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fellowshippers2004-03-11 02:40 am
indriyani.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-11 02:40 am
Ficlet.
Title: Character Development
Pairing: EW/DM
A/N: http://www.dominic-monaghan.us/images/dom/ttpremla3.jpg and
http://www.dominic-monaghan.us/images/dom/ttpremla4.jpg
ETA: Forgive me, this is not beta'd.
Elijah blinked once, twice before looking down at Dom’s hands held out before him.
“Yeah?” The question filled with rare uncertainty.
“Oh man,” Elijah grabbed both hands and nodded approvingly, “Yeah, they’re wicked. She did a nice job.”
Dom all but smirked as he pulled his hands back and examined his fingernails, feigning snobbery. “They do look fantastic. I can’t really say that many could pull this off either.”
Elijah snorted, turned up his stereo and replied with assurance. “Anyone could pull that off.”
Dom only continued to look at his hands. “If by anyone you mean exclusively me than I agree, anyone could pull this off.”
Elijah only laughed his reply, disbelieving.
---
This was Dom, you either accepted him or you hated him. Elijah more than accepted him, he secretly admired him. Everything about Dom embodied his idea of cool. He watched Dom at premieres and envied the smug step and smart look Dom had mastered with casual simplicity. Dom’s entire persona came naturally, the rogue twinkle in his eyes and the throaty edge to his voice.
The night he discovered how compelling his jealousy for his friend really was had been on December 15, 2002. It was relatively cool outside, but he can remember Dom having his sleeves rolled up. He knew the only reason he could remember this was because he had stared openly at the shape of his friend’s forearms, the fresh tan defining their strength, bringing out the veins. Elijah also remembered his mouth feeling particularly dry.
Dom had been wearing a white button-down shirt, unkempt, loose but form-fitting at the same time. What was especially striking about the way he had worn that shirt was his posture, his shoulders were even and his back impeccably straight. His skin colour was darker than usual; bronzed, and Elijah remembered he had looked almost feverish. One of Dom’s hands had been tucked carelessly into his left pants pocket, the other held up to his lips, a lollipop giving it purpose. Even his face displayed his arrogance that night. His eyes had taken on a lucid glare with a twinge of cockiness that brought his brows slightly forward as he sucked the lollipop knowingly.
Elijah memorized the feeling of Dom’s hand that night, pressed lightly against his stomach. He had felt it through the fabric of his jacket, the warmth of the touch -- whispered, but it had felt so intense. When he turned around, the lollipop was in Dom’s mouth completely; the white stick protruding out. An open grin allowed Elijah to see the glistening round, grape colour, enveloped in darkness. He could only visualize in that moment what Dom’s tongue tasted of; sour, fruity saliva. He remembered licking his lips, smiling and hugging Dom tight. Ignoring with an actor’s ease just how much he wanted Dom. Wanted him for his recklessness, wanted him for his stylish exuberance, wanted him for his unexplainable ability to look as cool as he had looked that night.
But it wasn’t just that night. It was every time he saw Dom. The assertion Dom impressed on him wasn’t limited to a pair of Diesel jeans or a shirt from Prada. It wasn’t in the highlighted, feathered spikes of his hair or his power to give the word trendy its own sub-definition. The assertion was simply Dominic on his own. His quips and his faults, his laugh and his hesitation when no one was looking. Elijah was looking, and he knew he would continue to look until their very last appearance together.
---
“Getting highlights done in an hour, you coming along?”
Elijah watched as Dom flipped through a magazine, his posture illustrating his bored indifference.
“Yeah, yeah. I needed to pick up my dry-cleaning, anyway.”
---
“There’s a virile swagger to Dom. He also brings a certain amount of cool and style that’s different from everybody else.”
Elijah Wood.
---
Pairing: EW/DM
A/N: http://www.dominic-monaghan.us/images/dom/ttpremla3.jpg and
http://www.dominic-monaghan.us/images/dom/ttpremla4.jpg
ETA: Forgive me, this is not beta'd.
Elijah blinked once, twice before looking down at Dom’s hands held out before him.
“Yeah?” The question filled with rare uncertainty.
“Oh man,” Elijah grabbed both hands and nodded approvingly, “Yeah, they’re wicked. She did a nice job.”
Dom all but smirked as he pulled his hands back and examined his fingernails, feigning snobbery. “They do look fantastic. I can’t really say that many could pull this off either.”
Elijah snorted, turned up his stereo and replied with assurance. “Anyone could pull that off.”
Dom only continued to look at his hands. “If by anyone you mean exclusively me than I agree, anyone could pull this off.”
Elijah only laughed his reply, disbelieving.
This was Dom, you either accepted him or you hated him. Elijah more than accepted him, he secretly admired him. Everything about Dom embodied his idea of cool. He watched Dom at premieres and envied the smug step and smart look Dom had mastered with casual simplicity. Dom’s entire persona came naturally, the rogue twinkle in his eyes and the throaty edge to his voice.
The night he discovered how compelling his jealousy for his friend really was had been on December 15, 2002. It was relatively cool outside, but he can remember Dom having his sleeves rolled up. He knew the only reason he could remember this was because he had stared openly at the shape of his friend’s forearms, the fresh tan defining their strength, bringing out the veins. Elijah also remembered his mouth feeling particularly dry.
Dom had been wearing a white button-down shirt, unkempt, loose but form-fitting at the same time. What was especially striking about the way he had worn that shirt was his posture, his shoulders were even and his back impeccably straight. His skin colour was darker than usual; bronzed, and Elijah remembered he had looked almost feverish. One of Dom’s hands had been tucked carelessly into his left pants pocket, the other held up to his lips, a lollipop giving it purpose. Even his face displayed his arrogance that night. His eyes had taken on a lucid glare with a twinge of cockiness that brought his brows slightly forward as he sucked the lollipop knowingly.
Elijah memorized the feeling of Dom’s hand that night, pressed lightly against his stomach. He had felt it through the fabric of his jacket, the warmth of the touch -- whispered, but it had felt so intense. When he turned around, the lollipop was in Dom’s mouth completely; the white stick protruding out. An open grin allowed Elijah to see the glistening round, grape colour, enveloped in darkness. He could only visualize in that moment what Dom’s tongue tasted of; sour, fruity saliva. He remembered licking his lips, smiling and hugging Dom tight. Ignoring with an actor’s ease just how much he wanted Dom. Wanted him for his recklessness, wanted him for his stylish exuberance, wanted him for his unexplainable ability to look as cool as he had looked that night.
But it wasn’t just that night. It was every time he saw Dom. The assertion Dom impressed on him wasn’t limited to a pair of Diesel jeans or a shirt from Prada. It wasn’t in the highlighted, feathered spikes of his hair or his power to give the word trendy its own sub-definition. The assertion was simply Dominic on his own. His quips and his faults, his laugh and his hesitation when no one was looking. Elijah was looking, and he knew he would continue to look until their very last appearance together.
“Getting highlights done in an hour, you coming along?”
Elijah watched as Dom flipped through a magazine, his posture illustrating his bored indifference.
“Yeah, yeah. I needed to pick up my dry-cleaning, anyway.”
Elijah Wood.
---