Ficlet: Miracle
Title: Miracle
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Never happened. Will never happen.
Notes: For vensre who is badly in need of the Monaboyd love. My first B/D that isn't a drabble :)
It seems a little miracle to him, the sun stretching its way through the screens, pouring itself through the green blind at the window. Only a day or two ago he’d been tramping dirty streets in the dirtier rain, getting used to feeling cold, winter really starting to bite. It’s a little miracle, for all that they’ve been planning this for months, for all that he’s been tasting the anticipation on his tongue, like sour sweets, fizzing in his blood, hissing in the rain. It still seems a blessing to be here, with that sun warm on his eyelids.
He’s not so sure about everything else though. The New Year’s party last night was raucous, full of people he didn’t know, all young and tanned, painfully eager and eagerly getting drunk. It makes him tired sometimes, and the fact he’s never managed to successfully tan in his life only gives him a visual reference for his dislocation. Even the people he does know felt changed, as they all are, he supposes, time marching on, and all that. Still, Viggo and his camera felt the same, wandering the party somehow separate and apart, watching it through a lens. Perhaps that is always how Viggo is, he thinks, and I’ve only just noticed how it feels.
The warm body next to him shifts and grunts, and then arms slide round him and a bristly chin buries into his shoulder. That’s another thing that’s changed, he thinks, this bearded figure, this scruffy man - although Dom has never been exactly neat - is almost new as well. It’s something about this series he’s in, being acknowledged for something more, something new. Being the experienced one, the one who knows what to do when confronted with fame, with fans, the one the cast looks to for guidance. It’s made him brighter, he thinks, Dom shines in the attention, he glows - it’s good for him. And he should be glad for Dom, and he is, he is, it’s just that…
He’s been anticipating this for months, and nothing is as he imagined it would be. Warmer, somehow, and yet more distant. Dom splitting his attention among so many people, when he thought he would be here just for them. Manic toasts last night, and manic anecdotes, and he doesn’t know them all any more. Orli bringing Kate, which he hadn’t expected, although perhaps he should have, and Elijah wandering around being overly cheerful about it.
It makes him tired. He knows that. People and their problems don’t just vanish because he’s been imagining the fine time they will all have. He doesn’t want to think the words but he does anyway. It’s not like it was in New Zealand.
Then the neat square hand on his belly begins to stroke in small circles and the chin on his shoulder digs in a little harder as an eager mouth reaches for his ear. He arches his neck, feeling the slip-slide of slightly hot, slightly sweaty flesh against his back, and there… Yes, there… Dom’s woken up in every sense of the word. Prickles of anticipation shiver across his skin, like those sour sweets, fizzing on his tongue, and he turns into the embrace, stretching like a cat.
And Billy acknowledges at last, gratefully, as he gasps, as he leans into well remembered caresses, lit with sunshine like a miracle, that not everything has changed.
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Never happened. Will never happen.
Notes: For vensre who is badly in need of the Monaboyd love. My first B/D that isn't a drabble :)
It seems a little miracle to him, the sun stretching its way through the screens, pouring itself through the green blind at the window. Only a day or two ago he’d been tramping dirty streets in the dirtier rain, getting used to feeling cold, winter really starting to bite. It’s a little miracle, for all that they’ve been planning this for months, for all that he’s been tasting the anticipation on his tongue, like sour sweets, fizzing in his blood, hissing in the rain. It still seems a blessing to be here, with that sun warm on his eyelids.
He’s not so sure about everything else though. The New Year’s party last night was raucous, full of people he didn’t know, all young and tanned, painfully eager and eagerly getting drunk. It makes him tired sometimes, and the fact he’s never managed to successfully tan in his life only gives him a visual reference for his dislocation. Even the people he does know felt changed, as they all are, he supposes, time marching on, and all that. Still, Viggo and his camera felt the same, wandering the party somehow separate and apart, watching it through a lens. Perhaps that is always how Viggo is, he thinks, and I’ve only just noticed how it feels.
The warm body next to him shifts and grunts, and then arms slide round him and a bristly chin buries into his shoulder. That’s another thing that’s changed, he thinks, this bearded figure, this scruffy man - although Dom has never been exactly neat - is almost new as well. It’s something about this series he’s in, being acknowledged for something more, something new. Being the experienced one, the one who knows what to do when confronted with fame, with fans, the one the cast looks to for guidance. It’s made him brighter, he thinks, Dom shines in the attention, he glows - it’s good for him. And he should be glad for Dom, and he is, he is, it’s just that…
He’s been anticipating this for months, and nothing is as he imagined it would be. Warmer, somehow, and yet more distant. Dom splitting his attention among so many people, when he thought he would be here just for them. Manic toasts last night, and manic anecdotes, and he doesn’t know them all any more. Orli bringing Kate, which he hadn’t expected, although perhaps he should have, and Elijah wandering around being overly cheerful about it.
It makes him tired. He knows that. People and their problems don’t just vanish because he’s been imagining the fine time they will all have. He doesn’t want to think the words but he does anyway. It’s not like it was in New Zealand.
Then the neat square hand on his belly begins to stroke in small circles and the chin on his shoulder digs in a little harder as an eager mouth reaches for his ear. He arches his neck, feeling the slip-slide of slightly hot, slightly sweaty flesh against his back, and there… Yes, there… Dom’s woken up in every sense of the word. Prickles of anticipation shiver across his skin, like those sour sweets, fizzing on his tongue, and he turns into the embrace, stretching like a cat.
And Billy acknowledges at last, gratefully, as he gasps, as he leans into well remembered caresses, lit with sunshine like a miracle, that not everything has changed.