Fic: Not That Easy - LotRPS - SA/DM - PG-13
Title: Not That Easy
Author: DarkRose
Fandom: LotRPS
Pairing: Sean Astin/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: PG-13ish
Archive: Please ask first
Disclaimer: It’s all lies and fantasies, I tell you! A product of my very over-active imagination!
Feedback: Always appreciated
A/N: Written for the contrelamontre "This is not the worst moment" challenge, using every moment of the 1h15m time limit, plus a few extra to buff and fluff. Unbetaed, so I take full responsibility for any grammatical errors and such. Cross-posted to seaninic and fellow_shippers, as well as my fic journal ravenblue
>
This is not the worst moment of my life.... At least, that’s what Dom kept telling himself, and he didn’t really want to think of what event would warrant the title of worst moment, if not this one.
Over and over, he let that concept play in his mind. The ceremony had gone well, after all, garnering PJ the Best Director nod, as well as Best Picture, and the Best Supporting Actor for Sean, as well as a slew of technical awards. He still didn’t understand why Elijah hadn’t gotten so much as a nomination for Best Actor, though. For the moment, however, none of the accolades registered, none of the praise being heaped upon the cast at the after party meant a damned thing to him.
With a derisive snort, Dom brought the Corona bottle to his lips and drained the last few swallows, then sighed softly, setting the empty bottle aside. Leaning against the wall, he watched with keen eyes as Sean made the rounds of the party with Christine on his arm, smiling, shaking hands, acting every bit like the politician he aspired to be. It made Dom laugh, though what it was about the idea of ever actually calling Sean Mr. President that made it so amusing, he couldn't quite say. Possibly it was the beer making him see the absurdity of it, but he wasn't going to contemplate that just now. Instead, in his mind he heard again the words Sean had spoken to him a bit more than an hour ago.
"You know it's not that I don't love you, Dom, that I don't wish to God I could just walk away, say to hell with everything I've worked for all my life. But I can't, and you know I can't."
"And what of happiness, Sean? Of love?"
Sean's face twisted with emotion at that point, fighting with himself to find the words to answer this.
"You're asking me to walk away from eleven years of marriage -“
Dom cut him off, voice strained with emotion. “A marriage you yourself have called a sham, Sean! One that’s been over for more than three years now!” Sean’s head lowered, and Dom clenched his hands into fists, nails biting into the flesh of his palms as he tried to regain his composure, keep from shouting.
Taking a deep breath, he went on, glad that at least he’d had the presence of mind to pull Sean into an empty hall for this little chat. Of course, he’d done so with the idea of snogging him senseless, celebrating that now they could stop pretending they were no more than friends. “I thought we had an agreement, thought we worked all of this out ages ago. We waited until after the premieres, after the awards, and then we’d come out, and you’d actually leave her. Those were your words, Sean, your ideas. I’ve waited patiently these last three years on that promise.”
Nodding slowly, Sean still could not look at Dom, didn’t wish to see the look of pained confusion on his lover’s face. “I know, Dom, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just… not that simple, not that easy.” Pausing, his eyes finally rose to Dom’s, and he sighed. “We both know how damned hard it is to be out in Hollywood and still work the way I want to work. And it’s even harder to be out in Washington.”
Dom snorted. “Right, of course, because God knows there’s no gay politicians!”
Fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, Sean sighed again. “Of course there are. But this country is not ready for an openly gay and out president! That is way beyond what society will accept and embrace, and I have to keep that in mind if I ever hope to hold that office!”
“So, lemme get this straight. To hold on to whatever little dream you have of getting into politics, of actually making it to the White House someday, you’re willing to walk away from what we have? Away from the life we’ve been building with each other for three years now, to keep the image of your ‘happy family’ intact, even though both you and Christine know you aren’t in love with each other and it’s all one big show for the public eye? Is that the life you want to live, Sean?”
Mulling that over for a few moments, Sean shrugged his shoulders, looking wearily at Dom. “I don’t know. It’s the life I’m used to living, I guess. It’s comfortable, and I suppose I’m not ready yet to move outside of that realm of comfort.”
With a low grumble of frustration, Dom moved past Sean, unwilling to let show the disappointment he felt at Sean's reluctance to follow through with the plans they’d made, nor the amount of pain those simple words had caused. “Sorry you find the idea of finally having a real relationship with me ‘uncomfortable’.”
With that, Dom had rejoined the party. He tried to be his typical self, to play the part of jokester that he’d earned the reputation for being, he and Billy mugging it up for the cameras as always. But he found the festivities infinitely less exciting than he had prior to his little chat with Sean, and watching him as he leaned to whisper into Christine’s ear, Dom had to look away.
Pushing off the wall, he walked out of this room and into another, which was less crowded, more dimly lit, and he found himself a table off in the corner, where he might be alone with his thoughts. There he sat, for how long he couldn’t say, preoccupied as he was with tearing cocktail napkins into small bits, rolling them into balls with his fingers and flicking them across the table. So preoccupied was he, in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed Sean’s arrival until a Corona bottle was placed before him from over his right shoulder. Looking up in that direction, he watched as Sean turned a chair backwards and sat straddling it, left arm draped across the back of it, the fingers of his right hand moving idly over the neck of his Samuel Adams bottle that sat on the table.
Eyeing him, Dom reached for his bottle. “Hiya.”
“Hey,” came the answer, Sean giving him a lop-sided grin that Dom always found damned adorable.
“Didn’t figure I’d see you again tonight. Not up-close and personal like, anyway. You seemed rather content to wander about with the missus, glad handing and such.”
Half-laughing, Sean shook his head. “Nah. Been thinking of what you said, actually.”
Downing a few deep swallows of the pale beer, Dom quirked an eyebrow. “Really? And here I thought you were just schmoozing.”
Another self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, well. You know me, the king of multi-tasking.” Both men fell silent for a moment before Sean continued softly. “I told her, Dom. Told Chris about us.”
Furrowing his brow a bit, Dom looked over, resting his chin on his shoulder. “What are you on about, Sean? She’s known about us since day one.”
Sean shook his head. “I mean I told her we were going ahead with the plan now that the Oscars have passed, that I’d be talking to our lawyer soon about getting the divorce underway.”
Dom’s head came up, his voice suspicious, eyes narrowed. “Really? What about the whole idea of it being hard to be out in Washington?”
Giving a small, nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Sean slid his hand across the table, letting his fingers brush over the younger man’s forearm. “Don’t figure I’d do well there anyway. Too wishy-washy on key issues.” A slow smirk came over his lips. “Besides, I don’t really wanna have to deal with the news reports talking about the Goonie who became president.”
Unable to stop his own smirk from creeping up, Dom took another deep drink of his beer. “And here I thought Goonies never say die!”
A thoughtful expression came over Sean’s face as he considered that for a brief moment, then smiled. “We don’t, which is why I decided I wasn’t about to give up on us.”
Author: DarkRose
Fandom: LotRPS
Pairing: Sean Astin/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: PG-13ish
Archive: Please ask first
Disclaimer: It’s all lies and fantasies, I tell you! A product of my very over-active imagination!
Feedback: Always appreciated
A/N: Written for the contrelamontre "This is not the worst moment" challenge, using every moment of the 1h15m time limit, plus a few extra to buff and fluff. Unbetaed, so I take full responsibility for any grammatical errors and such. Cross-posted to seaninic and fellow_shippers, as well as my fic journal ravenblue
>
This is not the worst moment of my life.... At least, that’s what Dom kept telling himself, and he didn’t really want to think of what event would warrant the title of worst moment, if not this one.
Over and over, he let that concept play in his mind. The ceremony had gone well, after all, garnering PJ the Best Director nod, as well as Best Picture, and the Best Supporting Actor for Sean, as well as a slew of technical awards. He still didn’t understand why Elijah hadn’t gotten so much as a nomination for Best Actor, though. For the moment, however, none of the accolades registered, none of the praise being heaped upon the cast at the after party meant a damned thing to him.
With a derisive snort, Dom brought the Corona bottle to his lips and drained the last few swallows, then sighed softly, setting the empty bottle aside. Leaning against the wall, he watched with keen eyes as Sean made the rounds of the party with Christine on his arm, smiling, shaking hands, acting every bit like the politician he aspired to be. It made Dom laugh, though what it was about the idea of ever actually calling Sean Mr. President that made it so amusing, he couldn't quite say. Possibly it was the beer making him see the absurdity of it, but he wasn't going to contemplate that just now. Instead, in his mind he heard again the words Sean had spoken to him a bit more than an hour ago.
"You know it's not that I don't love you, Dom, that I don't wish to God I could just walk away, say to hell with everything I've worked for all my life. But I can't, and you know I can't."
"And what of happiness, Sean? Of love?"
Sean's face twisted with emotion at that point, fighting with himself to find the words to answer this.
"You're asking me to walk away from eleven years of marriage -“
Dom cut him off, voice strained with emotion. “A marriage you yourself have called a sham, Sean! One that’s been over for more than three years now!” Sean’s head lowered, and Dom clenched his hands into fists, nails biting into the flesh of his palms as he tried to regain his composure, keep from shouting.
Taking a deep breath, he went on, glad that at least he’d had the presence of mind to pull Sean into an empty hall for this little chat. Of course, he’d done so with the idea of snogging him senseless, celebrating that now they could stop pretending they were no more than friends. “I thought we had an agreement, thought we worked all of this out ages ago. We waited until after the premieres, after the awards, and then we’d come out, and you’d actually leave her. Those were your words, Sean, your ideas. I’ve waited patiently these last three years on that promise.”
Nodding slowly, Sean still could not look at Dom, didn’t wish to see the look of pained confusion on his lover’s face. “I know, Dom, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just… not that simple, not that easy.” Pausing, his eyes finally rose to Dom’s, and he sighed. “We both know how damned hard it is to be out in Hollywood and still work the way I want to work. And it’s even harder to be out in Washington.”
Dom snorted. “Right, of course, because God knows there’s no gay politicians!”
Fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, Sean sighed again. “Of course there are. But this country is not ready for an openly gay and out president! That is way beyond what society will accept and embrace, and I have to keep that in mind if I ever hope to hold that office!”
“So, lemme get this straight. To hold on to whatever little dream you have of getting into politics, of actually making it to the White House someday, you’re willing to walk away from what we have? Away from the life we’ve been building with each other for three years now, to keep the image of your ‘happy family’ intact, even though both you and Christine know you aren’t in love with each other and it’s all one big show for the public eye? Is that the life you want to live, Sean?”
Mulling that over for a few moments, Sean shrugged his shoulders, looking wearily at Dom. “I don’t know. It’s the life I’m used to living, I guess. It’s comfortable, and I suppose I’m not ready yet to move outside of that realm of comfort.”
With a low grumble of frustration, Dom moved past Sean, unwilling to let show the disappointment he felt at Sean's reluctance to follow through with the plans they’d made, nor the amount of pain those simple words had caused. “Sorry you find the idea of finally having a real relationship with me ‘uncomfortable’.”
With that, Dom had rejoined the party. He tried to be his typical self, to play the part of jokester that he’d earned the reputation for being, he and Billy mugging it up for the cameras as always. But he found the festivities infinitely less exciting than he had prior to his little chat with Sean, and watching him as he leaned to whisper into Christine’s ear, Dom had to look away.
Pushing off the wall, he walked out of this room and into another, which was less crowded, more dimly lit, and he found himself a table off in the corner, where he might be alone with his thoughts. There he sat, for how long he couldn’t say, preoccupied as he was with tearing cocktail napkins into small bits, rolling them into balls with his fingers and flicking them across the table. So preoccupied was he, in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed Sean’s arrival until a Corona bottle was placed before him from over his right shoulder. Looking up in that direction, he watched as Sean turned a chair backwards and sat straddling it, left arm draped across the back of it, the fingers of his right hand moving idly over the neck of his Samuel Adams bottle that sat on the table.
Eyeing him, Dom reached for his bottle. “Hiya.”
“Hey,” came the answer, Sean giving him a lop-sided grin that Dom always found damned adorable.
“Didn’t figure I’d see you again tonight. Not up-close and personal like, anyway. You seemed rather content to wander about with the missus, glad handing and such.”
Half-laughing, Sean shook his head. “Nah. Been thinking of what you said, actually.”
Downing a few deep swallows of the pale beer, Dom quirked an eyebrow. “Really? And here I thought you were just schmoozing.”
Another self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, well. You know me, the king of multi-tasking.” Both men fell silent for a moment before Sean continued softly. “I told her, Dom. Told Chris about us.”
Furrowing his brow a bit, Dom looked over, resting his chin on his shoulder. “What are you on about, Sean? She’s known about us since day one.”
Sean shook his head. “I mean I told her we were going ahead with the plan now that the Oscars have passed, that I’d be talking to our lawyer soon about getting the divorce underway.”
Dom’s head came up, his voice suspicious, eyes narrowed. “Really? What about the whole idea of it being hard to be out in Washington?”
Giving a small, nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Sean slid his hand across the table, letting his fingers brush over the younger man’s forearm. “Don’t figure I’d do well there anyway. Too wishy-washy on key issues.” A slow smirk came over his lips. “Besides, I don’t really wanna have to deal with the news reports talking about the Goonie who became president.”
Unable to stop his own smirk from creeping up, Dom took another deep drink of his beer. “And here I thought Goonies never say die!”
A thoughtful expression came over Sean’s face as he considered that for a brief moment, then smiled. “We don’t, which is why I decided I wasn’t about to give up on us.”