Title: Honey Bunny

Author: L0C

Feedback: modernhepcat@hotmail.com

Series: no

Rating: R

Pairing: Tyr/Harper

Summary: Tyr tends to Harper.

Spoilers: AUish, takes place right after Bunker Hill. So yes.

Notes: A song-fic for Vincent Gallo's 'Honey Bunny'. It's gorgeous, go download it, or anything else of his. It wasn't originally supposed to have any sex in it but the tearfully artful pornographic
nature of Gallo's self-directed video for this inspired it. I hope it comes off as tasteful and soulful as his rotating girls did. (haha, I'm trying to pass off softcore sleaze as poignant and tasteful :)
Oh, right, it's paraphrased- the 'girl's were changed to 'boy's. Oh well.

Honey Bunny
by L0C

/Honey bunny
My baby boy
friend
Sweet heart
My sugar boy
friend/

Tyr was looking for Harper. He had looked in the mess, the machine shops, the observation deck. He could have simply asked the ship to located the boy but he really didn't want to talk to her. She
couldn't possibly understand what Harper had gone through on Earth, even though she was there.

She knew, of course. From the beginning, she knew. She knew everything. But no one else knew, and they never would know.

Tyr himself wondered vaguely if it were all really just a dream. This silent, unspoken ritual between the two that happened more and more often since the world-ship incident.

As much as the boy was loathe to admit it, he was scared. And as much as Tyr hated to admit it, the Nietzchean was worried about the boy.

There was only one place left that Harper could be.

/Where are you
Eyes of blue dear?/

Harper was sitting on one corner of Tyr's bed, his knees drawn up, looking impossibly small. He was reading one of Tyr's books; his soft tawny hair loose of its pomade and hanging in a soft fringe on the boy's forehead.

"I overrode your locks," Harper answered the unasked question, the way he always did. The Nietzschean's only response was a long, slow nod.

Harper had been ill since his return from Earth. He felt like he was in hell, and tried his damnedest to hide it.

Tyr saw right through him, of course. He saw the fear in those shining blue yes, the small beads of sweat that doused the red-blond hair. Tyr saw the boy looking small and fragile, pale skin delicately flushed, girlish and beautiful. Tyr forgot for a moment that he wasn't supposed to be attracted to human males.

"Would you like me to draw a bath for you?" It was the same every night. Harper nodded, and hesitantly smiled his protectively cocky grin.

/You are my
my every day
boy
And every day, every day
I think of your
smile/

Tyr watched the water pool in the tub, recycled from already used bath water and discarded drinking water, filtered from the crew's own natural wastes. There were few planets left that contained oceans the colour they should be; the same torrid blue-green that were Harper's eyes.

Anasazi spent a lot of his time floating alone thoughts of Harper. He dreamed of him, he daydreamed of him, the boy's smile haunted him. At first it disturbed Tyr, but he had learned long ago that to best survive with his emotions, he'd just have to accept them. He had lost his family, his pride, everything that he cared about, and he found it all against in Seamus Harper- of course, the boy had to become terminally ill before he realized that, and he still didn't say it out loud.

But he was there. And that was good enough for Seamus Zelazny Harper, who shyly stripped off his shirt to reveal skinny ribs and age-old scars. If Tyr thought he had bad angst, he should spend an hour in Harper's head.

Harper had fallen in love long ago, much to his chagrin. Here he had himself convinced that such stuff didn't exist, and if it did, it was in the form of some hot young babe- not a big uber Niet. But
something had happened, and Harper was typically not one to repress his emotions. Typically. Before, he was happy if Tyr didn't say one unkind thing to him all day, happy if Tyr was simpy not repulsed by him.

But here he was, taking care of him. And here was Harper, being eaten inside out by one childhood nightmare and finding comfort in the arms of another. It made him sick with himself. When one hates oneself, one finds it very hard to believe another could love one. He was torn
between self-loathing, suspicions taht Tyr was just teasing him and would one dya lower the boom, and tested knowledge that when he slept in Tyr's arms, the nightmares didn't come.

/Oh darling, You're my darling
I can take you 'way
I can wonder with you
Wonder every day/

Tyr lowered Harper gently into the warm water and allowed himself a moment of delight when Harper sighed and stretched languidly in the relaxing water.

"Better?" He asked. Harper nodded, his eyes closed. Tyr began wahsing Harper's pretty hair, which was really just an excuse to touch it. His gaze drifted across Harper's soft wet skin and Tyr wondered briefly if the poets were right, and if this emotion he felt was worth giving up everything.

Harper sucked in a breath when Tyr's spurs ever so lightly grazed his belly where the larvae rested.

"Does it hurt?"

"Only a little," Seamus lied.

So brave, his little human.

/And darling I can see you
When I close my eyes
and in my dreams
You're always there/

Harper wondered what was wrong with Tyr as the big Nietzschean gently, almost lovingly, towelled off the sickly young man. He knew what it was like to want someone as badly as he wanted Tyr, but be unable to obtain it. No matter how often it happened, no matter how
increasingly gentle Tyr became, Harper couldn't imagine the Nietzschean lowering himself to *love* a mudfoot like Harper. He justified it, and made himself miserable, by assuming Tyr was feeling paternal. Or worse, guity.

Seamus knew all about survival guilt himself. What is *wrong* with you, Harper? He always needed someone to take care of him- first Brendan, then Beka, now Tyr. Now Brendan was probably dead, and he knew Beka had been through enough. At least he didn't have to worry
about Tyr- not if he got ot his deathbed first.

Harper laid his head on Tyr's chest and pondered what would happen next. They'd go to bed. Sleep. Harper never managed to initiate anything more. He was too afraid too.

But, God help him, he *needed* to.

/Darling, you remember
The days we would spend
And happy the place
I could take you there/

Harper sighed as Tyr settled in behind him under the soft downy covers. Slowly, innocently, he turned and kissed Tyr, for real, for the first time, on the lips. Nothign moved, nothing sounded, it was just one pair of lips pressing aginst another in a gesture of absolut love, adoration and vulnerability.

"Harper?"

"What?" The boy ruined what could have been a perfectly poignant moment and descended upon Tyr's neck and chest.

"We don't have to-"

"But I want to. Please?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me. I'm fine. Please? Please?"

Blue eyes locked with brown and Tyr saw desperation and a lot of hurt. He moved in and kissed Harper gently, stroking his pale glorious skin everywhere, hoping he could make Harper as happy as he wished he could.

/We're like dreamers
In nice colours
Childlike dreamers
Under water/

It was surreal. Somehow the two of them, big and small, black and white, brawn and scrawn, yin and yang, moved together in perfect harmony, making beautiful music. They fit perfeclty, Harper clutching to Tyr with arms and legs like a missing puzzle piece. Flesh was sensitized and glistening, the kisses were loving and passionate. This was right- traditions and philosophies and physicalities be damned, this is what the dieties had in mind, this was love. This was right. It was the rightest thing in six galaxies.

After, in a lazy, sleepy, love-addled haze, Harper snuggled up to Tyr, who held him close. "I love you," the boy barely got it out.

Tyr didn't respond. He wanted to, he felt it, he had the words formed and on his tongue, but some how he just could not say it.

I knew it, Harper thought. Well, Seamus Z, that's what you get for giving away your heart.

But he had gotten what he wanted. And Tyr was still there. He could die then and it would be worth it.

/We're the dreamers
in nice colours
And the colours
Are like summer/

Tyr held the small sleeping human in his arms and felt like the biggest asshole in the universe.

So brave, his little human, to take what he wanted so badly like that, to give away his soul. And Tyr, what a coward he was, to push it away and hide it like...like a scared little kludge.

Tyr sighed and laid his precious burden down. He peppered the boy's brow and face with kisses. Harper was going to die, and there was nothing the Nietzschean could do. He regarded the sleeping boy and fretted, hoping he could fix this before it was too late.

"I love you, Seamus." He stroked Harper's hair, but the boy couldn't heat him. Tyr left, leaving Seamus to sleep, ultimately, alone.


The end.