ext_137590 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
glasgow-blue.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2004-03-11 06:26 pm
glasgow-blue.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-03-11 06:26 pm
String Theory
Title: String Theory
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Disclaimer: Let's play make-believe
Word Count: Dig me, I got up to 200
Cross-posted to:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
monaboyd
They call them faerie stones, back in Scotland, and legend has it that if you peer through the wee hole, you can see the pixies going on about their business. Billy is from the city--where stones are imported and sprites are rarer still--but he knows that this is not a wise venture. The wee folk are a fickle lot and their magic is not to be trusted.
Elijah tells him that Americans call them lucky stones and Billy prefers this, as it implies only good can come from finding one. He picks them up from streams and beaches around the world and puts them on leather cords to give to Dom.
Keep it against your chest, he says. So the luck stays close.
A grin in a bar in Auckland. First wave of the day. A tumbling mass of arms and legs, throwing up powder and swear words as Dom's snowboard wins another round. Twelve year old single malt and the street noise at Hogmanay in Edinburgh. Messages scrawled on skin in black Sharpie.
If he could, he would string together the moments like the stones and wear them for all to see. He's that happy. That lucky.
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Disclaimer: Let's play make-believe
Word Count: Dig me, I got up to 200
Cross-posted to:
monaboydThey call them faerie stones, back in Scotland, and legend has it that if you peer through the wee hole, you can see the pixies going on about their business. Billy is from the city--where stones are imported and sprites are rarer still--but he knows that this is not a wise venture. The wee folk are a fickle lot and their magic is not to be trusted.
Elijah tells him that Americans call them lucky stones and Billy prefers this, as it implies only good can come from finding one. He picks them up from streams and beaches around the world and puts them on leather cords to give to Dom.
Keep it against your chest, he says. So the luck stays close.
A grin in a bar in Auckland. First wave of the day. A tumbling mass of arms and legs, throwing up powder and swear words as Dom's snowboard wins another round. Twelve year old single malt and the street noise at Hogmanay in Edinburgh. Messages scrawled on skin in black Sharpie.
If he could, he would string together the moments like the stones and wear them for all to see. He's that happy. That lucky.
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I think that gratitude is something that often goes unmentioned in relationships--especially once they are old enough not to be new and shiny anymore.
Plus, I like rocks and these boys seem to wear a hell of a lot of them around their necks. :)