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fellowshippers2005-05-29 03:47 am
dreality.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-05-29 03:47 am
Clarity (2/?)
Title: Clarity (2/?)
Distribution: Ask, please.
Disclaimer: FAKE. Fakity fake fake.
Rating: PG-13 for language and telephone violence
Characters: Primarily Dom and Billy right now, with the ongoing domlijah saga.
Summary: And so, Dom's first waking thought was that he was a miserable bastard who deserved what he got.
********
The first time had been a mistake. Well, maybe not so much a mistake as just an exercise of poor judgment. Okay, maybe not even poor judgment, but they were drunk and had been pseudo-flirting with each other all night, and it sounded better if he thought of it as a mistake than him purposely plying someone under the legal drinking age with enough liquor to effectively crush his inhibitions.
And so, Dom's first waking thought was that he was a miserable bastard who deserved what he got.
Sure, Elijah hadn't fought the rounds of shots they both kept ordering, and he'd even been kind of pleased with the knowing smirk Orlando kept throwing at them periodically through the night. Dom knew, though, that he should have stopped it before it ever got that far. He should have stopped ordering drinks and told Orlando to go fuck off and quit goading Elijah into getting increasingly touchy-feely. He shouldn't have indulged an obviously tipsy Elijah when he felt lips on his earlobe and a hand sneaking under his shirt and against his back, but damned if he could stop himself. He'd had just as much, if not more, to drink, and that was the story he clung to, if only for his conscience's sake.
"God, Dom, why don't you just do him right there on the table?" Orlando had snickered as he left the bar with some random girl hanging onto his arm. Dom flipped him off behind Elijah's back, not bothering to stop the mouth grazing his throat and the hands seemingly glued to his sides.
He wasn't that tacky; he waited until they were in the car.
So. That was the first time, there in the backseat of the little green sedan Elijah had bought from a used car dealer upon first arriving. It was uncomfortable, especially with the CD cases and lighters scattered across the seats, but at that point they were both too far gone to care or even really notice.
They could have ended it there, Dom remembered as he rolled off the couch, narrowly avoiding hitting the side of his head on the coffee table. Maybe they should have. That probably would have been best for all concerned. It certainly would have been easy enough; they could have written it off as an alcohol fueled fling and joked about it later. Except they couldn't, so they didn't, so it continued.
The second time was what scared Dom, just because there had been no alcohol involved, no prodding friends, just a quiet night in Elijah's apartment sprawled in the floor and watching bad sci-fi movies until something happened and they ended up naked and...well. Dom still wasn't quite sure how that had happened.
By the third time, Billy was asking for wedding invitations to hand out to the rest of the cast. Dom had smacked him in the head and forbade any further discussion of the matter. Which, of course, did nothing but fan the flames; he'd cursed loudly and long enough to earn a reproachful look from Sean when he found a drawing taped to his mirror in Feet, one that was almost impressive with its lewdness, considering they were stick figures. Orlando's familiar chicken scratch was at the bottom with a flippant message, something about Jello and criminal charges.
After a while it became as much an in-joke as anything else between the lot of them, with most people making lighthearted comments from time to time about how desperate they were to hook up with each other. There was the occasional hobbit incest joke, but for the most part it was a tolerable situation. Dom had thought he'd left that behind when he moved to L.A., but apparently some things really don't change.
As he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from his duffel bag and made his way to the bathroom, he had to wonder if maybe all those people who'd laughed at him had actually known something he didn't. They were only teasing, and no one had said anything too out of line or anything out of real malice, but maybe they did have some kind of foresight. Maybe they, too, expected it to end as soon as filming did and they all went separate ways, but then he'd been stupid and naive and actually moved *in* with Elijah in L.A. and that...well, that had just been a bad move. He didn't regret it, really, but if he'd hoped they could live platonically together as though nothing had ever transpired between them, he was dumber than he thought.
He leaned into the spray of the shower and let the hot water sting his eyelids, fill his mouth before spitting it out. He could still feel fingers pressed hard into his hips, legs wrapped possessively around him, lips and teeth and tongue searching every inch of skin within reach. He could hear Elijah whispering in his ear, mostly senseless moans but occasionally a truly wicked set of instructions or a mental picture vivid enough that even now it made Dom slump against the shower wall.
This time, the . . . wow. He'd lost count. But this time, whatever number it was, was different. There were no friends around to tease them, no smirks to face the next morning, no paparazzi stationed in the front yard with camcorders and digital cameras. This time it was just them and an obscenely expensive and comfortable couch. And a king size bed. And a floor. And the bed again.
It was easier to think of it as a purely physical thing. Guys were notorious for that sort of thing, weren't they? How did that one saying go, that guys would screw anything with a hole? That would make explaining things simpler. 'No, we're not dating, we're just sleeping together.' He'd tried that once, tried to make that rationalization sound valid even in his own head, and failed gloriously. If that had truly been the case, then any able body would have sufficed, but his able body of choice had to be slender and with disarming blue eyes and a penchant for waking him up in the middle of the night to go on a drive to nowhere.
If he really forced himself to be honest with the world, it wasn't just about the sex. Oh, sure, that part was rather nice, but it was hardly the only reason they got on together so well. It just seemed that no one else "got" him. It was a painfully cliche thing to say, but that didn't make it any less true. Their quirks played well off one another, and they had enough bad habits between them to cancel each other's out. Dom hated Elijah's cigarettes; Elijah freaked out every time he found a new random animal or collection of insects in the house. Dom duct taped oven mitts to Elijah's hands once to keep him from whinging about all those damned hangnails; Elijah spent most of an afternoon once trying to haul a dogwood tree from Lowe's to their house and fighting against the unforgiving soil to plant the thing. Dom was nice enough not to mock the ridiculously whiny emo bands Elijah listened to when he was in one of his moods, and in return Elijah went to a pet supply store and bought a humane trap to capture a mouse that showed up in the basement. Of course, he told Dom he beat it to death with a shovel just as soon as it escaped from the box in the yard, but it was the thought that mattered.
Dom groaned against the wall as he felt a familiar tightening in his gut and the accompanying tightening in his groin. Marvelous. Bloody fucking marvelous.
"I hate my life," he muttered to the wall. If his body was listening, it paid him absolutely no attention.
***
"For God's sake, Dom, answer the damn phone already."
Billy had only been able to handle the tinny version of Living on a Prayer for so long before he threatened Dom with castration or a game of Monopoly if he didn't answer it. Dom, in return, had done the next best thing and set it on vibrate. It was a mild reprieve until the buzzing sound against the kitchen counter began to grate on Billy's nerves as much as Bon Jovi had.
"I mean it, Dominic," he warned, eyes narrowed. "I've got a Monopoly game in the hall closet, top shelf. That fucking phone rings one more time without you answering it, I'm going to get the game and you'll be the battleship. I might even stick you with the project properties."
"The what?"
"The purple ones. Baltic and whatsitsname," Billy replied with a wave of his hand. He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. "Never mind. Just rest assured I'll force 'em on you."
Dom stared blankly at his friend before shrugging and finishing his sandwich, licking the mayonnaise from his fingers as he tossed the knife into the sink. Billy stared at the unholy mess with something akin to terrorized disgust, to which Dom smiled and took a large bite from the sandwich.
"That's disgusting."
"Wha?" He asked around a mouthful of bread and meat. "It's just turkey and a couple other things."
Billy raised a challenging eyebrow. "Learn to count, Dom. I saw at least four distinct meats go on that sandwich."
"Whatever. It's still good. I'm willing to share, y'know."
Billy made a gagging noise and moved away from the table when Dom sat down across from him. "I'll stick with my identifiable lunch, thanks all the same."
Bzzzzzzzzzz
"Christ Almighty, just answer the bloody phone. He's not gonna quit until you do."
Dom shrugged again. "You're the one bothered by the ringing, not me."
Their eyes met over the edge of Dom's massive sandwich, and instantly the same thought passed through their heads. Billy lunged for the cell phone, fingers grazing it just as Dom smacked his hand away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, while he was trying to keep Dom from biting his hand to make him drop the phone, Billy thought this would have to go into a movie script some day. Until then, though, he just had to worry about Dom giving him rabies.
"Stop it!" He shrieked, free hand on Dom's cheek and pushing. "You nutter, stop it! OW!"
The phone fell with a clatter to the linoleum floor. Dom picked it up with a triumphant yell, then stuck it in his back pocket and let it buzz happily away. Billy glowered at him, clutching his hand and inspecting the teeth indentations in the skin with his fingertips.
"You. You are a sodding nutjob, you --"
"Look, I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you do that."
"So you tried to bite my bloody hand off?" Billy cried, waving the assaulted hand in Dom's face. Grinning impishly, Dom trapped it in his own hands and kissed the teeth marks. Although Billy was still staring daggers at him, his face softened somewhat. "Turned into Gollum, that's what's happened to you."
Dom laughed at the unexpected remark, idly stroking the bulge in his back pocket. "Precioussss..."
"Like I said. Nutjob."
The buzzing stopped, and suddenly there were a few blissfully silent moments. Billy sighed thankfully and started to go back to the newspaper still strewn across the table when his own telephone rang. This time he was careful not to waste a second; he made it to the bedroom before Dom's cursed longer legs caught up with him. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand as he was tackled over the bed, holding it over Dom's head during their struggle.
"Billy!" Dom whined, nearing hysterics. "Hang up!"
"What if it's something important?"
"No one calls you with important stuff!"
Billy stared at him, gape-mouthed, and Dom realized he wasn't helping his case that much.
"You know what I meant. Come on, Bill, don't --"
"Yes, I'll accept the charges."
Dom's eyes went huge and almost perfectly circular. He leaned back on his heels, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Traitor!"
"Can you believe that? He's callin' me collect! Like he can't afford the call or something!"
Billy watched Dom's eyes travel from the phone base to the jack in the wall, and he hurled himself bodily at it before Dom could reach the cord. "Just stop it, Dom, you're acting like some little teenage girl."
"I don't care. Hang up the phone."
Billy shoved him away, only to have him right back next to him, pleading.
"Hang it up, Billy, hang it up hang it up hangituphangitup Billy please, hang up the goddamn phone, Billy --"
"Shh, I think it's goin' through."
"I'll be the bloody battleship, okay?"
Dom slapped his forehead when he heard the unmistakable squeal of Elijah's voice through the receiver. Billy almost dropped the phone in his haste to get it away from his ear, but somehow managed to hold onto it if for no other reason than fear that Dom would bite him again to get it.
"Um, hi, 'Lij, long time no --"
"Give him the phone."
"Give who the phone?"
"I don't have the patience to fuck around right now, Billy, now give that fucking wanker that's staying with you the phone."
"Heh. Say that again. I love hearing Americans say --"
"Billy."
"No, wanker."
"I swear to God, Billy, either give him the phone right now or --"
Billy held out the phone, not caring to hear the undoubtedly vile threat. Dom recoiled as if a flaming stick of death had just been offered to him. Billy shoved the phone at him more forcefully, with much the same result. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he put the phone back to his ear, surprised and a little impressed that the threat was continuing.
"-- and then I'll feed them to this huge fucking mutt that lives down the block, and when the dog shits 'em out I'll --"
"Lij?"
"...What?"
"I'm sorry, Dominic can't come to the telephone right now. He's currently in the shower whacking off to fantasies of some nameless blue eyed boy he met last night and --"
The phone was ripped from his hand with a snarl. He grinned at his successful ploy and settled against the side of the bed, arms folded in satisfaction against his chest. Dom glared at him fiercely enough to turn him to ash if looks really could kill, making sure to flip his chin at him a couple times before retreating to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
Well. At least he didn't get bitten this time.
*******
"I hate you. I really fucking hate you."
"Mm, yes, you've said that. Did you say you wanted sausage or ham?"
"Sausage."
"Ah. Thought so."
Dom continued to seeth at the table, glaring daggers at the friend who, for all appearances, didn't seem to even notice. He waited until Billy pushed the talk button on the cordless and closed the phone book before he continued.
"Haaaaaaate."
"Broken record. Pizza'll be here in half an hour."
"Half an hour? Where the hell did you call, Budapest?"
"It's eight o' clock on a Saturday night, Dominic. Pizza places are usually busy right then. And you were the one who saw that advert with that plastic blond bint and inexplicably started craving deep dish, so don't start with me."
"Hate. You."
Billy sighed quietly, tossing the phone book back onto the coffee table in the living room. "We've established this, Dom, and you're not adding anything new to the conversation here." He turned and saw that he was still being watched with the fury only a scorned lover and perhaps a spoiled three-year-old could manage, and what composure he did have was very quickly giving way to irritation. Best friend or no, this had to stop. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Dom, it was six bloody hours ago. Let it go already."
"I begged you not to answer the phone, and you --"
"Dom! What part of this is so hard for you to understand? You want me to be honest? Fine. I'll be honest. This whole whiny, 'oh, pity me' act is not you, and it's really starting to bother me. You're acting like a selfish little prat who can't understand why his boyfriend --" He held up his hand when he saw Dom's eyes go huge "-- and yes, I did just say 'boyfriend' because that's exactly what he is and I think we all know that. You're acting like you can't understand why he'd have the nerve to be pissed when he wakes up after just having slept with you for the first time in months and you're nowhere around, no note, not answering calls, nothing."
"I did leave a note!" Dom cried indignantly. Billy raised his eyebrows. "It said 'Gone to Bill's, back in a few.'"
Billy stared at Dom for a long while, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. When he couldn't find it, he moved weary fingertips to his temples and rubbed.
"Dom, look. I love you dearly, I hope you know that, but you are makin' it very hard for me not to want to slit your bloody throat in your sleep."
"Bad pun, Bills. Points for delivery, though!"
Billy said nothing, only stared at him incredulously for a time and then left the kitchen. Dom watched him go just as silently, facade crumbling as soon as the bedroom door shut. He lowered his head to his hands, staring morosely down at the worn woodgrain of the table and the little scratches and dings that came with use over time. That's what he liked about Billy's place -- it was a home. It was small, sure, and the neighbors were a little creepy, but it was lived in and it felt that way. Nothing about Elijah's place -- could he still call it his, too? -- did. It was all sterile and purine. Everything about it was new: the furniture, the little techno gadgets that Dom couldn't work and the Elijah adored. Even the porch swing was new, for God's sake; Dom had the scar received while trying to put the store bought kit together to attest to its youth.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed personal and cared for in his own house. Sure, there were little touches here and there, a few keepsakes scattered across the top of his dresser, Elijah's imposing collection of boxed Star Wars figures thumbtacked to the top of the living room walls, just little random pieces of memorabilia that meant nothing.
There was a set of Frodo and Merry action figures on top of the television doing illicit things with each other, or at least as illicit as their rigid plastic joints would allow. That had been a collaborative effort, and the poses were rearranged in no certain pattern. It had started because they were drunk one night and thought it'd be funny, so they'd gone to Wal-Mart at two a.m. and bought the things, along with a blender that had thirty different settings ("Holy shit, we need this!" Elijah had squealed, and Dom thought sure he was going to have an orgasm in the appliance aisle) and an oversized bag of Tootsie Roll Pops. The middle-aged lady at the checkout counter glanced oddly from the Frodo figure to Elijah, who was more than a little tipsy and leaning heavily on Dom's arm, and made a remark that they looked alike. Elijah had happily pointed out that the little doll was in fact him, but the lady (Maggie, her name tag read) just raised an eyebrow and suggested that Dom, who appeared to be the more sober of the pair, drive home.
It was funny, the things he thought about and missed without even realizing it. He wondered if the figures were still there, if they'd been repositioned, if Elijah had gone into a blinding rage and set Merry on fire or broken the shiny new blender with little plastic Merry parts. It made him smile, faintly, until he remembered exactly why Elijah would be tempted to do that.
Alright. So maybe Billy had a point. Maybe he was being a little on the childish side about everything, but he had his reasons. Number one, he did not get into relationships. He had flings. He had casual acquaintances. Friends with benefits, maybe, but the word 'relationship' did not register in his vocabulary because it implied far too many things, most of which he was not ready to own up to. Sure, Elijah was a nice guy -- a great guy, one of his best friends, not the best one to be the designated driver for the evening, but a great guy -- but he was...well, him. He was Elijah, and that was exactly what was wrong.
Dom couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a trusting friendship. Billy was without a doubt his best mate, naturally, but Elijah was his best friend on an entirely different level. Billy was odd enough in his own endearing way, but he was also the more mature one of the group, and so he knew where to draw the line between fun and stupidity. Dom had no such internal monitor most of the time, so it was nice to develop a close friendship with someone just like him in that respect. Elijah didn't mind staying up with him all night and making fun of infomercials. It had actually been Elijah's idea, another one driven by too much alcohol, to steal a shopping cart from a local grocery store and go careening down the streets of Los Angeles. It had been Dom's idea to do just that, with the added bonus of wearing a Santa hat and last year's Halloween costume. Elijah was the one who wanted to go hiking at some ungodly hour of the morning, stake out a spot on a remote hilltop and watch the sunrise. Elijah was the one who brought home totally inane and unexpected gifts all the time and left them in the strangest places; Dom's favorite had been a new pet hermit crab that he found sitting on the back of the toilet one day. If for some reason they got split up when at an outing, it was always Elijah who made sure they were at each other's side before too long, and if it happened to be in a club, it was always, always Elijah's thigh shoved between his and Elijah's mouth on his.
Which was precisely why Dom had fallen for Elijah, and not Billy.
Elijah had not mentioned any of this in the phone call; in fact, he had been considerably quieter than during his initial rant, and it was that soft, almost pitiful voice, that unspoken rejection, that had so sullied Dom's mood. He certainly hadn't planned on hiding from Elijah forever, but he wasn't ready to deal with such blatant need yet. He'd broken something profound, never fully formed or even understood and possibly shattered now beyond repair, and it scared him that he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't even understand all the pieces, so how could he know how to put them back together?
His head dropped to the table with a resounding thump. There had to be an instruction manual for this kind of thing somewhere.
Distribution: Ask, please.
Disclaimer: FAKE. Fakity fake fake.
Rating: PG-13 for language and telephone violence
Characters: Primarily Dom and Billy right now, with the ongoing domlijah saga.
Summary: And so, Dom's first waking thought was that he was a miserable bastard who deserved what he got.
********
The first time had been a mistake. Well, maybe not so much a mistake as just an exercise of poor judgment. Okay, maybe not even poor judgment, but they were drunk and had been pseudo-flirting with each other all night, and it sounded better if he thought of it as a mistake than him purposely plying someone under the legal drinking age with enough liquor to effectively crush his inhibitions.
And so, Dom's first waking thought was that he was a miserable bastard who deserved what he got.
Sure, Elijah hadn't fought the rounds of shots they both kept ordering, and he'd even been kind of pleased with the knowing smirk Orlando kept throwing at them periodically through the night. Dom knew, though, that he should have stopped it before it ever got that far. He should have stopped ordering drinks and told Orlando to go fuck off and quit goading Elijah into getting increasingly touchy-feely. He shouldn't have indulged an obviously tipsy Elijah when he felt lips on his earlobe and a hand sneaking under his shirt and against his back, but damned if he could stop himself. He'd had just as much, if not more, to drink, and that was the story he clung to, if only for his conscience's sake.
"God, Dom, why don't you just do him right there on the table?" Orlando had snickered as he left the bar with some random girl hanging onto his arm. Dom flipped him off behind Elijah's back, not bothering to stop the mouth grazing his throat and the hands seemingly glued to his sides.
He wasn't that tacky; he waited until they were in the car.
So. That was the first time, there in the backseat of the little green sedan Elijah had bought from a used car dealer upon first arriving. It was uncomfortable, especially with the CD cases and lighters scattered across the seats, but at that point they were both too far gone to care or even really notice.
They could have ended it there, Dom remembered as he rolled off the couch, narrowly avoiding hitting the side of his head on the coffee table. Maybe they should have. That probably would have been best for all concerned. It certainly would have been easy enough; they could have written it off as an alcohol fueled fling and joked about it later. Except they couldn't, so they didn't, so it continued.
The second time was what scared Dom, just because there had been no alcohol involved, no prodding friends, just a quiet night in Elijah's apartment sprawled in the floor and watching bad sci-fi movies until something happened and they ended up naked and...well. Dom still wasn't quite sure how that had happened.
By the third time, Billy was asking for wedding invitations to hand out to the rest of the cast. Dom had smacked him in the head and forbade any further discussion of the matter. Which, of course, did nothing but fan the flames; he'd cursed loudly and long enough to earn a reproachful look from Sean when he found a drawing taped to his mirror in Feet, one that was almost impressive with its lewdness, considering they were stick figures. Orlando's familiar chicken scratch was at the bottom with a flippant message, something about Jello and criminal charges.
After a while it became as much an in-joke as anything else between the lot of them, with most people making lighthearted comments from time to time about how desperate they were to hook up with each other. There was the occasional hobbit incest joke, but for the most part it was a tolerable situation. Dom had thought he'd left that behind when he moved to L.A., but apparently some things really don't change.
As he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from his duffel bag and made his way to the bathroom, he had to wonder if maybe all those people who'd laughed at him had actually known something he didn't. They were only teasing, and no one had said anything too out of line or anything out of real malice, but maybe they did have some kind of foresight. Maybe they, too, expected it to end as soon as filming did and they all went separate ways, but then he'd been stupid and naive and actually moved *in* with Elijah in L.A. and that...well, that had just been a bad move. He didn't regret it, really, but if he'd hoped they could live platonically together as though nothing had ever transpired between them, he was dumber than he thought.
He leaned into the spray of the shower and let the hot water sting his eyelids, fill his mouth before spitting it out. He could still feel fingers pressed hard into his hips, legs wrapped possessively around him, lips and teeth and tongue searching every inch of skin within reach. He could hear Elijah whispering in his ear, mostly senseless moans but occasionally a truly wicked set of instructions or a mental picture vivid enough that even now it made Dom slump against the shower wall.
This time, the . . . wow. He'd lost count. But this time, whatever number it was, was different. There were no friends around to tease them, no smirks to face the next morning, no paparazzi stationed in the front yard with camcorders and digital cameras. This time it was just them and an obscenely expensive and comfortable couch. And a king size bed. And a floor. And the bed again.
It was easier to think of it as a purely physical thing. Guys were notorious for that sort of thing, weren't they? How did that one saying go, that guys would screw anything with a hole? That would make explaining things simpler. 'No, we're not dating, we're just sleeping together.' He'd tried that once, tried to make that rationalization sound valid even in his own head, and failed gloriously. If that had truly been the case, then any able body would have sufficed, but his able body of choice had to be slender and with disarming blue eyes and a penchant for waking him up in the middle of the night to go on a drive to nowhere.
If he really forced himself to be honest with the world, it wasn't just about the sex. Oh, sure, that part was rather nice, but it was hardly the only reason they got on together so well. It just seemed that no one else "got" him. It was a painfully cliche thing to say, but that didn't make it any less true. Their quirks played well off one another, and they had enough bad habits between them to cancel each other's out. Dom hated Elijah's cigarettes; Elijah freaked out every time he found a new random animal or collection of insects in the house. Dom duct taped oven mitts to Elijah's hands once to keep him from whinging about all those damned hangnails; Elijah spent most of an afternoon once trying to haul a dogwood tree from Lowe's to their house and fighting against the unforgiving soil to plant the thing. Dom was nice enough not to mock the ridiculously whiny emo bands Elijah listened to when he was in one of his moods, and in return Elijah went to a pet supply store and bought a humane trap to capture a mouse that showed up in the basement. Of course, he told Dom he beat it to death with a shovel just as soon as it escaped from the box in the yard, but it was the thought that mattered.
Dom groaned against the wall as he felt a familiar tightening in his gut and the accompanying tightening in his groin. Marvelous. Bloody fucking marvelous.
"I hate my life," he muttered to the wall. If his body was listening, it paid him absolutely no attention.
***
"For God's sake, Dom, answer the damn phone already."
Billy had only been able to handle the tinny version of Living on a Prayer for so long before he threatened Dom with castration or a game of Monopoly if he didn't answer it. Dom, in return, had done the next best thing and set it on vibrate. It was a mild reprieve until the buzzing sound against the kitchen counter began to grate on Billy's nerves as much as Bon Jovi had.
"I mean it, Dominic," he warned, eyes narrowed. "I've got a Monopoly game in the hall closet, top shelf. That fucking phone rings one more time without you answering it, I'm going to get the game and you'll be the battleship. I might even stick you with the project properties."
"The what?"
"The purple ones. Baltic and whatsitsname," Billy replied with a wave of his hand. He stopped abruptly, shaking his head. "Never mind. Just rest assured I'll force 'em on you."
Dom stared blankly at his friend before shrugging and finishing his sandwich, licking the mayonnaise from his fingers as he tossed the knife into the sink. Billy stared at the unholy mess with something akin to terrorized disgust, to which Dom smiled and took a large bite from the sandwich.
"That's disgusting."
"Wha?" He asked around a mouthful of bread and meat. "It's just turkey and a couple other things."
Billy raised a challenging eyebrow. "Learn to count, Dom. I saw at least four distinct meats go on that sandwich."
"Whatever. It's still good. I'm willing to share, y'know."
Billy made a gagging noise and moved away from the table when Dom sat down across from him. "I'll stick with my identifiable lunch, thanks all the same."
Bzzzzzzzzzz
"Christ Almighty, just answer the bloody phone. He's not gonna quit until you do."
Dom shrugged again. "You're the one bothered by the ringing, not me."
Their eyes met over the edge of Dom's massive sandwich, and instantly the same thought passed through their heads. Billy lunged for the cell phone, fingers grazing it just as Dom smacked his hand away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, while he was trying to keep Dom from biting his hand to make him drop the phone, Billy thought this would have to go into a movie script some day. Until then, though, he just had to worry about Dom giving him rabies.
"Stop it!" He shrieked, free hand on Dom's cheek and pushing. "You nutter, stop it! OW!"
The phone fell with a clatter to the linoleum floor. Dom picked it up with a triumphant yell, then stuck it in his back pocket and let it buzz happily away. Billy glowered at him, clutching his hand and inspecting the teeth indentations in the skin with his fingertips.
"You. You are a sodding nutjob, you --"
"Look, I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you do that."
"So you tried to bite my bloody hand off?" Billy cried, waving the assaulted hand in Dom's face. Grinning impishly, Dom trapped it in his own hands and kissed the teeth marks. Although Billy was still staring daggers at him, his face softened somewhat. "Turned into Gollum, that's what's happened to you."
Dom laughed at the unexpected remark, idly stroking the bulge in his back pocket. "Precioussss..."
"Like I said. Nutjob."
The buzzing stopped, and suddenly there were a few blissfully silent moments. Billy sighed thankfully and started to go back to the newspaper still strewn across the table when his own telephone rang. This time he was careful not to waste a second; he made it to the bedroom before Dom's cursed longer legs caught up with him. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand as he was tackled over the bed, holding it over Dom's head during their struggle.
"Billy!" Dom whined, nearing hysterics. "Hang up!"
"What if it's something important?"
"No one calls you with important stuff!"
Billy stared at him, gape-mouthed, and Dom realized he wasn't helping his case that much.
"You know what I meant. Come on, Bill, don't --"
"Yes, I'll accept the charges."
Dom's eyes went huge and almost perfectly circular. He leaned back on his heels, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Traitor!"
"Can you believe that? He's callin' me collect! Like he can't afford the call or something!"
Billy watched Dom's eyes travel from the phone base to the jack in the wall, and he hurled himself bodily at it before Dom could reach the cord. "Just stop it, Dom, you're acting like some little teenage girl."
"I don't care. Hang up the phone."
Billy shoved him away, only to have him right back next to him, pleading.
"Hang it up, Billy, hang it up hang it up hangituphangitup Billy please, hang up the goddamn phone, Billy --"
"Shh, I think it's goin' through."
"I'll be the bloody battleship, okay?"
Dom slapped his forehead when he heard the unmistakable squeal of Elijah's voice through the receiver. Billy almost dropped the phone in his haste to get it away from his ear, but somehow managed to hold onto it if for no other reason than fear that Dom would bite him again to get it.
"Um, hi, 'Lij, long time no --"
"Give him the phone."
"Give who the phone?"
"I don't have the patience to fuck around right now, Billy, now give that fucking wanker that's staying with you the phone."
"Heh. Say that again. I love hearing Americans say --"
"Billy."
"No, wanker."
"I swear to God, Billy, either give him the phone right now or --"
Billy held out the phone, not caring to hear the undoubtedly vile threat. Dom recoiled as if a flaming stick of death had just been offered to him. Billy shoved the phone at him more forcefully, with much the same result. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he put the phone back to his ear, surprised and a little impressed that the threat was continuing.
"-- and then I'll feed them to this huge fucking mutt that lives down the block, and when the dog shits 'em out I'll --"
"Lij?"
"...What?"
"I'm sorry, Dominic can't come to the telephone right now. He's currently in the shower whacking off to fantasies of some nameless blue eyed boy he met last night and --"
The phone was ripped from his hand with a snarl. He grinned at his successful ploy and settled against the side of the bed, arms folded in satisfaction against his chest. Dom glared at him fiercely enough to turn him to ash if looks really could kill, making sure to flip his chin at him a couple times before retreating to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
Well. At least he didn't get bitten this time.
*******
"I hate you. I really fucking hate you."
"Mm, yes, you've said that. Did you say you wanted sausage or ham?"
"Sausage."
"Ah. Thought so."
Dom continued to seeth at the table, glaring daggers at the friend who, for all appearances, didn't seem to even notice. He waited until Billy pushed the talk button on the cordless and closed the phone book before he continued.
"Haaaaaaate."
"Broken record. Pizza'll be here in half an hour."
"Half an hour? Where the hell did you call, Budapest?"
"It's eight o' clock on a Saturday night, Dominic. Pizza places are usually busy right then. And you were the one who saw that advert with that plastic blond bint and inexplicably started craving deep dish, so don't start with me."
"Hate. You."
Billy sighed quietly, tossing the phone book back onto the coffee table in the living room. "We've established this, Dom, and you're not adding anything new to the conversation here." He turned and saw that he was still being watched with the fury only a scorned lover and perhaps a spoiled three-year-old could manage, and what composure he did have was very quickly giving way to irritation. Best friend or no, this had to stop. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Dom, it was six bloody hours ago. Let it go already."
"I begged you not to answer the phone, and you --"
"Dom! What part of this is so hard for you to understand? You want me to be honest? Fine. I'll be honest. This whole whiny, 'oh, pity me' act is not you, and it's really starting to bother me. You're acting like a selfish little prat who can't understand why his boyfriend --" He held up his hand when he saw Dom's eyes go huge "-- and yes, I did just say 'boyfriend' because that's exactly what he is and I think we all know that. You're acting like you can't understand why he'd have the nerve to be pissed when he wakes up after just having slept with you for the first time in months and you're nowhere around, no note, not answering calls, nothing."
"I did leave a note!" Dom cried indignantly. Billy raised his eyebrows. "It said 'Gone to Bill's, back in a few.'"
Billy stared at Dom for a long while, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. When he couldn't find it, he moved weary fingertips to his temples and rubbed.
"Dom, look. I love you dearly, I hope you know that, but you are makin' it very hard for me not to want to slit your bloody throat in your sleep."
"Bad pun, Bills. Points for delivery, though!"
Billy said nothing, only stared at him incredulously for a time and then left the kitchen. Dom watched him go just as silently, facade crumbling as soon as the bedroom door shut. He lowered his head to his hands, staring morosely down at the worn woodgrain of the table and the little scratches and dings that came with use over time. That's what he liked about Billy's place -- it was a home. It was small, sure, and the neighbors were a little creepy, but it was lived in and it felt that way. Nothing about Elijah's place -- could he still call it his, too? -- did. It was all sterile and purine. Everything about it was new: the furniture, the little techno gadgets that Dom couldn't work and the Elijah adored. Even the porch swing was new, for God's sake; Dom had the scar received while trying to put the store bought kit together to attest to its youth.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed personal and cared for in his own house. Sure, there were little touches here and there, a few keepsakes scattered across the top of his dresser, Elijah's imposing collection of boxed Star Wars figures thumbtacked to the top of the living room walls, just little random pieces of memorabilia that meant nothing.
There was a set of Frodo and Merry action figures on top of the television doing illicit things with each other, or at least as illicit as their rigid plastic joints would allow. That had been a collaborative effort, and the poses were rearranged in no certain pattern. It had started because they were drunk one night and thought it'd be funny, so they'd gone to Wal-Mart at two a.m. and bought the things, along with a blender that had thirty different settings ("Holy shit, we need this!" Elijah had squealed, and Dom thought sure he was going to have an orgasm in the appliance aisle) and an oversized bag of Tootsie Roll Pops. The middle-aged lady at the checkout counter glanced oddly from the Frodo figure to Elijah, who was more than a little tipsy and leaning heavily on Dom's arm, and made a remark that they looked alike. Elijah had happily pointed out that the little doll was in fact him, but the lady (Maggie, her name tag read) just raised an eyebrow and suggested that Dom, who appeared to be the more sober of the pair, drive home.
It was funny, the things he thought about and missed without even realizing it. He wondered if the figures were still there, if they'd been repositioned, if Elijah had gone into a blinding rage and set Merry on fire or broken the shiny new blender with little plastic Merry parts. It made him smile, faintly, until he remembered exactly why Elijah would be tempted to do that.
Alright. So maybe Billy had a point. Maybe he was being a little on the childish side about everything, but he had his reasons. Number one, he did not get into relationships. He had flings. He had casual acquaintances. Friends with benefits, maybe, but the word 'relationship' did not register in his vocabulary because it implied far too many things, most of which he was not ready to own up to. Sure, Elijah was a nice guy -- a great guy, one of his best friends, not the best one to be the designated driver for the evening, but a great guy -- but he was...well, him. He was Elijah, and that was exactly what was wrong.
Dom couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a trusting friendship. Billy was without a doubt his best mate, naturally, but Elijah was his best friend on an entirely different level. Billy was odd enough in his own endearing way, but he was also the more mature one of the group, and so he knew where to draw the line between fun and stupidity. Dom had no such internal monitor most of the time, so it was nice to develop a close friendship with someone just like him in that respect. Elijah didn't mind staying up with him all night and making fun of infomercials. It had actually been Elijah's idea, another one driven by too much alcohol, to steal a shopping cart from a local grocery store and go careening down the streets of Los Angeles. It had been Dom's idea to do just that, with the added bonus of wearing a Santa hat and last year's Halloween costume. Elijah was the one who wanted to go hiking at some ungodly hour of the morning, stake out a spot on a remote hilltop and watch the sunrise. Elijah was the one who brought home totally inane and unexpected gifts all the time and left them in the strangest places; Dom's favorite had been a new pet hermit crab that he found sitting on the back of the toilet one day. If for some reason they got split up when at an outing, it was always Elijah who made sure they were at each other's side before too long, and if it happened to be in a club, it was always, always Elijah's thigh shoved between his and Elijah's mouth on his.
Which was precisely why Dom had fallen for Elijah, and not Billy.
Elijah had not mentioned any of this in the phone call; in fact, he had been considerably quieter than during his initial rant, and it was that soft, almost pitiful voice, that unspoken rejection, that had so sullied Dom's mood. He certainly hadn't planned on hiding from Elijah forever, but he wasn't ready to deal with such blatant need yet. He'd broken something profound, never fully formed or even understood and possibly shattered now beyond repair, and it scared him that he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't even understand all the pieces, so how could he know how to put them back together?
His head dropped to the table with a resounding thump. There had to be an instruction manual for this kind of thing somewhere.
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in any case, i'm loving dom and elijah's somewhat tangled relationship and the way you're slowly bringing it to light. i think it's a great touch that you develop their characterizations in the way they kind of bounce off each other, it seems very natural and therefore naturally funny. very elegantly done. do i sense some possible dom/billy tension though? suppose i'll have to wait and see!
great job, keep going with this!
-lo
no subject
Hee, I couldn't resist. I'm never quite sure if I'm fond enough of Orli to give him anything but a guest spot here or there, but I at least like him well enough to give him slightly entertaining cameos.
funny as it sounds, it's odd seeing orlando as straight after living in the lotrips world for so long. that's not a criticism, i just noticed it and kind of chuckled to myself. :p
LOL Funny how those things work, huh? But like I've said, I'm still very new to this fandom so I guess I just haven't been exposed to as much yet. I'm sure before long he'll be just as queer as the rest of them in my mind. Which now that it comes to it, I'm not completely opposed to the idea myself. Heh.
in any case, i'm loving dom and elijah's somewhat tangled relationship and the way you're slowly bringing it to light. i think it's a great touch that you develop their characterizations in the way they kind of bounce off each other, it seems very natural and therefore naturally funny. very elegantly done.
*gushes* Aw, thanks so much! I've been really anxious about this since I started working on it, mostly just because I still have no earthly idea where it's going. Oy. I'm glad to hear it's not too contrived or ... well, ridiculous, which is probably my biggest issue with it right now. It was never supposed to be a comedy, but my retarded muses don't seem to realize that yet. >.<
do i sense some possible dom/billy tension though? suppose i'll have to wait and see!
*points to the muses* You'd have to ask them, because they tell me nothin' until usually one or two in the morning when they decide that THEN they want to write. The little bastards. Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em 'cause they're not real...bad situation.
Anyway, thanks so much for the feedback! And not just 'cause it was kind of flattering, but because it was more than just "ooh i lykes!1!11" and so on. Not that that isn't appreciated as well, just that I like stuff with a bit more substance. Incidentally, do you mind if I friend you, since you're being so nice to me and offering to beta and all that? LOL
no subject
i know what you mean about feedback. i had the strangest writer's block for a long time when it came to feedback; i think i just got burned out at some point. it was the same when it came to receiving it, cause while i appreciated any response at all, sometimes you need a little more than that. especially if you have a mind to get better, it's really important to have constructive ideas and insight into your work. anyway, i need to stop talking about myself, OY!
you're doing wonderful so far, this is the first WIP fic i've read in a long time that i'm interested in seeing how things develop. 'contrived' is never a word i'd assign to what i've seen here, so don't worry about that at all. and yes, this is very funny, but that doesn't necessarily negate the possibility for something a little more dramatic, should your muses so direct you.
also, i'm assuming it's okay to friend you back? ;)
-lo
P.S.- orlando's so totally a fairy. he just hasn't realized it yet!