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monaboyd Jan. 10th, 2004 11:51 pm)
lavitanuova.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 10th, 2004 11:51 pm)ice cream ficlet
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
glass_moment, lavitanuova
Rating: G
Pairing: Monaboyd
Summary: Dom wants ice cream.
Because I toldglass_moment that I wanted ice cream and Monaboyd fluff and she provided.
"I want some ice cream."
Billy blinks. He blinks because this is not what you usually expect to hear when waking someone up an hour and a half after saying goodnight to them because you've overslept and have to leave in five minutes. He blinks because it is a good excuse to close his eyes for a moment. He blinks slowly because it seems to take an inordinate amount of effort to get them back open again.
"Ice cream. Ice cream is good," he formulates slowly. "Especially ice cream with chocolate chips," Dom continues without even cracking an eyelid. "And...chocolate syrup on it."
There is a pause in which a thought along the lines of what the bloody hell is wrong with this man? Appears in vaguely visible patches through the clearing fog of Billy's brain. There is a pause in which Dom considers opening his eyes because seeing Billy looking like some leftover fragment of a dream might just be worth the light and the admission that it is, indeed morning and he does, indeed, have to get up and go to work and pretend. Then he realizes that he will see this whenever he decides to open his eyes, regardless of if that moment is now or the ever elusive later. Besides, Billy's slow, sleep-muffled voice is just as pleasant a thing to wake up to. Drowsily, he pulls his mind back to the words it seems to insist on stringing together. Ice cream. Right.
"Damn it. I had to go and think about it," He adds.
"Dom…you do know that you sound like a menopausal woman, right?"
---
Dom grunts and squeezes his eyes shut.
"And besides that, it's feckin' fifteen degrees outside. Who wants ice cream when they're already ready a feckin' popsicle?"
"Me." Dom says, "Now either go 'way or bring me some bloody ice cream."
"Get your lazy arse up if you want ice cream. Don't even think we have any."
"'m not a menopausal woman either." Dom replies halfheartedly, and about half a minute too late. "Just... want... ice cream." He buries his face in the pillow, practically tasting the thick, rich syrup... warm, soothing to his tongue and the roof of his mouth in comparison to the frosty vanilla ice cream.
"Dom. Get up. We're late."
"Don't care. Come back to bed."
"Dom."
"Billy. I'm serious, too. Either get back in bed, or let me fuckin' sleep." And with that, Dom promptly turns his back to Billy and yanks the covers up. Billy knows the motions well, he's seen it before - it means quite clearly that Dom will be asleep within the minute and will not take kindly at all to another disturbance.
Billy stands up, stretching his arms high above his head. He thinks about yanking the blankets down, or tugging at Dom's pillow - one last little parting jolt, but decides against it. Dom is already back into his dreamworld, his hazy little coccoon of ice cream and chocolate toppings and whatever else graces the innermost thoughts of one Dominic Monaghan on this cold January mid-morning.
Four hours later, Dom stumbles out of the bedroom, groggy but well rested. He only vaguely recalls seeing Billy's blurry face looming above him earlier that morning, but the conversation itself escapes him until his eyes come to rest on the kitchen table. There's a note, in Billy's handwriting - small handwriting, neat with its rounded edges and thin letters. Dom knows from experience to refrain from using the word 'feminine' when describing anything about Billy, even his handwriting, for Billy tends to be a bit touchy about that. He rubs at the grit in the corners of eye with a one palm, yawning widely and reaching for the paper with the other hand.
Billy's gone to a meeting with his agent, the note tells him, and he'll be back before dinner but he's left a little surprise for Dom in the freezer. Dom lets the paper drop back down to the round, wooden table and opens the freezer, shivering a bit from the blast of cold air into an already chilly room. His eyes flutter open and closed once or twice and a slow grin creeps onto his face. Between the microwavable pizza and a large bag of ice sits one carton of vanilla ice cream, with chocolate chips, and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
Authors:
glass_moment, lavitanuovaRating: G
Pairing: Monaboyd
Summary: Dom wants ice cream.
Because I told
glass_moment that I wanted ice cream and Monaboyd fluff and she provided. "I want some ice cream."
Billy blinks. He blinks because this is not what you usually expect to hear when waking someone up an hour and a half after saying goodnight to them because you've overslept and have to leave in five minutes. He blinks because it is a good excuse to close his eyes for a moment. He blinks slowly because it seems to take an inordinate amount of effort to get them back open again.
"Ice cream. Ice cream is good," he formulates slowly. "Especially ice cream with chocolate chips," Dom continues without even cracking an eyelid. "And...chocolate syrup on it."
There is a pause in which a thought along the lines of what the bloody hell is wrong with this man? Appears in vaguely visible patches through the clearing fog of Billy's brain. There is a pause in which Dom considers opening his eyes because seeing Billy looking like some leftover fragment of a dream might just be worth the light and the admission that it is, indeed morning and he does, indeed, have to get up and go to work and pretend. Then he realizes that he will see this whenever he decides to open his eyes, regardless of if that moment is now or the ever elusive later. Besides, Billy's slow, sleep-muffled voice is just as pleasant a thing to wake up to. Drowsily, he pulls his mind back to the words it seems to insist on stringing together. Ice cream. Right.
"Damn it. I had to go and think about it," He adds.
"Dom…you do know that you sound like a menopausal woman, right?"
---
Dom grunts and squeezes his eyes shut.
"And besides that, it's feckin' fifteen degrees outside. Who wants ice cream when they're already ready a feckin' popsicle?"
"Me." Dom says, "Now either go 'way or bring me some bloody ice cream."
"Get your lazy arse up if you want ice cream. Don't even think we have any."
"'m not a menopausal woman either." Dom replies halfheartedly, and about half a minute too late. "Just... want... ice cream." He buries his face in the pillow, practically tasting the thick, rich syrup... warm, soothing to his tongue and the roof of his mouth in comparison to the frosty vanilla ice cream.
"Dom. Get up. We're late."
"Don't care. Come back to bed."
"Dom."
"Billy. I'm serious, too. Either get back in bed, or let me fuckin' sleep." And with that, Dom promptly turns his back to Billy and yanks the covers up. Billy knows the motions well, he's seen it before - it means quite clearly that Dom will be asleep within the minute and will not take kindly at all to another disturbance.
Billy stands up, stretching his arms high above his head. He thinks about yanking the blankets down, or tugging at Dom's pillow - one last little parting jolt, but decides against it. Dom is already back into his dreamworld, his hazy little coccoon of ice cream and chocolate toppings and whatever else graces the innermost thoughts of one Dominic Monaghan on this cold January mid-morning.
Four hours later, Dom stumbles out of the bedroom, groggy but well rested. He only vaguely recalls seeing Billy's blurry face looming above him earlier that morning, but the conversation itself escapes him until his eyes come to rest on the kitchen table. There's a note, in Billy's handwriting - small handwriting, neat with its rounded edges and thin letters. Dom knows from experience to refrain from using the word 'feminine' when describing anything about Billy, even his handwriting, for Billy tends to be a bit touchy about that. He rubs at the grit in the corners of eye with a one palm, yawning widely and reaching for the paper with the other hand.
Billy's gone to a meeting with his agent, the note tells him, and he'll be back before dinner but he's left a little surprise for Dom in the freezer. Dom lets the paper drop back down to the round, wooden table and opens the freezer, shivering a bit from the blast of cold air into an already chilly room. His eyes flutter open and closed once or twice and a slow grin creeps onto his face. Between the microwavable pizza and a large bag of ice sits one carton of vanilla ice cream, with chocolate chips, and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
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From:
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Love the Ice cream and fluffy goodness!! Thanks muchly for the fic.
Cheers,
Mojo