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fellowshippers2003-08-10 04:45 am
nekoshininigami.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-08-10 04:45 am
Fitting
Title: Fitting
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nekoshininigami
Pairing: Domlijah (DM/EW)
Summary: Dom comes home and is surprised by what he finds.
Warnings/Notes: Hurt-comfort, first-kiss-fic.
Rating: PG for language.
Feedback: If you see fit to give.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true.
As Dom is pulling off the highway, as he’s turning onto all the correct Los Angeles streets that will take him home, he never imagines that anything could be wrong. It’s been an easy day: a few interviews, a phone call here and there, and he hasn’t had to work too hard. He’s looking forward to opening up a couple bottles of beer and having a good chat with his friend, Elijah. Elijah. His friend. That’s all Elijah is now and, Dom laments, that’s all he’ll probably ever be. But Dom doesn’t let that get him down because, whether they’re shagging or not, he and Elijah can have some damn good conversations. So, as Dom pulls into the driveway of the house he’s shared with Elijah ever since the filming of Fellowship, he isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to have happened.
When he gets out of the car, though, Dom knows something’s off. He closes the driver’s side door and listens hard. There’s no music. No sound of pounding bass coming from the house, or any sound at all. Dom feels a shiver of anticipation run through his body. There is always music playing when he gets home. It’s a sort of ritual that Elijah has. He gets home and immediately heads for his CDs. He peruses his collection and puts on a song to match what he’s feeling. And some how, miraculously, he always finds something that fits. Even if he’s exhausted, he puts something in the stereo before he passes out. This is what has Dom concerned.
Dom doesn’t run up to the front door, but he doesn’t exactly walk, either. He sort of trots up the walk, separating the house key from the rest on the ring as he goes. He unlocks the door and stops to listen again. There’s still no music, but there is a soft noise coming from the living room. Dom isn’t really sure what it is, but the more he listens, the more he thinks it sounds like…someone crying. He calls out, “Lijah?” There’s no response, but the sort of-kinda-maybe-crying continues. He leaves his keys hanging from the lock and walks quietly, cautiously into the living room.
The first thing he sees upon entering the room makes the breath in his lungs escape with a surprised woosh. It’s Elijah, curled up on the floor, his CDs spread out in front of him, and he’s cryingcryingcrying like he just found out his fucking dog got run over. And Dom stops thinking, he just runs over to the jacket-clad ball on the floor and drops to his knees beside it. This turns out to be stupid move, though, because now Dom is stuck. He’s really not sure of what he should do, what he can do, so he just sort of hovers there for a moment, frozen.
“Elijah?” he says finally, desperately. Elijah’s sobs are starting to scare him now, and Dom can’t possibly imagine what could be wrong. Elijah never looks up at him, but takes a shuddering, shivering breath like he’s going to say something. And he does.
“Did you ever have a day where nothing fits?” he asks Dom and Dom is even more confused than he was before.
“What?” Dom is blatantly assuming that Elijah is going to explain. Which he does. Elijah sits up, rubbing his eyes and wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He still isn’t looking at Dom, but at least he isn’t in the fetal position anymore. Dom sees this as an improvement.
“I don’t know, I mean…” Elijah sniffles and flicks a gaze at the ceiling. “It was just an off-day. Which is all right, it didn’t…it didn’t bother me much.” He swallows and returns his gaze to the floor. “But then, when I got home I was looking through my CDs.” He gestures limply to the vast array of disks all over the floor. “Like I usually do, you know?” Dom nods. Then he realizes it doesn’t matter if he nods or not, Elijah’s still not looking at him.
“Yeah,” he says softly, and now at least Elijah can hear him. Elijah throws one hand up in the air, struggling to describe.
“And it was like…nothing fucking fit! I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” Oh, royal hell. He’s crying again, and Dom feels something wrench loose in his chest. “I couldn’t find a song, y’know? I just…I couldn’t find one.” And finally he’s looking up at Dom, and his eyes are teary and apologetic, and Dom thinks something might’ve just wrenched loose in his brain. “Sorry…I…” He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “I’m just really stressed right now; I know this is a totally ridiculous thing to get upset over.”
“You’re tired,” Dom says gently, because that’s all he can think of to say, and because he wants to provide his friend with an excuse so he won’t feel so horribly. And those blue eyes are penetrating him again, and Dom can see the gratitude in them. Elijah’s looking at him again, and now Dom is looking at Elijah in a way he really shouldn’t be looking at him. He scoots closer. There’s a tear sliding crystal-smooth down Elijah’s cheek, and Dom wishes he could just wipe it away, wipe it away, and make sure there are never anymore.
You can’t do this to him now! screams a little voice in his head. He’s upset, he’s mixed-up, and besides, you don’t even know if he likes you!
There’s one way to find out, says another, cockier voice. Dom wishes he didn’t have that particular voice in his head, but he’d been stuck with it since puberty. He also wishes Elijah would stop staring at him like that, all innocence and vulnerability in those unnaturally big, unnaturally blue eyes.
You’d better stop now, Monaghan, warns the first voice. If you do this now, you will fucking breakhimshatterhimcrushhim. For God’s sake, stopstopstopstopSTOP!
The second voice’s advice is much simpler:
Do it.
Dom reaches out a tentative hand, letting just the tips of his fingers brush Elijah’s cheek, taking the tear with them. He realizes he’s holding his breath, but can’t seem to do otherwise.
“Dom?” Elijah whispers, and his uncertainty is what pushes Dom over the edge of the cliff. Dom leans in and presses his lips to Elijah’s, caution thrown and scattered to the wind. Elijah kisses him back. And, he thinks, as he lets his eyes drift shut, it’s almost like Elijah was made for kissing him. Almost like they were two pieces from a jigsaw puzzle. Now, they just…fit.
//Fin
Author:
nekoshininigamiPairing: Domlijah (DM/EW)
Summary: Dom comes home and is surprised by what he finds.
Warnings/Notes: Hurt-comfort, first-kiss-fic.
Rating: PG for language.
Feedback: If you see fit to give.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true.
As Dom is pulling off the highway, as he’s turning onto all the correct Los Angeles streets that will take him home, he never imagines that anything could be wrong. It’s been an easy day: a few interviews, a phone call here and there, and he hasn’t had to work too hard. He’s looking forward to opening up a couple bottles of beer and having a good chat with his friend, Elijah. Elijah. His friend. That’s all Elijah is now and, Dom laments, that’s all he’ll probably ever be. But Dom doesn’t let that get him down because, whether they’re shagging or not, he and Elijah can have some damn good conversations. So, as Dom pulls into the driveway of the house he’s shared with Elijah ever since the filming of Fellowship, he isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to have happened.
When he gets out of the car, though, Dom knows something’s off. He closes the driver’s side door and listens hard. There’s no music. No sound of pounding bass coming from the house, or any sound at all. Dom feels a shiver of anticipation run through his body. There is always music playing when he gets home. It’s a sort of ritual that Elijah has. He gets home and immediately heads for his CDs. He peruses his collection and puts on a song to match what he’s feeling. And some how, miraculously, he always finds something that fits. Even if he’s exhausted, he puts something in the stereo before he passes out. This is what has Dom concerned.
Dom doesn’t run up to the front door, but he doesn’t exactly walk, either. He sort of trots up the walk, separating the house key from the rest on the ring as he goes. He unlocks the door and stops to listen again. There’s still no music, but there is a soft noise coming from the living room. Dom isn’t really sure what it is, but the more he listens, the more he thinks it sounds like…someone crying. He calls out, “Lijah?” There’s no response, but the sort of-kinda-maybe-crying continues. He leaves his keys hanging from the lock and walks quietly, cautiously into the living room.
The first thing he sees upon entering the room makes the breath in his lungs escape with a surprised woosh. It’s Elijah, curled up on the floor, his CDs spread out in front of him, and he’s cryingcryingcrying like he just found out his fucking dog got run over. And Dom stops thinking, he just runs over to the jacket-clad ball on the floor and drops to his knees beside it. This turns out to be stupid move, though, because now Dom is stuck. He’s really not sure of what he should do, what he can do, so he just sort of hovers there for a moment, frozen.
“Elijah?” he says finally, desperately. Elijah’s sobs are starting to scare him now, and Dom can’t possibly imagine what could be wrong. Elijah never looks up at him, but takes a shuddering, shivering breath like he’s going to say something. And he does.
“Did you ever have a day where nothing fits?” he asks Dom and Dom is even more confused than he was before.
“What?” Dom is blatantly assuming that Elijah is going to explain. Which he does. Elijah sits up, rubbing his eyes and wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He still isn’t looking at Dom, but at least he isn’t in the fetal position anymore. Dom sees this as an improvement.
“I don’t know, I mean…” Elijah sniffles and flicks a gaze at the ceiling. “It was just an off-day. Which is all right, it didn’t…it didn’t bother me much.” He swallows and returns his gaze to the floor. “But then, when I got home I was looking through my CDs.” He gestures limply to the vast array of disks all over the floor. “Like I usually do, you know?” Dom nods. Then he realizes it doesn’t matter if he nods or not, Elijah’s still not looking at him.
“Yeah,” he says softly, and now at least Elijah can hear him. Elijah throws one hand up in the air, struggling to describe.
“And it was like…nothing fucking fit! I couldn’t…I couldn’t…” Oh, royal hell. He’s crying again, and Dom feels something wrench loose in his chest. “I couldn’t find a song, y’know? I just…I couldn’t find one.” And finally he’s looking up at Dom, and his eyes are teary and apologetic, and Dom thinks something might’ve just wrenched loose in his brain. “Sorry…I…” He runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “I’m just really stressed right now; I know this is a totally ridiculous thing to get upset over.”
“You’re tired,” Dom says gently, because that’s all he can think of to say, and because he wants to provide his friend with an excuse so he won’t feel so horribly. And those blue eyes are penetrating him again, and Dom can see the gratitude in them. Elijah’s looking at him again, and now Dom is looking at Elijah in a way he really shouldn’t be looking at him. He scoots closer. There’s a tear sliding crystal-smooth down Elijah’s cheek, and Dom wishes he could just wipe it away, wipe it away, and make sure there are never anymore.
You can’t do this to him now! screams a little voice in his head. He’s upset, he’s mixed-up, and besides, you don’t even know if he likes you!
There’s one way to find out, says another, cockier voice. Dom wishes he didn’t have that particular voice in his head, but he’d been stuck with it since puberty. He also wishes Elijah would stop staring at him like that, all innocence and vulnerability in those unnaturally big, unnaturally blue eyes.
You’d better stop now, Monaghan, warns the first voice. If you do this now, you will fucking breakhimshatterhimcrushhim. For God’s sake, stopstopstopstopSTOP!
The second voice’s advice is much simpler:
Do it.
Dom reaches out a tentative hand, letting just the tips of his fingers brush Elijah’s cheek, taking the tear with them. He realizes he’s holding his breath, but can’t seem to do otherwise.
“Dom?” Elijah whispers, and his uncertainty is what pushes Dom over the edge of the cliff. Dom leans in and presses his lips to Elijah’s, caution thrown and scattered to the wind. Elijah kisses him back. And, he thinks, as he lets his eyes drift shut, it’s almost like Elijah was made for kissing him. Almost like they were two pieces from a jigsaw puzzle. Now, they just…fit.
//Fin