monaboyd | (no subject)

Title: ‘Ford’
Author: Flood_Lights

Disclaimer: Entirely Fictional Events
AU

Chapter: 2/?
Notes: This is pretty much my first fic, and I’m sort of making this up as I go along so bear with me. And suggestions welcome of course.

Title: ‘Ford’
Author: Flood_Lights

Disclaimer: Entirely Fictional Events
AU

Chapter: 2/?
Notes: This is pretty much my first fic, and I’m sort of making this up as I go along so bear with me. And suggestions welcome of course.

You can find the prologue on my journal. : ) Thanks for reading.

Chapter One.

Getting to know Dom.

If asked, though he rarely was, Dom would say that his favourite thing in the whole world was doing nice things for people. And he did so, regularly. There was nothing quite as satisfying, he thought, as making someone’s life better, making them happy and bringing smiles to their faces. If not smiles, at least preventing frowns. Some people, he found, just needed more help than others.

As with any hobby, it always helps if a person has a knack for doing it. It stands to reason that if you’re good at something, you’re instinctively going to enjoy doing it more. Dom was very good at what he did.

It was a crisp Tuesday morning when Dom strolled to work, letter in hand and a smile on his face. He had parked his car someway up the road and was now making his way to the local florist ‘Blooms’. He had been an employee of ‘Blooms’ for three years now, getting the job just three months after moving to Glasgow.

His boss was a Mr. O. Bloom, and he had inherited the business from his father. He went by Orli though, and he was one of Dom’s best friends. They worked together, and often spent time down the local pub McKellen’s. Every Tuesday Dom would help Orli with the shipments and they would drink tea hang out.

Dom enjoyed every chance he had to insert routine into his life. He had every weekend off work, and also Wednesday afternoons, starting from half one. He spent every Wednesday afternoon the same way, visiting a close friend in hospital. On his way to work each morning, he would post an unaddressed envelope into the blue door of number sixteen and he would cross just before the traffic lights.

‘Blooms’ was painted green. The door was a light wood and through the windows arrays of plants were visible. The shop had a disorganised feel about it. Orli hated those florists with the pre made bundles with more ribbon that flowers, sprayed with chemicals and cost more than the sun. He made his bouquets as they were ordered, ribbon was optional.

Dom’s job was maintenance, whilst Orli dealt with customers Dom was the water spray crusader. On his lunch break, he sat in the park. There was a certain tree he liked, if you looked just right, there was a face there. Company when there wasn’t any. Dom was a people watcher; today he examined a small girl sitting on a bench, self-consciously devouring a packet of Jammie Dodgers. Every bite she took, the biscuit would crumble further, it was a messy job. Her cheeks were flushed red with mortification but she prevailed. At two, Dom headed back to the shop, when he got back there was one woman browsing the Tulips but otherwise it was quiet.

At four a small shipment of white lilies came in, but there wasn’t much to do, so one cup of tea and a broken pot later, Dom was driving home. He thought back upon a conversation He and Orli had had earlier,

‘Dom?’

‘Yeah?’

‘D’you think we spend too much time together?’

‘Not really. I mean, we work together, we’re friends. Why?’

‘Oh, nothing just something someone said.’ At that point he has slouched away to the back room and dropped it. Dom sighed.

He lived in a small flat above a small grocer’s. He’d painted the whole place white, but there were posters everywhere. He’d painted some walls black. In his living room, he had one poster. It was a cinema sized poster of Pulp Fiction. His couch was blue, though his life was tidy; the same could not be said about his flat. His clothes littered the floor of his room. He loved accessories and they too covered every available surface.

For dinner Dom went to the chip shop, and then sat upon a bench to eat. They always taste better sitting in the cold. He had blonde hair, and dark roots. He generally wore jeans, a shirt and bracelets. His shoes were scuffed, he wasn’t a careful walker, but they were comfortable. And that, he thought mattered more.

The next day, Dom awoke and did the same thing. He posted his letter and crossed before the lights. It was a grey day, but he had a good feeling about it. Work continued as usual, and after re-potting some Bee Orchids he ended his day and drove to the nearby hospital.

The building was grey, with symmetrical windows framed with dark green painted wood frames. The door was locked; you had to beep to get in. This was the type of place that you had to be expected, no impromptu visiting, it would upset the patients. But Dom was expected, every Wednesday afternoon he came here for two hours, two ‘till four.

‘Afternoon Cassie! How long is it now?’ He addressed the receptionist, a young woman with a kind smile and neat brown hair.

‘Hey Dom. Oh, only about six weeks now. I’m getting quite nervous, though nothing compared to Jasper. I can barely climb the stairs without him trying to help.’ She was referring to the child she was carrying. Her first.

‘How is he?’

‘He’s sleeping right now dear, so be quiet when you go in. But otherwise good, he has some news for you’ She had a secretive smile about her that put a matching smile upon his face. She was a refreshing character in such a dreary environment. Dom couldn’t imagine working on a cancer ward and still staying upbeat. He didn’t feel her had the strength of character.

He took a well worn track to the lift, pressed the button for the second floor and anticipated the jolt in his stomach as the lift kicked into action. It creaked and shuddered and it dragged itself up. Dom felt that every ride was an adventure, but he couldn’t for the life of him find the stairs. And he couldn’t ask now, he’d been coming here every week for six months now.

He walked along a hallway as grey as the rest of the building, with faded red carpet and vaguely peach walls. He counted doors until he came to number 34. He quietly stepped into the room to find a middle aged man sat up in bed. He had no hair, and his skin was pale and crinkled like paper. He looked, well, ill. But Dom supposed that was to be expected in a cancer ward.

‘Cassie told me you were asleep.’

‘I was. But I couldn’t sleep through your visit could I?’

‘You need your sleep Bernard.’

‘Nonsense, anyway I have news for you.’

‘Really? Finally managed to fix your radio?’

‘I wish. The blasted thing was broken when I got here. And now it’ll be broken when I leave.’

‘Ha. True enough. Wait, when you leave?’

‘It’s gone into remiss my lad. I am now Bernard Hill, cancer less extraordinaire!’ He had a flush to his face that went with a beaming smile.

‘Well then, we must celebrate! When do you get out?’

‘Friday. I’m getting picked up by Gabriel.’

‘Brilliant.’ Dom was grinning. Bernard took his hands.

‘I’d have never known if it wasn’t for you, you know. I could have died, and you’ll never imagine how unbelievably thankful I am. And just so you know, if you ever need anything-‘

‘Bernard-‘

‘Anything. Come to me alright?’

‘You don’t need to; it was the least I could do.’

‘I want to.’

‘Alright. Now, you up for a game of cards?’

‘Always, and tell me about your door people’

‘Ah, well you know the other week Viggo ordered that coffee table? Well it turns out that . . .’

Dom left the hospital a bit later than usual, and after leaving Cassie his phone number so they could stay in touch. He still wanted to know when she had the baby, he climbed into his car. An old yellow Ford, and drove away.

*************************

The next morning Billy Boyd woke up the persistent beeping of his human alarm clock. It was seven again.

*************************

Well, if you made it to the end, thanks for reading : )

billy boyd and dominic monaghan

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