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monaboyd May. 9th, 2007 07:32 pm)
glass-moment.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd May. 9th, 2007 07:32 pm)Title: Green
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom has nightmares about Billy's eyes.
Author's Note: This is in honor of the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dizzydame. Happy birthday, love!
Dom walks through a forest. It's cool and dim, that hour of evening when the sun has disappeared but its light still lingers in the sky. The trees are an odd mixture- some native to England, some to New Zealand, some to only the imagination. It is not a real place. He walks through it confidently, familiarly, with a definite sense of purpose. The scene shifts without shifting and Billy is standing there, has always been standing there.
"Come here," he says. He does not speak, but the message is clear in his eyes. Dom hesitates. There is a rift in the ground between them, too wide to jump, the deep black of unimaginable depth. "Come here, Dom. Come to me," says Billy with his eyes. Dom walks forward. Stops at the edge of the chasm, unsure. "Please?" adds Billy. He lifts his head a little. His eyes beg and trust and command. Dom locks his own gaze on Billy's green green eyes, the same green as the leaves around them, and steps out onto empty air.
He falls. He hurtles downward, clawing the air for purchase and finding nothing but blackness. Billy and the trees are gone, the patch of light above barely visible. Icy wind rushes past. Far, far below another point of light appears and blossoms. As he tumbles toward it he sees another forest, but her it is winter. A wall of bare, spiky branches reach to meet him, to tear at his skin without breaking his fall, and below them there is the frozen ground. As he plummets down, down through the empty sky he opens his mouth to scream...
Dom crashes into reality, heart pounding, fists clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. His bed. His room. New Zealand. He wants a glass of water but he's too panicked to even consider getting up, so instead he concentrates on relaxing his hands, staring at the wall because he knows from experience that Billy's eyes are lurking behind his own eyelids.
The nightmares had started soon after he'd arrived. They'd been infrequent at first, only once every few weeks, but they've increased steadily as Billy begins to occupy his waking thoughts more and more. This one is the third in a week, all about Billy's eyes. He can't figure it out. It's not like he's afraid of Billy- quite the opposite, actually- but the nightmares persist, leaving him sweaty and trembling and too terrified to do anything but lie rigidly in place until he can breathe himself back to sleep.
It's always hard to look at Billy the next morning. It reminds him of how as a child he would refuse to look into mirrors after a bad dream, afraid that he would find a monster behind him or worse, that he had turned into one himself. He has to force himself to meet Billy's eyes at the door (inside or out, depending on who's driving who). Billy is never nightmarish. He usually just looks tired, or occasionally exasperated leaning into anxious if Dom's running particularly late. By the time they arrive on set, though, there's always a small smile on Billy's face. It's hard to tell if it's because he's excited to work, because he's making an effort to be good-natured, or maybe, possibly, because of Dom.
****
Dom is having the worst day in the history of bad days. Ever. He isn't even sure what's causing it. He is tired, yes, but then he's always tired from the ridiculous schedule they keep and from the nightmares, which are getting steadily worse. It's far more than that today. He's bitter and frustrated; almost every word or action he witnesses annoys him and the things that bother him on a normal day send him into an irrational rage. He wants nothing more than to curl up inside a plastic bubble that cuts him off from the rest of the world and never emerge. His acting's shite and he knows it and he doesn't care. He's only getting away with it because no one's asking him to do anything besides run around and be scared and even so he's been getting Looks from his castmates all day. They probably would have evolved into Conversations, too, if he hadn't hidden himself in private corners with a cup of tea and a glare during every break they've had.
The day crawls by, but finally he's back in Feet being re-humanized. He's still broadcasting "keep away" signals loud and clear and the others make no attempt to ask him what's wrong, so he turns up his walkman and tunes everything out. Part of him hopes they're talking about him, hopes they're worried, but mostly he just wants to be ignored.
He's the last one out, of course, because that's just how this day is going. Billy is waiting when he finally emerges. Dom doesn't say anything, just slides into the passenger seat and stares out the window as Billy drives. It's a testament to how out of it he is that he doesn't even realize where they are until Billy parks and gets out. Billy's house, not his, and he feels irritation rising in his throat again- did he forget Dom was in the car? Is he refusing to drive Dom home in some kind of petty retaliation for his being moody all day?
"Come on," Billy says, and goes inside.
Dom sits alone in the car for a few minutes before he can muster the energy to follow. Billy's in the kitchen, but he's easily summoned by the sound of the door closing and appears in the hallway, pulling Dom into a hug.
"So what's wrong?" he asks. Dom just stands there, his arms loosely around Billy's shoulders, grounding himself. He doesn't think he ever wants to move.
"I'm so tired," he says finally, which is true but not really the answer. He pushes his nose into Billy's neck and for a moment it feels like the most intimate contact in the world.
"Go to sleep, then," Billy says, disentangling himself gently and going back to the kitchen. Dom watches him go and then turns and wanders into the bedroom. He feels a bit like he's underwater, everything slow and out of focus. It's still light outside. He strips down to his boxers anyway and lies down on top of the covers, staring at the wall. It's white and non-descript. Off-white, maybe. Grayish. The sounds of Billy making dinner tickle the edge of his consciousness, but otherwise everything is quiet and still. He can lie there and not do, not move or speak or even think, just let himself go blank and simply exist for a while. It's perfect.
Everything is green. He's surrounded, suspended, an endless monochrome sea. He waves his hand and green ripples and green shadows spread outward, going on forever. The...not air, no, the green...feels green on his skin, thick and silky-soft. It smells green, too, although he can't describe what that means. He's sure that if there was any noise it would sound green but there's nothing but oppressive silence. He opens his mouth to taste the green and it flows down his throat, thick and choking. He struggles to breathe. There's nothing, no air, only green in his lungs and filling his body as he shudders convulsively and gasps more of it in. He hears his name then, in Billy's voice, and part of him identifies that yes, that is what green sounds like. The rest of his mind is taken up with the sudden realization that he is drowning in Billy's eyes. That voice says his name again and he tries to call out in response but he can't breathe, he's suffocating and the green is pouring through his mouth and he's too weak to struggle...
"Dom? Dom!"
He jerks awake, gasping in a lungful of air. The world resolves itself around him- Billy's room, some indefinable hour of the night. Billy is leaning over from where he's obviously been sleeping on the other side of the bed, shaking him.
"Sorry to wake you," he's saying, "but it looked like you were trying to eat your pillow. I was starting to worry that you'd suffocate yourself."
"It's fine, thanks," Dom says when he manages to find his voice It's hard to focus. His breath is still fast and uneven, heart pounding from the terror of the nightmare, and he's hyperaware of Billy's hand on his bare shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just a dream. Thought I was drowning." He swallows down the fear. In the dark room Billy's eyes above him are a safe, comforting gray.
****
It's fairly easy to extract themselves from the crowd at the pub. Dom's pretty sure they've been subtle about it, too- as subtle as is possible following such an obvious argument, realization, and ensuing reconciliation. Well, maybe not so subtle after all. The way things to around here they'll probably be chewed to pieces by the rumor mill before they even arrive on set tomorrow.
Anyway, their escape still seems easy when compared to the torture of the long ride home. They go a bit beyond the limits of propriety as generally applied to the back of taxis, but Dom can't bring himself to care. By the time they get inside he's focusing on the immediate goals of bedroom and now and hoping rather desperately that he'll soon be able to move onto the subsequent goal of sex. It doesn't quite work out. Still, two out of three is just fine, he thinks as Billy crowds him back against the closed door, teeth on Dom's neck and hands creeping under his shirt. They can leave bedroom for some other time. Just now he's busy undoing the fastening of Billy's trousers (finally) and getting his hand inside and then, jarringly, Billy winces and pulls away.
Oh, right. Treebeard.
Dom had forgotten about that. He's got a matching set of bruises himself, which is certainly going to make this interesting. Billy grins at him, fluttering his eyelashes and switching into falsetto.
"Oh, Dommie," he coos, "be gentle with me!"
They stand there, pressed against the door in the front hallway with their clothes half-undone, and laugh until they can't breathe.
Dom is lost. He stumbles across an endless plain that changes beneath his feet, meadow to gravel to packed dirt to rocky slope. Every so often he catches glimpses of Billy beyond a rise or around a corner, afternoon light catching and glowing in his eyes. They are the only visible color, vibrant and out of place in a world of gray and brown. Dom follows dutifully. He has a sense of urgency, like he's being chased, but the changing landscape is too disorienting to allow him to search properly. Everything is bright but somehow it's still hard to see. Whenever he's sure he's on the right track Billy appears in some other direction, behind him or in his peripheral vision, with his hypnotic eyes that draw Dom on and on.
Suddenly, someone grabs him from behind. Billy is there, eyes burning, holding him still. Dom can't tell if he's being captured or protected. Billy puts a hand over his mouth to silence him...
He's being kissed. It's gentle, but insistent; Dom makes a little grumble of pleasure and takes a moment to enjoy the sensation before opening his eyes. Billy is propped up with his elbows on either side of Dom's head, one leg draped over his waist. Neither of them bothered with pajamas after last night.
"Is it time to get up?" he asks. Billy smiles proudly down at him.
"No. We've got about half an hour."
"Oh, good." Dom makes a halfhearted attempt to flip them over, but to no avail. He didn't really expect it to work. Besides, he doesn't particularly mind their current position, especially not when Billy shifts to straddle him completely. The lingering images of his dream fade to nothing. It's strange, he thinks, sparing one last shred of his attention- when he woke up he wasn't scared at all.
****
"I used to have nightmares about you," Dom says. They're stuck in Treebeard again, waiting for the others to finish their tea break. "About your eyes in particular. They lasted for months. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I think I've figured out why."
"Well?"
"I think...well, in the dreams I'd always be in some kind of dangerous situation because I was listening to you or following you or something. I think I was afraid of how much I love you, you know, how much I would do for you or because you asked me to. Does that make sense?"
"Mmhm. And they've stopped now?"
"Yup. Not a single dream since the first night we fucked."
"Dom!" Billy cranes his neck, checking for floor dwellers.
"Relax, they've all gone for tea. It's just us."
"Right. So, why do you think you stopped dreaming?"
"I figure my subconscious finally realized that you aren't going to hurt me."
"Well, I'm glad to know your subconscious trusts me." They're quiet for a minute. "I love you too, by the way," Billy says eventually.
"Of course you do." Dom twists in his seat, trying ease his sore back. Below them the crew is starting to filter in. It feels like a different world up here, just the two of them and the bicycle seats that are making their love life creative by necessity.
"Then again, maybe the dreams weren't anything out of the ordinary," he calls over the hum of electronics.
"What do you mean?"
"People probably have nightmares about your face all the time."
"Oi! At least I don't have ears that look like they're ready for liftoff."
Someone down in the real world switches on the lights and suddenly everything is bathed in leaf-pattered shadow. Billy's eyes, caught in the beam, sparkle brilliantly up at him. He really does have lovely eyes. Dom likes the way they smile.
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom has nightmares about Billy's eyes.
Author's Note: This is in honor of the lovely
dizzydame. Happy birthday, love!Dom walks through a forest. It's cool and dim, that hour of evening when the sun has disappeared but its light still lingers in the sky. The trees are an odd mixture- some native to England, some to New Zealand, some to only the imagination. It is not a real place. He walks through it confidently, familiarly, with a definite sense of purpose. The scene shifts without shifting and Billy is standing there, has always been standing there.
"Come here," he says. He does not speak, but the message is clear in his eyes. Dom hesitates. There is a rift in the ground between them, too wide to jump, the deep black of unimaginable depth. "Come here, Dom. Come to me," says Billy with his eyes. Dom walks forward. Stops at the edge of the chasm, unsure. "Please?" adds Billy. He lifts his head a little. His eyes beg and trust and command. Dom locks his own gaze on Billy's green green eyes, the same green as the leaves around them, and steps out onto empty air.
He falls. He hurtles downward, clawing the air for purchase and finding nothing but blackness. Billy and the trees are gone, the patch of light above barely visible. Icy wind rushes past. Far, far below another point of light appears and blossoms. As he tumbles toward it he sees another forest, but her it is winter. A wall of bare, spiky branches reach to meet him, to tear at his skin without breaking his fall, and below them there is the frozen ground. As he plummets down, down through the empty sky he opens his mouth to scream...
Dom crashes into reality, heart pounding, fists clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. His bed. His room. New Zealand. He wants a glass of water but he's too panicked to even consider getting up, so instead he concentrates on relaxing his hands, staring at the wall because he knows from experience that Billy's eyes are lurking behind his own eyelids.
The nightmares had started soon after he'd arrived. They'd been infrequent at first, only once every few weeks, but they've increased steadily as Billy begins to occupy his waking thoughts more and more. This one is the third in a week, all about Billy's eyes. He can't figure it out. It's not like he's afraid of Billy- quite the opposite, actually- but the nightmares persist, leaving him sweaty and trembling and too terrified to do anything but lie rigidly in place until he can breathe himself back to sleep.
It's always hard to look at Billy the next morning. It reminds him of how as a child he would refuse to look into mirrors after a bad dream, afraid that he would find a monster behind him or worse, that he had turned into one himself. He has to force himself to meet Billy's eyes at the door (inside or out, depending on who's driving who). Billy is never nightmarish. He usually just looks tired, or occasionally exasperated leaning into anxious if Dom's running particularly late. By the time they arrive on set, though, there's always a small smile on Billy's face. It's hard to tell if it's because he's excited to work, because he's making an effort to be good-natured, or maybe, possibly, because of Dom.
Dom is having the worst day in the history of bad days. Ever. He isn't even sure what's causing it. He is tired, yes, but then he's always tired from the ridiculous schedule they keep and from the nightmares, which are getting steadily worse. It's far more than that today. He's bitter and frustrated; almost every word or action he witnesses annoys him and the things that bother him on a normal day send him into an irrational rage. He wants nothing more than to curl up inside a plastic bubble that cuts him off from the rest of the world and never emerge. His acting's shite and he knows it and he doesn't care. He's only getting away with it because no one's asking him to do anything besides run around and be scared and even so he's been getting Looks from his castmates all day. They probably would have evolved into Conversations, too, if he hadn't hidden himself in private corners with a cup of tea and a glare during every break they've had.
The day crawls by, but finally he's back in Feet being re-humanized. He's still broadcasting "keep away" signals loud and clear and the others make no attempt to ask him what's wrong, so he turns up his walkman and tunes everything out. Part of him hopes they're talking about him, hopes they're worried, but mostly he just wants to be ignored.
He's the last one out, of course, because that's just how this day is going. Billy is waiting when he finally emerges. Dom doesn't say anything, just slides into the passenger seat and stares out the window as Billy drives. It's a testament to how out of it he is that he doesn't even realize where they are until Billy parks and gets out. Billy's house, not his, and he feels irritation rising in his throat again- did he forget Dom was in the car? Is he refusing to drive Dom home in some kind of petty retaliation for his being moody all day?
"Come on," Billy says, and goes inside.
Dom sits alone in the car for a few minutes before he can muster the energy to follow. Billy's in the kitchen, but he's easily summoned by the sound of the door closing and appears in the hallway, pulling Dom into a hug.
"So what's wrong?" he asks. Dom just stands there, his arms loosely around Billy's shoulders, grounding himself. He doesn't think he ever wants to move.
"I'm so tired," he says finally, which is true but not really the answer. He pushes his nose into Billy's neck and for a moment it feels like the most intimate contact in the world.
"Go to sleep, then," Billy says, disentangling himself gently and going back to the kitchen. Dom watches him go and then turns and wanders into the bedroom. He feels a bit like he's underwater, everything slow and out of focus. It's still light outside. He strips down to his boxers anyway and lies down on top of the covers, staring at the wall. It's white and non-descript. Off-white, maybe. Grayish. The sounds of Billy making dinner tickle the edge of his consciousness, but otherwise everything is quiet and still. He can lie there and not do, not move or speak or even think, just let himself go blank and simply exist for a while. It's perfect.
Everything is green. He's surrounded, suspended, an endless monochrome sea. He waves his hand and green ripples and green shadows spread outward, going on forever. The...not air, no, the green...feels green on his skin, thick and silky-soft. It smells green, too, although he can't describe what that means. He's sure that if there was any noise it would sound green but there's nothing but oppressive silence. He opens his mouth to taste the green and it flows down his throat, thick and choking. He struggles to breathe. There's nothing, no air, only green in his lungs and filling his body as he shudders convulsively and gasps more of it in. He hears his name then, in Billy's voice, and part of him identifies that yes, that is what green sounds like. The rest of his mind is taken up with the sudden realization that he is drowning in Billy's eyes. That voice says his name again and he tries to call out in response but he can't breathe, he's suffocating and the green is pouring through his mouth and he's too weak to struggle...
"Dom? Dom!"
He jerks awake, gasping in a lungful of air. The world resolves itself around him- Billy's room, some indefinable hour of the night. Billy is leaning over from where he's obviously been sleeping on the other side of the bed, shaking him.
"Sorry to wake you," he's saying, "but it looked like you were trying to eat your pillow. I was starting to worry that you'd suffocate yourself."
"It's fine, thanks," Dom says when he manages to find his voice It's hard to focus. His breath is still fast and uneven, heart pounding from the terror of the nightmare, and he's hyperaware of Billy's hand on his bare shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just a dream. Thought I was drowning." He swallows down the fear. In the dark room Billy's eyes above him are a safe, comforting gray.
It's fairly easy to extract themselves from the crowd at the pub. Dom's pretty sure they've been subtle about it, too- as subtle as is possible following such an obvious argument, realization, and ensuing reconciliation. Well, maybe not so subtle after all. The way things to around here they'll probably be chewed to pieces by the rumor mill before they even arrive on set tomorrow.
Anyway, their escape still seems easy when compared to the torture of the long ride home. They go a bit beyond the limits of propriety as generally applied to the back of taxis, but Dom can't bring himself to care. By the time they get inside he's focusing on the immediate goals of bedroom and now and hoping rather desperately that he'll soon be able to move onto the subsequent goal of sex. It doesn't quite work out. Still, two out of three is just fine, he thinks as Billy crowds him back against the closed door, teeth on Dom's neck and hands creeping under his shirt. They can leave bedroom for some other time. Just now he's busy undoing the fastening of Billy's trousers (finally) and getting his hand inside and then, jarringly, Billy winces and pulls away.
Oh, right. Treebeard.
Dom had forgotten about that. He's got a matching set of bruises himself, which is certainly going to make this interesting. Billy grins at him, fluttering his eyelashes and switching into falsetto.
"Oh, Dommie," he coos, "be gentle with me!"
They stand there, pressed against the door in the front hallway with their clothes half-undone, and laugh until they can't breathe.
Dom is lost. He stumbles across an endless plain that changes beneath his feet, meadow to gravel to packed dirt to rocky slope. Every so often he catches glimpses of Billy beyond a rise or around a corner, afternoon light catching and glowing in his eyes. They are the only visible color, vibrant and out of place in a world of gray and brown. Dom follows dutifully. He has a sense of urgency, like he's being chased, but the changing landscape is too disorienting to allow him to search properly. Everything is bright but somehow it's still hard to see. Whenever he's sure he's on the right track Billy appears in some other direction, behind him or in his peripheral vision, with his hypnotic eyes that draw Dom on and on.
Suddenly, someone grabs him from behind. Billy is there, eyes burning, holding him still. Dom can't tell if he's being captured or protected. Billy puts a hand over his mouth to silence him...
He's being kissed. It's gentle, but insistent; Dom makes a little grumble of pleasure and takes a moment to enjoy the sensation before opening his eyes. Billy is propped up with his elbows on either side of Dom's head, one leg draped over his waist. Neither of them bothered with pajamas after last night.
"Is it time to get up?" he asks. Billy smiles proudly down at him.
"No. We've got about half an hour."
"Oh, good." Dom makes a halfhearted attempt to flip them over, but to no avail. He didn't really expect it to work. Besides, he doesn't particularly mind their current position, especially not when Billy shifts to straddle him completely. The lingering images of his dream fade to nothing. It's strange, he thinks, sparing one last shred of his attention- when he woke up he wasn't scared at all.
"I used to have nightmares about you," Dom says. They're stuck in Treebeard again, waiting for the others to finish their tea break. "About your eyes in particular. They lasted for months. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I think I've figured out why."
"Well?"
"I think...well, in the dreams I'd always be in some kind of dangerous situation because I was listening to you or following you or something. I think I was afraid of how much I love you, you know, how much I would do for you or because you asked me to. Does that make sense?"
"Mmhm. And they've stopped now?"
"Yup. Not a single dream since the first night we fucked."
"Dom!" Billy cranes his neck, checking for floor dwellers.
"Relax, they've all gone for tea. It's just us."
"Right. So, why do you think you stopped dreaming?"
"I figure my subconscious finally realized that you aren't going to hurt me."
"Well, I'm glad to know your subconscious trusts me." They're quiet for a minute. "I love you too, by the way," Billy says eventually.
"Of course you do." Dom twists in his seat, trying ease his sore back. Below them the crew is starting to filter in. It feels like a different world up here, just the two of them and the bicycle seats that are making their love life creative by necessity.
"Then again, maybe the dreams weren't anything out of the ordinary," he calls over the hum of electronics.
"What do you mean?"
"People probably have nightmares about your face all the time."
"Oi! At least I don't have ears that look like they're ready for liftoff."
Someone down in the real world switches on the lights and suddenly everything is bathed in leaf-pattered shadow. Billy's eyes, caught in the beam, sparkle brilliantly up at him. He really does have lovely eyes. Dom likes the way they smile.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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(formatting prob up there with italics. i do it alla time myself)
lovely, lucky friend!
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That was different.
Sweet and quiet.
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the comment above me is right; this WAS different, and lovelier for it. poor dommie and his nightmares, and i love that how they got together isn't really the focus of the story, and the i love yous toward the end and... sigh.
thank you. this is perfect.
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Also, thanks!
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Great Fic!
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