crossposted to fellow_shippers.

[sincelastjuly.livejournal.com]

Title: think about
Author: erinmiran
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG
Summary: No, really, the bathroom was hard to find. *so bad at summaries*
Feedback: please :D
Notes: This was actually a challenge fic wherein the first sentence had to be "Don't listen to them, listen to me.", the last one had to be "There, now -- isn't that better?" and somewhere in the middle was He/she didn't/doesn't mean it, but there it was/is.


Don't listen to them, listen to me," everyone's laughing as Dom's interrupting, trying to defend himself against the story of the moment, but all you can think about is how Dom's knee is pressed up against yours under the small table and you wonder suddenly what his lips pressed up against yours would feel like.

Some techno song comes on and Orlando drags Elijah out of the booth and onto the dance floor; Liv follows, pushing Karl along. You're staring down at your warm drink and you look up a moment later to see Sean giving you the eye.

"What?" you ask, voice defensive because you're miserable and slightly pissed and just want to be left alone with your lager.

"Go tell him, Billy," Sean sounds weary, but, to your own surprise, instead of parroting out another rehearsed excuse, you wordlessly slide out of the booth and out the door, hovering near the wall as you watch Dom zip up his pants.

"The loo's so bloody hard to find in this place." His words are slightly slurred and as he turns to you, he stumbles. Automatically you stretch out your arm to steady him and before you know it, his face is near yours and your heart is in your throat and his lips are on yours and you wonder if you'll ever breathe again because you're drowning in Dom and falling to a place where air doesn't even matter. The moment ends, ('because a moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection,' quotes the detached part of your mind that isn't screaming at you) like all moments have to, and you narrowly escape getting covered in vomit.

"Sorry, mate," Dom's voice is rough and he sounds winded.

"It's nothing," you don't mean it, but there it is. "Come on, let's get you home," you pull a kleenex out of your pocket for Dom to wipe his mouth on, and help him back towards the pub, Sean appearing in the doorway. You resist the urge to smack him as his eyes register your arm around Dom's back, and a smug smile spreads across Sean's face as he turns towards you.

"There, now isn't that better?"

Comments

[hygher.livejournal.com]

because a moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection. That is an awesome quote. The story is really awesome even though it's not what I expected. Good Job
~Rachel