Tipsy
Title: Tipsy
Author: daftavocado
Pairing: DM/BB
Rating: R, mild
Summary: Alcohol is not an inhibitor.
Word count: 1100
Beta: cincodemaygirl. thank you! though i suppose it's entirely possible that she doesn't approve of the changes i made based on her input. in which case she can scold me.
Notes: spam!fic
“What is up with that Carlson bloke, anyway?” Dom asks as the “seatbelts on” sign lights up and the plane begins its descent.
“Who’s Carlson?”
“Y’know, Billy. The MTV one.”
“You’ve had too much to drink, Dom. That’s not his name.” Billy chuckles and shifts in his seat.
“Yes. I have. But that’s irrelevant, because I’m right. Carlson something. Carlson Reilly?”
“No, it’s Carson Daly.” Billy pokes Dom in the cheek with his index finger, emphasizing each syllable.
“Oh, that’s right. He hosts The Daly Show, right?”
“No, that’s Stewart, also formerly of MTV.”
“Why do you know these things?”
-
Billy shrugs. “I don’t know. I just do. You’re sinking.”
Dom shifts upward in his seat again. “No, I’m not, I’m being comfortable.” His eyes are half-closed and Billy knows it’s not entirely due to the drinks. Neither of them has slept in 36 hours and it’s been a long day of traveling.
Dom says, “You’re like an angel of pop culture suddenly. But you don’t have regular angel wings. You have smaller wings. Move faster. Like a chimney swift. No, a swallow. You have swallow’s wings.” He smiles triumphantly at reaching such a conclusion.
Billy hears just one word.
-
He’s sure Dom said more than just, “Swallow,” but he isn’t sure what other words he used. “Perhaps,” Billy thinks, “I’ve had a bit too much to drink myself.”
And Dom is still talking, and now Dom is poking him in the side, and Billy starts to hear the words again.
“…Anyone? Bueller?” And Dom has that cheeky look on his face, with the half-closed eyes, and Billy thinks maybe they should just ride planes continuously for the next month or so.
“Matthew Broderick. The Mouse.” Billy is pleased that he’s recovered from his distraction so easily.
Dom just snorts.
-
“The mouse. From Ladyhawke, you mean?”
“The very one,” Billy replies, back in his game. "Brilliant film."
Dom and Billy lock gazes and grin brightly, and when the words come together it’s no surprise and the most comfortable thing in the world: “Worst soundtrack ever!”
Dom laughs and scratches his ribs. “But yeah, I love that film. We should rent it.”
“Maybe Astin owns it. The director directed The Goonies, too.”
Dom is laughing again. “I had not heard that, oh great trivia-keeper. It’s a wonder you have enough free brain cells to remember your lines.”
Billy pinches Dom’s nose.
-
Two minutes go by and Billy still hasn’t let go. They continue talking as if nothing unusual is going on. (Really, it’s not.)
“Bill, it’s time to let go. I have to sneeze.” And Billy lets go, and the banter goes on for the rest of the ride - after a small sneezing fit. Straight through the landing. Deplaning. And waiting at a gate for the next connection. And stopping at a bar for drinks. And waiting at the gate again for a very delayed plane.
Dom asks, “Are we ever departing from this wretched airport? I mean, ever, Bills?”
-
Billy blinks a few times, and considers his reply carefully. If he says what he’s thinking (“Oh, is the plane late? I hadn’t noticed. Let’s just stay here.”) Dom probably won’t bat an eyelash, but Billy is afraid that once he starts saying what he’s thinking he’ll say more things that he’s thinking and then things could get strange. Somewhere in the back of his mind, under all other sorts of thoughts, the word “swallow” is still lingering.
A voice over the intercom tells them that their connecting flight was rerouted through Asheville (for some reason) but should arrive soon.
-
“Billy,” says Dom.
“What?”
“Where’s Asheville?”
“How should I know?”
Dom looks at him with wide and innocent eyes. “Why, you’re the trivia-keeper.”
“Asheville, North Carolina, is not pop culture, Dominic. So why should I know?” Billy thinks he’d like another drink. He looks almost longingly in the direction of the bar.
“See, I knew you’d know. It’s a frightening thing, Billy Boyd. Absolutely terrifying.”
“What if I’m just making it up? You wouldn’t know if it’s in North Carolina or not, so I say whatever I like, always, and you wouldn’t know. It’s an incredibly convenient thing.” Billy grins.
-
“And what’s more, how convenient is it that they put bars in airports? Fancy a drink?”
“I knew you were taking the piss! Yes, I’d fancy a drink, but how many have we had in the past three hours?”
Billy doesn’t know. Because he can’t remember. Because he keeps hearing the word “fancy” come out of Dom’s mouth, and it’s even nicer than the word “swallow”.
Dom is looking at him. He should answer the question. He doesn’t know the question. So instead, he says, “Actually, Asheville is in North Carolina. I really do want a drink. Alcohol’s an inhibitor.”
-
“What? You have that backwards, drunken man. Alcohol is not an inhibitor. It lowers your inhibitions.” Dom is standing up and throwing his carry-on over his shoulder, adjusting his cuffs as he goes.
Billy thinks he’s getting his drink, and this is good. Billy thinks Dom has lovely wrists, and tries to file that thought in a back cabinet with “swallow” and “fancy”. He grabs his bag and they head for the bar. The route to the bar is a hall with columns, riddled with people and noise and yet blissfully anonymous. Nobody notices them - initially not even the bartender.
-
Dom is right, Billy thinks. Alcohol is not an inhibitor. Because Billy doesn’t feel very inhibited at all, even though he knows he probably should. He’d fancy the opportunity to take Dominic by the wrists and kiss that mouth and just swallow him whole. In an airport bar, that would probably not be a very good idea. Not very subtle. Not very smooth. Less smooth than another shot. No, another shot would be a bad idea. Billy stands. He bumps into an employee whose nametag reads, “Sergio” and apologizes.
“I think the toilet is a good idea.”
Dom stands too.
-
Billy wants to sit back down. He doesn’t feel inhibited enough to walk to the toilet with Dominic. He’d wanted to splash some cold water on his face, put his head back together.
Dom says, “No time. That’s our boarding call. Let’s go.” Dom takes Billy by the hand and leads him through the corridor and back to the gate. Billy is dizzy and he’d blame the alcohol but - what is this? - in the file cabinet is a sheet of paper that says “holding hands”.
On the plane he puts his head on Dom’s shoulder and sleeps through takeoff.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
explanation: i took a piece of spam email and used it as a challenge.
here's the email:
from: sergio
subject: angel
carlson,the swallows wings,anyone,ever departing from,asheville,hall with columns.inhibitor,had not heard,always,what is this?.
so i decided each word/phrase (including the fromline and the subject) would get 100 words each, in a sort of linked drabble format. i accidentally botched and used two in the same bit, but didn't realise it til i was done and i've decided that it wasn't a rule, just a guideline.
Tipsy is what resulted. it was fun.
Author: daftavocado
Pairing: DM/BB
Rating: R, mild
Summary: Alcohol is not an inhibitor.
Word count: 1100
Beta: cincodemaygirl. thank you! though i suppose it's entirely possible that she doesn't approve of the changes i made based on her input. in which case she can scold me.
Notes: spam!fic
“What is up with that Carlson bloke, anyway?” Dom asks as the “seatbelts on” sign lights up and the plane begins its descent.
“Who’s Carlson?”
“Y’know, Billy. The MTV one.”
“You’ve had too much to drink, Dom. That’s not his name.” Billy chuckles and shifts in his seat.
“Yes. I have. But that’s irrelevant, because I’m right. Carlson something. Carlson Reilly?”
“No, it’s Carson Daly.” Billy pokes Dom in the cheek with his index finger, emphasizing each syllable.
“Oh, that’s right. He hosts The Daly Show, right?”
“No, that’s Stewart, also formerly of MTV.”
“Why do you know these things?”
-
Billy shrugs. “I don’t know. I just do. You’re sinking.”
Dom shifts upward in his seat again. “No, I’m not, I’m being comfortable.” His eyes are half-closed and Billy knows it’s not entirely due to the drinks. Neither of them has slept in 36 hours and it’s been a long day of traveling.
Dom says, “You’re like an angel of pop culture suddenly. But you don’t have regular angel wings. You have smaller wings. Move faster. Like a chimney swift. No, a swallow. You have swallow’s wings.” He smiles triumphantly at reaching such a conclusion.
Billy hears just one word.
-
He’s sure Dom said more than just, “Swallow,” but he isn’t sure what other words he used. “Perhaps,” Billy thinks, “I’ve had a bit too much to drink myself.”
And Dom is still talking, and now Dom is poking him in the side, and Billy starts to hear the words again.
“…Anyone? Bueller?” And Dom has that cheeky look on his face, with the half-closed eyes, and Billy thinks maybe they should just ride planes continuously for the next month or so.
“Matthew Broderick. The Mouse.” Billy is pleased that he’s recovered from his distraction so easily.
Dom just snorts.
-
“The mouse. From Ladyhawke, you mean?”
“The very one,” Billy replies, back in his game. "Brilliant film."
Dom and Billy lock gazes and grin brightly, and when the words come together it’s no surprise and the most comfortable thing in the world: “Worst soundtrack ever!”
Dom laughs and scratches his ribs. “But yeah, I love that film. We should rent it.”
“Maybe Astin owns it. The director directed The Goonies, too.”
Dom is laughing again. “I had not heard that, oh great trivia-keeper. It’s a wonder you have enough free brain cells to remember your lines.”
Billy pinches Dom’s nose.
-
Two minutes go by and Billy still hasn’t let go. They continue talking as if nothing unusual is going on. (Really, it’s not.)
“Bill, it’s time to let go. I have to sneeze.” And Billy lets go, and the banter goes on for the rest of the ride - after a small sneezing fit. Straight through the landing. Deplaning. And waiting at a gate for the next connection. And stopping at a bar for drinks. And waiting at the gate again for a very delayed plane.
Dom asks, “Are we ever departing from this wretched airport? I mean, ever, Bills?”
-
Billy blinks a few times, and considers his reply carefully. If he says what he’s thinking (“Oh, is the plane late? I hadn’t noticed. Let’s just stay here.”) Dom probably won’t bat an eyelash, but Billy is afraid that once he starts saying what he’s thinking he’ll say more things that he’s thinking and then things could get strange. Somewhere in the back of his mind, under all other sorts of thoughts, the word “swallow” is still lingering.
A voice over the intercom tells them that their connecting flight was rerouted through Asheville (for some reason) but should arrive soon.
-
“Billy,” says Dom.
“What?”
“Where’s Asheville?”
“How should I know?”
Dom looks at him with wide and innocent eyes. “Why, you’re the trivia-keeper.”
“Asheville, North Carolina, is not pop culture, Dominic. So why should I know?” Billy thinks he’d like another drink. He looks almost longingly in the direction of the bar.
“See, I knew you’d know. It’s a frightening thing, Billy Boyd. Absolutely terrifying.”
“What if I’m just making it up? You wouldn’t know if it’s in North Carolina or not, so I say whatever I like, always, and you wouldn’t know. It’s an incredibly convenient thing.” Billy grins.
-
“And what’s more, how convenient is it that they put bars in airports? Fancy a drink?”
“I knew you were taking the piss! Yes, I’d fancy a drink, but how many have we had in the past three hours?”
Billy doesn’t know. Because he can’t remember. Because he keeps hearing the word “fancy” come out of Dom’s mouth, and it’s even nicer than the word “swallow”.
Dom is looking at him. He should answer the question. He doesn’t know the question. So instead, he says, “Actually, Asheville is in North Carolina. I really do want a drink. Alcohol’s an inhibitor.”
-
“What? You have that backwards, drunken man. Alcohol is not an inhibitor. It lowers your inhibitions.” Dom is standing up and throwing his carry-on over his shoulder, adjusting his cuffs as he goes.
Billy thinks he’s getting his drink, and this is good. Billy thinks Dom has lovely wrists, and tries to file that thought in a back cabinet with “swallow” and “fancy”. He grabs his bag and they head for the bar. The route to the bar is a hall with columns, riddled with people and noise and yet blissfully anonymous. Nobody notices them - initially not even the bartender.
-
Dom is right, Billy thinks. Alcohol is not an inhibitor. Because Billy doesn’t feel very inhibited at all, even though he knows he probably should. He’d fancy the opportunity to take Dominic by the wrists and kiss that mouth and just swallow him whole. In an airport bar, that would probably not be a very good idea. Not very subtle. Not very smooth. Less smooth than another shot. No, another shot would be a bad idea. Billy stands. He bumps into an employee whose nametag reads, “Sergio” and apologizes.
“I think the toilet is a good idea.”
Dom stands too.
-
Billy wants to sit back down. He doesn’t feel inhibited enough to walk to the toilet with Dominic. He’d wanted to splash some cold water on his face, put his head back together.
Dom says, “No time. That’s our boarding call. Let’s go.” Dom takes Billy by the hand and leads him through the corridor and back to the gate. Billy is dizzy and he’d blame the alcohol but - what is this? - in the file cabinet is a sheet of paper that says “holding hands”.
On the plane he puts his head on Dom’s shoulder and sleeps through takeoff.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
explanation: i took a piece of spam email and used it as a challenge.
here's the email:
from: sergio
subject: angel
carlson,the swallows wings,anyone,ever departing from,asheville,hall with columns.inhibitor,had not heard,always,what is this?.
so i decided each word/phrase (including the fromline and the subject) would get 100 words each, in a sort of linked drabble format. i accidentally botched and used two in the same bit, but didn't realise it til i was done and i've decided that it wasn't a rule, just a guideline.
Tipsy is what resulted. it was fun.