Four Kisses
Title: Four Kisses
Author: valerienne
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dom/Evi, Dom/Billy
Disclaimer: Only real if I'm extraordinarily psychic.
Warning: Angsty as all hell, I'm afraid :)
Notes: Inspired in a huge bunny kicks you in the head way by the BRAVO article translated by Pip of acroamatica.
The first time Evi kisses him, she tastes of liquorice. The drink that sits in front of her smells strong and sweet, and the aniseed-flavour rolls over Dom’s tongue like a wave; it drowns his other senses. He can barely feel the warm tip of her tongue as she licks his lower lip delicately like a cat. She leans back then in her chair and stares at him, a smile drawing her beautiful mouth upwards.
She likes him, she tells him. She likes him, but it must remain their little secret. Is that a problem for him? Dom thinks about that and he wonders if he should argue, if he should protest at the shaming nature of the offer. But he’s been brought up to finish all the food on his plate. He’s been brought up to waste not, want not. To always say please and thank you. Evi was a model; she has pale clear skin and extraordinary hazel eyes. Her mouth stretches a little too wide in another lovely smile. When a woman as beautiful as Evi says she likes you, Dom knows that you don’t get to say no. So he doesn’t. And, after all, the secrecy is not a problem. He’s done that before, it’s almost second nature. His mouth will open in a denial almost before a question can be asked. He sometimes wonders if that’s all that’s left to him of New Zealand.
And he never does tell Evi that he can’t stand the taste of liquorice.
***
The second time Evi kisses him, she tastes of sea foam and sage. Of course, he has kissed Evi many times, dipping in to taste her mouth in the hidden moments, behind the location trailers, in her car. He has kissed Evi as often as he has been allowed to, for time has proven her to be a girl who likes him to come to her, who likes to receive his worship with the automatic acceptance of a queen.
This time is different. She runs up to him and throws her arms around his neck, and her lips are cool and hard in the stiff breeze from the sea. She giggles at him then, and he feels the tug of the surf at his ankles, drawing him away, whispering to him of drowning. Only then does she see the rest of the crew, almost hidden by the palm trees and the brightness of the sun. Her face falls but she hides that in his neck, and his arms go around her shoulders without his willing them to move.
It’s all right, she says. It doesn’t matter. She likes him. It’ll be the show’s little secret and they’re all loyal to one another, after all. It’ll be fine. Dom thinks about that, about all the people who might not see it that way, about all the extras who like to talk, and the crew who likes to gossip. He thinks about the cast, and the jealousy he can see will spike through their camaraderie. He thinks about all the drinks he’ll need to buy and the morning doughnuts he’ll need to bring, as he attempts to smooth down this secret, to coat it in honey, and make it seem real.
Evi is a extraordinarily beautiful woman, who wants in some small way to be with him. He knows he should be grateful. He knows he should accept the gift horse and never think to look into its mouth, or search the cracks and edges of their life for the eager shining of Greek blades. He knows that blokes like him don’t refuse a gift like Evi.
He wonders why he even wants to try.
***
The third time Evi kisses him, she tastes of make-up, and of hairspray. She is styled and stiff, her skin perfumed and chemical tasting, with gold glittering at the corners of her eyes. She’s drunk too, at her first awards ceremony, when she nibbles her way down his neck to hear him groan, and that’s why, Dom thinks, that’s why… She’ll regret it, he thinks, she’ll regret it but he can’t stop her. He has never been able to stop her, any more than he has ever been able to stop anything that really matters. The flash and pop of the cameras are as dazzling as ever, but to Dom they almost feel like coming home.
I like you, he’d told him, I like you, but it must remain our little secret. Is that a problem for you? Dom had thought about that, wondering if he should argue about the shaming nature of the offer, but his hands had trembled too much, and his tongue had been too busy tasting the delicate flesh at the corner of Billy’s jaw.
He remembers Bill smiling at him, after filming was over, smiling and introducing him to Ali. Dom has been brought up to be polite, he’s been brought up to mind his p’s and q’s, so he shook her hand, and kissed her perfumed cheek. He knows why Bill has found a girlfriend, a girl from home, blond and Scottish, as fresh and homely as bannock bread. He knows and he understands. Dom even wishes him well and thinks about finding someone for himself, just for himself. But the secrets have curled up inside his head, curled up to sleep like tiny hibernating animals. Dom doesn’t dare open his mouth for fear they’ll crawl out on his tongue.
He knows that would be too easy.
***
The fourth time Evi kisses him, she tastes of cinnamon. The pastries on the table are sticky with syrup, he picks one up and takes a bite, and thinks of goodbyes. He didn’t know saying farewell could taste as sweet as sugar. He licks his lips as Evi stares at him gravely, and the traces of her lipstick flavour his mouth, distant and artificial.
It’ll be our little secret, she says, unless that’s a problem for you. After all, we still like each other. There’s no need to encourage media speculation, now that it’s all over. And he nods and smiles, the animals in his head awake and jeering at his cowardice.
He wonders if he should ask, here at the end, he wonders if he should ask why. Not because they aren’t a couple any more, because that has the soft feeling of inevitability, but why they ever were at all. Why they were only ever together in the cracks and secret places, why her interest withered in the light of the world’s knowledge. He wonders if it would explain other people to him as well.
He wants to fall in love again, he wants a family and children, he tells himself. He tells himself all the things that Billy told him once, that Billy looks at Ali and sees reflected in her eyes. But Dom has been brought up to be honest, to stand up for himself, to be his own man. And he knows that for him it’s not the same.
The animals crawling in his head have claws and fangs and they tear at him. Their voices sound like demons. But he smiles behind the cage of his teeth, and knows he will stay friends, stay good old reliable funny Dom; the joker on every set. And he won’t ask what’s wrong with him, and why they won’t stay. He won’t ask them why they’re ashamed.
He thinks he already knows.
Author: valerienne
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dom/Evi, Dom/Billy
Disclaimer: Only real if I'm extraordinarily psychic.
Warning: Angsty as all hell, I'm afraid :)
Notes: Inspired in a huge bunny kicks you in the head way by the BRAVO article translated by Pip of acroamatica.
The first time Evi kisses him, she tastes of liquorice. The drink that sits in front of her smells strong and sweet, and the aniseed-flavour rolls over Dom’s tongue like a wave; it drowns his other senses. He can barely feel the warm tip of her tongue as she licks his lower lip delicately like a cat. She leans back then in her chair and stares at him, a smile drawing her beautiful mouth upwards.
She likes him, she tells him. She likes him, but it must remain their little secret. Is that a problem for him? Dom thinks about that and he wonders if he should argue, if he should protest at the shaming nature of the offer. But he’s been brought up to finish all the food on his plate. He’s been brought up to waste not, want not. To always say please and thank you. Evi was a model; she has pale clear skin and extraordinary hazel eyes. Her mouth stretches a little too wide in another lovely smile. When a woman as beautiful as Evi says she likes you, Dom knows that you don’t get to say no. So he doesn’t. And, after all, the secrecy is not a problem. He’s done that before, it’s almost second nature. His mouth will open in a denial almost before a question can be asked. He sometimes wonders if that’s all that’s left to him of New Zealand.
And he never does tell Evi that he can’t stand the taste of liquorice.
***
The second time Evi kisses him, she tastes of sea foam and sage. Of course, he has kissed Evi many times, dipping in to taste her mouth in the hidden moments, behind the location trailers, in her car. He has kissed Evi as often as he has been allowed to, for time has proven her to be a girl who likes him to come to her, who likes to receive his worship with the automatic acceptance of a queen.
This time is different. She runs up to him and throws her arms around his neck, and her lips are cool and hard in the stiff breeze from the sea. She giggles at him then, and he feels the tug of the surf at his ankles, drawing him away, whispering to him of drowning. Only then does she see the rest of the crew, almost hidden by the palm trees and the brightness of the sun. Her face falls but she hides that in his neck, and his arms go around her shoulders without his willing them to move.
It’s all right, she says. It doesn’t matter. She likes him. It’ll be the show’s little secret and they’re all loyal to one another, after all. It’ll be fine. Dom thinks about that, about all the people who might not see it that way, about all the extras who like to talk, and the crew who likes to gossip. He thinks about the cast, and the jealousy he can see will spike through their camaraderie. He thinks about all the drinks he’ll need to buy and the morning doughnuts he’ll need to bring, as he attempts to smooth down this secret, to coat it in honey, and make it seem real.
Evi is a extraordinarily beautiful woman, who wants in some small way to be with him. He knows he should be grateful. He knows he should accept the gift horse and never think to look into its mouth, or search the cracks and edges of their life for the eager shining of Greek blades. He knows that blokes like him don’t refuse a gift like Evi.
He wonders why he even wants to try.
***
The third time Evi kisses him, she tastes of make-up, and of hairspray. She is styled and stiff, her skin perfumed and chemical tasting, with gold glittering at the corners of her eyes. She’s drunk too, at her first awards ceremony, when she nibbles her way down his neck to hear him groan, and that’s why, Dom thinks, that’s why… She’ll regret it, he thinks, she’ll regret it but he can’t stop her. He has never been able to stop her, any more than he has ever been able to stop anything that really matters. The flash and pop of the cameras are as dazzling as ever, but to Dom they almost feel like coming home.
I like you, he’d told him, I like you, but it must remain our little secret. Is that a problem for you? Dom had thought about that, wondering if he should argue about the shaming nature of the offer, but his hands had trembled too much, and his tongue had been too busy tasting the delicate flesh at the corner of Billy’s jaw.
He remembers Bill smiling at him, after filming was over, smiling and introducing him to Ali. Dom has been brought up to be polite, he’s been brought up to mind his p’s and q’s, so he shook her hand, and kissed her perfumed cheek. He knows why Bill has found a girlfriend, a girl from home, blond and Scottish, as fresh and homely as bannock bread. He knows and he understands. Dom even wishes him well and thinks about finding someone for himself, just for himself. But the secrets have curled up inside his head, curled up to sleep like tiny hibernating animals. Dom doesn’t dare open his mouth for fear they’ll crawl out on his tongue.
He knows that would be too easy.
***
The fourth time Evi kisses him, she tastes of cinnamon. The pastries on the table are sticky with syrup, he picks one up and takes a bite, and thinks of goodbyes. He didn’t know saying farewell could taste as sweet as sugar. He licks his lips as Evi stares at him gravely, and the traces of her lipstick flavour his mouth, distant and artificial.
It’ll be our little secret, she says, unless that’s a problem for you. After all, we still like each other. There’s no need to encourage media speculation, now that it’s all over. And he nods and smiles, the animals in his head awake and jeering at his cowardice.
He wonders if he should ask, here at the end, he wonders if he should ask why. Not because they aren’t a couple any more, because that has the soft feeling of inevitability, but why they ever were at all. Why they were only ever together in the cracks and secret places, why her interest withered in the light of the world’s knowledge. He wonders if it would explain other people to him as well.
He wants to fall in love again, he wants a family and children, he tells himself. He tells himself all the things that Billy told him once, that Billy looks at Ali and sees reflected in her eyes. But Dom has been brought up to be honest, to stand up for himself, to be his own man. And he knows that for him it’s not the same.
The animals crawling in his head have claws and fangs and they tear at him. Their voices sound like demons. But he smiles behind the cage of his teeth, and knows he will stay friends, stay good old reliable funny Dom; the joker on every set. And he won’t ask what’s wrong with him, and why they won’t stay. He won’t ask them why they’re ashamed.
He thinks he already knows.