Disclaimers: MT characters are all property of SilverDragon.

Rating: NC-17 for sexual content, allusions to violence, and strong language.

Pairing: SharpshotxChamp

Title of fic: "Something Like Living"

Author: Joygirl 007

      I'm having a hard time lifting my arms above my head.  There's till a dull ache that throbs in my chest; I can't even breath that deeply.  That water pours down over my head, washing away the hospital smell and drowning out all feelings of unclean.  Lying on a bed for…how long was it?

      I try to think back but I can't.  My head gets blurry and my eyes start to sting, like the last vibes of a bad acid flashback.  I can remember the taste of blood…and Jun…my brother…screaming for me to help him.

      I can't even help myself.

      I can hear a tapping at he bathroom door.  It's the kid…who else?

      "Sharpshot?" God, he's got a high-pitched voice.  "I'm just going to leave the towels right here, okay?"  I peer through the steamed up door to the shower.  I can see him stick his hand in, dropping towels on the sink.  I catch a glimpse of his face-he's got his eyes covered with his hand.  I almost laugh; this kid wants me but he can't even seize the opportunity to see me naked?  But I don't laugh; laughing hurts.

      Everything hurts right now.

      I decide its time to get out of the shower.  Reaching for the knobs to turn off the water, I get that sharp stabbing pain in my chest again.  Fear gets me…but its more like an aftertaste of the fear I felt then.  He could have killed me.  He would have killed me…

      "Sharpshot?" The kid again.  "Are you okay?"

      Jesus, it he listening at the door?  Kind of scary…

      "Yeah," I say.  "I'm getting out."

      The door opens and for a second I think he's actually going to take a look at me, standing there bare-assed naked, but again he sticks his head in and has his eyes covered with one slim hand.

      "I'm going to go the store, you want anything?"  His friendliness freaks me out; his ignorance freaks me out.

      "Nah, just…" I rub my face with my hands.  "Just a razor?  And some shaving stuff…I don't want to use up homeboy's stuff."

      "Oh, Champ doesn't mind," he says.  He takes his head out of the door and before he closes it he says in that sweet, dedicated voice, "I'll be back real soon!"  The door closes and I'm alone again.  I lean my head against the damp tiles.

      The door opens.  I turn to tell the kid to get going already when I see a tiny face peer in.  It is a kid, but not the kid…one of homeboy's kids, I think.  A little girl with braces on her legs.

      I stare at her, and she stares right back.  I kind of wave at her, but she slams the door shut.  I can hear giggling out in the hall.  Fucking kids, man….

      I get out of the shower and carefully dry off, trying not to move too much or too quickly.  Don't want to be back in the hospital again.  Don't want to be anywhere near there…

      Getting out of the bathroom is easy.  I walk down the hall and into the room where I dumped my meager possessions earlier.  Walked out of that hospital with nothing but a gown, and a prescription, and then the kid gave me back my lighter and that was it for me.  I see that he's picked out clothes for me, they must be homeboy's; he looks to be about my size…if he weren't in a wheel chair.

      Getting dressed is a problem.  I get the pants up but when I went for the shirt, I got dizzy.  Guess I passed out cause all of a sudden, there's this little face peering down at me.  Its another one of homeboy's kids.

      "Go get Daddy," one says.  I blink up at the kid; he can't be older than seven.  Wonder how old homeboy is…

      He wheels in a second later, one of the kids on his lap.

      "You all right?" he asks.  I'm just getting to me feet, leaning heavily on the bed.

      "Yeah," I say, "Just tired, I guess."

      He watches me for a few more seconds.  For some reason, I can't look at him.  I press my hand to my face.  I watch through my fingers as he pushes the kid off his lap.  I see him gesture for the kids to leave.  He closes the door behind them, wheeling more into the room.  "You should lie down."

      "I been lying down enough," I say, but I sit on the edge of the bed.  I still can't makes myself look at him, so I just look at the floor.

      Its quiet for a while.  He's watching me, I know; sizing me up.

      "I was down for six months…after…"  I don't know what he's talking about.  I look up.  He's gesturing to his legs.

      "Oh," I say.  "That blows...Kenny told me about…the lung cancer. 

Sorry, man."

      "Well," he says, but he stops looking at me.  "We'll see who dies first, huh?"

       I almost laugh, but it'd really hurt.  So I smile at him instead.

       We sit like that for a while, nice and quiet.  I like quiet.

      "Listen," he says, finally, "I don't mind you holing up here for tonight, while you try to get your head straight…

      But you can't stay here.  I want you out by tomorrow morning."  He doesn't sound mean; just tired.

      I look up at him.

      He leans forward a bit in his chair.  I can kind of see how he looks old enough to have so many kids.

      "See, I made a vow…no gangsters here," he looks at me again, those eyes going right through me.  "I got kids to think about.  I don't want to see you, or see the people who might be coming after you…they've had enough violence in their lives."

      "Yeah," I say.  "I know."  I don't know.  I have no idea what's going on anymore.  Jun wants to go home, and (other brother) shows up.  I nearly die and the only thing I can think about is how much I want a fucking cigarette.

      Shit, he's saying something---

      "What?" I ask.

      "I said, 'where else do you have to go?'" he looks concerned.  I can't look at him-I wonder why.

      "Oh," I look down at my hands.  They've gotten so thin and pale.  "I got a home I guess.  Don't know how much I want to go there."

      Suddenly I feel like crying.  I haven't done that in years.  Not since Grandpa died…

      Suddenly I am crying.  What the fuck?

      What's wrong with me?  Assassins don't cry…I think.  Fuck, who am I kidding.  An assassin would never have allowed his own brother to get kidnapped.  An assassin never would have made such stupid mistakes and put his life on the line.  An assassin never would have…

      His hands are on me.

      I rub at my face, trying to get my eyes to stop burning.  His hands are on my shoulders, steadying me.

      "It sucks, doesn't it?" he asks.  I still can't look at him.  "Being what you are, doing what you do.  You can't rest.  You can't win."

      "…I just can't…stop," I finish, drawing a raggedy breath.  I'm too scared to breath deep; it'll hurt.  "Rave or die.  I got no choice…I got a family too, and my brother he--"

      "Sh," he says.  "Its okay, you don't have to talk about this now."

      "No," I saw, shaking my head.  I'm looking right down into his lap, at his legs which used to be really powerful and now are all broken and useless.

      Kind of like me.

      "No," I say again.  "I gotta talk about.  I…can't talk about to anyone else.  You understand, right?  All the shit I go through.  To protect my friends…my family…But I…"  I can't keep saying this.  My chest hurts…

      "You can't even protect yourself," he finishes.

      I look up.  I can look at him now.

      "Can you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.  His hands are still on my shoulders.  They're warm.

      "…Well shit.  I mean I guess I can't, right?  A busted rib and a

busted lung…some fucking hired killer I make, huh?  But…its not like I do this for fun.  Shit, not even the raves."  There's more to this.  I know there is.  He knows there is.  He just waits for me to say it.  "I do it because…because I…"  I can't find the right words.

      He holds my gaze.  I can't fucking take it.  I look off to the side.  "You know, Kenny?" I say.

      He blinks.  He didn't expect that.  "Yeah?"

      "Jun used to be like him…and then…well…shit got tough.  We had to leave home.  Well, I had to leave; he just came with me.  And its hard making a living out there.  Going to raves, knowing people, knowing how to get where you need to go.  It makes you hard.  That's what happened to Jun.  With Kenny, I thought, well, maybe it won't happen to him.  If I took the job from his sister, that's one less fucked up kid. So I did, but the kind of…stuff he does for me…or wants to do for me…it that kind of unconditional-love.  Its that kind of shit I got to avoid.  I mean I do this cause I need to make money…and I need to protect the ones I already care about.  But I also gotta keep people away.  I'm not safe to hang around with.

      "Guys like me…Kenny's got no business getting involved."

      He looks at me.  Champ, that's his name.  Why do I keep forgetting that?  He looks at me for a long time.  My face starts to get hot.

      "So?" he asks.

       My turn to blink.  "Huh?"

       "So, who can get involved?  Me?"  I stare at him.  I don't really get it.  "Uh…sure.  I gue-"  I can't finish.  He's kissing me.  I don't know what to do.  I mean, there's not really much to do…I open my mouth, slide my tongue between his lips…his mouth is hot.  His hands are moving on me…

      "I'm ba-ack!" I hear the kid slam the door downstairs.  "Sharpshot?  Champ?"

      The moment's gone.  He sits back in his chair.  He looks at me, no expression on his face.  He starts to wheel around and out.

      "Champ," I call out after him just as he opens the door.  He looks back over his shoulder at me.  "Thanks." He nods at me and then rolls out.

      I start thinking I should shave…

      Its past midnight.  The kid fell asleep in the room I'm in, talking a bunch of noise about how he feels safe with me.

      Jesus, I wonder if I was ever like that…

      Homeboy gave me some clothes.  I got them rolled up in a tight bundle.  I decide to leave my lighter with the kid; couldn't hurt.

      Besides, maybe its time for me to quit smoking.

      I creep down the hall.  Why couldn't I be this quick and quiet when I was trying to save Jun?

      Fuck it; that's over now.

      I go to homeboy's room.  There's a light on, I can see it underneath the door.  I don't knock, I just kind of ease it open.

      He's there, reading.  Propped up in bed with a  bunch of cushions; his chair's right beside the bed.  He wears reading glasses.

      He looks at me.  He's not surprised.

      "Well?" he asks, saving his place in his book with a finger.

      "Yeah," I say.  Its funny cause I don't know what I mean.  But I know what I want…

      I go over to him and take the book out of his hands.  "I've made some dumb choices," I say, putting the book in the wheelchair.  "And I'll probably make a lot more.  I am what I am and that really sucks sometimes."

      I look at him while I sit very carefully on the edge of his bed.  I get it now.  I get what he was saying.  I just don't have any words for it.

      "But that's it," I say.  I'm leaning close.  I hope he'll kiss so I don't have to think of anything else to say.  But he waits so I try to think of something, some way to explain whatever it is I'm trying to say.  I look at his lips so I don't have to look at those eyes.

      "Rave or die?" he asks.

      I look at him.  "Nah," I say.  "There's always more to it."

      That did it.  He kissed me.  No more talking now, just feeling. 

Feeling his warm hands sliding down my back and under my shirt.  Feeling his lips pressing mine while his tongue rakes over the roof of my mouth.  I can feel his breath, rattling in his chest.  His hands are gentle as they move over my ribs, careful when they brush my nipples.  I'm getting hotter.  I straddle both sides of his legs, pulling my shirt up.  It stings inside my chest and I grunt in pain.

      He reaches up and pulls the shirt off the rest of the way for me.  His hands trace down my sides, soft and gentle.  I'm not used to this.  I lean forward, pressing into his mouth.  My hands go to his hips.  I wonder if he can feel them down there.

      He pushes his down over my stomach and onto my thighs.  He presses down; he's still pretty strong in the arms.  My lags slide wider, bringing me down into his lap.

      Its pretty clear that something down there still has feeling.  I can feel him pressing up against my balls, the hot length getting harder as I settle down on top of him.  It makes my legs quiver.

      I haven't done this a lot.  I'm not sure where to go next.  I don't want to hurt him and I don't want to hurt me.  He bites and licks at my upper lip.  I lean farther over so he can do it without sitting up all the way.  I didn't even notice that his hands have already gotten off my belt and zipper and they're pushing the pants down.  I stretch my legs a bit back so he can slide them off.  I've got nothing on underneath.  Its cold.

      He leans back so I can sit up and get the pants off all the way.  I want this; he can tell.  He just watches me, kneeling naked on his bed.  I must look like shit, all skinny and bruised.

      He traces my jaw with his hand.  I'm waiting, but he does nothing else, so I reach for his shirt to get it off.  When his arms are free, his hands go to my back, pressing the palms done and dragging them down to my lower back.

  The calluses on his fingers tickle.  I'm pushing down his sheets, trying to get at his shorts.  His hands go to my hair and run along my scalp.

      Why am I doing this? I wonder.  I get the sheets down and go for his boxers.

      Because, I say to myself.  I get the boxers down.  His dick is right there, all swollen and rigid.  Because I need to feel alive.

      And here with this dying man, I somehow feel that way.

      I've never done this before, but somehow, my lips go to his cock.  Its warm and hard and it feels weird to have my tongue sliding across it.  How many times have I had this done to me?

      He makes a noise and I look up.  His hands tighten in my hair and I know he doesn't want to wait much longer.

      I'm not sure, but he is.  He grabs my hips and pulls me up to him.  He kisses me and gets his tongue way into the back of my throat.

      Is this it? I think, suddenly cold.  Is that what that prick did to my brother?  No--

      His hands cup my ass cheeks and massage them gently.  I know what comes next; I've done it before.

      What Champ is doing now is the same thing I'm doing.  Trying to feel alive.

      Kross…that bastard was long dead before I got to him.

      Champ's fingers are sliding into the cleft of my ass, worming their way in. It feels weird, but there's no pain.

      It doesn't hurt anymore.

      The rest is easy.  Slide on, slide up and back.  Feel the heat building inside me.  It feels good in so many ways.  I arch my back, pressing down in as hard as I can.  He brushes that spot inside me that makes everything tingle.  I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath.  It doesn't hurt.

      At some point I know he grabbed me, his warm hands wrapping around my cock, squeezing, pulling, rubbing…I'm so gone.  I'm hot and my ears are ringing.  I can breath but I can't get any air.  There's no pain and I'm even though I can't see, I don't mind being lost here.

      There's nothing better than this.  Knowing you're not alone, knowing you're alive…

      It ends too soon.  I'm tired, he's tired, but I've got a promise to keep.  I get up, tuck the covers over him.  I get dressed and I leave.

      I know where I am.  I don't know where I'm going.  But for the first time, in a long time, I don't feel like I need anything.  Not even a cigarette.

The End