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fellowshippers2003-10-23 10:28 am
shellies.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2003-10-23 10:28 am
Two Lines fic: Simple Mathematics, R
Title: Simple Mathematics
Author: Shelly
Pairing: Dom/Elijah, Dom/Billy, Dom/Billy/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: The progression had been natural.
Archive: Little Things only, please.
Disclaimer: Not a bit of truth here.
Notes: For the Two Lines Challenge. This bitch was hard and I send my apologies to everyone for my silly, difficult challenge. Thanks muchly to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
andrealyn for the beta.
I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
The Cure, "Pictures of You"
It all came down to simple mathematics. One plus one equals two. And that’s how it had begun. One nineteen-year-old male (brown hair, blue eyes like saucers) and one boy (twenty-three, sandy-brown hair, eyes that changed with the sky), coming together to make two.
Elijah would like to say that he didn’t recall the specifics, but that would be a lie. He remembered exactly how it had happened. He remembered the time (past two in the morning, three hours till Feet), the place (Dom’s ratty couch that he had bought from the side of the road in Wellington, calling it ‘a classic, man!’) and even the smell (Dom’s cologne, which was a mixture of the pine trees and almonds, clove cigarettes, peppermint schnapps). He remembered the way that Dom had drunkenly told him that they should be betting on horses, and how he had told him, ‘No, that’s mint juleps, dumbass,’ and then Dom had kissed him.
He didn’t need to close his eyes to remember the way Dom had felt that night. He could still feel it. It had felt like the first thing resembling home since he’d left Santa Monica and, conversely, it had felt like liberation. It had felt like an answer, a simple solution to a simple equation.
The progression had been natural. Two men, two friends, two lovers, two men in love. The days on set were long, but the nights more than made up for it. Elijah would come home (Dom’s home) late, far after Merry’s adventures were over for the day. Sometimes Dom would have dinner ready for him (nothing fancy, but better than craft services) and sometimes Dom would be naked and dinner would be forgotten until Elijah’s stomach growled.
Elijah had always said that he’d fall asleep less on set if Dom would let him get some sleep. Sean would roll his eyes (fingers in his ears), but Billy’s eyes would stay expressionless. Elijah would like to say he hadn’t noticed it, but he did.
It all came down to simple mathematics. Two plus one equals three. Two men (trapped in the haze of new love and lust, eyes bright with promise) and one man (trapped in the solitude of unrequited love, emerald eyes dark with loneliness), coming together to make three.
Elijah would be lying if he said he’d thought it was a good idea. Because he didn’t. He’d thought it was stupid, wrong (going to mess everything up). He’d like to say he hadn’t been right.
He remembered that night well, too. A drunk night at the house, the Hobbits (minus the married one) and a whole lot of alcohol. Innuendo thrown about carelessly (’You’d like to watch us shag, huh, Bill?’) and then it had happened. Dom had kissed him that night (lips tasting of ale, not peppermint) and then he’d done the same to Billy.
Elijah wasn’t angry. He wasn’t now and he hadn’t been then. He and Dom had talked about this, this connection between the three of them (the one missing element). They’d ended up a tangle of limbs on the couch (the floor, the bed). Naked skin (so much skin) and Elijah would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it.
No, Elijah had enjoyed it. Two tongues instead of one on him, four hands, and it had been like nothing he had ever experienced before.
The progression had been natural. Three friends, three lovers. Three people in love, just not all with each other. Elijah knew Billy’s love for Dom mirrored his own, it was evident with every look (every touch, every gasp of pleasure) and it was precisely that love that made him nervous. It wasn’t that Billy didn’t love Elijah, or that Elijah didn’t love Billy. He did (they did) as a friend, as a brother. He would walk across fire for Billy, give him anything. He gave him everything.
Elijah had always said that they each loved Dom more than each other, and Billy had never been inclined to disagree.
It all came down to simple mathematics. Three minus one equals two. Two men in love (riddled with ambiguity), who said goodbye to their sometimes-third partner (sad to go, but understanding) and again became a pair.
Elijah would definitely be a liar if he said he hadn’t been relieved. Things went back to the way they were before (the way they should have always been) and Elijah couldn’t have been happier. When he’d asked Dom to move with him to Los Angeles, he had been nervous (scared as hell), but when Dom had said yes—without hesitation—Elijah knew that things would be alright from then on.
It was different in New Zealand. Their relationship with Billy had happened, yes. But in LA, no one they met would ever connect with them the way Billy had. It just wouldn’t happen again. And with Dom in his home (in his bed every night), Elijah was happier than he’d ever been.
The progression had been natural. Their lives became their life (singular) and Elijah’s home became their home. The new feeling faded, and comfortable domesticity set it. Elijah’s favorite memory (the one he cherished now, the image burned in his mind like a photograph) was one night, coming home late from some event or another, with Dom. They had a quiet dinner of leftover fettuccini and salad (they’d already had it three times that week) and then they’d had a bath.
Elijah remembered that night more than any other. Not because of its unique excitement (it was quite an ordinary evening) but because it was the night Dom had curled in bed behind him (naked, hair still dripping from the bath) and said that he felt like he was home.
Elijah always said being with Dom felt like home. To know he felt the same was like completion (pure elation) and Elijah didn't think that things could ever get any better than that moment. He never thought that things could ever change the way they felt together.
It all came down to simple mathematics. Two plus one equals three, and two minus one equals one. Two men separated by an ocean ('work calls,' said Dom) and one man (still in love, awaiting a reunion) leaves one man out (left alone, across that ocean, and wondering why he hadn't seen it coming).
Elijah would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. Because it was a surprise (shock) to get that phone call from Dom. He was sounding weird, unlike himself, and Elijah knew at that moment.
'You're fucking him again, aren't you?' he had accused, and Dom didn't respond. But that silence, it spoke volumes. It spoke of all the months apart from Billy and how Elijah hadn't missed a thing, but Dom—apparently, Dom had. He had missed Billy (his touch, his love) and Elijah didn't think he'd ever forget when Dom told him that.
The phone dropped from his palm (sweaty, shaking) and he'd lit a cigarette before picking it back up. He couldn't believe Dom would do that to him (to them), and when he told him this, he was met with silence once again.
'When are you coming home?' he had asked, his voice shaking (stuttering with held-back tears) and Dom had told him that he wasn't sure where his home was. He would stay there, he told him. He would stay with Billy.
There was no natural progression. Just hurt and anger, and then loneliness. Elijah felt his world (his home) was taken away, and there was nothing more unnatural than that.
Elijah always said that he and Dom would never part. He hadn't realized just how wrong he really was. And two minus one was really just one.
End.
Author: Shelly
Pairing: Dom/Elijah, Dom/Billy, Dom/Billy/Elijah
Rating: R
Summary: The progression had been natural.
Archive: Little Things only, please.
Disclaimer: Not a bit of truth here.
Notes: For the Two Lines Challenge. This bitch was hard and I send my apologies to everyone for my silly, difficult challenge. Thanks muchly to
andrealyn for the beta.I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
The Cure, "Pictures of You"
Simple Mathematics
It all came down to simple mathematics. One plus one equals two. And that’s how it had begun. One nineteen-year-old male (brown hair, blue eyes like saucers) and one boy (twenty-three, sandy-brown hair, eyes that changed with the sky), coming together to make two.
Elijah would like to say that he didn’t recall the specifics, but that would be a lie. He remembered exactly how it had happened. He remembered the time (past two in the morning, three hours till Feet), the place (Dom’s ratty couch that he had bought from the side of the road in Wellington, calling it ‘a classic, man!’) and even the smell (Dom’s cologne, which was a mixture of the pine trees and almonds, clove cigarettes, peppermint schnapps). He remembered the way that Dom had drunkenly told him that they should be betting on horses, and how he had told him, ‘No, that’s mint juleps, dumbass,’ and then Dom had kissed him.
He didn’t need to close his eyes to remember the way Dom had felt that night. He could still feel it. It had felt like the first thing resembling home since he’d left Santa Monica and, conversely, it had felt like liberation. It had felt like an answer, a simple solution to a simple equation.
The progression had been natural. Two men, two friends, two lovers, two men in love. The days on set were long, but the nights more than made up for it. Elijah would come home (Dom’s home) late, far after Merry’s adventures were over for the day. Sometimes Dom would have dinner ready for him (nothing fancy, but better than craft services) and sometimes Dom would be naked and dinner would be forgotten until Elijah’s stomach growled.
Elijah had always said that he’d fall asleep less on set if Dom would let him get some sleep. Sean would roll his eyes (fingers in his ears), but Billy’s eyes would stay expressionless. Elijah would like to say he hadn’t noticed it, but he did.
It all came down to simple mathematics. Two plus one equals three. Two men (trapped in the haze of new love and lust, eyes bright with promise) and one man (trapped in the solitude of unrequited love, emerald eyes dark with loneliness), coming together to make three.
Elijah would be lying if he said he’d thought it was a good idea. Because he didn’t. He’d thought it was stupid, wrong (going to mess everything up). He’d like to say he hadn’t been right.
He remembered that night well, too. A drunk night at the house, the Hobbits (minus the married one) and a whole lot of alcohol. Innuendo thrown about carelessly (’You’d like to watch us shag, huh, Bill?’) and then it had happened. Dom had kissed him that night (lips tasting of ale, not peppermint) and then he’d done the same to Billy.
Elijah wasn’t angry. He wasn’t now and he hadn’t been then. He and Dom had talked about this, this connection between the three of them (the one missing element). They’d ended up a tangle of limbs on the couch (the floor, the bed). Naked skin (so much skin) and Elijah would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed it.
No, Elijah had enjoyed it. Two tongues instead of one on him, four hands, and it had been like nothing he had ever experienced before.
The progression had been natural. Three friends, three lovers. Three people in love, just not all with each other. Elijah knew Billy’s love for Dom mirrored his own, it was evident with every look (every touch, every gasp of pleasure) and it was precisely that love that made him nervous. It wasn’t that Billy didn’t love Elijah, or that Elijah didn’t love Billy. He did (they did) as a friend, as a brother. He would walk across fire for Billy, give him anything. He gave him everything.
Elijah had always said that they each loved Dom more than each other, and Billy had never been inclined to disagree.
It all came down to simple mathematics. Three minus one equals two. Two men in love (riddled with ambiguity), who said goodbye to their sometimes-third partner (sad to go, but understanding) and again became a pair.
Elijah would definitely be a liar if he said he hadn’t been relieved. Things went back to the way they were before (the way they should have always been) and Elijah couldn’t have been happier. When he’d asked Dom to move with him to Los Angeles, he had been nervous (scared as hell), but when Dom had said yes—without hesitation—Elijah knew that things would be alright from then on.
It was different in New Zealand. Their relationship with Billy had happened, yes. But in LA, no one they met would ever connect with them the way Billy had. It just wouldn’t happen again. And with Dom in his home (in his bed every night), Elijah was happier than he’d ever been.
The progression had been natural. Their lives became their life (singular) and Elijah’s home became their home. The new feeling faded, and comfortable domesticity set it. Elijah’s favorite memory (the one he cherished now, the image burned in his mind like a photograph) was one night, coming home late from some event or another, with Dom. They had a quiet dinner of leftover fettuccini and salad (they’d already had it three times that week) and then they’d had a bath.
Elijah remembered that night more than any other. Not because of its unique excitement (it was quite an ordinary evening) but because it was the night Dom had curled in bed behind him (naked, hair still dripping from the bath) and said that he felt like he was home.
Elijah always said being with Dom felt like home. To know he felt the same was like completion (pure elation) and Elijah didn't think that things could ever get any better than that moment. He never thought that things could ever change the way they felt together.
It all came down to simple mathematics. Two plus one equals three, and two minus one equals one. Two men separated by an ocean ('work calls,' said Dom) and one man (still in love, awaiting a reunion) leaves one man out (left alone, across that ocean, and wondering why he hadn't seen it coming).
Elijah would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. Because it was a surprise (shock) to get that phone call from Dom. He was sounding weird, unlike himself, and Elijah knew at that moment.
'You're fucking him again, aren't you?' he had accused, and Dom didn't respond. But that silence, it spoke volumes. It spoke of all the months apart from Billy and how Elijah hadn't missed a thing, but Dom—apparently, Dom had. He had missed Billy (his touch, his love) and Elijah didn't think he'd ever forget when Dom told him that.
The phone dropped from his palm (sweaty, shaking) and he'd lit a cigarette before picking it back up. He couldn't believe Dom would do that to him (to them), and when he told him this, he was met with silence once again.
'When are you coming home?' he had asked, his voice shaking (stuttering with held-back tears) and Dom had told him that he wasn't sure where his home was. He would stay there, he told him. He would stay with Billy.
There was no natural progression. Just hurt and anger, and then loneliness. Elijah felt his world (his home) was taken away, and there was nothing more unnatural than that.
Elijah always said that he and Dom would never part. He hadn't realized just how wrong he really was. And two minus one was really just one.
End.