Holy Crap! Fic Tour!

[rosiegamgee.livejournal.com]

Title: Run On
Author: rosiegamgee, aka Sarah
Pairing: Domlijah
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, not ever. *le sigh*
X-posted: My LJ, domlijah, and fellow_shippers
Summary: Elijah has his reasons for coming home, though his email didn’t explain them. And it definitely wasn’t sent to everyone.
Author’s note: This was never meant to be what it turned into, but it is. Posting this was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, because I kept wanting to go fix the sentences…*giggle*



He thinks briefly, while the plane is touching down, of stopping at his mother’s house first. To set his luggage down, get a car to drive, and then visit Dom, but he shakes the thought away. He’s here to talk to Dominic, and no amount of time doing other things is going to change that. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared shitless of the entire thing, and would rather do it sooner than later.

Stepping off the plane and into the terminal, the hood on his sweatshirt comes up and his prescription sunglasses slide on. He’s way too hot in this get-up, but he’s not in the mood to be trailed today. Hoisting his messenger bag up, and clutching his iBook tighter under his arm, he makes his way to baggage claim to pick up the duffel with clothes to last until all his stuff gets there. He turns quickly to the door, brandishing his ticket and baggage tag at the door, getting a slight eyelift from the airport guard. He pushes his glasses down his nose slightly and peers over the rims, silently pleading that she doesn’t start something. She nods her head and hands him his ripped ticket back. He smiles genuinely and makes his way to the door.

Driving from LAX to the Hills is a pain in the ass, but it’s easier than a drive uptown in Manhattan. Especially in the middle of the night, and he doesn’t have to worry about it as much, the taxi sliding silently over the highway. Elijah had given the driver the address, and from the look and questions he got, he was sure the driver knew Dom and knew where he lived. ‘Fucking great,’ he thinks, as he explains to the cab driver, ‘I’ve got the only cabbie in LA who knows Dom’s address’. His sunglasses slide off reluctantly and he reaches into his bag to grab his real glasses and he’s instantly recognized and the atmosphere of the drive is lifted.

He settles back and boots up his laptop, clicking through emails he’s copied and pasted onto his hard drive. The half angry, half sympathetic one from Hannah glares up at him as they finally make their way out of the airport. The excited one from his mother slides across the screen as they get on the highway. Billy’s five page narrative on why he should go is read while they’re stuck in a small traffic jam. Orlando’s quickly written, extremely misspelled response is focused on as they exit and turn towards Dom’s neighborhood. They had all gotten the same email from him two days prior.

I’m coming home on Wednesday.

Don’t tell Dom.

Lij

When the cab pulls into the space in front of Dominic’s, Elijah thanks and pays the driver, closing his laptop and steps from the car. There are no lights on that he can see, it is three in the morning. The driver asks if he wants him to wait and Elijah shakes his head. Either he’ll be in and out in five minutes and have Mack drive him home, or he’ll be there for hours. Elijah prefers the hours scenario. Walking up the steps, he takes a breath and decides it’s now or never.

His mind drifts to New Zealand, to premieres, to living with his mom years ago, to deciding to leave LA and the rigidity Dom had treated him with after he had told him. He had gotten over it though, or else was doing a damn good job pretending. His thoughts travel to writing that email the other day. Names checked off in his address book: Orli, Bills, Dom, Hannah, mom, Vig, on second thought perhaps not Dom, Astin, Zach, Pete, Dom, Phil, Fran, on third thought not Dom. He had the email typed out. Three pages long, full of explanation, what his plans were (of course he had talked to his mom about COMING, but never when), apologies…and he had highlighted it all and hit delete and he was sure the three lines said everything he wanted to say.

When his hand hits the door to the apartment, something pulls him back to the present time. There’s no answer at first, so he knocks again, checking the street first to make sure Dom’s car is there. A light flicks on in the living room and the door finally opens, an exhausted Mackenzie Astin looking out at him. His eyes widen and he starts to say something, but Elijah shakes his head as he follows him inside. Mackenzie starts to point out drinks and food and the couch and his voice is growing progressively louder, and fuck all if he’s not trying to wake Dom up without actually going to the door to do it. Elijah pushes a hand over Mack’s mouth and glares.

‘Don’t, Mack, okay? I’ll wake him up. He doesn’t even know I’m home.’

Mackenzie nods and starts back to the bedroom, glancing back and giving him the same look Sean always gives him when he’s about to start some kind of trouble and for a moment Elijah wishes he had gone to Sean and Chris’s house first so he could talk to someone about this because, Christ, not being able to have a game plan for this whole thing was killing him, and Sean was the only one who knew about all of it, was the only one who hadn’t asked why they shouldn’t tell Dom about it, and had just written a simple note back, call me if you need me, instead of a page about how Dom was going to kill him for not telling him first, but fine they won’t say anything to him, they promised, and, fuck, somehow as he was thinking about this he had managed to walk to Dom’s door and Mackenzie was back in his room and he had knocked and a gritty British voice had managed some garbled version of ‘come in’ and he was suddenly standing in Dom’s doorframe.

‘Hey Dom.’

‘Elwood? Is that you?’

A dark figure sits up in bed and Elijah can see the head turn to the clock and realize it’s after three before looking back at him and the body attached is sliding back into its old appointed side of the bed. Without a word, Elijah toes off his Converses, pulls off his sweatshirt, and slides effortlessly onto the bed, hardly able to contain himself as his arms are thrown around Dom’s neck and his face is buried in a shoulder (a BARE shoulder, Elijah realizes, and his face reddens and he’s sure Dom can feel the heat of his face).

‘Lijah, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but it isn’t really a normal time to be calling on someone.’

Elijah pulls away from Dom’s shoulder and before he’s had a chance to think it through, words are falling from his mouth, telling him about New York, and the snow, and the email, and not telling him, and oh god, Dom, it hurt so much when you were mad at me for leaving and somehow in the midst of the babbling, all reason leaves Elijah’s head and the tears start falling, And suddenly he’s telling Dom about Franka and how much he wanted her to be him and Jesus Christ, I’m so in love with you I can’t even think straight most days.

And then Dom just looks at him, wonder in his eyes as he shifts a little, and the nights they spent together in the same bed in New Zealand when Elijah was homesick or the nights on the pullout couch in the guest house in Debbie’s because they were drunk become uncomfortable, and Dom’s realizes he has a side of the bed and that’s usually reserved for couples, isn’t it?

Elijah freaks out when the tears hit his lips and he brings his hands to his face quickly to wipe them away. He scratches at the back of his neck and bites at his thumb nail in silence as Dom just stares at him and suddenly it hits what just left his mouth and his hand drops from his mouth because it just gaped open and then it’s like he never stopped talking and words of apology fill the room and he’s reaching for his cell to call a cab company as he gets off the bed and he realizes this whole years long “not relationship” with Dom has been this gigantic run-on sentence and somehow he’s just struggling to keep it going instead of it finishing with some sort of period, because he thinks he can handle a question mark, and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to like a period if it gets put there, though the question mark isn’t looking too promising either as he’s finally flush against the door, reaching for his shoes and sweatshirt, swearing he’ll be gone in a few minutes. And then Dom gets out of bed and walks over and takes the phone from his hand. And then Dom’s finger is on his lips, quieting him.

‘How long are you here for?’

‘I sold the place in New York. I’m moving in with mom until I’m done in London. So I’m thinking forever.’

Dom nods his head and smiles for the first time since Elijah set foot in the doorway, satisfied finally. The only thing that crosses Elijah’s mind now is the fact that Dom’s mouth looks like it’s closer than it was five seconds ago and then Dom’s body shifts and Elijah KNOWS that Dom’s lips are closer to his and then they barely touch his and…oh…

And the sentence ends in a period, but it’s not the same one he had previously envisioned.