Goodbye Kiss
Title: Goodbye Kiss
Author: Phentalon Took
Email: rocket_launcher_rabbit2000@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: 15
Summery: Billy is analysing Dom and his goodbye kisses. But one piece of vital data is missing…
Betaed: My every wonderful Froggy! ^^
Info: A terribly silly little ficlet, in which me, Froggy and my friend Bobz make appearances. The Dom fan is I, the Orlando fan is Froggy, and the Billy fan is Bobz. Love you both. Sadly, we weren’t really at any of the LotR premieres. Ah well, ce la vie. My description of Froggy, however, was siphoned from the time she *did* meet her ‘Orli’, and good for her! I also know it’s unlikely that there was a Con the day after any of the premieres.
Feedback: I live on it and beg for it!
Billy lent against the spiked fence of Leicester Square, and watched Dom part ways with their fellow cast members. His purple jacket (which of course only Dom could pull off, Bill thought with a shake of the head) shone slightly under the spotlights still mounted on the front of the Odeon. And every time he turned sideways, they fell into his eyes and lit them up too. Somewhat more fetchingly then his beacon-like clothing. His fringe was a mite to long, and from time to time he would blow it out of his face.
“See ya Dom!” Yelled Orlando, jogging over. “My car’s here.” He flicked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Oh, right, buhbye. You gonna be at the Con tomorrow?” Right after the question came out of his mouth, he noticed a small gaggle of fangirls standing a few meters behind Orlando, one was squished against the fence and yelling a fair decibel above the others. Positively panting, Dom thought, to be so close the divine Legolas. He sniggered and Orlando’s brow creased. He glanced back.
“Oh. And yeah, I will. See ya tomorrow!”
“Will do, Shan’t keep you from your fangirls.” He smirked. “Just bare in mind, they don’t look legal.” Orlando laughed and hugged him hard, posting a wet smooch on his cheek, as way his way.
Now alone, Dom turned and spotted Billy, and gave him a little salute. Billy almost smiled, though it was more of a facial twitch, and gave more then usual attention to a well-timed shouting autograph hunter, walking a little down the black bars, as the fans were also trapped behind a tall temporary fence perpendicular to the large one.
“Who for…?” He asked absently, keeping half an eye on Dom, who was now in a last body-crush (or hug, whatever) with Bean.
“Bobs.” Squeaked the fangirl, thus reminding Billy she was still there. He scribbled and handed the pad back to the young brunette, who squealed and turned back and forth to the two either side, probably hurting her neck.
He returned to analysing Dom, the cast, and their hug-habits. Viggo had thrown his arm about Dom’s shoulders in an almost headlock-ly fashion, scuffing his hair and pecking him on the temple. Being shorter then most of the other ‘Men’ and ‘Elves’, he was generally the victim, rather then the bestower, of goodnight kisses. Not so with Lij, whom he flirted with and kissed incessantly. Partly because he could, but Billy was of the opinion that he loved the look on the fangirls faces; Low and behold, as he embraced and laid a smacker on Lij, a nearby fan with short, red stripy hair was almost cutting herself in half on the fence, ‘homigosh!’ing and snapping pictures frantically. Another was gripping the bars and, seemed to be doing something between twitching and vibrating, her very long hair rippling in time.
Billy loved fans; they cracked him up. The shower story he had freaked a journo with once, came bounding through his mind. Probably throwing party streamers and doing the chicken dance.
The final meeting was Astin, who was more the arm-squeezer. Not a feminine bone in his stout body, it must be said. It was just he and Dom, on opposite sides of the pavement, cars rumbling away between them. Then, as he made his highly excitable way in their direction, murmurs of excitement rose to plentiful shouts from the twenty or so fans huddled inside the square, broken very suddenly by a high-pitched and totally shamelessly scream for Dom. Billy jumped out of his skin and decided it was better for Dom and the fan (who he was sure would explode, or something equally messy should the object of her insanity come any nearer. And this was a new kilt; he didn’t want to get gore on it.) if he went to Dom. They met amiably halfway.
“Good night?” Dom inquired, yawning and stretching.
“Yeah. Y’know, I hear Orli has the scariest fans, but I really think you come a close second.” Remarked Billy, glancing back. Dom followed his line of sight (and the squeals) to the reason for this conclusion. He chuckled and waved slightly. The noise stopped. Billy assumed she had fainted. Nope. Just drawing breath. He winced.
“For God’s sake Dom, go put her out of her misery. I’m going deaf.” Dom obliged, quipping back over his shoulder,
“Nah, you’re just getting old.” Bill watched the conversation he couldn’t hear with continued amusement, as the same stripe-head from before got pinker and more excitable with every passing second, until he gestured at the slightly abandoned Billy behind him, and made his grateful exit.
“Odd, odd people!” Dom exasperated, straightening his tie.
“What’s they say?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Fair enough.” Dom’s mobile peeped and he answered.
“Yeah. Huh? Oh for God’s sake. Yeah yeah, no worries. Alright. Yup. Ok. Bye.” He sighed irritably, snapping the phone away.
“S’up?”
“Fucking London traffic. Up to walking?”
“Not with you, that weirdo will stalk us.” Dom threw his head back and laughed. Billy sweat-dropped slightly. He could get it out of his head for a while, then something like that happened and he got all nervous and withdrawn. Dom controlled himself, eventually.
“Wimp. Keep your mace out, we’ll be alright. Come on.” And they set off in the direction of Trafalgar Square and the portrait gallery.
It wasn’t exactly teeming with people, posh-knobs leaving theatres and loud groups of students. Plus, much of it was coated in scaffold and tarpaulin. Only the water feature and their near set of stairs were untouched, so there was no one passing through. Only the tourists actually hung about here, and they were long gone. Just happy, tipsy people wandering up and down, trying to remember where they lived. Billy stopped, cocked his head slightly, and changed direction, down the steps and into the square itself. Dom took a moment to notice, continuing his wander alone.
“Hey, where you running off to?” He jogged back and down the shallow steps.
“Just realised, it does look quite nice, lit up. I know I sound like a complete tourist, but it does.” Dom observed the spewing fish and blue cascades for a while.
“No, you’re right. I mean, if it wasn’t, why would tourists come at all?” He plonked himself down on the edge and stared down at the coins people had thrown in, shimmering and submerged. Billy knelt and trailed his fingertips in it.
“Bills, your man-skirts too short, you’re getting dirt on your knees.” Dom could never resist even the most irrelevant opportunity to poke fun at Bill and his kilts. Billy ignored him. Then decided against that and flicked water on him instead.
“Oi! Don’t blame me for your transvestitism!” Dom’s tongue stumbled over this new word, thus horribly downgrading the effect of the jibe. Not that it beat Wilde for witticism to start with. They drifted into a healthy silence for a moment, both quietly revelling in the fact that they were not being screamed at in any way or having to watch themselves, thirty feet high and sporting terribly naff curls.
“I’ve noticed something…” Billy’s brain suddenly felt decidedly drunk and apathetic. It was an interesting sensation. That, and watching his sense of caution fly out of his ears with all haste. “You’re always kissing people goodbye. And people are always kissing you goodbye…” He quickly realised this was simply a pointless statement. He should probably fix that…
“’Cept me.” He had a vague recollection that that was not bright. Dom’s expression portrayed only half a raised eyebrow and mild surprise, but all the same, he had an odd feeling. Why did he feel so… drunk? He had had one beer before the film. Not enough, even by Elijhtweight’s standards! Yet with the sound of water rushing through his ears and blue light reflected on his face, he defiantly felt a tad… off-kilter. For a Scot, that could have been a terrible pun, but it wasn’t. Dom was still looking at him sideways.
“We feeling deprived, Boyd?”
“Nononono. No.” He hurried, a few too many times. “Just, just wondered…”
“Why?” Dom slid along the wall in his direction and looked down at him. “Really wanna know? Desperately? Terribly?” He smiled as Bill gave a confused little nod.
“It’s probably because if I, or you ever did, I’d get a raging and visible hard on.” With that he looked nonchalantly down and began to pick at his nail polish.
If Billy hadn’t been kneeling, he would have been in the pond at that point. He gawped for some sort of length of time (who counts?) until Dom reached out and gently shut Billy’s mouth.
“Catching flies?” He queried.
“Dom, did you just-?”
“Yup.”
“But I thought you-”
“Apparently not.”
“And you don’t know I-?”
“Not till just then!” He teased. Billy blinked several times. Then looked confused. And after coming to no conclusion whatsoever, simply looked helplessly up at his tormentor, who sighed and clopped Bill affectionately round the ears.
“Dense, totally. Now, weren’t we whining about goodbye kisses a minute ago?” He asked as he lent down and turned his head slightly. Billy was still about four steps behind, and only said,
“Funny place to part ways isn’t it?” He was only then, suddenly aware that he could feel Dom’s breathing in his own mouth, and make out the pores on his nose.
“Oh shut up Boyd.” He instructed, covering the rest of the distance and pressing his lips onto Billy’s.
It was of course, a totally cheesy setting for a kiss, lights and fountain and a totally clear, star-filled December sky, but that did not disillusion Billy to the stale beer on Dom’s mouth, nor that he was at a horrible awkward angle. So Billy took him by the shirt and gave him a sharp tug to the stone ground. His arse hit it rather hard but he either did not notice or (far more likely) ignored it.
Bill lent over him and brought his lips back to Dom’s, supporting himself with a hand on the low wall of the fountain. Dom started pulling on his hair rather harder then he would have liked, but he did not protest. Especially not when Dom opened his mouth.
A street away three girls were making their way to Charing Cross station, squealing and jumping at regular intervals, and various phrases like ‘he touched me, he hugged me, he smiled at me homigod!’ were flowing thickly. In their excitement they past the station, and turned back. One (remember our red haired screamer?) stood for a moment, flicking dreamily through her autograph book. Then, realising she was alone, looked about her for her companions. Her attention alighting on two figures, alone at the famous fountain. Two blokes. Kissing. She smirked and almost left.
Before noticing it was two rather specific blokes. Spinning for a moment, she found her friends were a ways up the road, waiting a the crossing for her. She whipped back around and fumbled the lens-cover from her camera, putting the tiny window to her eye. It beeped, flashed a red light, and stopped: The battery was dead.
She could have cried. Instead, she looked once more, and walked away. And never told them, though they asked what had kept her.
Dom woke up, disoriented. He was at Billy’s. Ok, not so weird. But, where at Billy’s? Not the sofa, as normal. He was used to seeing the slightly peely ceiling of living room in the cheap London flat, which Bill barely ever used. It wasn’t. It was the slightly nicer pale green ceiling of his bedroom. He jumped. Bedroom? He sat up. He was in Billy’s bed. Since when did he sleep in Bill’s bad?! He was feeling mildly panicky now. It would have been ok had he been alone. But there was Bill, submerged under duvet and snuffling slightly. Then it all came back to him and appeared to physically knock him over as he fell back onto the pillow. The movement wobbled the mattress enough to wake Bill, who yawned and stretched his limbs out.
“Morning.” Dom could only grunt in reply. How could Bill be so, so totally normal about it? Well, to be fair, Dom has made the first move. Most of them in fact. And once back here, how far had they gone? He squeezed the bridge of his nose. Not very, if memory served. And come on, who wouldn’t remember shagging their best friend? Ah fuck it, just run with it.
So with that eloquent decision, he rolled over, snuggled into Bill’s shoulder and went back to sleep.
When he woke for the second time, Billy was gone. The duvet was chucked back, and clothes were strewn about, Dom’s included. The wardrobe was open and fairly empty. There was a yellow sticky on the bedside table.
“Had to get back to LA. Didn’t want to wake you. See you soon.
Billy X
P.S. That was one hell of a goodnight kiss!”
He was disappointed. There was a chance that if Bill buggered off to the other side of the pond right away, by the time they saw each other again this little excursion would be dead and forgotten. Then the phone rang. Usually he wouldn’t have answered someone else’s phone, but what the hell.
“Hello.”
“Sorry to love you and leave you, I overslept. Hadda vacate pretty quick.” Bill’s cheerful lilt cheered him up immediately. “Gotta be quick, boarding ends in a few minutes. Just checking you were ok.” Dom considered.
“Yeah, I’m ok. How long you gone for?”
“Not long. You staying in London for now?”
“Oh shit, the Con! Orli’s gonna kill me, he’ll be waiting outside the hotel.” Billy laughed hard.
“Alright, you’d better go and placate him. We’ll talk when I land, ok? A proper chat.” Dom liked the sound of that. A lot. So they said their goodbyes. As Dom dialled Orlando, he figured if he disclosed this to him, he wouldn’t kill him too badly. He’d always said it was blatant that Merry and Pippin were fucking the whole time…
A week later, our fangirls were huddled outside a chemist, carefully opening the coveted, thick yellow envelope. The red haired owner of them flicked through carefully, her two compadres giggling over either shoulder. Then she reached the last one and realised too late what it was. The battery hadn’t died as fast as she thought. Then, too their horror, she took it from the pack, tore it in four, and threw it in the nearest bin.
Author: Phentalon Took
Email: rocket_launcher_rabbit2000@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: 15
Summery: Billy is analysing Dom and his goodbye kisses. But one piece of vital data is missing…
Betaed: My every wonderful Froggy! ^^
Info: A terribly silly little ficlet, in which me, Froggy and my friend Bobz make appearances. The Dom fan is I, the Orlando fan is Froggy, and the Billy fan is Bobz. Love you both. Sadly, we weren’t really at any of the LotR premieres. Ah well, ce la vie. My description of Froggy, however, was siphoned from the time she *did* meet her ‘Orli’, and good for her! I also know it’s unlikely that there was a Con the day after any of the premieres.
Feedback: I live on it and beg for it!
Billy lent against the spiked fence of Leicester Square, and watched Dom part ways with their fellow cast members. His purple jacket (which of course only Dom could pull off, Bill thought with a shake of the head) shone slightly under the spotlights still mounted on the front of the Odeon. And every time he turned sideways, they fell into his eyes and lit them up too. Somewhat more fetchingly then his beacon-like clothing. His fringe was a mite to long, and from time to time he would blow it out of his face.
“See ya Dom!” Yelled Orlando, jogging over. “My car’s here.” He flicked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Oh, right, buhbye. You gonna be at the Con tomorrow?” Right after the question came out of his mouth, he noticed a small gaggle of fangirls standing a few meters behind Orlando, one was squished against the fence and yelling a fair decibel above the others. Positively panting, Dom thought, to be so close the divine Legolas. He sniggered and Orlando’s brow creased. He glanced back.
“Oh. And yeah, I will. See ya tomorrow!”
“Will do, Shan’t keep you from your fangirls.” He smirked. “Just bare in mind, they don’t look legal.” Orlando laughed and hugged him hard, posting a wet smooch on his cheek, as way his way.
Now alone, Dom turned and spotted Billy, and gave him a little salute. Billy almost smiled, though it was more of a facial twitch, and gave more then usual attention to a well-timed shouting autograph hunter, walking a little down the black bars, as the fans were also trapped behind a tall temporary fence perpendicular to the large one.
“Who for…?” He asked absently, keeping half an eye on Dom, who was now in a last body-crush (or hug, whatever) with Bean.
“Bobs.” Squeaked the fangirl, thus reminding Billy she was still there. He scribbled and handed the pad back to the young brunette, who squealed and turned back and forth to the two either side, probably hurting her neck.
He returned to analysing Dom, the cast, and their hug-habits. Viggo had thrown his arm about Dom’s shoulders in an almost headlock-ly fashion, scuffing his hair and pecking him on the temple. Being shorter then most of the other ‘Men’ and ‘Elves’, he was generally the victim, rather then the bestower, of goodnight kisses. Not so with Lij, whom he flirted with and kissed incessantly. Partly because he could, but Billy was of the opinion that he loved the look on the fangirls faces; Low and behold, as he embraced and laid a smacker on Lij, a nearby fan with short, red stripy hair was almost cutting herself in half on the fence, ‘homigosh!’ing and snapping pictures frantically. Another was gripping the bars and, seemed to be doing something between twitching and vibrating, her very long hair rippling in time.
Billy loved fans; they cracked him up. The shower story he had freaked a journo with once, came bounding through his mind. Probably throwing party streamers and doing the chicken dance.
The final meeting was Astin, who was more the arm-squeezer. Not a feminine bone in his stout body, it must be said. It was just he and Dom, on opposite sides of the pavement, cars rumbling away between them. Then, as he made his highly excitable way in their direction, murmurs of excitement rose to plentiful shouts from the twenty or so fans huddled inside the square, broken very suddenly by a high-pitched and totally shamelessly scream for Dom. Billy jumped out of his skin and decided it was better for Dom and the fan (who he was sure would explode, or something equally messy should the object of her insanity come any nearer. And this was a new kilt; he didn’t want to get gore on it.) if he went to Dom. They met amiably halfway.
“Good night?” Dom inquired, yawning and stretching.
“Yeah. Y’know, I hear Orli has the scariest fans, but I really think you come a close second.” Remarked Billy, glancing back. Dom followed his line of sight (and the squeals) to the reason for this conclusion. He chuckled and waved slightly. The noise stopped. Billy assumed she had fainted. Nope. Just drawing breath. He winced.
“For God’s sake Dom, go put her out of her misery. I’m going deaf.” Dom obliged, quipping back over his shoulder,
“Nah, you’re just getting old.” Bill watched the conversation he couldn’t hear with continued amusement, as the same stripe-head from before got pinker and more excitable with every passing second, until he gestured at the slightly abandoned Billy behind him, and made his grateful exit.
“Odd, odd people!” Dom exasperated, straightening his tie.
“What’s they say?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Fair enough.” Dom’s mobile peeped and he answered.
“Yeah. Huh? Oh for God’s sake. Yeah yeah, no worries. Alright. Yup. Ok. Bye.” He sighed irritably, snapping the phone away.
“S’up?”
“Fucking London traffic. Up to walking?”
“Not with you, that weirdo will stalk us.” Dom threw his head back and laughed. Billy sweat-dropped slightly. He could get it out of his head for a while, then something like that happened and he got all nervous and withdrawn. Dom controlled himself, eventually.
“Wimp. Keep your mace out, we’ll be alright. Come on.” And they set off in the direction of Trafalgar Square and the portrait gallery.
It wasn’t exactly teeming with people, posh-knobs leaving theatres and loud groups of students. Plus, much of it was coated in scaffold and tarpaulin. Only the water feature and their near set of stairs were untouched, so there was no one passing through. Only the tourists actually hung about here, and they were long gone. Just happy, tipsy people wandering up and down, trying to remember where they lived. Billy stopped, cocked his head slightly, and changed direction, down the steps and into the square itself. Dom took a moment to notice, continuing his wander alone.
“Hey, where you running off to?” He jogged back and down the shallow steps.
“Just realised, it does look quite nice, lit up. I know I sound like a complete tourist, but it does.” Dom observed the spewing fish and blue cascades for a while.
“No, you’re right. I mean, if it wasn’t, why would tourists come at all?” He plonked himself down on the edge and stared down at the coins people had thrown in, shimmering and submerged. Billy knelt and trailed his fingertips in it.
“Bills, your man-skirts too short, you’re getting dirt on your knees.” Dom could never resist even the most irrelevant opportunity to poke fun at Bill and his kilts. Billy ignored him. Then decided against that and flicked water on him instead.
“Oi! Don’t blame me for your transvestitism!” Dom’s tongue stumbled over this new word, thus horribly downgrading the effect of the jibe. Not that it beat Wilde for witticism to start with. They drifted into a healthy silence for a moment, both quietly revelling in the fact that they were not being screamed at in any way or having to watch themselves, thirty feet high and sporting terribly naff curls.
“I’ve noticed something…” Billy’s brain suddenly felt decidedly drunk and apathetic. It was an interesting sensation. That, and watching his sense of caution fly out of his ears with all haste. “You’re always kissing people goodbye. And people are always kissing you goodbye…” He quickly realised this was simply a pointless statement. He should probably fix that…
“’Cept me.” He had a vague recollection that that was not bright. Dom’s expression portrayed only half a raised eyebrow and mild surprise, but all the same, he had an odd feeling. Why did he feel so… drunk? He had had one beer before the film. Not enough, even by Elijhtweight’s standards! Yet with the sound of water rushing through his ears and blue light reflected on his face, he defiantly felt a tad… off-kilter. For a Scot, that could have been a terrible pun, but it wasn’t. Dom was still looking at him sideways.
“We feeling deprived, Boyd?”
“Nononono. No.” He hurried, a few too many times. “Just, just wondered…”
“Why?” Dom slid along the wall in his direction and looked down at him. “Really wanna know? Desperately? Terribly?” He smiled as Bill gave a confused little nod.
“It’s probably because if I, or you ever did, I’d get a raging and visible hard on.” With that he looked nonchalantly down and began to pick at his nail polish.
If Billy hadn’t been kneeling, he would have been in the pond at that point. He gawped for some sort of length of time (who counts?) until Dom reached out and gently shut Billy’s mouth.
“Catching flies?” He queried.
“Dom, did you just-?”
“Yup.”
“But I thought you-”
“Apparently not.”
“And you don’t know I-?”
“Not till just then!” He teased. Billy blinked several times. Then looked confused. And after coming to no conclusion whatsoever, simply looked helplessly up at his tormentor, who sighed and clopped Bill affectionately round the ears.
“Dense, totally. Now, weren’t we whining about goodbye kisses a minute ago?” He asked as he lent down and turned his head slightly. Billy was still about four steps behind, and only said,
“Funny place to part ways isn’t it?” He was only then, suddenly aware that he could feel Dom’s breathing in his own mouth, and make out the pores on his nose.
“Oh shut up Boyd.” He instructed, covering the rest of the distance and pressing his lips onto Billy’s.
It was of course, a totally cheesy setting for a kiss, lights and fountain and a totally clear, star-filled December sky, but that did not disillusion Billy to the stale beer on Dom’s mouth, nor that he was at a horrible awkward angle. So Billy took him by the shirt and gave him a sharp tug to the stone ground. His arse hit it rather hard but he either did not notice or (far more likely) ignored it.
Bill lent over him and brought his lips back to Dom’s, supporting himself with a hand on the low wall of the fountain. Dom started pulling on his hair rather harder then he would have liked, but he did not protest. Especially not when Dom opened his mouth.
A street away three girls were making their way to Charing Cross station, squealing and jumping at regular intervals, and various phrases like ‘he touched me, he hugged me, he smiled at me homigod!’ were flowing thickly. In their excitement they past the station, and turned back. One (remember our red haired screamer?) stood for a moment, flicking dreamily through her autograph book. Then, realising she was alone, looked about her for her companions. Her attention alighting on two figures, alone at the famous fountain. Two blokes. Kissing. She smirked and almost left.
Before noticing it was two rather specific blokes. Spinning for a moment, she found her friends were a ways up the road, waiting a the crossing for her. She whipped back around and fumbled the lens-cover from her camera, putting the tiny window to her eye. It beeped, flashed a red light, and stopped: The battery was dead.
She could have cried. Instead, she looked once more, and walked away. And never told them, though they asked what had kept her.
Dom woke up, disoriented. He was at Billy’s. Ok, not so weird. But, where at Billy’s? Not the sofa, as normal. He was used to seeing the slightly peely ceiling of living room in the cheap London flat, which Bill barely ever used. It wasn’t. It was the slightly nicer pale green ceiling of his bedroom. He jumped. Bedroom? He sat up. He was in Billy’s bed. Since when did he sleep in Bill’s bad?! He was feeling mildly panicky now. It would have been ok had he been alone. But there was Bill, submerged under duvet and snuffling slightly. Then it all came back to him and appeared to physically knock him over as he fell back onto the pillow. The movement wobbled the mattress enough to wake Bill, who yawned and stretched his limbs out.
“Morning.” Dom could only grunt in reply. How could Bill be so, so totally normal about it? Well, to be fair, Dom has made the first move. Most of them in fact. And once back here, how far had they gone? He squeezed the bridge of his nose. Not very, if memory served. And come on, who wouldn’t remember shagging their best friend? Ah fuck it, just run with it.
So with that eloquent decision, he rolled over, snuggled into Bill’s shoulder and went back to sleep.
When he woke for the second time, Billy was gone. The duvet was chucked back, and clothes were strewn about, Dom’s included. The wardrobe was open and fairly empty. There was a yellow sticky on the bedside table.
“Had to get back to LA. Didn’t want to wake you. See you soon.
Billy X
P.S. That was one hell of a goodnight kiss!”
He was disappointed. There was a chance that if Bill buggered off to the other side of the pond right away, by the time they saw each other again this little excursion would be dead and forgotten. Then the phone rang. Usually he wouldn’t have answered someone else’s phone, but what the hell.
“Hello.”
“Sorry to love you and leave you, I overslept. Hadda vacate pretty quick.” Bill’s cheerful lilt cheered him up immediately. “Gotta be quick, boarding ends in a few minutes. Just checking you were ok.” Dom considered.
“Yeah, I’m ok. How long you gone for?”
“Not long. You staying in London for now?”
“Oh shit, the Con! Orli’s gonna kill me, he’ll be waiting outside the hotel.” Billy laughed hard.
“Alright, you’d better go and placate him. We’ll talk when I land, ok? A proper chat.” Dom liked the sound of that. A lot. So they said their goodbyes. As Dom dialled Orlando, he figured if he disclosed this to him, he wouldn’t kill him too badly. He’d always said it was blatant that Merry and Pippin were fucking the whole time…
A week later, our fangirls were huddled outside a chemist, carefully opening the coveted, thick yellow envelope. The red haired owner of them flicked through carefully, her two compadres giggling over either shoulder. Then she reached the last one and realised too late what it was. The battery hadn’t died as fast as she thought. Then, too their horror, she took it from the pack, tore it in four, and threw it in the nearest bin.