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monaboyd Mar. 5th, 2004 02:10 pm)
writteninsable.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Mar. 5th, 2004 02:10 pm)Title: Straight Translators
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
red_moon_rising (or Cai)
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please.
Note #1: I don’t speak Gaelic at all and I don’t speak German all that wonderfully. What Gaelic I’ve got in this fic is there becase ofarabella_o and her wonderful translator-finding skills. *laughs* Thank google for the little bit of sushi stuff in this chapter, as google is my very lovely friend. The same rules apply to the sushi and the Gaelic as apply to the German. Translations at the bottom.
Note #2: Thanks so much toarabella_o for the beta and to mys1985 for the help with my German, once again.
Dedication: Tomys1985 and arabella_o, because they’re really just that wonderful. They put up with my pestering and my total randomness with grace and forbearance. And that’s an accomplishment. *grins* ***Thanks so much to blackazurite for the two little corrections to the German!
Disclaimer: Yes. This is all completely true. That’s why I’m writing it. Me. A girl from North Carolina who’s never met Dominic Monaghan or Billy Boyd. Because you see, I’m mentally connected to both of them and know their innermost secrets. Uh huh. Yeah. Right. *snorts*
Oops: I did it again. *laughs* Forgot to post the link to my memories.
After a few more glasses of Asahi, Viggo caught Billy glancing toward the exit with a look of quiet desperation on his face. He placed his glass firmly on the table and motioned for their waiter to come over, asking, “Could we have the check, please?” Then he looked at Dominic and suggested that, since it was just 1:30, they all take a break before they started the serious drinking.
Billy mouthed the words, Thank you, and stood up, saying, “I’ll just catch a cab back to my hotel…”
Dom stood, too, and reached for Billy’s arm as he said, “I thought you’d want to come back to my place…” He trailed off, though, seeing the look on Billy’s face.
Billy shook his head, eyes sliding toward the door as he rambled, “I’ve got some things I need to take care of…and these are the clothes I wore last night, so I’d like to change…and maybe get in a few hours of sleep before we start off the night, yeah?”
Dom let his hand fall away and forced a smile. Trying to act as though it didn’t matter, he asked, “Well, I’ll see you around eight then?”
“Eight’s good for me, what about you, Vig?” Billy turned away from Dom, trying to ignore the tugging in the back of his mind that told him he was missing something very obvious and very important.
Viggo just nodded to the waiter, handed over cash to cover the check, and smiled. “Eight should work wonderfully,” he said, “You two can stop over at my place and we’ll decide where to go from there, alright?”
Billy nodded, waved half-heartedly, and began to walk toward the door.
Dom made one last effort to get Billy to look at him, saying, “I could give you a ride to your hotel—”
Billy shook his head, taking a few more steps toward the exit. “No, that’s alright,” he said over his shoulder, “You go on home…I’ll just pick my car up later…”
Billy was barely able to contain his frustration when the taxi he’d caught got stuck in traffic on the way back to his hotel. It took him an hour to make a 15 minute drive.
When the taxi finally pulled up in front of his hotel he jumped out. Shoving a wad of cash into the driver’s hand he walked quickly through the front hall and to the elevators. It wasn’t until the elevator was passing the sixth floor that Billy checked he wallet and realized he’d handed the driver of the cab two one hundred dollar bills instead of two twenties. He was very tempted to bash his head against wall beside him. Only the fact that the elevator wall was mirrored saved his skull.
Making it up to the eleventh floor he jogged to his door. Anticipation curling in his stomach, he slipped his keycard into the electronic lock and waited for the green light to flash.
Once he got to the bedroom he took his laptop from his bag, plugged it into the outlet on the wall, and called the front desk to ask about internet service before remembering he had wireless.
Shaking his head at his momentary lapse of memory, Billy set about connecting to the internet. He pulled the rather bedraggled looking piece of paper from his pocket and set it on the bed next to him, propping the laptop on his knees.
He typed in “dictionary.com” and waited for the page to load, thanking any god who might be listening that his computer was faster than Dom’s. When the page was up, he scrolled down and found the “translator” link. He clicked that and waited for a moment while that page finished loading. Once it was done, he picked up the bit of yellow paper and typed in the words Viggo had written so neatly for him below Dom’s illegible scribble.
“Ich liebe dich.”
He clicked “translate” and got a message that he’d need to download a new alphabet onto his computer for the characters to be shown. His brow furrowed before he realized he was translating “from English to Simplified Chinese.”
If Billy had been sitting at a desk he would have hit his head on the table. Repeatedly. Thankfully, though, the bed was much more forgiving than wood, so there wasn't much point. Instead he just clicked the back button and typed in the German again, making sure he selected the correct languages before pressing “translate.”
“Holy fucking shit on a stick,” he breathed. Then he sat back, staring mutely at the computer screen, blinking rather rapidly at the words in the “English” box.
His chest was tight when he inhaled and he had to remind himself that breathing was essential to life, even if it was slightly painful.
Dom drove into the parking garage, staring straight ahead, his gaze never shifting toward Billy’s car where it sat next to The Best Pillar In The Whole Damn Parking Garage ™. Then he pursed his lips, thinking that he should really get a life and stop being such a bloody stupid tosser.
He parked, got out of his car, and walked purposefully through the bright yellow door, up the stairs, and through the hall, pausing only when he was at the door to his condo. Once inside he dropped his keys on the table, rather more forcefully than was necessary. He paced about the living room for a moment before deciding that yes, sleep was a good thing, and yes, it would probably be advantageous to fall into bed and let the world disappear for a bit.
Dom walked into his room and took his shirt off, balling it up and throwing it toward the hamper. He missed, but couldn’t be bothered to care as he tumbled into bed.
It wasn’t until he was snuggling up to the pillow that he realized things weren’t quite the same. It took him another moment to realize why.
His pillow smelled like Billy.
“Gottverdammt,” he cursed, flinging the pillow over the side of the bed.
He tried breathing slowly, but Billy’s scent lingered and he couldn’t get the sudden rush of almost-remembered sensation out of his mind.
Lips. I remember lips. The tender skin just beyond the chapped upper lip and the slippery slide of my tongue over teeth…
And why was he remembering that? He tried moving down toward the end of the bed, but the comforter was neatly folded there and it, too, smelled like Billy.
“What the fuck did he do? Roll all over everything?”
Dom finally stood up and headed for the living room, but something made him pause near the trash bin. He stopped and glanced at it, then moved closer and peered inside.
No piece of yellow paper.
His stomach seized, doing rather sharp flips, before deciding to settle in the general vicinity of his feet.
Calm. Calm is good. Maybe it just…fell behind something.
Dom checked behind the trash bin, behind the dresser and under the bed. When he didn’t find it he leaned his head against the drawer on his bedside table and tried to convince his lungs that inhaling was required for him to continue living.
Just as he decided that sinking into the floor would be a very good idea, he caught sight of a bit of yellow under the nightstand. It was crumpled up and obviously ripped from one of his many notepads. He sighed, relieved, and bent down to pick it up. Crushing the stupid declaration a bit more in his fist before he tossed it in the trash bin.
He didn’t even bother looking at what it said. He remembered the illegible scrawl and the words he would never be brave enough to say out loud.
Dominic snorted, standing and walking into the living room. Didn’t even have the guts to say the bloody sentence when I was drunk. Had to write it down…
He collapsed onto the couch, burrowing into the pillow and pulling the fuzzy blanket from the back over his arms and chest. He closed his eyes, Billy’s smell still haunting him, and just as he was drifting off he cursed the fact that Billy had spent so many nights on his bloody couch.
Dom was woken rather abruptly by the ringing next to his head and promptly fell off the couch trying to answer it. He only missed the table by the grace of whichever god happened to be paying attention at that moment.
“’Lo?” He mumbled, his mouth too close to the phone and his voice a little rough. His head was fuzzy, like it was stuffed with cotton, and he had to hold the ear piece a bit away from him as the person on the other end of the phone spoke.
“Hello, Dominic,” Viggo said with his usual calm and Dom turned the volume on his phone down. “It’s Vig. I was just calling to make sure you were conscious. It’s about 6:30. Were you going to pick up Billy, or would you like me to do that?”
“Uh…” Dom’s brain was on autopilot as he replied, “Nah, I’ll do it.”
Then he wished he’d thought before speaking, but it was too late to take it back because Viggo plowed right ahead with, “Alright. Then you can call him and make sure he’s conscious. I’ll see you two at my place at eight, then.”
“Yeah, sure. We’ll be there,” Dom replied. “Talk to you later, Vig.”
“Of course. Bye, Dom.”
Dom heard the soft click as Viggo rang off and he pushed the button on his phone to make the static go away. He sighed, straightening his back on the floor, and stared at the ceiling for a moment before dialing Billy’s hotel and requesting his room’s phone number.
Billy had left his computer on beside him, the page at dictionary.com still up, and had laid down on the bed. He’d stared at the ceiling, trying to block out the light from his little laptop, but he was unable to make the words stop flashing through his mind over and over again.
He must have dozed off, though, because when the phone began ringing he jolted up and tried desperately to make the screeching beside his bed go away.
“Oi?” His voice was muffled and he yawned, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line would forgive his rudeness.
“Hey Bills,” Dom’s voice was a little fuzzy, like his phone was about to die.
“’Lo, Dom,” he said, his throat trying to close around the words.
“Vig just woke me up. He wants me to give you a lift to his place before we drown your sorrows in the best scotch we can find. It’s about 6:30 now, so if you’ll be ready by seven we might make it to Vig’s by eight, depending on traffic,” Dom told him, and Billy had the distinct impression that his friend was rambling.
Of course he’s bloody rambling, Billy thought to himself, gazing at the ceiling and wishing it held all the answers to the questions dancing merrily about his skull.
“Hey Bill? That alright?” Dom sounded hesitant and Billy closed his eyes.
“Yeah, Dom, that sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs, alright?” Billy tried to take the strained note from his voice, but he didn’t think he’d succeeded.
“Everything alright, Bills?”
“Everything’s just…peachy, Dom. I’ll see you in a few. Must shower and whatnot,” Billy replied, continuing with, “So I’ll talk to you when I see you downstairs, bye,” before he pulled the phone from his ear and set it gently in it’s cradle.
He rolled over, the blankets twisting around his chest just a bit more tightly than could be considered comfortable, and stared at the computer screen still glowing on the bed beside him.
The words in the “translated” box hadn’t changed.
And he had to get up.
Dom would be downstairs in a little less than 30 minutes. And, depending on traffic, they would be at Viggo’s by eight. Then, come hell or high water, he was going to get as drunk as was humanly possible.
Billy was downstairs, hair still damp from his shower, at 6:58. Dom’s car pulled up in front of the hotel at 7:02 and Billy climbed in the passenger side. He didn’t look directly at Dom, just nodded vaguely and wished Viggo didn’t live quite so far away. The quicker the drive was over the quicker he’d be able to dive into a bottle of scotch and let the problems tap-dancing through his skull with the subtlety of an elephant fade away.
Dom chattered.
He did that a lot when he was nervous. And Billy supposed he must have been very nervous, because he simply wouldn’t shut up. Billy kept nodding his head, though, and made the odd noise every now and then when he thought it would be required to convey a certain amount of agreement.
It was 7:56 when they drove up Vig’s driveway and Billy looked at the front door like it was salvation incarnate.
“Well, here we are, Bills,” Dom said, parking the car and opening his door. Billy took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened his own, climbing out and shutting it with a loud clang. They walked up to the front door and Dom rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently for Viggo to answer. “Took you long enough,” Dom muttered when Viggo finally opened the door.
He just smiled, stepped aside, and waved them in, saying, “Had to disengage from a conversation.”
Billy felt his eyebrows arching when he heard, quite distinctly, “’Bout bloody time you two showed up,” and Orlando came positively waltzing through the door to the hall that lead to the living room.
Dom just grinned, something like relief showing through for a moment, before he was engulfed in an embrace by the taller man.
“Hey,” Billy said when Orlando swooped down on him. “Good to see you! Didn’t realize you’d be in town…”
“Neither did I,” Orlando replied, and Billy could quite distinctly smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Been into the liquor cabinet already then, have you?” He asked, shaking his head and pulling away from the other man.
“Well, maybe a bit,” Orlando replied sheepishly, and Billy thought he might be telling the truth. He wasn’t weaving nearly as much as he would have been if he’d had more than a few drinks.
Billy just shook his head and smiled, asking, “So where are we planning on going, then?”
“Well,” Viggo began, only to have Orlando interrupt him.
“Here,” Orlando grinned, clearly enjoying the look on Billy’s face.
“What?” Dom asked, eyebrows rising as he looked from Viggo to Orlando and back again.
Viggo shook his head, explaining, “Orlando and I thought it would be a good idea to just stay here. I’ve got enough alcohol in the cabinet to please you two, since you’ll want the hard stuff. I’ve also got wine and champagne.”
Orlando nodded, elaborating upon Viggo’s point with, “And, really, since we’re all planning on getting totally sloshed, it’s probably a good idea that we’re not tempted to drive. That means you two pretties will be staying over.”
Billy blinked, looking at Viggo as he asked, “Are you sure he hasn’t had more vodka than is good for him?”
Viggo grinned and replied, “Well, his explanation could use some work, but ultimately that’s what I was going to suggest. I’ve got more than enough room here, you know.” He waved them into the hallway and then on to the living room while he asked, “So what would you two like?”
“Scotch,” Billy answered automatically, seating himself in a chair and leaning back into the cushions.
“Beer’s good,” Dom answered, sitting on the end of the couch farthest from Billy and glancing up at the photographs lining the walls. “Can’t believe you’ve still got some of these, Vig,” he said over his shoulder as Viggo rummaged through a cabinet near the entrance to the kitchen.
“Why not?”
“Dunno. Just…” he shrugged, despite the fact that Vig’s back was turned.
Orlando chose that moment to throw himself down lengthwise across the couch, tossing a leg over Dominic’s lap and throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes as he exclaimed, “Oh woe! For I am Dominic Monaghan and I am inarticulate.”
Dom hit him. Not hard, but he hit him nonetheless. Then he grinned rather wickedly and said, “Du bist völlig daneben! Ich bin sehr sprachgewandt, nur verstehst du meine Genialität nicht."
Orlando just laughed, throwing his head back and exposing the lines of his throat to the room. Billy wondered if Viggo would have found the moment and the pose picture-worthy.
It was lost, though, when Vig walked over and handed Billy his scotch, saying, “I’ll be right back with your beer, Dom.” His eyes fixed fondly on Orlando before he turned toward the kitchen.
Silence fell, and if it was a little awkward, well, only Billy noticed. He spared a moment to wonder why Orlando hadn’t whacked Dom back for using German, but let the though drift away. He stared at the two men on the couch, watching as Orlando busily chattered at Dom about how inarticulate he was. And that Dom was trying not to laugh. Neither of them paid much attention to Billy as he sat in his chair sipping his scotch. The burn was welcome, sliding down his throat and pooling in his stomach before spreading through his blood.
Viggo returned, handing Dom his beer and Orlando a drink that looked suspiciously like Sprite, before sitting down opposite Billy and saying, “If you want anything, feel free to get it.”
The evening progressed slowly, at first, as Billy nursed his single scotch and Dom his first beer. But things began moving a bit more quickly as the number of drinks consumed increased.
Orlando revealed, after his forth refill, that his Sprite-like drink was actually just vodka mixed with a bit of Sierra Mist. “Toss in a bit of ice and you’ve got the perfect drink,” he explained, gesturing with his almost empty glass as he continued, “And I need another.” He stood, only wobbling a tiny bit as he made his way around one end of the couch and took careful steps toward the kitchen.
Viggo shook his head, set his gin and tonic on the table near his chair, and stood, following Orlando to the kitchen.
When the swinging door finally shut completely Billy stared at the table between the couch and his chair while Dom gazed at the pictures on the walls.
The silence, Billy decided, is deafening.
He didn’t like the way things were going this evening. He didn’t like the stiffness in Dom’s voice when he spoke or the fact that every time his gaze tracked down Dom’s arms to his hands, little fluttering sensations invaded his stomach, intent on destroying what little composure he’d been able to maintain.
It reminded him of how things with Ali had ended, of the huge spaces of time during which neither of them said anything. He remembered sitting like this and watching her gossip with her friends in their living room, wondering why neither of them said a word to each other and how her friends never seemed to notice.
He didn’t want to sit here brooding. He didn’t want things with Dom to go to hell.
So Billy made a decision, not really considering what might happen afterward or what, exactly, was prompting him to do what he was about to do.
It occurred to him as he drew breath to speak that alcohol really did lend strength when one was weak. And he paused before speaking to wonder just how afraid Dominic must have been of what he’d written on that paper if it had taken so much alcohol to make him write it out in a language Billy had very little hope of understanding.
Dom stared at the photographs, trying his best to ignore the fact that Billy wasn’t looking at him.
He didn’t know why, but he’d gotten this feeling that something was really quite wrong.
Gee, Monaghan, what was your first clue? The fact that he didn’t say a word the entire drive over, or that he’s not said one since getting his first scotch? Dom wondered how his mental voice was able to break out of its little box and resolved to build a better one later. Right now he was seriously contemplating debating whether to get some vodka or keep on with his beer. He was already on his third.
He’d just decided that vodka would be a good thing when Billy said, “I love you.”
He froze, hand still preparing to reach for the arm of the couch so he could lever himself up and escape the tension in the room.
“Excuse me?” He asked, his voice squeaking a bit. He was furious with himself for sounding so panicky, but he couldn’t stop the panic from bubbling up inside him.
Billy looked him in the eye for the first time that night, voice low and steady despite the fact that he’d had more concentrated alcohol than Dom all evening and was slowly working on his fifth scotch.
“That’s what the bloody note said.”
Dom’s chest constricted, his vision narrowed, and his breathing stopped. He gasped, trying to force air into his lungs, but they wouldn’t cooperate. The buzzing in his ears, he decided, probably had more to do with the fact that his mind didn’t want to hear whatever was coming next than lack of oxygen at that point.
But the low buzzing couldn’t keep out Billy’s words when they came. It couldn’t drown out the sound of Billy’s voice saying, “Damn it, Dom. You bloody fucking cunt.”
Dom just closed he eyes, letting his hand drop down beside him and his head fall back against the cushion. The fact that Billy had said all that without any real inflection, without true emotion, only hurt more.
This is all so surreal, Dom thought vaguely while the wonderfully grounded part of his mind was trying to work out how best to respond to that.
Unfortunately, though, the panicky portion of his brain overrode the smart portion and he heard himself saying to the ceiling, “I thought you were someone else.”
When he heard the clink of glass on glass he just screwed his eyes more tightly shut and prayed that Billy wouldn’t hit him too hard.
Instead he heard the words, “Tha mi duilich. Tha mi…gòrach,” whispered softly and the heavy tread of footsteps on the hardwood floor to his right.
Then silence.
When Viggo came back into his living room a few moments later he found Dominic with his eyes shut so tightly he thought they might never open again and Billy’s half-full glass of scotch on the coffee table.
“That,” he said softly, his tone gently chiding, “Was probably not the best thing to say, Dominic.”
Orlando came crashing into the room through the kitchen door a moment later and yelled, “Bloody foolish thing to say, you daft tosser! What the fuck’s wrong with that brain of yours? Or don’t you have one anymore?”
Dom just groaned, eyes still shut, and let himself slide sideways until he could curl up, his beer forgotten beside him. He whispered into the cushion, “Verdammt nochmal, bring mir noch ein Bier, bevor ich einen von euch oder gleich beide umbringe... Vodka wäre sogar noch besser…”
“English, you fucking twat, English!” Orlando’s voice was reaching amazing volumes and Dom wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep himself from punching Orlando’s too-pretty teeth into the back of his too-pretty skull.
“Vodka, you arse. Bring me vodka,” he ground out, clenching his hands into fists and praying Viggo would have the sense to keep Orlando quiet.
Translations:
Sushi:
Asahi – Japanese beer
German:
Ich liebe dich – I love you (Come on, y’all. If you don’t learn anything else from this fic, at least learn that “Ich liebe dich” is German for “I love you.” *headdesk* I’ve used it often enough. *grins*)
Gottverdammt – Goddamn
Du bist völlig daneben! Ich bin sehr sprachgewandt, nur verstehst du meine Genialität nicht – You’re totally off the mark! I’m very articulate; you just can’t understand my genius
Verdammt nochmal, bring mir noch ein Bier, bevor ich einen von euch oder gleich beide umbringe... Vodka wäre sogar noch besser – Fucking hell, get me another beer before I kill one or both of you...vodka would be better than beer
Gaelic:
Tha mi duilich. Tha mi…gòrach – I’m sorry. I’m…stupid.
Chapter 8 has been sent off to the beta. Will begin work on Chapter 9 sometime today.
~Cai
Author:
red_moon_rising (or Cai)Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please.
Note #1: I don’t speak Gaelic at all and I don’t speak German all that wonderfully. What Gaelic I’ve got in this fic is there becase of
arabella_o and her wonderful translator-finding skills. *laughs* Thank google for the little bit of sushi stuff in this chapter, as google is my very lovely friend. The same rules apply to the sushi and the Gaelic as apply to the German. Translations at the bottom.Note #2: Thanks so much to
arabella_o for the beta and to mys1985 for the help with my German, once again.Dedication: To
mys1985 and arabella_o, because they’re really just that wonderful. They put up with my pestering and my total randomness with grace and forbearance. And that’s an accomplishment. *grins* ***Thanks so much to blackazurite for the two little corrections to the German!Disclaimer: Yes. This is all completely true. That’s why I’m writing it. Me. A girl from North Carolina who’s never met Dominic Monaghan or Billy Boyd. Because you see, I’m mentally connected to both of them and know their innermost secrets. Uh huh. Yeah. Right. *snorts*
Oops: I did it again. *laughs* Forgot to post the link to my memories.
After a few more glasses of Asahi, Viggo caught Billy glancing toward the exit with a look of quiet desperation on his face. He placed his glass firmly on the table and motioned for their waiter to come over, asking, “Could we have the check, please?” Then he looked at Dominic and suggested that, since it was just 1:30, they all take a break before they started the serious drinking.
Billy mouthed the words, Thank you, and stood up, saying, “I’ll just catch a cab back to my hotel…”
Dom stood, too, and reached for Billy’s arm as he said, “I thought you’d want to come back to my place…” He trailed off, though, seeing the look on Billy’s face.
Billy shook his head, eyes sliding toward the door as he rambled, “I’ve got some things I need to take care of…and these are the clothes I wore last night, so I’d like to change…and maybe get in a few hours of sleep before we start off the night, yeah?”
Dom let his hand fall away and forced a smile. Trying to act as though it didn’t matter, he asked, “Well, I’ll see you around eight then?”
“Eight’s good for me, what about you, Vig?” Billy turned away from Dom, trying to ignore the tugging in the back of his mind that told him he was missing something very obvious and very important.
Viggo just nodded to the waiter, handed over cash to cover the check, and smiled. “Eight should work wonderfully,” he said, “You two can stop over at my place and we’ll decide where to go from there, alright?”
Billy nodded, waved half-heartedly, and began to walk toward the door.
Dom made one last effort to get Billy to look at him, saying, “I could give you a ride to your hotel—”
Billy shook his head, taking a few more steps toward the exit. “No, that’s alright,” he said over his shoulder, “You go on home…I’ll just pick my car up later…”
Billy was barely able to contain his frustration when the taxi he’d caught got stuck in traffic on the way back to his hotel. It took him an hour to make a 15 minute drive.
When the taxi finally pulled up in front of his hotel he jumped out. Shoving a wad of cash into the driver’s hand he walked quickly through the front hall and to the elevators. It wasn’t until the elevator was passing the sixth floor that Billy checked he wallet and realized he’d handed the driver of the cab two one hundred dollar bills instead of two twenties. He was very tempted to bash his head against wall beside him. Only the fact that the elevator wall was mirrored saved his skull.
Making it up to the eleventh floor he jogged to his door. Anticipation curling in his stomach, he slipped his keycard into the electronic lock and waited for the green light to flash.
Once he got to the bedroom he took his laptop from his bag, plugged it into the outlet on the wall, and called the front desk to ask about internet service before remembering he had wireless.
Shaking his head at his momentary lapse of memory, Billy set about connecting to the internet. He pulled the rather bedraggled looking piece of paper from his pocket and set it on the bed next to him, propping the laptop on his knees.
He typed in “dictionary.com” and waited for the page to load, thanking any god who might be listening that his computer was faster than Dom’s. When the page was up, he scrolled down and found the “translator” link. He clicked that and waited for a moment while that page finished loading. Once it was done, he picked up the bit of yellow paper and typed in the words Viggo had written so neatly for him below Dom’s illegible scribble.
“Ich liebe dich.”
He clicked “translate” and got a message that he’d need to download a new alphabet onto his computer for the characters to be shown. His brow furrowed before he realized he was translating “from English to Simplified Chinese.”
If Billy had been sitting at a desk he would have hit his head on the table. Repeatedly. Thankfully, though, the bed was much more forgiving than wood, so there wasn't much point. Instead he just clicked the back button and typed in the German again, making sure he selected the correct languages before pressing “translate.”
“Holy fucking shit on a stick,” he breathed. Then he sat back, staring mutely at the computer screen, blinking rather rapidly at the words in the “English” box.
His chest was tight when he inhaled and he had to remind himself that breathing was essential to life, even if it was slightly painful.
Dom drove into the parking garage, staring straight ahead, his gaze never shifting toward Billy’s car where it sat next to The Best Pillar In The Whole Damn Parking Garage ™. Then he pursed his lips, thinking that he should really get a life and stop being such a bloody stupid tosser.
He parked, got out of his car, and walked purposefully through the bright yellow door, up the stairs, and through the hall, pausing only when he was at the door to his condo. Once inside he dropped his keys on the table, rather more forcefully than was necessary. He paced about the living room for a moment before deciding that yes, sleep was a good thing, and yes, it would probably be advantageous to fall into bed and let the world disappear for a bit.
Dom walked into his room and took his shirt off, balling it up and throwing it toward the hamper. He missed, but couldn’t be bothered to care as he tumbled into bed.
It wasn’t until he was snuggling up to the pillow that he realized things weren’t quite the same. It took him another moment to realize why.
His pillow smelled like Billy.
“Gottverdammt,” he cursed, flinging the pillow over the side of the bed.
He tried breathing slowly, but Billy’s scent lingered and he couldn’t get the sudden rush of almost-remembered sensation out of his mind.
Lips. I remember lips. The tender skin just beyond the chapped upper lip and the slippery slide of my tongue over teeth…
And why was he remembering that? He tried moving down toward the end of the bed, but the comforter was neatly folded there and it, too, smelled like Billy.
“What the fuck did he do? Roll all over everything?”
Dom finally stood up and headed for the living room, but something made him pause near the trash bin. He stopped and glanced at it, then moved closer and peered inside.
No piece of yellow paper.
His stomach seized, doing rather sharp flips, before deciding to settle in the general vicinity of his feet.
Calm. Calm is good. Maybe it just…fell behind something.
Dom checked behind the trash bin, behind the dresser and under the bed. When he didn’t find it he leaned his head against the drawer on his bedside table and tried to convince his lungs that inhaling was required for him to continue living.
Just as he decided that sinking into the floor would be a very good idea, he caught sight of a bit of yellow under the nightstand. It was crumpled up and obviously ripped from one of his many notepads. He sighed, relieved, and bent down to pick it up. Crushing the stupid declaration a bit more in his fist before he tossed it in the trash bin.
He didn’t even bother looking at what it said. He remembered the illegible scrawl and the words he would never be brave enough to say out loud.
Dominic snorted, standing and walking into the living room. Didn’t even have the guts to say the bloody sentence when I was drunk. Had to write it down…
He collapsed onto the couch, burrowing into the pillow and pulling the fuzzy blanket from the back over his arms and chest. He closed his eyes, Billy’s smell still haunting him, and just as he was drifting off he cursed the fact that Billy had spent so many nights on his bloody couch.
Dom was woken rather abruptly by the ringing next to his head and promptly fell off the couch trying to answer it. He only missed the table by the grace of whichever god happened to be paying attention at that moment.
“’Lo?” He mumbled, his mouth too close to the phone and his voice a little rough. His head was fuzzy, like it was stuffed with cotton, and he had to hold the ear piece a bit away from him as the person on the other end of the phone spoke.
“Hello, Dominic,” Viggo said with his usual calm and Dom turned the volume on his phone down. “It’s Vig. I was just calling to make sure you were conscious. It’s about 6:30. Were you going to pick up Billy, or would you like me to do that?”
“Uh…” Dom’s brain was on autopilot as he replied, “Nah, I’ll do it.”
Then he wished he’d thought before speaking, but it was too late to take it back because Viggo plowed right ahead with, “Alright. Then you can call him and make sure he’s conscious. I’ll see you two at my place at eight, then.”
“Yeah, sure. We’ll be there,” Dom replied. “Talk to you later, Vig.”
“Of course. Bye, Dom.”
Dom heard the soft click as Viggo rang off and he pushed the button on his phone to make the static go away. He sighed, straightening his back on the floor, and stared at the ceiling for a moment before dialing Billy’s hotel and requesting his room’s phone number.
Billy had left his computer on beside him, the page at dictionary.com still up, and had laid down on the bed. He’d stared at the ceiling, trying to block out the light from his little laptop, but he was unable to make the words stop flashing through his mind over and over again.
He must have dozed off, though, because when the phone began ringing he jolted up and tried desperately to make the screeching beside his bed go away.
“Oi?” His voice was muffled and he yawned, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line would forgive his rudeness.
“Hey Bills,” Dom’s voice was a little fuzzy, like his phone was about to die.
“’Lo, Dom,” he said, his throat trying to close around the words.
“Vig just woke me up. He wants me to give you a lift to his place before we drown your sorrows in the best scotch we can find. It’s about 6:30 now, so if you’ll be ready by seven we might make it to Vig’s by eight, depending on traffic,” Dom told him, and Billy had the distinct impression that his friend was rambling.
Of course he’s bloody rambling, Billy thought to himself, gazing at the ceiling and wishing it held all the answers to the questions dancing merrily about his skull.
“Hey Bill? That alright?” Dom sounded hesitant and Billy closed his eyes.
“Yeah, Dom, that sounds good. I’ll meet you downstairs, alright?” Billy tried to take the strained note from his voice, but he didn’t think he’d succeeded.
“Everything alright, Bills?”
“Everything’s just…peachy, Dom. I’ll see you in a few. Must shower and whatnot,” Billy replied, continuing with, “So I’ll talk to you when I see you downstairs, bye,” before he pulled the phone from his ear and set it gently in it’s cradle.
He rolled over, the blankets twisting around his chest just a bit more tightly than could be considered comfortable, and stared at the computer screen still glowing on the bed beside him.
The words in the “translated” box hadn’t changed.
And he had to get up.
Dom would be downstairs in a little less than 30 minutes. And, depending on traffic, they would be at Viggo’s by eight. Then, come hell or high water, he was going to get as drunk as was humanly possible.
Billy was downstairs, hair still damp from his shower, at 6:58. Dom’s car pulled up in front of the hotel at 7:02 and Billy climbed in the passenger side. He didn’t look directly at Dom, just nodded vaguely and wished Viggo didn’t live quite so far away. The quicker the drive was over the quicker he’d be able to dive into a bottle of scotch and let the problems tap-dancing through his skull with the subtlety of an elephant fade away.
Dom chattered.
He did that a lot when he was nervous. And Billy supposed he must have been very nervous, because he simply wouldn’t shut up. Billy kept nodding his head, though, and made the odd noise every now and then when he thought it would be required to convey a certain amount of agreement.
It was 7:56 when they drove up Vig’s driveway and Billy looked at the front door like it was salvation incarnate.
“Well, here we are, Bills,” Dom said, parking the car and opening his door. Billy took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened his own, climbing out and shutting it with a loud clang. They walked up to the front door and Dom rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently for Viggo to answer. “Took you long enough,” Dom muttered when Viggo finally opened the door.
He just smiled, stepped aside, and waved them in, saying, “Had to disengage from a conversation.”
Billy felt his eyebrows arching when he heard, quite distinctly, “’Bout bloody time you two showed up,” and Orlando came positively waltzing through the door to the hall that lead to the living room.
Dom just grinned, something like relief showing through for a moment, before he was engulfed in an embrace by the taller man.
“Hey,” Billy said when Orlando swooped down on him. “Good to see you! Didn’t realize you’d be in town…”
“Neither did I,” Orlando replied, and Billy could quite distinctly smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Been into the liquor cabinet already then, have you?” He asked, shaking his head and pulling away from the other man.
“Well, maybe a bit,” Orlando replied sheepishly, and Billy thought he might be telling the truth. He wasn’t weaving nearly as much as he would have been if he’d had more than a few drinks.
Billy just shook his head and smiled, asking, “So where are we planning on going, then?”
“Well,” Viggo began, only to have Orlando interrupt him.
“Here,” Orlando grinned, clearly enjoying the look on Billy’s face.
“What?” Dom asked, eyebrows rising as he looked from Viggo to Orlando and back again.
Viggo shook his head, explaining, “Orlando and I thought it would be a good idea to just stay here. I’ve got enough alcohol in the cabinet to please you two, since you’ll want the hard stuff. I’ve also got wine and champagne.”
Orlando nodded, elaborating upon Viggo’s point with, “And, really, since we’re all planning on getting totally sloshed, it’s probably a good idea that we’re not tempted to drive. That means you two pretties will be staying over.”
Billy blinked, looking at Viggo as he asked, “Are you sure he hasn’t had more vodka than is good for him?”
Viggo grinned and replied, “Well, his explanation could use some work, but ultimately that’s what I was going to suggest. I’ve got more than enough room here, you know.” He waved them into the hallway and then on to the living room while he asked, “So what would you two like?”
“Scotch,” Billy answered automatically, seating himself in a chair and leaning back into the cushions.
“Beer’s good,” Dom answered, sitting on the end of the couch farthest from Billy and glancing up at the photographs lining the walls. “Can’t believe you’ve still got some of these, Vig,” he said over his shoulder as Viggo rummaged through a cabinet near the entrance to the kitchen.
“Why not?”
“Dunno. Just…” he shrugged, despite the fact that Vig’s back was turned.
Orlando chose that moment to throw himself down lengthwise across the couch, tossing a leg over Dominic’s lap and throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes as he exclaimed, “Oh woe! For I am Dominic Monaghan and I am inarticulate.”
Dom hit him. Not hard, but he hit him nonetheless. Then he grinned rather wickedly and said, “Du bist völlig daneben! Ich bin sehr sprachgewandt, nur verstehst du meine Genialität nicht."
Orlando just laughed, throwing his head back and exposing the lines of his throat to the room. Billy wondered if Viggo would have found the moment and the pose picture-worthy.
It was lost, though, when Vig walked over and handed Billy his scotch, saying, “I’ll be right back with your beer, Dom.” His eyes fixed fondly on Orlando before he turned toward the kitchen.
Silence fell, and if it was a little awkward, well, only Billy noticed. He spared a moment to wonder why Orlando hadn’t whacked Dom back for using German, but let the though drift away. He stared at the two men on the couch, watching as Orlando busily chattered at Dom about how inarticulate he was. And that Dom was trying not to laugh. Neither of them paid much attention to Billy as he sat in his chair sipping his scotch. The burn was welcome, sliding down his throat and pooling in his stomach before spreading through his blood.
Viggo returned, handing Dom his beer and Orlando a drink that looked suspiciously like Sprite, before sitting down opposite Billy and saying, “If you want anything, feel free to get it.”
The evening progressed slowly, at first, as Billy nursed his single scotch and Dom his first beer. But things began moving a bit more quickly as the number of drinks consumed increased.
Orlando revealed, after his forth refill, that his Sprite-like drink was actually just vodka mixed with a bit of Sierra Mist. “Toss in a bit of ice and you’ve got the perfect drink,” he explained, gesturing with his almost empty glass as he continued, “And I need another.” He stood, only wobbling a tiny bit as he made his way around one end of the couch and took careful steps toward the kitchen.
Viggo shook his head, set his gin and tonic on the table near his chair, and stood, following Orlando to the kitchen.
When the swinging door finally shut completely Billy stared at the table between the couch and his chair while Dom gazed at the pictures on the walls.
The silence, Billy decided, is deafening.
He didn’t like the way things were going this evening. He didn’t like the stiffness in Dom’s voice when he spoke or the fact that every time his gaze tracked down Dom’s arms to his hands, little fluttering sensations invaded his stomach, intent on destroying what little composure he’d been able to maintain.
It reminded him of how things with Ali had ended, of the huge spaces of time during which neither of them said anything. He remembered sitting like this and watching her gossip with her friends in their living room, wondering why neither of them said a word to each other and how her friends never seemed to notice.
He didn’t want to sit here brooding. He didn’t want things with Dom to go to hell.
So Billy made a decision, not really considering what might happen afterward or what, exactly, was prompting him to do what he was about to do.
It occurred to him as he drew breath to speak that alcohol really did lend strength when one was weak. And he paused before speaking to wonder just how afraid Dominic must have been of what he’d written on that paper if it had taken so much alcohol to make him write it out in a language Billy had very little hope of understanding.
Dom stared at the photographs, trying his best to ignore the fact that Billy wasn’t looking at him.
He didn’t know why, but he’d gotten this feeling that something was really quite wrong.
Gee, Monaghan, what was your first clue? The fact that he didn’t say a word the entire drive over, or that he’s not said one since getting his first scotch? Dom wondered how his mental voice was able to break out of its little box and resolved to build a better one later. Right now he was seriously contemplating debating whether to get some vodka or keep on with his beer. He was already on his third.
He’d just decided that vodka would be a good thing when Billy said, “I love you.”
He froze, hand still preparing to reach for the arm of the couch so he could lever himself up and escape the tension in the room.
“Excuse me?” He asked, his voice squeaking a bit. He was furious with himself for sounding so panicky, but he couldn’t stop the panic from bubbling up inside him.
Billy looked him in the eye for the first time that night, voice low and steady despite the fact that he’d had more concentrated alcohol than Dom all evening and was slowly working on his fifth scotch.
“That’s what the bloody note said.”
Dom’s chest constricted, his vision narrowed, and his breathing stopped. He gasped, trying to force air into his lungs, but they wouldn’t cooperate. The buzzing in his ears, he decided, probably had more to do with the fact that his mind didn’t want to hear whatever was coming next than lack of oxygen at that point.
But the low buzzing couldn’t keep out Billy’s words when they came. It couldn’t drown out the sound of Billy’s voice saying, “Damn it, Dom. You bloody fucking cunt.”
Dom just closed he eyes, letting his hand drop down beside him and his head fall back against the cushion. The fact that Billy had said all that without any real inflection, without true emotion, only hurt more.
This is all so surreal, Dom thought vaguely while the wonderfully grounded part of his mind was trying to work out how best to respond to that.
Unfortunately, though, the panicky portion of his brain overrode the smart portion and he heard himself saying to the ceiling, “I thought you were someone else.”
When he heard the clink of glass on glass he just screwed his eyes more tightly shut and prayed that Billy wouldn’t hit him too hard.
Instead he heard the words, “Tha mi duilich. Tha mi…gòrach,” whispered softly and the heavy tread of footsteps on the hardwood floor to his right.
Then silence.
When Viggo came back into his living room a few moments later he found Dominic with his eyes shut so tightly he thought they might never open again and Billy’s half-full glass of scotch on the coffee table.
“That,” he said softly, his tone gently chiding, “Was probably not the best thing to say, Dominic.”
Orlando came crashing into the room through the kitchen door a moment later and yelled, “Bloody foolish thing to say, you daft tosser! What the fuck’s wrong with that brain of yours? Or don’t you have one anymore?”
Dom just groaned, eyes still shut, and let himself slide sideways until he could curl up, his beer forgotten beside him. He whispered into the cushion, “Verdammt nochmal, bring mir noch ein Bier, bevor ich einen von euch oder gleich beide umbringe... Vodka wäre sogar noch besser…”
“English, you fucking twat, English!” Orlando’s voice was reaching amazing volumes and Dom wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep himself from punching Orlando’s too-pretty teeth into the back of his too-pretty skull.
“Vodka, you arse. Bring me vodka,” he ground out, clenching his hands into fists and praying Viggo would have the sense to keep Orlando quiet.
Translations:
Sushi:
Asahi – Japanese beer
German:
Ich liebe dich – I love you (Come on, y’all. If you don’t learn anything else from this fic, at least learn that “Ich liebe dich” is German for “I love you.” *headdesk* I’ve used it often enough. *grins*)
Gottverdammt – Goddamn
Du bist völlig daneben! Ich bin sehr sprachgewandt, nur verstehst du meine Genialität nicht – You’re totally off the mark! I’m very articulate; you just can’t understand my genius
Verdammt nochmal, bring mir noch ein Bier, bevor ich einen von euch oder gleich beide umbringe... Vodka wäre sogar noch besser – Fucking hell, get me another beer before I kill one or both of you...vodka would be better than beer
Gaelic:
Tha mi duilich. Tha mi…gòrach – I’m sorry. I’m…stupid.
Chapter 8 has been sent off to the beta. Will begin work on Chapter 9 sometime today.
~Cai
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