fellowshippers | (no subject)

Title: Interim
Author: Helena, saboteurs
Fandom: Lord of the Rings RPS
Pairing: DM/BB
Rating: PG (some language)
A/N: It's about healing. No, really, it is.
Disclaimer: All fictional, not mine.

There was a note with the flowers: Meet me at Bella's, 10:30. I'd had a fair idea who they were from even before Dom rang to confirm it. I couldn't really see anyone else randomly sending me a bouquet.

"Bella's, ten thirty," he said when I picked up the phone.

"I might be busy."

"Are you?"

"I might be."

"Christ," he said, sounding frustrated. "Well, if you are, fine. I'll have my flowers back, if that's how you feel."

"You're not really into the swing of this giving presents thing, are you?" I said.

"Well, I might as well put them to good use. Mother's Day's coming up."

"Jesus," I said, and laughed despite myself. "All right. Bella's, ten thirty. Get a table out front. But I don't want to talk about Lij, Dom."

"Oh, fuck off," he says. "The twat just dumped me, Bill. I don't think I'm really going to be clamouring to talk about him."

"Right," I said, feeling stupid. "It's a date, then."

"No, it's not," he said, sounding slightly melancholy. "See you tomorrow."

"Sorry," I said, but he'd rung off.

---

"Right," he said when I slid into the seat opposite him. "Let's talk about Elijah."

"Fuck off," I said. "Don't give me that look, either. It might work on --"

"Elijah!" he crowed. "I believe that was you mentioning him, Bill. Tut tut."

"Fuck off," I said again, picking up the menu.

"Christ, you're cranky in the morning," Dom said amiably, putting on a harsh German accent: "Vat vas se utter nacht about? Tell us! Ve haff chor mutter!"

"I didn't say anything about having your mother," I said, feeling like the spirit of restraint.

He smiled, examining the bottom of his trainer. "Yeah, but I bet you have, you sly old dog."

I nodded. "Last night, actually. Can you get her to take a shower before she comes round next time? She was filthy."

Laughing, Dom threw something he'd picked out of his shoe at me. He missed by a mile. "You dirty bugger."

"I am what I am," I agreed. "Nice digression, by the way."

He gave a little salute, fingers from the temple. "I'm the man."

"Are you going to tell me about Elijah or what?"

He rolled his eyes. "You, dog, Elijah's bone."

"More like you, dog, Elijah's boner," I said.

He pretended to look affronted. "I say, what type of chap do you think I am? There were no dogs involved."

"Lassie's night off, eh?"

"I've ruined that poor canine's life," Dom said sadly. "Alassie, poor Lassie."

"Roll up, roll up; watch in awe as the amazing Dom strolls away from the point," I said dryly. "Tell me about Elijah."

He pretended to think about it. "Elijah ... American kid? About yea high?"

"You're an arse."

He looked at me unblinking. I could see the dark circles of colour in his eyes, the boundaries of his irises. "I don't know what it is you're asking, Bill."

I dug my fingernail into a groove in the table. "Why you went out with him in the first place, actually."

"Maybe because I wanted to," he said.

I looked at him. "Did you?"

He rolled his eyes. "No. It was to make you jealous. Y'know, I didn't think my mother would go with such a dim fuck."

"The size of my knob far exceeds that of my IQ," I assured him, and he laughed. "Does -"

"Don't," he said, as a waitress old enough to be his mother came out to us. "Tell this charming lady what you're eating. I'll have tea, thanks," he told her.

She didn't look impressed by his compliment, looking at me. "Cheese and ham omelette please," I said obediently, feeling intimidated, but by what I wasn't sure. She tore off the bill, slapping it on the table and going back inside.

"Service with a smile," Dom remarked.

"About Lij -"

"It's sorted," he said calmly. "Don't turn into Viggo on me, Bill. I can look after myself."

"I don't even want to think about Viggo on you."

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

I blinked. "Do you have this conversation often?"

He reached across and clapped me on the shoulder. "Bill, mate, you forget. I am a man of the world."

Dom's coffee and my omelette arrived, accompanied by a young blonde waitress. Dom leaned back in his seat, openly admiring her backside, and informed me that I should have had the special. She gave him a look usually reserved for child molesters and stomped back inside. I thought about telling him he was irrepressible and decided against it. He didn't need encouragement.

"So," I said, digging into my omelette. I decided to leave him alone about the Elijah business, not because I could see it was making him feel awkward, but because I was embarrassed. Noble Sir Bill. "The flowers."

"The flowers," he repeated, giving my plate a disgusted look and producing a cigarette. I had never seen him smoke before. "I don't know how you can eat that shit. It's greasier than Aragorn's hair."

"Nice comparison," I said. "Tell you what. Why don't you put that out, and then you can give me all the health advice you want."

He flicked ash onto the pavement, not affronted in the least. "It's not like it's killing me. I only do it socially."

"Crap excuse. 'Social smokers'," I said disgustedly, making airquotes with the fingers that weren't holding my knife and fork. "There's nothing more antisocial than coughing smoke all over someone. Put it out while I'm eating and tell me again how quickly this is going to clog up my arteries."

"I love it when you talk dirty," he said. "When you die of a heart attack and the cancer gets me, we should be buried together. Like Morecambe and Wise."

"I intend to shake off all my earthly shackles when I go to meet my maker," I told him.

"Charming," he said, and wailed through a bar of some horrible pop song that I didn't know: take these shackles off my feet so I can dance. A man across the street, walking his dog, looked over at us then away.

"So," I said again, more stridently this time, determined to get an answer. "These flowers."

"I haven't got cancer," he said.

"No?"

"In case you thought I was trying to tell you something."

"It wouldn't occur to me to think you'd be so subtle," I said. He smiled. "Why did you send them?"

"To make you work faster."

"Bit cryptic."

"Flattery," he said with my voice, "gets ye everywhere. I thought you'd get it."

I said, "No, you didn't."

"I didn't," he agreed, picking at a fingernail. "Did you ever sleep with Orlando?"

I put a hand over my eyes. "Is that relevant?"

"Objection, your Honour." He looked at my plate. "Are you going to eat that?"

I pushed it towards him. "Knock yourself out." I stood. "I'm going home."

He didn't look surprised. "I'll ring you?"

"If you like." I started down the street towards home and was stopped by his voice.

"Bill?" I turned, expecting an apology, a confession; something that would change things.

"What?"

"Is this all paid for?"

"Fuck off," I said, and walked home.