Toast, DM/EW PG

[shellies.livejournal.com]

Title: Toast
Author: Shelly
Pairing: Dom/Elijah
Rating: PG
Summary: “I broke your toaster.”
Website: Little Things
Disclaimer: Of the not true variety.
Notes: My contribution to Love Letters Valentine’s Day challenge for thepsychicclam. I <3 you, sweetie and I hope you like this! Thanks to captnobvious for the beta.

Toast

Dom was going to kill Tolkien. Well, that wasn’t exactly possible, seeing as how the man was already dead. And even if he were alive, Dom would most likely not want to kill him. Maybe slap him around for a bit. After all, it was all Tolkien’s fault.

Two weeks. They had only been together for two weeks, and then Sam and Frodo had to go traipsing all over Middle Earth in search of Mordor, leaving poor Merry alone with – of all things – orcs and mechanical trees.

But they were. Together, that is, and that almost made up for the long hours spent without him in a tree, arse sore in the not-good way. Because, Dom knew, Elijah would come home. To him – to their home – and then he (and his arse, for that matter) could get the attention they so desired.

And was it desired.

Dom was, plainly, a mess without Elijah. Not in that lovesick-helpless-I-can’t-function way, but in a more practical sense.

He hated Elijah’s apartment.

‘Sure,’ Elijah had said. ‘Stay at my place while I’m gone.’ At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Elijah’s place was, after all, bigger. Nicer. Indescribably cleaner. And the pillows smelled like Elijah’s cologne.

The problem was, see, Dom kept breaking things. And this was making his stay less than enjoyable, all pillow-snuggling aside.

During the first week, Dom had decided to fiddle with Elijah’s stereo. Bad idea. Elijah was, unfortunately, much more electronically inclined. Dom, he was satisfied with a good old-fashioned radio and headphones. But Elijah, his shit was state-of-the-art. Twelve-disc changer, surround sound. How Elijah had gotten the speakers stationed so high up on the living room walls, Dom could never figure out.

Alas, that was irrelevant now, since said speakers were no longer working.

Dom wasn’t sure if he had blown them out (he didn’t think so) or if he had simply mucked up the wiring, but the result was the same. No sound.

And it was back to the headphones for Dom.

The second week’s incident wasn’t entirely his fault. Orlando was at least partly to blame. It was his BB gun, anyway. Dom’s only fault was that he couldn’t aim to save his life.

Maybe Elijah wouldn’t notice. He probably never even used his bedroom window. Hopefully.

It’s when he nearly burned down the apartment, though, when Dom knew he was going to lose his mind before Elijah came home.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to toast bread. It was more that he didn’t know how to toast bread well. And Elijah’s toaster, it didn’t have one of those easy press-down levers. No, it was all digital, with numbers and buttons, and Christ, it was just bread.

Unfortunately, leaving it to toast while answering the telephone turned out to be a Very Bad Idea.

Dom was thankful that Elijah had a fire extinguisher. Only bloody thing in the place he could work properly.

He pondered this, sitting on the kitchen floor, the room covered in what could only be called extinguisher-goo, and spontaneously grabbed his cell phone. His watch told him that Elijah was undoubtedly filming, so he decided to go with a text message instead.

The toaster’s broke. I’m not sure all the speakers in the surround sound are working. And there is a *tiny* hole in the window now. Come home soon. The hole in the window makes the bed cold. Love Dom

Dom pressed ‘send’ and set to cleaning the (most recent) mess.

He awoke the next morning to a pleasant smell. It wasn’t the pillow. The Elijah-smell had worn off days ago, to Dom’s dismay. No, it was…toast. Dom opened his eyes slowly, blinking them into focus.

Elijah was standing in the bedroom doorway.

“’Lijah?” Dom propped himself up on his elbows and yawned. Clearly he was going to have to add ‘bouts of hallucination’ to his list of things gone wrong.

But no, Elijah was there, coming closer and the drop of the mattress under his weight couldn’t really be a hallucination, could it?

“I had to come home before the house blew up, didn’t I?” Elijah was smiling at him and, to Dom’s utter delight, holding a tray of food. Complete with toast.

“I broke your toaster,” Dom said solemnly.

“I bought a new one.”

“I did other bad things, too.”

Elijah set the tray aside, moving forward instead to press a soft kiss to Dom’s frowning lips. “I don’t care.”

“How are you home?” Dom breathed out the question. Breakfast was suddenly very much secondary to the lovely things Elijah’s mouth was doing to Dom’s jaw.

“Wrapped earlier than Pete anticipated.” Kiss. “Good scenes.” Lick. “Missed you.” Nibble.

Dom lowered his face to catch Elijah’s mouth in a longer, deeper kiss and sighed happily. “Missed you, too.”

Dom started to pull Elijah on top of him, toast long forgotten, but Elijah stopped. “Oh, and Dom?”

“Yes, love?”

“You owe me about $200 for the speakers. New Zealand currency, please.”

“Bugger.”

End.