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fellowshippers2002-08-14 09:16 am
lazulus) wrote in fellowshippers2002-08-14 09:16 am
Fic: The Heart of the Matter (DM/VM)
Title: The Heart of the Matter (1/?)
Author: Jaq (jaq@livejournal.com)
Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom and Viggo have dinner.
Disclaimer: Very much the product of my warped and twisted mind and I'm sure that these nice boys would never even think of doing anything like this.
Notes: UK spelling. Thanks to Deborah and her allotment. This is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jenfr, my beta goddess - I prostrate myself before you!
Feedback: Appreciated
"So, I was thinking, you want dinner? The garden has been very fruitful and I think you'll enjoy what I’ve grown. So come over. No problem what time. See you then."
Dom shook his head in amusement. Typical bloody Viggo. Obscure as hell. He wondered what Viggo had been growing, and decided that whatever it was, he would go over to Viggo's to taste it.
As much as Dom really liked Viggo and enjoyed his company, there was something about the older man that made him a little nervous. He thought it might be the way Viggo had of seeming to watch everything with a small, amused look on his face. Dom thought that maybe Viggo, for some reason, found him especially entertaining. The thought was a little disturbing. It was possibly this thought that was the reason for Dom finding himself outside Viggo’s front door on a balmy evening instead of at the pub with the other hobbits and Orli.
Dom knocked. No answer. He knocked again. “Open.” Viggo’s low, throaty voice came through the door. Dom turned the door-knob and pushed.
The house smelt strangely acrid. Dom sniffed and made a face. He pin-pointed the smell and wandering through to the kitchen.
Viggo was leaning against the worktop sipping a glass of wine. “Hello, Dominic.” He picked up a glass from the draining board and gestured towards the bottle on the table, raising an inviting eyebrow.
Dom nodded. Stepping forward, he took the glass from Viggo and, picking up the bottle, poured the wine into it. He looked at the damp label, raised his glass to the other man and then took a leisurely sip. “Nice.”
Viggo grinned at him. “Are you hungry?”
Dom’s mouth quirked down at the edges and he narrowed his eyes. “Not if you’re intending us to eat whatever is emitting that foul smell.”
Viggo laughed his dry, barking laugh and gestured for Dom to sit down. "Don't be such a wuss, Dominic. You can't tell what something is like until you've tried it." He lifted the lid from the pot that was bubbling on the stove and took a deep, noisy sniff. "Fabulous! Just right. Let's eat."
Dom sat while Viggo drained the water from the pot, then placed it on the table. Once the pan was deposited in front of him, he peered into it. Four dark green, spiky globes stared back at him. “Stupid question, Vig. What the fuck are those?”
“Artichokes, of course.” Viggo raised his eyebrows and stared at Dom in surprise. “You’re not seriously telling me that you’ve never seen an artichoke before?”
Dom felt a little embarrassed. Suddenly he was transported back to school and feeling belittled by the clever, older boys again. “Well, not like these are the usual type of artichokes. I’ve had them before, but they’ve never looked like that. They’re usually just fleshy, layered things in oil.”
“Oh.” Leaning back against the worktop, Viggo smiled a sweet, open smile. “Those were the hearts. That’s how people tend to get them served up. No fun at all!” He laughed. “You know, it strikes me that it’s about time you discovered the joys of this particular delicacy.” Placing a large plate on the table, he tipped the artichokes onto it and bent his head down to gaze at Dom with hooded eyes. “Green globe artichokes. Spiny little fuckers!”
Dom laughed at Viggo’s sly look. “Did you grow these yourself then?”
“I did indeed.” There was a proud tone to Viggo’s voice. “Although,” he added softly, “the plants were already in. I wondered what they were at first, then my neighbour told me. I was thrilled!”
Dom looked up at him, impressed. “I can’t grow anything! Got gangrene fingers, me.” They both laughed. “So, how do you eat these? They don’t exactly look appetising.”
Viggo placed a dish of butter in the middle of the table and a side-plate in front of Dom. He gingerly picked up an artichoke and, hissing through his teeth at the burning heat on his fingers, dropped it onto Dom’s plate.
Dom stared at it. Then he stared at Viggo. “Ok. You’re gonna have to help me out here. Apart from the fact that they are probably the most unattractive vegetable I have ever seen, I have no fucking idea what the hell I’m meant to do now.” He shook his head and smiled his lop-sided smile. He prodded at the artichoke and let out a squeal as his finger was impaled on a lethally sharp spine. “Fucking hell, Vig! These things should carry a health warning!” Dom put his finger in his mouth and sucked at the dribble of blood coming from the puncture wound left by the spine.
Shaking his head in mock concern, Viggo handed Dom a napkin and settled into the role of instructor. “Well, there are two main schools of thought regarding the eating of globe artichokes. There are those who feel that life is simply too short for messy eating practices, and who also have no desire to traverse the inherent dangers.” He grinned, shaking his head at the red tip of Dom’s finger which was being pointed pathetically at him. He continued. “So, they quickly remove the leaves to get straight to the heart.” He picked up an artichoke and held it up to Dom by the stalk. “However, there are those of us who believe that, although the heart of the artichoke is the most sought after part, the getting to the heart is what makes the experience most satisfying.”
Dom was still staring at his finger, which had stopped bleeding and was throbbing unpleasantly. He gave Viggo a mournful look. “I take it you’re expecting me to go the dangerous route here?”
“Of course!” Viggo smiled at him. “Think of it as a culinary baptism of fire! Anyway, you’ll thank me later when you want to have a ruse to hang a successful seduction upon.”
“Seduction? You’re not telling me that eating artichokes can get you laid?” Dom narrowed his eyes. “Has this ever actually worked for you?”
Viggo considered the question. “Well, not as yet, but I live in hope.”
“Ever the optimist.” Dom smirked.
“Absolutely.” Viggo stared at the artichoke which he was still holding in his hand. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that hope springs eternal?”
“If she did, I doubt if using food to get sex was what she was referring to.” Dom sat back in his chair. “So, you gonna give me the full artichoke sex treatment, then?”
“Oh, yes. The full treatment.” Dom watched in fascination as Viggo held onto the green globe by the stalk and tore off one of the leaves. Feeling the younger man’s gaze upon him, he looked up and smiled. “Not hungry?” He grinned a slow, lazy grin. Holding the leaf by the narrow spine he dragged the other end across the butter, scooping it up to make a mound of soft, yellow, melting fat at the base of the artichoke leaf. Dom’s eyes widened as Viggo placed the buttered end into his mouth and closed his lips over it. He scraped the leaf firmly across his bottom teeth and sighed. Viggo’s eyes were closed and he was murmuring to himself with pleasure. Sucking hard, he finally pulled the leaf out of his mouth, licked his lips and blinked his eyes open.
“Fucking hell.” Dom breathed.
“So.” Viggo waved at Dom’s plate. “You gonna try one?”
Dom stared opened-mouthed at Viggo. "Erm, well, yeah." He swallowed and picked up his artichoke. "So, this isn't gonna taste gross, is it?"
Viggo shook his head in amusement. "It tastes wonderful. There's something about the delicacy of the flavour, the having to work to get at it, that is indescribable. People who go straight to the heart simply don't know what they're missing."
Dom plucked one of the leaves from his artichoke and dipped it into the butter. He stared up at Viggo and placed the leaf in his mouth. As he scraped with flesh across his teeth, the flavour exploded over his palate. He let out a moan and began to laugh. Butter dribbled down his chin and his tongue flicked out to lick at it before it dripped onto the table. “Christ, that’s fucking fabulous.” He shook his head and gave a Viggo a twinkling smile. “Well, congratulations, Mortensen, you’re the first person who’s managed to give me the horn simply by feeding me!”
Viggo snorted with laughter. “And you’ve not got to the heart yet. Just wait until you taste that.”
They both continued to eat, savouring each mouthful, groaning and muttering with delight as the earthy, slightly tart taste of the artichokes swam across their taste-buds. All the time they maintained an easy, slightly out-of-focus eye contact. Dom wondered vaguely if Viggo was trying to seduce him. The thought wasn’t completely unpleasant, although he had to admit that, if push came to shove and Viggo was, indeed, hitting on him, he would probably run screaming. Not that he had a problem with it. Just that he was straight. He liked women. He had no desire to even touch another man. Not at all. Nope. Not even a little desire. Well, apart from… fuck, he was doing it again.
Dom suddenly realised that he had stopped eating and was staring over the top of Viggo’s head. Not only that, Viggo was gazing at him with an appraising look, chin cupped in his palm.
“Viggo, can I ask you something?” Dom put down his food and took a deep breath. When Viggo nodded for him to continue, he asked, “Have you ever had sex with another man?”
Viggo let out a bark of laughter, making Dom jump. “Well, let’s just cut to the chase shall we! Any particular reason for asking that?”
Dom blushed. “Well, I dunno, just some stuff I’ve been thinking about lately. And I figured that you’d not be offended if I asked.”
“Well. I suppose that being an old hippy, according to you guys anyway, it’s possibly more likely that I’m open to such things.” Viggo smiled. “So, yes, I have. And I’m not closed to it happening again.”
Dom nodded. “Thought you might have. I’ve not. I mean, until I came here, it’d never even occurred to me.”
“And now?” Viggo leaned back to grab the bottle of wine from the counter. “What, or maybe that should be who, has changed your mind?” He poured more wine into their glasses and began to pick at his artichoke again.
“Oh. It’s, fuck, it’s just you know, he’s a bit like a girl!” Dom shook his head and took a sip of his wine.
Viggo stared at him. “Who is?”
“Elijah.” Dom sighed and sat back in his chair.
Viggo nearly choked on his wine. “Elijah? Like a girl?” He began to laugh. A big, roaring, head-thrown-back laugh.
“What?” Viggo’s reaction had surprised the hell out of Dom. “I take it you don’t think so.”
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, I have never thought of Elijah as anything other than decidedly male. Which begs the question, what is it that makes you think that?” Viggo, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and patted at the drops of wine that had hit the table when he had started laughing.
Dom screwed his eyes up and thought for a moment. He hadn’t actually tried to articulate it before. It was more that the general impression he got of Elijah was of clear, soft skin, a high sharp giggle, slight frame, eager smiles and touches. Which were the kinds of thing that appealed to him about the girls he always went for.
Viggo watched him intently. “Have you thought,” he asked softly, “that the reason you’re determined to think of Elijah as girlish, is that you need to be able to find a reason for being attracted to him?” The eyes that held Dom’s were gentle.
“Maybe. Oh, I dunno. It’s all a bit strange really. I find myself staring at him trying to work out if I actually do fancy him.” Dom shrugged, sighed and went back to picking at his artichoke. “Anyway. I think I’ve got about as much from this bloody thing as I can. Now, what the hell do I do with this bit?”
Dom waved the artichoke at Viggo, who beamed at him. The centre of the vegetable was covered with hairs, making it decidedly unappealing as far as Dom was concerned.
Viggo slowly licked his fingers, eyes half-shut as he savoured the lingering taste. He was half-aware of the flush that had spread across Dom’s throat and cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured towards the hairy mass covering the remains of the artichoke and began to rip at it. “You see, Dominic, you must never eat these strands as they will choke you. The heart is contained within them, making it a ritual to get to it.” He pulled the last of the strands away. “There. The heart.” He smeared butter over the pale mound that had emerged from the middle of the globe and bit into it. “Mmmm, absolutely fabulous.” He waved his hand at Dom, gesturing for the young man to take a bite.
Dom took hold of Viggo’s wrist and raised the hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Viggo’s face. He opened his mouth and took a tentative bite of the artichoke heart. Once again, butter dribbled down his chin. This time, it was Viggo who wiped it away.
“Vig.”
“Yes, Dominic.”
“Is this… you know… I was wondering… what is this?” Dom was still leaning towards Viggo, hand still on Viggo’s wrist. He licked his lips.
Viggo waited for a heart-beat and then smiled and moved his hand away, out of Dom’s grasp. “Well, maybe it’s simply two friends, ruminating upon the sensual possibilities inherent in the eating of a green globe artichoke. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Dom considered this. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”
Title: The Heart of the Matter (1/?)
Author: Jaq (jaq@lazulus.com)
Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: PG
Archiving: Beyond the Fellowship, anyone else just ask
Summary: Dom and Viggo have dinner.
Disclaimer: Very much the product of my warped and twisted mind and I'm sure that these nice boys would never even think of doing anything like this.
Notes: UK spelling. Thanks to Deborah and her allotment. This is for Jen, my beta goddess - I prostrate myself before you!
Feedback: Appreciated
"So, I was thinking, you want dinner? The garden has been very fruitful and I think you'll enjoy what I’ve grown. So come over. No problem what time. See you then."
Dom shook his head in amusement. Typical bloody Viggo. Obscure as hell. He wondered what Viggo had been growing, and decided that whatever it was, he would go over to Viggo's to taste it.
As much as Dom really liked Viggo and enjoyed his company, there was something about the older man that made him a little nervous. He thought it might be the way Viggo had of seeming to watch everything with a small, amused look on his face. Dom thought that maybe Viggo, for some reason, found him especially entertaining. The thought was a little disturbing. It was possibly this thought that was the reason for Dom finding himself outside Viggo’s front door on a balmy evening instead of at the pub with the other hobbits and Orli.
Dom knocked. No answer. He knocked again. “Open.” Viggo’s low, throaty voice came through the door. Dom turned the door-knob and pushed.
The house smelt strangely acrid. Dom sniffed and made a face. He pin-pointed the smell and wandering through to the kitchen.
Viggo was leaning against the worktop sipping a glass of wine. “Hello, Dominic.” He picked up a glass from the draining board and gestured towards the bottle on the table, raising an inviting eyebrow.
Dom nodded. Stepping forward, he took the glass from Viggo and, picking up the bottle, poured the wine into it. He looked at the damp label, raised his glass to the other man and then took a leisurely sip. “Nice.”
Viggo grinned at him. “Are you hungry?”
Dom’s mouth quirked down at the edges and he narrowed his eyes. “Not if you’re intending us to eat whatever is emitting that foul smell.”
Viggo laughed his dry, barking laugh and gestured for Dom to sit down. "Don't be such a wuss, Dominic. You can't tell what something is like until you've tried it." He lifted the lid from the pot that was bubbling on the stove and took a deep, noisy sniff. "Fabulous! Just right. Let's eat."
Dom sat while Viggo drained the water from the pot, then placed it on the table. Once the pan was deposited in front of him, he peered into it. Four dark green, spiky globes stared back at him. “Stupid question, Vig. What the fuck are those?”
“Artichokes, of course.” Viggo raised his eyebrows and stared at Dom in surprise. “You’re not seriously telling me that you’ve never seen an artichoke before?”
Dom felt a little embarrassed. Suddenly he was transported back to school and feeling belittled by the clever, older boys again. “Well, not like these are the usual type of artichokes. I’ve had them before, but they’ve never looked like that. They’re usually just fleshy, layered things in oil.”
“Oh.” Leaning back against the worktop, Viggo smiled a sweet, open smile. “Those were the hearts. That’s how people tend to get them served up. No fun at all!” He laughed. “You know, it strikes me that it’s about time you discovered the joys of this particular delicacy.” Placing a large plate on the table, he tipped the artichokes onto it and bent his head down to gaze at Dom with hooded eyes. “Green globe artichokes. Spiny little fuckers!”
Dom laughed at Viggo’s sly look. “Did you grow these yourself then?”
“I did indeed.” There was a proud tone to Viggo’s voice. “Although,” he added softly, “the plants were already in. I wondered what they were at first, then my neighbour told me. I was thrilled!”
Dom looked up at him, impressed. “I can’t grow anything! Got gangrene fingers, me.” They both laughed. “So, how do you eat these? They don’t exactly look appetising.”
Viggo placed a dish of butter in the middle of the table and a side-plate in front of Dom. He gingerly picked up an artichoke and, hissing through his teeth at the burning heat on his fingers, dropped it onto Dom’s plate.
Dom stared at it. Then he stared at Viggo. “Ok. You’re gonna have to help me out here. Apart from the fact that they are probably the most unattractive vegetable I have ever seen, I have no fucking idea what the hell I’m meant to do now.” He shook his head and smiled his lop-sided smile. He prodded at the artichoke and let out a squeal as his finger was impaled on a lethally sharp spine. “Fucking hell, Vig! These things should carry a health warning!” Dom put his finger in his mouth and sucked at the dribble of blood coming from the puncture wound left by the spine.
Shaking his head in mock concern, Viggo handed Dom a napkin and settled into the role of instructor. “Well, there are two main schools of thought regarding the eating of globe artichokes. There are those who feel that life is simply too short for messy eating practices, and who also have no desire to traverse the inherent dangers.” He grinned, shaking his head at the red tip of Dom’s finger which was being pointed pathetically at him. He continued. “So, they quickly remove the leaves to get straight to the heart.” He picked up an artichoke and held it up to Dom by the stalk. “However, there are those of us who believe that, although the heart of the artichoke is the most sought after part, the getting to the heart is what makes the experience most satisfying.”
Dom was still staring at his finger, which had stopped bleeding and was throbbing unpleasantly. He gave Viggo a mournful look. “I take it you’re expecting me to go the dangerous route here?”
“Of course!” Viggo smiled at him. “Think of it as a culinary baptism of fire! Anyway, you’ll thank me later when you want to have a ruse to hang a successful seduction upon.”
“Seduction? You’re not telling me that eating artichokes can get you laid?” Dom narrowed his eyes. “Has this ever actually worked for you?”
Viggo considered the question. “Well, not as yet, but I live in hope.”
“Ever the optimist.” Dom smirked.
“Absolutely.” Viggo stared at the artichoke which he was still holding in his hand. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that hope springs eternal?”
“If she did, I doubt if using food to get sex was what she was referring to.” Dom sat back in his chair. “So, you gonna give me the full artichoke sex treatment, then?”
“Oh, yes. The full treatment.” Dom watched in fascination as Viggo held onto the green globe by the stalk and tore off one of the leaves. Feeling the younger man’s gaze upon him, he looked up and smiled. “Not hungry?” He grinned a slow, lazy grin. Holding the leaf by the narrow spine he dragged the other end across the butter, scooping it up to make a mound of soft, yellow, melting fat at the base of the artichoke leaf. Dom’s eyes widened as Viggo placed the buttered end into his mouth and closed his lips over it. He scraped the leaf firmly across his bottom teeth and sighed. Viggo’s eyes were closed and he was murmuring to himself with pleasure. Sucking hard, he finally pulled the leaf out of his mouth, licked his lips and blinked his eyes open.
“Fucking hell.” Dom breathed.
“So.” Viggo waved at Dom’s plate. “You gonna try one?”
Dom stared opened-mouthed at Viggo. "Erm, well, yeah." He swallowed and picked up his artichoke. "So, this isn't gonna taste gross, is it?"
Viggo shook his head in amusement. "It tastes wonderful. There's something about the delicacy of the flavour, the having to work to get at it, that is indescribable. People who go straight to the heart simply don't know what they're missing."
Dom plucked one of the leaves from his artichoke and dipped it into the butter. He stared up at Viggo and placed the leaf in his mouth. As he scraped with flesh across his teeth the flavour exploded over his palate. He let out a moan and began to laugh. Butter dribbled down his chin and his tongue flicked out to lick at it before it dripped onto the table. “Christ, that’s fucking fabulous.” He shook his head and gave a Viggo a twinkling smile. “Well, congratulations, Mortensen, you’re the first person who’s managed to give me the horn simply by feeding me!”
Viggo snorted with laughter. “And you’ve not got to the heart yet. Just wait until you taste that.”
They both continued to eat, savouring each mouthful, groaning and muttering with delight as the earthy, slightly tart taste of the artichokes swam across their taste-buds. All the time they maintained an easy, slightly out-of-focus eye contact. Dom wondered vaguely if Viggo was trying to seduce him. The thought wasn’t completely unpleasant, although he had to admit that, if push came to shove and Viggo was, indeed, hitting on him, he would probably run screaming. Not that he had a problem with it. Just that he was straight. He liked women. He had no desire to even touch another man. Not at all. Nope. Not even a little desire. Well, apart from… fuck, he was doing it again.
Dom suddenly realised that he had stopped eating and was staring over the top of Viggo’s head. Not only that, Viggo was gazing at him with an appraising look, chin cupped in his palm.
“Viggo, can I ask you something?” Dom put down his food and took a deep breath. When Viggo nodded for him to continue, he asked, “Have you ever had sex with another man?”
Viggo let out a bark of laughter, making Dom jump. “Well, let’s just cut to the chase shall we! Any particular reason for asking that?”
Dom blushed. “Well, I dunno, just some stuff I’ve been thinking about lately. And I figured that you’d not be offended if I asked.”
“Well. I suppose that being an old hippy, according to you guys anyway, it’s possibly more likely that I’m open to such things.” Viggo smiled. “So, yes, I have. And I’m not closed to it happening again.”
Dom nodded. “Thought you might have. I’ve not. I mean, until I came here, it’d never even occurred to me.”
“And now?” Viggo leaned back to grab the bottle of wine from the counter. “What, or maybe that should be who, has changed your mind?” He poured more wine into their glasses and began to pick at his artichoke again.
“Oh. It’s, fuck, it’s just you know, he’s a bit like a girl!” Dom shook his head and took a sip of his wine.
Viggo stared at him. “Who is?”
“Elijah.” Dom sighed and sat back in his chair.
Viggo nearly choked on his wine. “Elijah? Like a girl?” He began to laugh. A big, roaring, head-thrown-back laugh.
“What?” Viggo’s reaction had surprised the hell out of Dom. “I take it you don’t think so.”
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, I have never thought of Elijah as anything other than decidedly male. Which begs the question, what is it that makes you think that?” Viggo wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and patted at the drops of wine that had hit the table when he had started laughing.
Dom screwed his eyes up and thought for a moment. He hadn’t actually tried to articulate it before. It was more that the general impression he got of Elijah was of clear, soft skin, a high sharp giggle, slight frame, eager smiles and touches. Which were the kinds of thing that appealed to him about the girls he always went for.
Viggo watched him intently. “Have you thought,” he asked softly, “that the reason you’re determined to think of Elijah as girlish, is that you need to be able to find a reason for being attracted to him?” The eyes that held Dom’s were gentle.
“Maybe. Oh, I dunno. It’s all a bit strange really. I find myself staring at him trying to work out if I actually do fancy him.” Dom shrugged, sighed and went back to picking at his artichoke. “Anyway. I think I’ve got about as much from this bloody thing as I can. Now, what the hell do I do with this bit?”
Dom waved the artichoke at Viggo, who beamed at him. The centre of the vegetable was covered with hairs, making it decidedly unappealing as far as Dom was concerned.
Viggo slowly licked his fingers, eyes half-shut as he savoured the lingering taste. He was half-aware of the flush that had spread across Dom’s throat and cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured towards the hairy mass covering the remains of the artichoke and began to rip at it. “You see, Dominic, you must never eat these strands as they will choke you. The heart is contained within them, making it a ritual to get to it.” He pulled the last of the strands away. “There. The heart.” He smeared butter over the pale mound that had emerged from the middle of the globe and bit into it. “Mmmm, absolutely fabulous.” He waved his hand at Dom, gesturing for the young man to take a bite.
Dom took hold of Viggo’s wrist and raised the hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Viggo’s face. He opened his mouth and took a tentative bite of the artichoke heart. Once again, butter dribbled down his chin. This time, it was Viggo who wiped it away.
“Vig.”
“Yes, Dominic.”
“Is this… you know… I was wondering… what is this?” Dom was still leaning towards Viggo, hand still on Viggo’s wrist. He licked his lips.
Viggo waited for a heart-beat and then smiled and moved his hand away, out of Dom’s grasp. “Well, maybe it’s simply two friends, ruminating upon the sensual possibilities inherent in the eating of a green globe artichoke. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Dom considered this. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”
Author: Jaq (jaq@livejournal.com)
Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom and Viggo have dinner.
Disclaimer: Very much the product of my warped and twisted mind and I'm sure that these nice boys would never even think of doing anything like this.
Notes: UK spelling. Thanks to Deborah and her allotment. This is for
jenfr, my beta goddess - I prostrate myself before you!Feedback: Appreciated
"So, I was thinking, you want dinner? The garden has been very fruitful and I think you'll enjoy what I’ve grown. So come over. No problem what time. See you then."
Dom shook his head in amusement. Typical bloody Viggo. Obscure as hell. He wondered what Viggo had been growing, and decided that whatever it was, he would go over to Viggo's to taste it.
As much as Dom really liked Viggo and enjoyed his company, there was something about the older man that made him a little nervous. He thought it might be the way Viggo had of seeming to watch everything with a small, amused look on his face. Dom thought that maybe Viggo, for some reason, found him especially entertaining. The thought was a little disturbing. It was possibly this thought that was the reason for Dom finding himself outside Viggo’s front door on a balmy evening instead of at the pub with the other hobbits and Orli.
Dom knocked. No answer. He knocked again. “Open.” Viggo’s low, throaty voice came through the door. Dom turned the door-knob and pushed.
The house smelt strangely acrid. Dom sniffed and made a face. He pin-pointed the smell and wandering through to the kitchen.
Viggo was leaning against the worktop sipping a glass of wine. “Hello, Dominic.” He picked up a glass from the draining board and gestured towards the bottle on the table, raising an inviting eyebrow.
Dom nodded. Stepping forward, he took the glass from Viggo and, picking up the bottle, poured the wine into it. He looked at the damp label, raised his glass to the other man and then took a leisurely sip. “Nice.”
Viggo grinned at him. “Are you hungry?”
Dom’s mouth quirked down at the edges and he narrowed his eyes. “Not if you’re intending us to eat whatever is emitting that foul smell.”
Viggo laughed his dry, barking laugh and gestured for Dom to sit down. "Don't be such a wuss, Dominic. You can't tell what something is like until you've tried it." He lifted the lid from the pot that was bubbling on the stove and took a deep, noisy sniff. "Fabulous! Just right. Let's eat."
Dom sat while Viggo drained the water from the pot, then placed it on the table. Once the pan was deposited in front of him, he peered into it. Four dark green, spiky globes stared back at him. “Stupid question, Vig. What the fuck are those?”
“Artichokes, of course.” Viggo raised his eyebrows and stared at Dom in surprise. “You’re not seriously telling me that you’ve never seen an artichoke before?”
Dom felt a little embarrassed. Suddenly he was transported back to school and feeling belittled by the clever, older boys again. “Well, not like these are the usual type of artichokes. I’ve had them before, but they’ve never looked like that. They’re usually just fleshy, layered things in oil.”
“Oh.” Leaning back against the worktop, Viggo smiled a sweet, open smile. “Those were the hearts. That’s how people tend to get them served up. No fun at all!” He laughed. “You know, it strikes me that it’s about time you discovered the joys of this particular delicacy.” Placing a large plate on the table, he tipped the artichokes onto it and bent his head down to gaze at Dom with hooded eyes. “Green globe artichokes. Spiny little fuckers!”
Dom laughed at Viggo’s sly look. “Did you grow these yourself then?”
“I did indeed.” There was a proud tone to Viggo’s voice. “Although,” he added softly, “the plants were already in. I wondered what they were at first, then my neighbour told me. I was thrilled!”
Dom looked up at him, impressed. “I can’t grow anything! Got gangrene fingers, me.” They both laughed. “So, how do you eat these? They don’t exactly look appetising.”
Viggo placed a dish of butter in the middle of the table and a side-plate in front of Dom. He gingerly picked up an artichoke and, hissing through his teeth at the burning heat on his fingers, dropped it onto Dom’s plate.
Dom stared at it. Then he stared at Viggo. “Ok. You’re gonna have to help me out here. Apart from the fact that they are probably the most unattractive vegetable I have ever seen, I have no fucking idea what the hell I’m meant to do now.” He shook his head and smiled his lop-sided smile. He prodded at the artichoke and let out a squeal as his finger was impaled on a lethally sharp spine. “Fucking hell, Vig! These things should carry a health warning!” Dom put his finger in his mouth and sucked at the dribble of blood coming from the puncture wound left by the spine.
Shaking his head in mock concern, Viggo handed Dom a napkin and settled into the role of instructor. “Well, there are two main schools of thought regarding the eating of globe artichokes. There are those who feel that life is simply too short for messy eating practices, and who also have no desire to traverse the inherent dangers.” He grinned, shaking his head at the red tip of Dom’s finger which was being pointed pathetically at him. He continued. “So, they quickly remove the leaves to get straight to the heart.” He picked up an artichoke and held it up to Dom by the stalk. “However, there are those of us who believe that, although the heart of the artichoke is the most sought after part, the getting to the heart is what makes the experience most satisfying.”
Dom was still staring at his finger, which had stopped bleeding and was throbbing unpleasantly. He gave Viggo a mournful look. “I take it you’re expecting me to go the dangerous route here?”
“Of course!” Viggo smiled at him. “Think of it as a culinary baptism of fire! Anyway, you’ll thank me later when you want to have a ruse to hang a successful seduction upon.”
“Seduction? You’re not telling me that eating artichokes can get you laid?” Dom narrowed his eyes. “Has this ever actually worked for you?”
Viggo considered the question. “Well, not as yet, but I live in hope.”
“Ever the optimist.” Dom smirked.
“Absolutely.” Viggo stared at the artichoke which he was still holding in his hand. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that hope springs eternal?”
“If she did, I doubt if using food to get sex was what she was referring to.” Dom sat back in his chair. “So, you gonna give me the full artichoke sex treatment, then?”
“Oh, yes. The full treatment.” Dom watched in fascination as Viggo held onto the green globe by the stalk and tore off one of the leaves. Feeling the younger man’s gaze upon him, he looked up and smiled. “Not hungry?” He grinned a slow, lazy grin. Holding the leaf by the narrow spine he dragged the other end across the butter, scooping it up to make a mound of soft, yellow, melting fat at the base of the artichoke leaf. Dom’s eyes widened as Viggo placed the buttered end into his mouth and closed his lips over it. He scraped the leaf firmly across his bottom teeth and sighed. Viggo’s eyes were closed and he was murmuring to himself with pleasure. Sucking hard, he finally pulled the leaf out of his mouth, licked his lips and blinked his eyes open.
“Fucking hell.” Dom breathed.
“So.” Viggo waved at Dom’s plate. “You gonna try one?”
Dom stared opened-mouthed at Viggo. "Erm, well, yeah." He swallowed and picked up his artichoke. "So, this isn't gonna taste gross, is it?"
Viggo shook his head in amusement. "It tastes wonderful. There's something about the delicacy of the flavour, the having to work to get at it, that is indescribable. People who go straight to the heart simply don't know what they're missing."
Dom plucked one of the leaves from his artichoke and dipped it into the butter. He stared up at Viggo and placed the leaf in his mouth. As he scraped with flesh across his teeth, the flavour exploded over his palate. He let out a moan and began to laugh. Butter dribbled down his chin and his tongue flicked out to lick at it before it dripped onto the table. “Christ, that’s fucking fabulous.” He shook his head and gave a Viggo a twinkling smile. “Well, congratulations, Mortensen, you’re the first person who’s managed to give me the horn simply by feeding me!”
Viggo snorted with laughter. “And you’ve not got to the heart yet. Just wait until you taste that.”
They both continued to eat, savouring each mouthful, groaning and muttering with delight as the earthy, slightly tart taste of the artichokes swam across their taste-buds. All the time they maintained an easy, slightly out-of-focus eye contact. Dom wondered vaguely if Viggo was trying to seduce him. The thought wasn’t completely unpleasant, although he had to admit that, if push came to shove and Viggo was, indeed, hitting on him, he would probably run screaming. Not that he had a problem with it. Just that he was straight. He liked women. He had no desire to even touch another man. Not at all. Nope. Not even a little desire. Well, apart from… fuck, he was doing it again.
Dom suddenly realised that he had stopped eating and was staring over the top of Viggo’s head. Not only that, Viggo was gazing at him with an appraising look, chin cupped in his palm.
“Viggo, can I ask you something?” Dom put down his food and took a deep breath. When Viggo nodded for him to continue, he asked, “Have you ever had sex with another man?”
Viggo let out a bark of laughter, making Dom jump. “Well, let’s just cut to the chase shall we! Any particular reason for asking that?”
Dom blushed. “Well, I dunno, just some stuff I’ve been thinking about lately. And I figured that you’d not be offended if I asked.”
“Well. I suppose that being an old hippy, according to you guys anyway, it’s possibly more likely that I’m open to such things.” Viggo smiled. “So, yes, I have. And I’m not closed to it happening again.”
Dom nodded. “Thought you might have. I’ve not. I mean, until I came here, it’d never even occurred to me.”
“And now?” Viggo leaned back to grab the bottle of wine from the counter. “What, or maybe that should be who, has changed your mind?” He poured more wine into their glasses and began to pick at his artichoke again.
“Oh. It’s, fuck, it’s just you know, he’s a bit like a girl!” Dom shook his head and took a sip of his wine.
Viggo stared at him. “Who is?”
“Elijah.” Dom sighed and sat back in his chair.
Viggo nearly choked on his wine. “Elijah? Like a girl?” He began to laugh. A big, roaring, head-thrown-back laugh.
“What?” Viggo’s reaction had surprised the hell out of Dom. “I take it you don’t think so.”
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, I have never thought of Elijah as anything other than decidedly male. Which begs the question, what is it that makes you think that?” Viggo, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and patted at the drops of wine that had hit the table when he had started laughing.
Dom screwed his eyes up and thought for a moment. He hadn’t actually tried to articulate it before. It was more that the general impression he got of Elijah was of clear, soft skin, a high sharp giggle, slight frame, eager smiles and touches. Which were the kinds of thing that appealed to him about the girls he always went for.
Viggo watched him intently. “Have you thought,” he asked softly, “that the reason you’re determined to think of Elijah as girlish, is that you need to be able to find a reason for being attracted to him?” The eyes that held Dom’s were gentle.
“Maybe. Oh, I dunno. It’s all a bit strange really. I find myself staring at him trying to work out if I actually do fancy him.” Dom shrugged, sighed and went back to picking at his artichoke. “Anyway. I think I’ve got about as much from this bloody thing as I can. Now, what the hell do I do with this bit?”
Dom waved the artichoke at Viggo, who beamed at him. The centre of the vegetable was covered with hairs, making it decidedly unappealing as far as Dom was concerned.
Viggo slowly licked his fingers, eyes half-shut as he savoured the lingering taste. He was half-aware of the flush that had spread across Dom’s throat and cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured towards the hairy mass covering the remains of the artichoke and began to rip at it. “You see, Dominic, you must never eat these strands as they will choke you. The heart is contained within them, making it a ritual to get to it.” He pulled the last of the strands away. “There. The heart.” He smeared butter over the pale mound that had emerged from the middle of the globe and bit into it. “Mmmm, absolutely fabulous.” He waved his hand at Dom, gesturing for the young man to take a bite.
Dom took hold of Viggo’s wrist and raised the hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Viggo’s face. He opened his mouth and took a tentative bite of the artichoke heart. Once again, butter dribbled down his chin. This time, it was Viggo who wiped it away.
“Vig.”
“Yes, Dominic.”
“Is this… you know… I was wondering… what is this?” Dom was still leaning towards Viggo, hand still on Viggo’s wrist. He licked his lips.
Viggo waited for a heart-beat and then smiled and moved his hand away, out of Dom’s grasp. “Well, maybe it’s simply two friends, ruminating upon the sensual possibilities inherent in the eating of a green globe artichoke. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Dom considered this. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”
Title: The Heart of the Matter (1/?)
Author: Jaq (jaq@lazulus.com)
Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: PG
Archiving: Beyond the Fellowship, anyone else just ask
Summary: Dom and Viggo have dinner.
Disclaimer: Very much the product of my warped and twisted mind and I'm sure that these nice boys would never even think of doing anything like this.
Notes: UK spelling. Thanks to Deborah and her allotment. This is for Jen, my beta goddess - I prostrate myself before you!
Feedback: Appreciated
"So, I was thinking, you want dinner? The garden has been very fruitful and I think you'll enjoy what I’ve grown. So come over. No problem what time. See you then."
Dom shook his head in amusement. Typical bloody Viggo. Obscure as hell. He wondered what Viggo had been growing, and decided that whatever it was, he would go over to Viggo's to taste it.
As much as Dom really liked Viggo and enjoyed his company, there was something about the older man that made him a little nervous. He thought it might be the way Viggo had of seeming to watch everything with a small, amused look on his face. Dom thought that maybe Viggo, for some reason, found him especially entertaining. The thought was a little disturbing. It was possibly this thought that was the reason for Dom finding himself outside Viggo’s front door on a balmy evening instead of at the pub with the other hobbits and Orli.
Dom knocked. No answer. He knocked again. “Open.” Viggo’s low, throaty voice came through the door. Dom turned the door-knob and pushed.
The house smelt strangely acrid. Dom sniffed and made a face. He pin-pointed the smell and wandering through to the kitchen.
Viggo was leaning against the worktop sipping a glass of wine. “Hello, Dominic.” He picked up a glass from the draining board and gestured towards the bottle on the table, raising an inviting eyebrow.
Dom nodded. Stepping forward, he took the glass from Viggo and, picking up the bottle, poured the wine into it. He looked at the damp label, raised his glass to the other man and then took a leisurely sip. “Nice.”
Viggo grinned at him. “Are you hungry?”
Dom’s mouth quirked down at the edges and he narrowed his eyes. “Not if you’re intending us to eat whatever is emitting that foul smell.”
Viggo laughed his dry, barking laugh and gestured for Dom to sit down. "Don't be such a wuss, Dominic. You can't tell what something is like until you've tried it." He lifted the lid from the pot that was bubbling on the stove and took a deep, noisy sniff. "Fabulous! Just right. Let's eat."
Dom sat while Viggo drained the water from the pot, then placed it on the table. Once the pan was deposited in front of him, he peered into it. Four dark green, spiky globes stared back at him. “Stupid question, Vig. What the fuck are those?”
“Artichokes, of course.” Viggo raised his eyebrows and stared at Dom in surprise. “You’re not seriously telling me that you’ve never seen an artichoke before?”
Dom felt a little embarrassed. Suddenly he was transported back to school and feeling belittled by the clever, older boys again. “Well, not like these are the usual type of artichokes. I’ve had them before, but they’ve never looked like that. They’re usually just fleshy, layered things in oil.”
“Oh.” Leaning back against the worktop, Viggo smiled a sweet, open smile. “Those were the hearts. That’s how people tend to get them served up. No fun at all!” He laughed. “You know, it strikes me that it’s about time you discovered the joys of this particular delicacy.” Placing a large plate on the table, he tipped the artichokes onto it and bent his head down to gaze at Dom with hooded eyes. “Green globe artichokes. Spiny little fuckers!”
Dom laughed at Viggo’s sly look. “Did you grow these yourself then?”
“I did indeed.” There was a proud tone to Viggo’s voice. “Although,” he added softly, “the plants were already in. I wondered what they were at first, then my neighbour told me. I was thrilled!”
Dom looked up at him, impressed. “I can’t grow anything! Got gangrene fingers, me.” They both laughed. “So, how do you eat these? They don’t exactly look appetising.”
Viggo placed a dish of butter in the middle of the table and a side-plate in front of Dom. He gingerly picked up an artichoke and, hissing through his teeth at the burning heat on his fingers, dropped it onto Dom’s plate.
Dom stared at it. Then he stared at Viggo. “Ok. You’re gonna have to help me out here. Apart from the fact that they are probably the most unattractive vegetable I have ever seen, I have no fucking idea what the hell I’m meant to do now.” He shook his head and smiled his lop-sided smile. He prodded at the artichoke and let out a squeal as his finger was impaled on a lethally sharp spine. “Fucking hell, Vig! These things should carry a health warning!” Dom put his finger in his mouth and sucked at the dribble of blood coming from the puncture wound left by the spine.
Shaking his head in mock concern, Viggo handed Dom a napkin and settled into the role of instructor. “Well, there are two main schools of thought regarding the eating of globe artichokes. There are those who feel that life is simply too short for messy eating practices, and who also have no desire to traverse the inherent dangers.” He grinned, shaking his head at the red tip of Dom’s finger which was being pointed pathetically at him. He continued. “So, they quickly remove the leaves to get straight to the heart.” He picked up an artichoke and held it up to Dom by the stalk. “However, there are those of us who believe that, although the heart of the artichoke is the most sought after part, the getting to the heart is what makes the experience most satisfying.”
Dom was still staring at his finger, which had stopped bleeding and was throbbing unpleasantly. He gave Viggo a mournful look. “I take it you’re expecting me to go the dangerous route here?”
“Of course!” Viggo smiled at him. “Think of it as a culinary baptism of fire! Anyway, you’ll thank me later when you want to have a ruse to hang a successful seduction upon.”
“Seduction? You’re not telling me that eating artichokes can get you laid?” Dom narrowed his eyes. “Has this ever actually worked for you?”
Viggo considered the question. “Well, not as yet, but I live in hope.”
“Ever the optimist.” Dom smirked.
“Absolutely.” Viggo stared at the artichoke which he was still holding in his hand. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that hope springs eternal?”
“If she did, I doubt if using food to get sex was what she was referring to.” Dom sat back in his chair. “So, you gonna give me the full artichoke sex treatment, then?”
“Oh, yes. The full treatment.” Dom watched in fascination as Viggo held onto the green globe by the stalk and tore off one of the leaves. Feeling the younger man’s gaze upon him, he looked up and smiled. “Not hungry?” He grinned a slow, lazy grin. Holding the leaf by the narrow spine he dragged the other end across the butter, scooping it up to make a mound of soft, yellow, melting fat at the base of the artichoke leaf. Dom’s eyes widened as Viggo placed the buttered end into his mouth and closed his lips over it. He scraped the leaf firmly across his bottom teeth and sighed. Viggo’s eyes were closed and he was murmuring to himself with pleasure. Sucking hard, he finally pulled the leaf out of his mouth, licked his lips and blinked his eyes open.
“Fucking hell.” Dom breathed.
“So.” Viggo waved at Dom’s plate. “You gonna try one?”
Dom stared opened-mouthed at Viggo. "Erm, well, yeah." He swallowed and picked up his artichoke. "So, this isn't gonna taste gross, is it?"
Viggo shook his head in amusement. "It tastes wonderful. There's something about the delicacy of the flavour, the having to work to get at it, that is indescribable. People who go straight to the heart simply don't know what they're missing."
Dom plucked one of the leaves from his artichoke and dipped it into the butter. He stared up at Viggo and placed the leaf in his mouth. As he scraped with flesh across his teeth the flavour exploded over his palate. He let out a moan and began to laugh. Butter dribbled down his chin and his tongue flicked out to lick at it before it dripped onto the table. “Christ, that’s fucking fabulous.” He shook his head and gave a Viggo a twinkling smile. “Well, congratulations, Mortensen, you’re the first person who’s managed to give me the horn simply by feeding me!”
Viggo snorted with laughter. “And you’ve not got to the heart yet. Just wait until you taste that.”
They both continued to eat, savouring each mouthful, groaning and muttering with delight as the earthy, slightly tart taste of the artichokes swam across their taste-buds. All the time they maintained an easy, slightly out-of-focus eye contact. Dom wondered vaguely if Viggo was trying to seduce him. The thought wasn’t completely unpleasant, although he had to admit that, if push came to shove and Viggo was, indeed, hitting on him, he would probably run screaming. Not that he had a problem with it. Just that he was straight. He liked women. He had no desire to even touch another man. Not at all. Nope. Not even a little desire. Well, apart from… fuck, he was doing it again.
Dom suddenly realised that he had stopped eating and was staring over the top of Viggo’s head. Not only that, Viggo was gazing at him with an appraising look, chin cupped in his palm.
“Viggo, can I ask you something?” Dom put down his food and took a deep breath. When Viggo nodded for him to continue, he asked, “Have you ever had sex with another man?”
Viggo let out a bark of laughter, making Dom jump. “Well, let’s just cut to the chase shall we! Any particular reason for asking that?”
Dom blushed. “Well, I dunno, just some stuff I’ve been thinking about lately. And I figured that you’d not be offended if I asked.”
“Well. I suppose that being an old hippy, according to you guys anyway, it’s possibly more likely that I’m open to such things.” Viggo smiled. “So, yes, I have. And I’m not closed to it happening again.”
Dom nodded. “Thought you might have. I’ve not. I mean, until I came here, it’d never even occurred to me.”
“And now?” Viggo leaned back to grab the bottle of wine from the counter. “What, or maybe that should be who, has changed your mind?” He poured more wine into their glasses and began to pick at his artichoke again.
“Oh. It’s, fuck, it’s just you know, he’s a bit like a girl!” Dom shook his head and took a sip of his wine.
Viggo stared at him. “Who is?”
“Elijah.” Dom sighed and sat back in his chair.
Viggo nearly choked on his wine. “Elijah? Like a girl?” He began to laugh. A big, roaring, head-thrown-back laugh.
“What?” Viggo’s reaction had surprised the hell out of Dom. “I take it you don’t think so.”
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, I have never thought of Elijah as anything other than decidedly male. Which begs the question, what is it that makes you think that?” Viggo wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and patted at the drops of wine that had hit the table when he had started laughing.
Dom screwed his eyes up and thought for a moment. He hadn’t actually tried to articulate it before. It was more that the general impression he got of Elijah was of clear, soft skin, a high sharp giggle, slight frame, eager smiles and touches. Which were the kinds of thing that appealed to him about the girls he always went for.
Viggo watched him intently. “Have you thought,” he asked softly, “that the reason you’re determined to think of Elijah as girlish, is that you need to be able to find a reason for being attracted to him?” The eyes that held Dom’s were gentle.
“Maybe. Oh, I dunno. It’s all a bit strange really. I find myself staring at him trying to work out if I actually do fancy him.” Dom shrugged, sighed and went back to picking at his artichoke. “Anyway. I think I’ve got about as much from this bloody thing as I can. Now, what the hell do I do with this bit?”
Dom waved the artichoke at Viggo, who beamed at him. The centre of the vegetable was covered with hairs, making it decidedly unappealing as far as Dom was concerned.
Viggo slowly licked his fingers, eyes half-shut as he savoured the lingering taste. He was half-aware of the flush that had spread across Dom’s throat and cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, he gestured towards the hairy mass covering the remains of the artichoke and began to rip at it. “You see, Dominic, you must never eat these strands as they will choke you. The heart is contained within them, making it a ritual to get to it.” He pulled the last of the strands away. “There. The heart.” He smeared butter over the pale mound that had emerged from the middle of the globe and bit into it. “Mmmm, absolutely fabulous.” He waved his hand at Dom, gesturing for the young man to take a bite.
Dom took hold of Viggo’s wrist and raised the hand to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Viggo’s face. He opened his mouth and took a tentative bite of the artichoke heart. Once again, butter dribbled down his chin. This time, it was Viggo who wiped it away.
“Vig.”
“Yes, Dominic.”
“Is this… you know… I was wondering… what is this?” Dom was still leaning towards Viggo, hand still on Viggo’s wrist. He licked his lips.
Viggo waited for a heart-beat and then smiled and moved his hand away, out of Dom’s grasp. “Well, maybe it’s simply two friends, ruminating upon the sensual possibilities inherent in the eating of a green globe artichoke. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Dom considered this. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”