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fellowshippers2004-02-02 10:01 am
kraken-wakes.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-02 10:01 am
Sand In My Shoes
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contrelamontre challenge which was to conceal some of the lyrics to a song within a fic. This is not a songfic!
title - sand in my shoes
pairing - billy/dom, dom/elijah
rating - PG (hey, new fandom, I'm working my way up to NC-17)
disclaimer - unfortunately, these people belong to themselves and not to me and I'm making no claims that the following is true because it clearly isn't.
a/n: unbetaed. from billy's pov.
The song I chose was sand in my shoes from Dido's album Life For Rent
I’ve still got sand in my shoes and I can’t shake the thought of you.
It’s really very stupid – I know this. I’m also the eejit stood stock still in his hall feeling the tiny particles of sand and shell under his feet, the gritty feeling of sand embedded in his trainers because he didn’t knock the sand out the last time he wore them.
And I can’t stop thinking about you.
It’s not. This doesn’t. It’s not like I never think about you; actually, I think about you quite a lot. People ask me about you and I can talk about you quite normally to interviewers and catching up old friends, good friends, on gossip and the like. I think about you and remember to call you, remember what time it is in Los Angeles, remember who’s staying, who isn’t, why Orli’s escaped to Mexico, what Elijah is raging about, Viggo’s latest ploy to make people think that he’s more peculiar than he actually is. I can talk about you, talk to you, enjoy a friendship I didn’t expect, one that is closer than I ever intended and as necessary as sunlight and oxygen.
But that’s not what I mean.
What I mean is this: I can’t stop thinking about you like that.
Like that: dazzling and golden under the blazing hot New Zealand sun and so beautiful and alive that it hurt to look at you. Framed by a sky bluer than I ever imagined and the great rolling waves, this great open seascape somehow becoming mere background as you stood over me and I wanted. Wanted to see your eyes as open, as naked as they were when you looked down at me. When the smile slid off your face and was buried somewhere in the sand at your feet and you realised that in that moment I owned you completely. Because you didn’t look away when the blush rose in your cheeks and confusion overwhelmed your eyes and you were filled with questions you didn’t know how to put into words and I never gave you a chance to ask.
Only for moments and reality came crashing back; the film, the friendship, the hundred-and-one things which prevented me from tugging you down into the sand beside me, the fact that I was happy before and I’ll be happy again and these little moments of heat and wanting and longing will be enough. I should get on, forget you.
But why would I want to when I can remember these little moments when the sun shone and you were mine?
I know we said goodbye and you looked at him as if the sun was in his eyes and I walked away and got on a plane and flew away. Anything else would have been confused. Because it didn’t hurt the way I thought it would when I saw him shine when he looked at you.
You fit together, you and he and you’re both happier than I thought you’d ever be. Both jagged, confused, angry young men slotted together as neatly as a jigsaw.
But I want to see you again.
Beautiful. Alive. Mine.
Two weeks away, all it takes to change and turn me around. I’ve fallen; I fell a long time ago and never realised it until I walked away and never said, that I want to see you again.
End.
contrelamontre challenge which was to conceal some of the lyrics to a song within a fic. This is not a songfic!title - sand in my shoes
pairing - billy/dom, dom/elijah
rating - PG (hey, new fandom, I'm working my way up to NC-17)
disclaimer - unfortunately, these people belong to themselves and not to me and I'm making no claims that the following is true because it clearly isn't.
a/n: unbetaed. from billy's pov.
The song I chose was sand in my shoes from Dido's album Life For Rent
I’ve still got sand in my shoes and I can’t shake the thought of you.
It’s really very stupid – I know this. I’m also the eejit stood stock still in his hall feeling the tiny particles of sand and shell under his feet, the gritty feeling of sand embedded in his trainers because he didn’t knock the sand out the last time he wore them.
And I can’t stop thinking about you.
It’s not. This doesn’t. It’s not like I never think about you; actually, I think about you quite a lot. People ask me about you and I can talk about you quite normally to interviewers and catching up old friends, good friends, on gossip and the like. I think about you and remember to call you, remember what time it is in Los Angeles, remember who’s staying, who isn’t, why Orli’s escaped to Mexico, what Elijah is raging about, Viggo’s latest ploy to make people think that he’s more peculiar than he actually is. I can talk about you, talk to you, enjoy a friendship I didn’t expect, one that is closer than I ever intended and as necessary as sunlight and oxygen.
But that’s not what I mean.
What I mean is this: I can’t stop thinking about you like that.
Like that: dazzling and golden under the blazing hot New Zealand sun and so beautiful and alive that it hurt to look at you. Framed by a sky bluer than I ever imagined and the great rolling waves, this great open seascape somehow becoming mere background as you stood over me and I wanted. Wanted to see your eyes as open, as naked as they were when you looked down at me. When the smile slid off your face and was buried somewhere in the sand at your feet and you realised that in that moment I owned you completely. Because you didn’t look away when the blush rose in your cheeks and confusion overwhelmed your eyes and you were filled with questions you didn’t know how to put into words and I never gave you a chance to ask.
Only for moments and reality came crashing back; the film, the friendship, the hundred-and-one things which prevented me from tugging you down into the sand beside me, the fact that I was happy before and I’ll be happy again and these little moments of heat and wanting and longing will be enough. I should get on, forget you.
But why would I want to when I can remember these little moments when the sun shone and you were mine?
I know we said goodbye and you looked at him as if the sun was in his eyes and I walked away and got on a plane and flew away. Anything else would have been confused. Because it didn’t hurt the way I thought it would when I saw him shine when he looked at you.
You fit together, you and he and you’re both happier than I thought you’d ever be. Both jagged, confused, angry young men slotted together as neatly as a jigsaw.
But I want to see you again.
Beautiful. Alive. Mine.
Two weeks away, all it takes to change and turn me around. I’ve fallen; I fell a long time ago and never realised it until I walked away and never said, that I want to see you again.
End.