(no subject)
Title International Section
Author Me
Pairing DM/BB
Rating
Disclaimer I disclaim
Notes Just a little something whipped up quickly. Dom & Billy were seen shopping for CDs together at Amoeba. As requested by beizy, who was probably hoping for more than this when she said "ficplz". At least I'm writing though, right?
It's only a couple of hours, but with them it was always the smallest amounts of time that created the biggest memories. Or was it the large chunks of time within the swirling masses of time that resonated within your head and years later would bounce around like one of those annoying balls tied to the paddle things?
Bill's hands are exactly as he remembered, not that Dom knew what fatherhood would have done to them. He knows better than to think that a father's hands would morph to become as soft and dimpled as an infant's once he had one; but he knew better about a lot of things he liked to believe, anyway.
They're supposed to be looking at CDs but Dom's having a better time watching Billy scour through the bins in search for the best example of a Neoclassical Icelandic Lute Choral, which Dom was sure existed only in Billy's imagination. "What?" Bill finally asks when he notices that the clacking is coming from his fingertips alone.
"What?" Dom says back. He puts his hand in the bin and starts flipping through Greek mixes, quickly working his way backwards to France.
Returning back to his scouring, Billy murmurs, "You're looking at me."
"I am not," Dom says and after a pause, during which his fingers move past France and move into Ethiopia. "Your imagination is running away from you again." He's vaguely aware that he's now left Ethiopia and is flipping back through Egypt and not paying a whit of attention to what he is doing.
Bill stands back, holding a plastic case in his hand. "Found it."
"No," Dom says and takes the album from Billy.
BIlly takes it back and walks up to the register. Dom leaves the bin, left in a mess, and follows doggedly behind his friend. He so rarely leaves record stores without something to purchase that he panics and scans the bins as he passes. There's nothing he needs, nothing here he can purchase and take home that he wants.
It's unsettling and Dom twitches nervously until, after paying, Billy passes the plastic bag over to Dom. "You're worse than an addict," he says.
"There are worse things I can be," Dom says. He feels better, having the familiar swing of an album from his wrist. A brand new one with brand new packaging that he would let Billy open just so that he could watch his hands some more. "Where are we going now?"
Bill stops walking and puts his sunglasses on, then looks over at Dom. They take off five years at least and Dom smiles at him. "Anywhere you want to go."
"Takeaway." The response is nearly automatic, with only a moment's hesitation for thought behind it. "Thai. Then the hotel."
"Gripping," Billy says.
Author Me
Pairing DM/BB
Rating
Disclaimer I disclaim
Notes Just a little something whipped up quickly. Dom & Billy were seen shopping for CDs together at Amoeba. As requested by beizy, who was probably hoping for more than this when she said "ficplz". At least I'm writing though, right?
It's only a couple of hours, but with them it was always the smallest amounts of time that created the biggest memories. Or was it the large chunks of time within the swirling masses of time that resonated within your head and years later would bounce around like one of those annoying balls tied to the paddle things?
Bill's hands are exactly as he remembered, not that Dom knew what fatherhood would have done to them. He knows better than to think that a father's hands would morph to become as soft and dimpled as an infant's once he had one; but he knew better about a lot of things he liked to believe, anyway.
They're supposed to be looking at CDs but Dom's having a better time watching Billy scour through the bins in search for the best example of a Neoclassical Icelandic Lute Choral, which Dom was sure existed only in Billy's imagination. "What?" Bill finally asks when he notices that the clacking is coming from his fingertips alone.
"What?" Dom says back. He puts his hand in the bin and starts flipping through Greek mixes, quickly working his way backwards to France.
Returning back to his scouring, Billy murmurs, "You're looking at me."
"I am not," Dom says and after a pause, during which his fingers move past France and move into Ethiopia. "Your imagination is running away from you again." He's vaguely aware that he's now left Ethiopia and is flipping back through Egypt and not paying a whit of attention to what he is doing.
Bill stands back, holding a plastic case in his hand. "Found it."
"No," Dom says and takes the album from Billy.
BIlly takes it back and walks up to the register. Dom leaves the bin, left in a mess, and follows doggedly behind his friend. He so rarely leaves record stores without something to purchase that he panics and scans the bins as he passes. There's nothing he needs, nothing here he can purchase and take home that he wants.
It's unsettling and Dom twitches nervously until, after paying, Billy passes the plastic bag over to Dom. "You're worse than an addict," he says.
"There are worse things I can be," Dom says. He feels better, having the familiar swing of an album from his wrist. A brand new one with brand new packaging that he would let Billy open just so that he could watch his hands some more. "Where are we going now?"
Bill stops walking and puts his sunglasses on, then looks over at Dom. They take off five years at least and Dom smiles at him. "Anywhere you want to go."
"Takeaway." The response is nearly automatic, with only a moment's hesitation for thought behind it. "Thai. Then the hotel."
"Gripping," Billy says.