his lips as I kissed him, his mouth sweet with the wine.

“Oh god. David!” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. We fell on each other, rolling across the bed. Even as the bottle hit the floor and smashed, we couldn’t let go.

Kit landed on top of me, straddling my narrow hips. “David...I...” He panted, his dark hair falling over his face and brushing mine. “I want...”

I grabbed his waist, pressed against him. “I know...so do I.”

A blushed coloured his high cheeks. “I don’t...I’ve never done this before...I don’t know how...”

“Nor do I.” I brushed my fingers over his face, kissing my way down his throat. “We’ll work it out together...”

***

I’d hear talk of emergency sex but until then I didn’t understand. We needed each other, we needed to know we were alive and we needed to celebrate it together.

***

It was the next morning, waking up to find him still in my bed, his dark eyes watching me. “I’ll go. If you want.” He whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet.

I smiled, threading my fingers through his black mane. “Why would I want that?”

“You mean...I thought...”

I kissed him, gentle and warm. “Stay. Please?”

***

I use to look back on that day and smile. And every day after that I woke up to his face.

But now...every day I have to wake up to knowing he’s gone. Everyday of waking up to his grave...I can't smile anymore. I can't remember him with love, or warmth. Not until those responsible are made to pay.