28 meme: 5, joined-at-the-hip-with-billy dom
5. Joined-at-the-hip-with-Billy Dom.
Joined up
for kiltsandlollies
Dom/Billy
*
"If we were Siamese twins, would you want to be separated?" Dom asks.
"--What?" Billy eyes his beer. Only half gone. He can't feign drunken incomprehension, sadly; whatever monstrous flight of fancy this conversation bodes, he'll have to see it through.
When they first met, Billy liked Dom straightaway, for no one reason he could name. They just seemed to fall in together quite naturally. It was only once it was too late that he began to realize what a deeply strange person Dom really is: the sort of person who might well ask without any warning if you'd like to be Siamese twins with him.
"You know, conjoined twins," Dom spins on. "Connected."
"I know what Siamese twins are," Billy answers, "I am one quarter Siamese, after all."
"Yeah? Only one quarter? I would've said at least one third."
"Well, I'm one quarter Siamese cat. That counts as Siamese, doesn't it?"
Dom considers it solemnly. "Yeah, I think so. Siamese dog, that wouldn't count."
"Of course not."
"Cos then it's just: dog. Nationality doesn't enter into it. But Siamese cat, I think that's on quite solid ground, as genealogy goes."
"There you are then."
"But say we were twins," Dom begins again.
"I dunno, Dom. Just that sort of sprains my imagination."
"Well, limp along with me here. Twins, born connected at the hip, say. Would you be willing to stay joined up, or would you insist on being cut apart?"
"It's all up to me, is it?"
"I'd do whichever you wanted," Dom says virtuously.
Billy splutters out a foamy mouthful of beer. "That'd be a first!"
"I would! But after all, it wouldn't be so bad, would it? Going on just as we're sat now."
Now that he mentions it, they are rather close, thighs and hips touching. Billy was making space on the bench in case someone else sat down with them, and also because they've been talking and it was a bit loud. There's room on the other side of Dom as well, he notices now.
"So you're asking me whether I'd be willing to spend the rest of our lives stuck together all the time," Billy says slowly.
Color splashes across Dom's face, blotching bright on his cheeks. It's quite arresting, brazen Dom taken aback like that. "Just pub talk," he says lamely, but the blush sort of tells otherwise.
"I suppose if we were twins, I'd be used to it, wouldn't want a change. But there's better ways to be joined at the hips," Billy watches fascinated as Dom's color flares further, the tips of his ears bright red. "Not quite as permanent, but I think it's quite worth the trade."
Flustering Dom is a rare satisfaction, and Billy treasures every moment as Dom fumbles a bit, "Er. Is that..."
"And as we aren't twins, my way has the advantage of being possible. Likely, even."
"Yes please," Dom finally recoups, and he even, surely for the first time ever, pays for the round without the least bit of fight.
Joined up
for kiltsandlollies
Dom/Billy
*
"If we were Siamese twins, would you want to be separated?" Dom asks.
"--What?" Billy eyes his beer. Only half gone. He can't feign drunken incomprehension, sadly; whatever monstrous flight of fancy this conversation bodes, he'll have to see it through.
When they first met, Billy liked Dom straightaway, for no one reason he could name. They just seemed to fall in together quite naturally. It was only once it was too late that he began to realize what a deeply strange person Dom really is: the sort of person who might well ask without any warning if you'd like to be Siamese twins with him.
"You know, conjoined twins," Dom spins on. "Connected."
"I know what Siamese twins are," Billy answers, "I am one quarter Siamese, after all."
"Yeah? Only one quarter? I would've said at least one third."
"Well, I'm one quarter Siamese cat. That counts as Siamese, doesn't it?"
Dom considers it solemnly. "Yeah, I think so. Siamese dog, that wouldn't count."
"Of course not."
"Cos then it's just: dog. Nationality doesn't enter into it. But Siamese cat, I think that's on quite solid ground, as genealogy goes."
"There you are then."
"But say we were twins," Dom begins again.
"I dunno, Dom. Just that sort of sprains my imagination."
"Well, limp along with me here. Twins, born connected at the hip, say. Would you be willing to stay joined up, or would you insist on being cut apart?"
"It's all up to me, is it?"
"I'd do whichever you wanted," Dom says virtuously.
Billy splutters out a foamy mouthful of beer. "That'd be a first!"
"I would! But after all, it wouldn't be so bad, would it? Going on just as we're sat now."
Now that he mentions it, they are rather close, thighs and hips touching. Billy was making space on the bench in case someone else sat down with them, and also because they've been talking and it was a bit loud. There's room on the other side of Dom as well, he notices now.
"So you're asking me whether I'd be willing to spend the rest of our lives stuck together all the time," Billy says slowly.
Color splashes across Dom's face, blotching bright on his cheeks. It's quite arresting, brazen Dom taken aback like that. "Just pub talk," he says lamely, but the blush sort of tells otherwise.
"I suppose if we were twins, I'd be used to it, wouldn't want a change. But there's better ways to be joined at the hips," Billy watches fascinated as Dom's color flares further, the tips of his ears bright red. "Not quite as permanent, but I think it's quite worth the trade."
Flustering Dom is a rare satisfaction, and Billy treasures every moment as Dom fumbles a bit, "Er. Is that..."
"And as we aren't twins, my way has the advantage of being possible. Likely, even."
"Yes please," Dom finally recoups, and he even, surely for the first time ever, pays for the round without the least bit of fight.