Falling Flakes
Title: Falling Flakes
Author: millionstar
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Warnings: Hmmm, none that I can think of?
Summary: Dominic indulging in a particular habit through the years, from Matt's POV.
Feedback: Is always appreciated if you're so inclined.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, no profit is being made and this is fiction.
Author's Note: This fic is for my fantastic wifey, theyellow_daisy for Christmas. My prompt was "snowflakes on the tongue". K, you're an amazing friend, and I can't tell you how much you mean to me. You've come such a long way this year, and even though I say it alot I want to say again: I'm so proud of you. I wish nothing but happy and wonderful things for you in the coming year, and indeed, always. You make me happy beyond measure, remember that!! &hearts
Thank you to dolce_piccante, captivemuse & myz_bee for taking a quick look at this for me in various stages. Love to all of you amazing ladies! &hearts
I wake early on Christmas morning, like I always do. And why not - this way I have a good chance of actually beating Dom to the tree to attack the pile of presents beneath our tree. I'm not really surprised when I reach out for him but only find cool sheets where his glorious body normally rests.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and drag myself out of our bed. Dom's one step ahead of me though; my red plaid robe is laying at the edge of the bed, ready for me to slip into it. More often than not, Dom makes fun of it, which makes no sense to me. It's thick and warm and I love it. I reckon if Dom were to choose one for me himself it would be some silly, silky, flowing, girly looking thing.
I wouldn't mind though. There was that one time that he bought me those silk stockings, after all.
Wait. Where was I?
Right. Dom.
I dash down the hallway, calling out his name excitedly, expecting to see him perched on the floor at the foot of the tree, all gorgeous smiles and light. When I don't, I'm a little confused and a momentary panic grips me at his loss; that is, until I glance out the window and notice the thick, wet flakes falling from the sky.
It's damned beautiful, really. And I also know now where Dom is.
Creeping to the window I peek between the curtains, and sure enough, there he is. He's got to be fucking freezing, after all he's only wearing a pair of thin pajama bottoms and his leather jacket. His hair is a delicious mess, which is indeed indicative that he's not been out of bed long. That image paired with the fact that he's thrown his bare feet into my red fuzzy slippers should make for a ridiculous sight.
It doesn't, though. He's beautiful as ever.
Part of me wants to join him, to kiss him good morning, to wish him a Happy Christmas, but another part of me is curious to see if I am right in what I suspect is coming. For that reason I stay silent, smiling and hidden. Dominic closes his eyes and lifts his face to the sky, holding that position for a good minute or so before opening his eyes to the falling snow. His long eyelashes are even more gorgeous when snowflakes are resting against them.
It's then, and only then, that he opens his mouth, allowing the flakes to collect on his tongue.
Even now he does it.
I don't think he realizes that I've watched him catch snowflakes on his tongue for the better part of our lives, but I have. It's an endearing habit of his; one that I can remember witnessing as far back as when we were still in grade school. One of the earliest memories I have of Dom is one in which we were playing together outside during Christmas break. We'd been having a vicious snowball fight - I had demanded a time-out, because he'd beaned me in the face with one and I was certain he'd broken my eight-year old nose. After a sufficient pouting session to mum, during which she assured me I would survive, I returned to the backyard. Dom was laying, arms and legs spread, in the snow, his lime green toboggan looking as though it were about to pop off his head, catching snowflakes on his tongue.
He never saw me coming. I like to think I won that particular snowball fight in the end.
Fast forward a handful of years later. A group of us were dateless on a New Year's Eve and decided to drink our teenage woes away in the alley behind Dom's house. How is it possible that I remember that as well as I do? That was the night that we all learned that Tom was, in fact, a weepy drunk. He'd been sick all over the place and Chris and I had helped him up, while assuring him that we loved him too. I can remember glancing out of the corner of one eye and spying a drunk Dom, in the light of the street lamp, wobbling a little as he struggled to keep his balance with his head leaning back, catching the flakes on his tongue again.
The moment was sullied a bit when he leaned over and puked soon thereafter, though.
During the Black Holes tour, he and I had engaged in a pretty heated argument one night in the parking lot of a hotel. For the life of me I couldn't tell you what we were fighting about now, but believe me, at the time it was quite serious; it was the first fight we'd had since becoming a couple. He'd vowed that I'd be sleeping alone that night, and I had tears in my eyes as I gave up trying to talk to him and went up to our room. It was impossible to sleep without him though, and I found myself sitting at the window of our second floor room, watching him as he smoked and stalked around the parked cars.
I'd smiled sadly to myself when he put the cigarette out and glanced around the parking lot. Seemingly assured he was alone, he raised his face to the blowing snow and opened his mouth, but only for a second. When he sat on the sidewalk in frustration and his shoulders started to shake with frustrated tears, it was too much to bear. I threw my clothes back on and dashed downstairs to comfort him, to reassure him that I loved him still.
The make-up sex that night was something I'll never forget.
Thinking back on all the years that have passed makes me so thankful that Dominic is in my life. In so many ways I don't feel worthy of him. I've been graced with his friendship for all these years, and that alone is something amazing. When friendship blossoms into love, though, it's an absolute force of nature. It's a feeling that knocks you on your arse every single day in the best of ways, one that keeps you coming back for more, even when things aren't always smooth sailing, one that's overwhelming and at the same time never enough.
One that brings a smile to your face when nothing else can.
Dom throws his head back again, his mouth opening against the snow. I think I've spied on him long enough, so I step back from the window and make myself comfortable on the couch with a yawn. The robe swallows me, acting like a plush blanket and before long I drift off again.
A pair of cold lips against my forehead causes me to wake with a start, blinking rapidly as I stare into curious grey eyes. He's sitting next to me in his pajama bottoms, the jacket tossed haphazardly across the back of the couch. I sit up, taking his face in my hands, shivering myself at the feel of his cold skin beneath my fingertips.
"I was just outside," he breathes into my mouth, "you should have come out and joined me."
I open my robe and reach for him, wincing as he covers his body with my own. I rub his back, covering the two of us with the robe in an attempt to generate some heat. "Are you mad? S'got to be cold out there!"
Dom thinks about it for a moment, then smiles softly. He shrugs, one of his hands scratching my scalp lazily as we kiss again.
"I didn't notice. Not one bit."
Author: millionstar
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Warnings: Hmmm, none that I can think of?
Summary: Dominic indulging in a particular habit through the years, from Matt's POV.
Feedback: Is always appreciated if you're so inclined.
Disclaimer: I don't own Muse, no profit is being made and this is fiction.
Author's Note: This fic is for my fantastic wifey, theyellow_daisy for Christmas. My prompt was "snowflakes on the tongue". K, you're an amazing friend, and I can't tell you how much you mean to me. You've come such a long way this year, and even though I say it alot I want to say again: I'm so proud of you. I wish nothing but happy and wonderful things for you in the coming year, and indeed, always. You make me happy beyond measure, remember that!! &hearts
Thank you to dolce_piccante, captivemuse & myz_bee for taking a quick look at this for me in various stages. Love to all of you amazing ladies! &hearts
I wake early on Christmas morning, like I always do. And why not - this way I have a good chance of actually beating Dom to the tree to attack the pile of presents beneath our tree. I'm not really surprised when I reach out for him but only find cool sheets where his glorious body normally rests.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and drag myself out of our bed. Dom's one step ahead of me though; my red plaid robe is laying at the edge of the bed, ready for me to slip into it. More often than not, Dom makes fun of it, which makes no sense to me. It's thick and warm and I love it. I reckon if Dom were to choose one for me himself it would be some silly, silky, flowing, girly looking thing.
I wouldn't mind though. There was that one time that he bought me those silk stockings, after all.
Wait. Where was I?
Right. Dom.
I dash down the hallway, calling out his name excitedly, expecting to see him perched on the floor at the foot of the tree, all gorgeous smiles and light. When I don't, I'm a little confused and a momentary panic grips me at his loss; that is, until I glance out the window and notice the thick, wet flakes falling from the sky.
It's damned beautiful, really. And I also know now where Dom is.
Creeping to the window I peek between the curtains, and sure enough, there he is. He's got to be fucking freezing, after all he's only wearing a pair of thin pajama bottoms and his leather jacket. His hair is a delicious mess, which is indeed indicative that he's not been out of bed long. That image paired with the fact that he's thrown his bare feet into my red fuzzy slippers should make for a ridiculous sight.
It doesn't, though. He's beautiful as ever.
Part of me wants to join him, to kiss him good morning, to wish him a Happy Christmas, but another part of me is curious to see if I am right in what I suspect is coming. For that reason I stay silent, smiling and hidden. Dominic closes his eyes and lifts his face to the sky, holding that position for a good minute or so before opening his eyes to the falling snow. His long eyelashes are even more gorgeous when snowflakes are resting against them.
It's then, and only then, that he opens his mouth, allowing the flakes to collect on his tongue.
Even now he does it.
I don't think he realizes that I've watched him catch snowflakes on his tongue for the better part of our lives, but I have. It's an endearing habit of his; one that I can remember witnessing as far back as when we were still in grade school. One of the earliest memories I have of Dom is one in which we were playing together outside during Christmas break. We'd been having a vicious snowball fight - I had demanded a time-out, because he'd beaned me in the face with one and I was certain he'd broken my eight-year old nose. After a sufficient pouting session to mum, during which she assured me I would survive, I returned to the backyard. Dom was laying, arms and legs spread, in the snow, his lime green toboggan looking as though it were about to pop off his head, catching snowflakes on his tongue.
He never saw me coming. I like to think I won that particular snowball fight in the end.
Fast forward a handful of years later. A group of us were dateless on a New Year's Eve and decided to drink our teenage woes away in the alley behind Dom's house. How is it possible that I remember that as well as I do? That was the night that we all learned that Tom was, in fact, a weepy drunk. He'd been sick all over the place and Chris and I had helped him up, while assuring him that we loved him too. I can remember glancing out of the corner of one eye and spying a drunk Dom, in the light of the street lamp, wobbling a little as he struggled to keep his balance with his head leaning back, catching the flakes on his tongue again.
The moment was sullied a bit when he leaned over and puked soon thereafter, though.
During the Black Holes tour, he and I had engaged in a pretty heated argument one night in the parking lot of a hotel. For the life of me I couldn't tell you what we were fighting about now, but believe me, at the time it was quite serious; it was the first fight we'd had since becoming a couple. He'd vowed that I'd be sleeping alone that night, and I had tears in my eyes as I gave up trying to talk to him and went up to our room. It was impossible to sleep without him though, and I found myself sitting at the window of our second floor room, watching him as he smoked and stalked around the parked cars.
I'd smiled sadly to myself when he put the cigarette out and glanced around the parking lot. Seemingly assured he was alone, he raised his face to the blowing snow and opened his mouth, but only for a second. When he sat on the sidewalk in frustration and his shoulders started to shake with frustrated tears, it was too much to bear. I threw my clothes back on and dashed downstairs to comfort him, to reassure him that I loved him still.
The make-up sex that night was something I'll never forget.
Thinking back on all the years that have passed makes me so thankful that Dominic is in my life. In so many ways I don't feel worthy of him. I've been graced with his friendship for all these years, and that alone is something amazing. When friendship blossoms into love, though, it's an absolute force of nature. It's a feeling that knocks you on your arse every single day in the best of ways, one that keeps you coming back for more, even when things aren't always smooth sailing, one that's overwhelming and at the same time never enough.
One that brings a smile to your face when nothing else can.
Dom throws his head back again, his mouth opening against the snow. I think I've spied on him long enough, so I step back from the window and make myself comfortable on the couch with a yawn. The robe swallows me, acting like a plush blanket and before long I drift off again.
A pair of cold lips against my forehead causes me to wake with a start, blinking rapidly as I stare into curious grey eyes. He's sitting next to me in his pajama bottoms, the jacket tossed haphazardly across the back of the couch. I sit up, taking his face in my hands, shivering myself at the feel of his cold skin beneath my fingertips.
"I was just outside," he breathes into my mouth, "you should have come out and joined me."
I open my robe and reach for him, wincing as he covers his body with my own. I rub his back, covering the two of us with the robe in an attempt to generate some heat. "Are you mad? S'got to be cold out there!"
Dom thinks about it for a moment, then smiles softly. He shrugs, one of his hands scratching my scalp lazily as we kiss again.
"I didn't notice. Not one bit."