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monaboyd Nov. 10th, 2006 11:19 pm)
glass-moment.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Nov. 10th, 2006 11:19 pm)Title: Between Now and Tomorrow
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG
Up the hill and inside there is a party going on. Billy and Dom have dragged two adjustable lawn chairs together so that they can recline side by side. A double width of wooden armrest separates their upper bodies, but their legs are pressed together, cradling in the dip between their respective thighs a bag of stolen cherries that are serving as ammunition in a vicious pit-spitting contest. It really has as much to do with bragging and lying as anything, because between the grass and the darkness it's impossible to see where the pits land.
"Of course, we were still completely naked when we heard the car, so we were scrambling to get dressed as quickly as possible," says Dom. He's in full storytelling mode, eyes bright and hands waving. "There was only one staircase and her parents were sure to see me at the bottom, so in the end we decided that I'd have to go out the window."
"The window?"
"There was a very convenient trellis. I kept trying to convince her that I could use it to visit her secretly at night, but she wouldn't let me."
"So you went out the window."
"Well, no." He pauses for a cherry. "We couldn't get the screen out. Her father heard the noise and camp up to investigate. I thought he was going to castrate me."
"Too bad he didn't. It would've been quite the noble deed, keeping you away from the gene pool." The comment earns him a flick to the temple.
Behind them the glass door slides open with a crescendo of unintelligible conversation.
"I think he felt sorry for me- that's probably the only reason I'm still alive. I was so terrified I actually started to cry when he walked in."
"Hey guys," interrupts Elijah, resting an arm on the back of each of their chairs. His breath smells like chicken. Billy watches as he gnaws the last bit of meat off a drumstick, sucks on in for a moment, and then leans over to deposit it neatly into the mouth of a beer bottle. He's about to protest when he remembers that the bottle's been empty for at least half an hour.
"Dessert's out," says Elijah. "Thought you might want to know."
A head tilt, a lifted eyebrow, the tiniest quirk of a mouth.
"Mm," says Dom in a negative sort of way, the only audible part of their consensus.
Elijah leans over again to grab a cherry. They watch expectantly until he frowns at them and says,
"What?"
"Aren't you going to spit it?"
"We're having a contest," adds Billy. "I'm winning."
"Are not! I definitely set a record three spits ago."
"Your pitiful spitting will never measure up to my...great projectile cherry pit of doom."
"'Pitiful spitting'? That's awful."
"I swallowed it," Elijah says. They turn to stare at him.
"You swallowed it?" repeats Dom. "Aren't you afraid a cherry tree will grow in your stomach?"
"Not really." Elijah shrugs and pushes himself off the backs of their chairs, radiating badass pit-swallower nonchalance. A moment later the door slides closed again, shutting them off from the world.
"You know," Dom says thoughtfully, "cherry pits contain cyanide." Billy throws his head back and laughs and laughs, a little drunk and a little in love. The stars are strewn across the sky in brilliant clusters like, well, stars strewn across a sky. After a while they shift a bit. He wonders if that means he's dozed off or if he's just had too much to drink.
"Still awake, Bill?"
"Yeah." He's thinking about floating up and away into the stars, thinking about Dom's thighs under his hands. Outer space would probably be cold. Dom is never cold, not even wearing only jeans and a t-shirt in the middle of a New Zealand night that's not quite winter but is certainly getting there.
"Trying to poison yourself or something?" It takes Billy a moment to connect the question with the bitter cherry pit he's been rolling around his molars. He spits it without bothering to life his head, making it arc like a whale's spout and land somewhere around his knees. Dom snorts. Billy reaches for another cherry, raising a middle finger to Dom along the way.
"What happened when you were discovered?" he asks. "Did you at least have all your clothes on?"
"Yeah, luckily. Her dad was content- ooh, nice-"
"Thanks."
"-Content to kick me out and tell me never to come near his daughter again."
"So was it any good?"
"The sex? Not particularly. I was too nervous, didn't know what I was doing. I had a great time bragging about it, though. Cheryl was quite popular. No one could believe she would go out with me, let alone sleep with me."
Billy can believe it. He's seen pictures, proof that Dom took a while to grow into his looks. If adolescent Dom was anything like the one he knows now, though, it's no surprise that Cheryl fell prey to his charms, acne and goofy ears notwithstanding.
"That wasn't terribly sensitive of you, was it?" he says. Dom groans.
"I know. I wasn't trying to be cruel, it just didn't dawn on me that she wouldn't want people to know. I mean, I did, so I assumed she did." Dom is obviously embarrassed. Billy has forgotten the difference in their ages, as he always does. This story, far from being a fond memory, probably only took place a handful of years ago.
"What about your first time? Fair's fair," says Dom. Billy reaches for another cherry and then changes his mind. There's only one suspiciously mushy one left at the bottom of the bag.
"His name was Stephan. He wasn't particularly attractive, but he was nice and funny and just as confused as I was." It's a lie- there had been a girl before Stephan- but that doesn't matter. He can tell the truth later, if there's a reason to. At the moment it's a small sacrifice for the game he's playing. Wants to play.
"How old were you?"
"Sixteen. I'm not sure it even counts as a first time. More like a first try."
"I know what you mean. I chickened out a couple of times before I actually went through with it. Hurt like hell in the beginning." Dom lets his foot fall sideways to touch Billy's ankle and Billy grins. Seen and raised.
"It wasn't that, actually. More of a 'you want me to put it where?' sort of thing. I didn't quite understand the logistics." And there it is, questions answered, facts in the open. Almost everything he'd wondered about. Everything, maybe, because the only uncertainty left isn't really an uncertainty at all.
Dom goes for the last cherry and Billy mimics him, timing it so that their hands brush in the bag. Dom snatches his away, crying,
"None of your tricks, you cherry thief! I'm onto you!"
Billy raises an eyebrow.
Dom blushes and then grins (Billy would bet on it, despite the darkness) and stammers, "Oh! You were...I didn't..." He gives up and starts to laugh instead. They both do. It comes in contagious waves, one to the other and back again. Billy loves that Dom is capable of steering a conversational dance on two levels at once, loves that even so he doesn't know it by heart, isn't jaded enough to prevent his going unabashedly awry.
Or perhaps not awry after all, because in all the laughter they've somehow tilted closer to each other. There's a moment, stars and cold air and heat. Billy thinks that this would be the perfect time for their first kiss. Apparently Dom agrees because he's already leaning in, soft-eyed and happy, and it is how Billy wants it always to be.
~*~
Had someone looked out through the glass doors that morning, the predawn light would have revealed something very odd: two wooden chairs, several beer bottles, an empty plastic bag, and a discarded jacket, all surrounded by what seems to be a veritable explosion of cherry pits.
The house is quiet, though, the shades drawn. No one stirs inside. The sun rises unnoticed above two figures at the bottom of the hill, bent double with laughter as they stumble their way through the underbrush, going home.
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG
Up the hill and inside there is a party going on. Billy and Dom have dragged two adjustable lawn chairs together so that they can recline side by side. A double width of wooden armrest separates their upper bodies, but their legs are pressed together, cradling in the dip between their respective thighs a bag of stolen cherries that are serving as ammunition in a vicious pit-spitting contest. It really has as much to do with bragging and lying as anything, because between the grass and the darkness it's impossible to see where the pits land.
"Of course, we were still completely naked when we heard the car, so we were scrambling to get dressed as quickly as possible," says Dom. He's in full storytelling mode, eyes bright and hands waving. "There was only one staircase and her parents were sure to see me at the bottom, so in the end we decided that I'd have to go out the window."
"The window?"
"There was a very convenient trellis. I kept trying to convince her that I could use it to visit her secretly at night, but she wouldn't let me."
"So you went out the window."
"Well, no." He pauses for a cherry. "We couldn't get the screen out. Her father heard the noise and camp up to investigate. I thought he was going to castrate me."
"Too bad he didn't. It would've been quite the noble deed, keeping you away from the gene pool." The comment earns him a flick to the temple.
Behind them the glass door slides open with a crescendo of unintelligible conversation.
"I think he felt sorry for me- that's probably the only reason I'm still alive. I was so terrified I actually started to cry when he walked in."
"Hey guys," interrupts Elijah, resting an arm on the back of each of their chairs. His breath smells like chicken. Billy watches as he gnaws the last bit of meat off a drumstick, sucks on in for a moment, and then leans over to deposit it neatly into the mouth of a beer bottle. He's about to protest when he remembers that the bottle's been empty for at least half an hour.
"Dessert's out," says Elijah. "Thought you might want to know."
A head tilt, a lifted eyebrow, the tiniest quirk of a mouth.
"Mm," says Dom in a negative sort of way, the only audible part of their consensus.
Elijah leans over again to grab a cherry. They watch expectantly until he frowns at them and says,
"What?"
"Aren't you going to spit it?"
"We're having a contest," adds Billy. "I'm winning."
"Are not! I definitely set a record three spits ago."
"Your pitiful spitting will never measure up to my...great projectile cherry pit of doom."
"'Pitiful spitting'? That's awful."
"I swallowed it," Elijah says. They turn to stare at him.
"You swallowed it?" repeats Dom. "Aren't you afraid a cherry tree will grow in your stomach?"
"Not really." Elijah shrugs and pushes himself off the backs of their chairs, radiating badass pit-swallower nonchalance. A moment later the door slides closed again, shutting them off from the world.
"You know," Dom says thoughtfully, "cherry pits contain cyanide." Billy throws his head back and laughs and laughs, a little drunk and a little in love. The stars are strewn across the sky in brilliant clusters like, well, stars strewn across a sky. After a while they shift a bit. He wonders if that means he's dozed off or if he's just had too much to drink.
"Still awake, Bill?"
"Yeah." He's thinking about floating up and away into the stars, thinking about Dom's thighs under his hands. Outer space would probably be cold. Dom is never cold, not even wearing only jeans and a t-shirt in the middle of a New Zealand night that's not quite winter but is certainly getting there.
"Trying to poison yourself or something?" It takes Billy a moment to connect the question with the bitter cherry pit he's been rolling around his molars. He spits it without bothering to life his head, making it arc like a whale's spout and land somewhere around his knees. Dom snorts. Billy reaches for another cherry, raising a middle finger to Dom along the way.
"What happened when you were discovered?" he asks. "Did you at least have all your clothes on?"
"Yeah, luckily. Her dad was content- ooh, nice-"
"Thanks."
"-Content to kick me out and tell me never to come near his daughter again."
"So was it any good?"
"The sex? Not particularly. I was too nervous, didn't know what I was doing. I had a great time bragging about it, though. Cheryl was quite popular. No one could believe she would go out with me, let alone sleep with me."
Billy can believe it. He's seen pictures, proof that Dom took a while to grow into his looks. If adolescent Dom was anything like the one he knows now, though, it's no surprise that Cheryl fell prey to his charms, acne and goofy ears notwithstanding.
"That wasn't terribly sensitive of you, was it?" he says. Dom groans.
"I know. I wasn't trying to be cruel, it just didn't dawn on me that she wouldn't want people to know. I mean, I did, so I assumed she did." Dom is obviously embarrassed. Billy has forgotten the difference in their ages, as he always does. This story, far from being a fond memory, probably only took place a handful of years ago.
"What about your first time? Fair's fair," says Dom. Billy reaches for another cherry and then changes his mind. There's only one suspiciously mushy one left at the bottom of the bag.
"His name was Stephan. He wasn't particularly attractive, but he was nice and funny and just as confused as I was." It's a lie- there had been a girl before Stephan- but that doesn't matter. He can tell the truth later, if there's a reason to. At the moment it's a small sacrifice for the game he's playing. Wants to play.
"How old were you?"
"Sixteen. I'm not sure it even counts as a first time. More like a first try."
"I know what you mean. I chickened out a couple of times before I actually went through with it. Hurt like hell in the beginning." Dom lets his foot fall sideways to touch Billy's ankle and Billy grins. Seen and raised.
"It wasn't that, actually. More of a 'you want me to put it where?' sort of thing. I didn't quite understand the logistics." And there it is, questions answered, facts in the open. Almost everything he'd wondered about. Everything, maybe, because the only uncertainty left isn't really an uncertainty at all.
Dom goes for the last cherry and Billy mimics him, timing it so that their hands brush in the bag. Dom snatches his away, crying,
"None of your tricks, you cherry thief! I'm onto you!"
Billy raises an eyebrow.
Dom blushes and then grins (Billy would bet on it, despite the darkness) and stammers, "Oh! You were...I didn't..." He gives up and starts to laugh instead. They both do. It comes in contagious waves, one to the other and back again. Billy loves that Dom is capable of steering a conversational dance on two levels at once, loves that even so he doesn't know it by heart, isn't jaded enough to prevent his going unabashedly awry.
Or perhaps not awry after all, because in all the laughter they've somehow tilted closer to each other. There's a moment, stars and cold air and heat. Billy thinks that this would be the perfect time for their first kiss. Apparently Dom agrees because he's already leaning in, soft-eyed and happy, and it is how Billy wants it always to be.
Had someone looked out through the glass doors that morning, the predawn light would have revealed something very odd: two wooden chairs, several beer bottles, an empty plastic bag, and a discarded jacket, all surrounded by what seems to be a veritable explosion of cherry pits.
The house is quiet, though, the shades drawn. No one stirs inside. The sun rises unnoticed above two figures at the bottom of the hill, bent double with laughter as they stumble their way through the underbrush, going home.
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I really like your subtlety. I also like how you have an element of a sobering reality there, in combination with a romantic passion that is victorious over it. Does that make sense? ...sorry if I'm thinking too deep on it.
:)
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Fic!
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Lovely and sweet, and not at all cloying or having them act like 14 year old girls. :D:D:D
"None of your tricks, you cherry thief! I'm onto you!"
Billy raises an eyebrow.
*grin* I love inadvertant puns on the characters' parts. :D:D:D
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And this: "radiating badass pit-swallower nonchalance" - about Elijah - cracked me up!
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There's so much about this that I love. So much.
Just... brilliant.
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Loved this line. Loved this whole story. Thanks for writing and sharing it with us!
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