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fellowshippers2004-06-01 01:42 am
queen-geek.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-06-01 01:42 am
Porn and Chocolate, Promises and Kisses
Title: Porn and Chocolate, Promises and Kisses
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
queen_geek
Pairing: DM/EW
Rating: Hard PG 13, for swearing.
Genre: Angstangstangstschmoop. Give or take.
Disclaimer: It's all in my head.
Summary: After being interviewed on Leno, Elijah returns to an emotionally charged apartment. Even the furniture hates him. For challenge #6 at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lotrpschallenge.
“You hesitated.”
The door to Mackenzie Astin and Dom’s apartment closed with a very final-sounding snick-chuck, which only served to underscore the weary disappointment in Dom’s voice. Elijah took his time in answering; placed the spare key back in the top drawer of the filing cabinet that served as a receptacle for the detritus accumulated in the comings and goings of a household of two twenty-something males and their friends. Finally he could put it off no longer.
“Yeah. I did.”
“You stuttered, you looked around, you fucking twitched and jittered, but you didn’t say it.”
“I know.”
“You’re a fucking actor, Elijah, and you nearly pissed yourself like a schoolboy with stage fright.” Hurt, betrayal, anger, disappointment, bitterness, longing, and bewilderment painted layers overtop of each other in Dom’s voice, which was soft in spite of the power of his words. “You couldn’t even...just...shite.”
The apartment was so quiet Elijah could hear Dom rubbing his hands over his cheeks, fingers steepleing over the bridge of his nose and creasing new wrinkles in his forehead. He could hear tension crackling in Dom’s joints as the couch squeaked, and Dom got to his feet.
“I’m sorry, Dom. I froze.”
“Damn right you did.” Bare feet padded across green shag carpet, then golden brown linoleum, and Elijah could see from the squareness of Dom’s shoulders, the perfect no-nonsense set of his spine, the way his walk was not fluid but rigid and stilted, that this was not going to go away with a promise and a kiss. His own shoulders rounded down before settling back, pushing his chest out, a shield of 24 bones, muscle, and skin. His battle would not require more heavy armor, as any injuries would be internal anyways. He braced himself against the door, five fingertips sensing the coolness of the metal compared to the heat of his blood, as he toed off one red lowtop Converse, then the other. He followed Dom into the kitchen, where the other man, radiating “touch me and die, you fucking cunt” vibes, was throwing open and slamming shut the cupboard doors. Elijah supposed he should be glad that Mac was out for the night with his girlfriend, but at this point in time, when his own death seemed imminent, it was cold comfort.
“Dom, look, I tried. I was going to say it, but--”
“But you didn’t.” Finally Dom swung around to face Elijah, and the force of his gaze made Elijah take an involuntary step back. “You remember what you wanted for Christmas when you were eleven, but you couldn’t remember the words I’ve heard you practicing for the last three days?”
“Dom, I--”
“You talked about DJing. You mentioned my name. Sodding hell, Lij, you told him about being a fucking cheap drunk, and about the porn and chocolate, but you couldn’t tell him that you were moving back to LA to be with me?”
“Dommie, please--”
“Don’t ‘Dommie’ me; don’t think that I’m going to let you get away with this.” Three short steps, and Dom had crossed the kitchen to meet Elijah toe to toe, hip to hip, nose to nose. They’d been this close more times than Elijah could count, but he’d never felt frightened any of those times. The air left his lungs, fluttering Dom’s carefully tousled hair, as something firm, propelled by Dom’s hand, met Elijah’s shield of ribs with a thwack. “Hope chocolate really is better than sex.” And then he was gone, and the bag of chocolate chips fell to the floor, scattering darker brown freckles across the tan of the tile. Elijah stood, struggling to comprehend what had just happened (and to catch his breath), before his body launched itself into motion, propelling him through the kitchen and TV room, across a short hallway, and through Dom’s door.
“Fuck you, Dom. Do you think that was easy for me? Do you think that I like hiding like this? God! I wanted to tell him, Dominic, I want to tell the whole fucking world that I’m in love with you and that you mean everything to me, but I just couldn’t! I haven’t even told Hannah and Zach; they’d kill me if they had to find out at the same time that the rest of the Western hemisphere did. And what about you? Have you told anyone? Your family, Billy, Mac? Have you?” Silence was all the answer Elijah needed. “Will you at least help me fold out the fucking sofabed? No way am I breaking my back trying to do it on my own.” Elijah turned and stalked back into the TV room, throwing the sagging cushions from the dilapidated frame of the couch and grasping the cold metal handle, yanking with all his angry might. With a squeal of protest, the hidden mattress lurched from its resting place and attacked Elijah, throwing him to the floor, where he landed square on his ass. Sparks shot along his nerves, and he used up all the oxygen left in his lungs to curse the couch, the mattress, the makers, distributors, and delivery men, and finally Jay Leno and Dom. By the time he was done, his butt had begun throbbing, and he was crying. Disappointment, pain, and love swirled between his heart and his kidneys, and he put his face in his hands and wept.
He felt the warmth of Dom’s body settle beside his, and didn’t have the strength to resist the arm that slid around his shoulders, pulling him closer to Dom’s chest. He felt the rumbling of words originating in the cavern below his ear, and pulled back enough to listen to them tumble from Dom’s lips, soothing words, nonsense words, and “I’m sorry”s and “I love you”s sprinkled between them with abandon. His tears subsided, but Dom’s words did not.
“I’m sorry, Elijah. I know you wanted to do this, and I know it’s hard. I couldn’t have done it, either. And I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you to let the world see the one thing you’ve managed to keep out of the public eye. But I love you so much, and I want everyone to be happy for us. I love you. I love you.” Dom placed a kiss on Elijah’s temple, and smoothed it into his hair with one hand, leaving the other wrapped around his boyfriend’s shoulders. Elijah scrubbed his tears away with the heels of his palms and turned to face Dom.
“The couch tried to kill me.”
Dom’s face scrunched as he attempted to hold in the laughter struggling to burst free at the grievance in Elijah’s tone, but when Elijah giggled, Dom allowed his shoulders to rise and fall as he laughed out loud.
“Come on. You’re not sleeping on this shitty matress. I don’t expect Mac’ll be back before noon tomorrow; you’re sleeping with me tonight.”
As Dom’s mouth covered his, Elijah smiled. Battles weren’t won with promises and kisses, but some peace treaties were signed with them. He pulled back from the kiss and sighed.
“Well, help me up. You can put the couch back together, and I’ll clean up the mess in the kitchen.” He and Dom stood, and Elijah began moving to the kitchen, when Dom’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“It’ll wait till morning. C’mon. My room. Now.”
Elijah willingly complied.
Author:
queen_geekPairing: DM/EW
Rating: Hard PG 13, for swearing.
Genre: Angstangstangstschmoop. Give or take.
Disclaimer: It's all in my head.
Summary: After being interviewed on Leno, Elijah returns to an emotionally charged apartment. Even the furniture hates him. For challenge #6 at
lotrpschallenge.“You hesitated.”
The door to Mackenzie Astin and Dom’s apartment closed with a very final-sounding snick-chuck, which only served to underscore the weary disappointment in Dom’s voice. Elijah took his time in answering; placed the spare key back in the top drawer of the filing cabinet that served as a receptacle for the detritus accumulated in the comings and goings of a household of two twenty-something males and their friends. Finally he could put it off no longer.
“Yeah. I did.”
“You stuttered, you looked around, you fucking twitched and jittered, but you didn’t say it.”
“I know.”
“You’re a fucking actor, Elijah, and you nearly pissed yourself like a schoolboy with stage fright.” Hurt, betrayal, anger, disappointment, bitterness, longing, and bewilderment painted layers overtop of each other in Dom’s voice, which was soft in spite of the power of his words. “You couldn’t even...just...shite.”
The apartment was so quiet Elijah could hear Dom rubbing his hands over his cheeks, fingers steepleing over the bridge of his nose and creasing new wrinkles in his forehead. He could hear tension crackling in Dom’s joints as the couch squeaked, and Dom got to his feet.
“I’m sorry, Dom. I froze.”
“Damn right you did.” Bare feet padded across green shag carpet, then golden brown linoleum, and Elijah could see from the squareness of Dom’s shoulders, the perfect no-nonsense set of his spine, the way his walk was not fluid but rigid and stilted, that this was not going to go away with a promise and a kiss. His own shoulders rounded down before settling back, pushing his chest out, a shield of 24 bones, muscle, and skin. His battle would not require more heavy armor, as any injuries would be internal anyways. He braced himself against the door, five fingertips sensing the coolness of the metal compared to the heat of his blood, as he toed off one red lowtop Converse, then the other. He followed Dom into the kitchen, where the other man, radiating “touch me and die, you fucking cunt” vibes, was throwing open and slamming shut the cupboard doors. Elijah supposed he should be glad that Mac was out for the night with his girlfriend, but at this point in time, when his own death seemed imminent, it was cold comfort.
“Dom, look, I tried. I was going to say it, but--”
“But you didn’t.” Finally Dom swung around to face Elijah, and the force of his gaze made Elijah take an involuntary step back. “You remember what you wanted for Christmas when you were eleven, but you couldn’t remember the words I’ve heard you practicing for the last three days?”
“Dom, I--”
“You talked about DJing. You mentioned my name. Sodding hell, Lij, you told him about being a fucking cheap drunk, and about the porn and chocolate, but you couldn’t tell him that you were moving back to LA to be with me?”
“Dommie, please--”
“Don’t ‘Dommie’ me; don’t think that I’m going to let you get away with this.” Three short steps, and Dom had crossed the kitchen to meet Elijah toe to toe, hip to hip, nose to nose. They’d been this close more times than Elijah could count, but he’d never felt frightened any of those times. The air left his lungs, fluttering Dom’s carefully tousled hair, as something firm, propelled by Dom’s hand, met Elijah’s shield of ribs with a thwack. “Hope chocolate really is better than sex.” And then he was gone, and the bag of chocolate chips fell to the floor, scattering darker brown freckles across the tan of the tile. Elijah stood, struggling to comprehend what had just happened (and to catch his breath), before his body launched itself into motion, propelling him through the kitchen and TV room, across a short hallway, and through Dom’s door.
“Fuck you, Dom. Do you think that was easy for me? Do you think that I like hiding like this? God! I wanted to tell him, Dominic, I want to tell the whole fucking world that I’m in love with you and that you mean everything to me, but I just couldn’t! I haven’t even told Hannah and Zach; they’d kill me if they had to find out at the same time that the rest of the Western hemisphere did. And what about you? Have you told anyone? Your family, Billy, Mac? Have you?” Silence was all the answer Elijah needed. “Will you at least help me fold out the fucking sofabed? No way am I breaking my back trying to do it on my own.” Elijah turned and stalked back into the TV room, throwing the sagging cushions from the dilapidated frame of the couch and grasping the cold metal handle, yanking with all his angry might. With a squeal of protest, the hidden mattress lurched from its resting place and attacked Elijah, throwing him to the floor, where he landed square on his ass. Sparks shot along his nerves, and he used up all the oxygen left in his lungs to curse the couch, the mattress, the makers, distributors, and delivery men, and finally Jay Leno and Dom. By the time he was done, his butt had begun throbbing, and he was crying. Disappointment, pain, and love swirled between his heart and his kidneys, and he put his face in his hands and wept.
He felt the warmth of Dom’s body settle beside his, and didn’t have the strength to resist the arm that slid around his shoulders, pulling him closer to Dom’s chest. He felt the rumbling of words originating in the cavern below his ear, and pulled back enough to listen to them tumble from Dom’s lips, soothing words, nonsense words, and “I’m sorry”s and “I love you”s sprinkled between them with abandon. His tears subsided, but Dom’s words did not.
“I’m sorry, Elijah. I know you wanted to do this, and I know it’s hard. I couldn’t have done it, either. And I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you to let the world see the one thing you’ve managed to keep out of the public eye. But I love you so much, and I want everyone to be happy for us. I love you. I love you.” Dom placed a kiss on Elijah’s temple, and smoothed it into his hair with one hand, leaving the other wrapped around his boyfriend’s shoulders. Elijah scrubbed his tears away with the heels of his palms and turned to face Dom.
“The couch tried to kill me.”
Dom’s face scrunched as he attempted to hold in the laughter struggling to burst free at the grievance in Elijah’s tone, but when Elijah giggled, Dom allowed his shoulders to rise and fall as he laughed out loud.
“Come on. You’re not sleeping on this shitty matress. I don’t expect Mac’ll be back before noon tomorrow; you’re sleeping with me tonight.”
As Dom’s mouth covered his, Elijah smiled. Battles weren’t won with promises and kisses, but some peace treaties were signed with them. He pulled back from the kiss and sighed.
“Well, help me up. You can put the couch back together, and I’ll clean up the mess in the kitchen.” He and Dom stood, and Elijah began moving to the kitchen, when Dom’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“It’ll wait till morning. C’mon. My room. Now.”
Elijah willingly complied.
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one point and its picky I know like a stage-frightened third grader that is a pure American expression. Unless your Dom knows your education system he'd say 'like a school kid with stage fright'
Forgive me - as a Manc I can't help it.
“The couch tried to kill me.” this melted me completely as well as starting a fit of laughter.
Battles weren’t won with promises and kisses, but some peace treaties were signed with them.
Every so often I find lines and wish I'd written them. This was one of those. Perfect. Just. Yes.
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Great!
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Thanks for commenting!
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Every so often I find lines and wish I'd written them. This was one of those. Perfect. Just. Yes.
Oh my gosh! You totally just made my day. Wahoo! Thank you! ::hugs::
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Sure did. Hope you managed to piece your head back together.
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Sparks shot along his nerves, and he used up all the oxygen left in his lungs to curse the couch, the mattress, the makers, distributors, and delivery men, and finally Jay Leno and Dom. By the time he was done, his butt had begun throbbing, and he was crying. Disappointment, pain, and love swirled between his heart and his kidneys, and he put his face in his hands and wept.
I love it I love it I love it.