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With a longer fic. Ending to the ficlet I wrote. Hope you like it. You people have corrupted my mind. Not that that's a bad thing.
Title: Continued Cotillion
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and some angst (but it ends happily!!!)
Disclaimer: Once again I don't know or own either Billy Boyd or Dominic Monaghan, and this is fiction! This also gets a bit sappy; I'll clean up any sap that gets all over everything.
Continued Cotillion
The green numbers glared 2:06 A.M. That snapped my fatigue into mist. Luckily I didn’t have anything planned the following day, so it wouldn’t be too detrimental. It was still surprising though that I had been sitting there, barely moving, for over two hours. My mind decided to be a freight train that night, and I couldn’t stop thinking long enough for sleep to engulf me. So there I sat on the edge of my bed, clothes equally as rumpled as my hair.
It was decided, finally. There was nothing else to be done. I picked up the phone and the ringing came soon; my fingers had long ago memorized the path of his phone number. I always wondered why there wasn’t some sort of test to see what's the fastest humanly possible time someone could dial a phone number. I’m sure I’d win.
After the fifth ring there was a click, and then scratchy sounds. Then, a gruff, tired voice. “Hello?”
I took a breath, but my throat just constricted. Even had I wanted to (which I really wasn’t sure of) I doubt I could have gotten my voice to work. There was an annoyed silence, and then another annoyed question.
“Hello?”
“Hey Billy; it’s Dom.”
There was more silence and I cringed. I could almost see his electric death glare pierce through the phone. Then,
“Dominic Monaghan! Do you have any clue what time it is!? Any fuc-”
“I know, I know, sorry,” I interrupted as quickly as I could, hoping to stop a rant that could easily last five full minutes. I realized then how deeply I missed his voice. His accent was thicker when he was tired, and it simply sung of Scotland right now.
“Well, you idiot? What do you want? For bloody hell’s sake Dom, you could have at least called at a reasonable hour.”
The corners of my mouth twitched. He had called me Dom. Improvement? I could only hope.
“Yeah, well...I was awake and no time like the present they say.”
There was a pause. “Is there even a point to this or are you just going to prattle on until I hang up on you?”
“No, no, there’s a point. I was wondering if I could come over.”
Another pause, and then a long strain of swearing. I cringed. “Once again, are you even aware of the time? It’s two in the fucking ass crack of dawn!”
“Please?” It had come out as a whisper. I hadn’t meant it like that. It sounded desperate, pleading, vulnerable. I hated it. There was yet another pause, so long that I feared he had hung up. “Hello?”
“This had better be good Dominic Monaghan.”
I smiled slightly with the familiar click of the other phone being hung up.
~~~~~~~
He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing me entrance. I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair, something I regretted. And yet there he stood, wearing a pair of green flannel pants and a simple grey shirt, hair as mussed as mine. It made me feel better. “Dressed for the occasion I see.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, though not in malice. “May I remind you of the time?”
His accent had lessened, and I was sad as he curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of coffee. He was avoiding my gaze as he sipped the hot drink. Awkward silence. Finally the green hues looked at me.
“So did you have something to say or are you going to just stand there? I’m not a bat; I’d like to go to bed.”
I opened my mouth, but then closed it. Everything I had decided to say, the little speech I had formed in my mind as I had driven over, was gone. Completely gone. Erased as easily as chalk off a blackboard. Whoosh. Nothing. I really hated it when that happened. It was always at the worst moments; at a meeting, in a school presentation, now. I tried to think of anything to say; tried to think of the hours I had spent sitting at the corner of my bed, thoughts marinating in my head. Yet no matter how hard I tried I could think of nothing, could say nothing.
Although he waited patiently, I could see Billy’s patience thinning. So I asked what I had been wondering all along, asked what I didn’t want to ask because I was afraid.
“Do you even remember what happened?”
His eyes darted away. No answer.
“That’s what I figured. I don't remember, and everyone always says were so much alike, so of course-”
“I’m nothing like you,” he hissed, eyes glaring at me.
“Before you would have taken that as a compliment.”
He looked away again and spoke quietly. “Things change.”
“What changed?” I asked desperately. I surprised him, and I surprised even myself as I strode over in front of him and knelt. My body had suddenly been disconnected from my mind, and I suddenly found his hand in mine, and I was looking into his eyes, saying things I didn’t want to say. “I don’t even remember; it was something stupid. Was it really worth it, worth the loss of everything?”
He looked as if he were fighting with himself. His eyes were a blur, and I couldn’t read his face. I always prided myself on knowing what was going on in that lovely head of his. I was becoming as distressed as he was.
“No,” he replied calmly, deadly, “I don’t remember either. But I remember it was something stupid, something probably you did.”
“That wasn’t fair. How can you say that if you don’t even remember?”
“Because it’s easier!” He hadn’t mean to say that, it was obvious. It was said in a regular voice, but in the quietude that is the early morning it came off as shouting. “Because I don’t want to talk to you. And I’m angry. Now go away Dominic.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s my house!” His voice was raising, and it sounded horribly loud. “Just go away.”
“Please, I want to talk-”
“There’s nothing to talk about! For Heavens sake, let go of my hand now!”
“Oh come on, this is stupid! Will you stop acting like a pissy 15 year old girl already!? I want us to be ok again, friends at least.” It was becoming hard to speak, and I was desperately trying to stop my eyes from stinging. “I can’t take this Billy.”
“Oh, I’m the fifteen year old!? ‘Wah, woe is me, my world has shattered without you!’ Stop whining already!”
“Look!” I was getting angry now. “I didn’t drive all the way out here in the middle of the night just to have you ignore me! I’m not leaving until we’re at least on speaking terms!”
“Fine. We’re speaking. Now let go of my hand.”
“No.”
“Let go of my bloody hand!” And then he looked down, and a look of surprise took over his face. His voice was sweetly soft again. “What’s that?”
I looked down. Scrawled all over my left hand was Billy’s name. Over and over and over again it was written in neat, tight little rows. The style changed, but it was all so neat it could be easily read. I didn’t even remember doing it. I must have done it as I sat on my bed.
I felt a burning scarlet clawing my face, and hastily I pulled my hands away and shoved them into my coat pockets. It was a mistake, I suddenly knew that now. I was on my feet, dizzy. I had to leave. Now. He started to speak though, a hesitant soft, light-hearted, endearing joking. “Should I be worried? You seem a bit obsessed there, with my name all over your hand.”
“I’m sorry. Forget it. You’re right, it’s too early...” I forced a chuckle. “People do odd things when they’re sleep deprived.” I trailed off, my eyes buring into the ground. I couldn’t look at him. Hands still in pockets, I turned and took quick strides to the door.
“I miss you.”
I stopped abruptly, hand on the door. That wasn’t funny. Now I was just pissed. I spun around.
“Don’t fuck with me Boyd.”
“I’m not fucking with you!” he cried desperately. “Gods, I’m sorry, ok? There, I said it. I’m an asshole, stubborn, stupid...and I hold grudges too much, and...and...I don’t know what else.”
I knelt in front of him again. He had set the mug down and was looking at his hands neatly folded in his lap. He was shaking. As gingerly as I could I took his hands again into mine and smiled.
“Wonderful.”
His head snapped up, a mix of shock and utter confusion. His lips parted in a barely audible whisper. “What?”
“You’re wonderful.”
I laid my head in his lap, and he ran his fingers through my hair. Our comforting silence had returned, and we couldn’t have been happier.
Title: Continued Cotillion
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and some angst (but it ends happily!!!)
Disclaimer: Once again I don't know or own either Billy Boyd or Dominic Monaghan, and this is fiction! This also gets a bit sappy; I'll clean up any sap that gets all over everything.
Continued Cotillion
The green numbers glared 2:06 A.M. That snapped my fatigue into mist. Luckily I didn’t have anything planned the following day, so it wouldn’t be too detrimental. It was still surprising though that I had been sitting there, barely moving, for over two hours. My mind decided to be a freight train that night, and I couldn’t stop thinking long enough for sleep to engulf me. So there I sat on the edge of my bed, clothes equally as rumpled as my hair.
It was decided, finally. There was nothing else to be done. I picked up the phone and the ringing came soon; my fingers had long ago memorized the path of his phone number. I always wondered why there wasn’t some sort of test to see what's the fastest humanly possible time someone could dial a phone number. I’m sure I’d win.
After the fifth ring there was a click, and then scratchy sounds. Then, a gruff, tired voice. “Hello?”
I took a breath, but my throat just constricted. Even had I wanted to (which I really wasn’t sure of) I doubt I could have gotten my voice to work. There was an annoyed silence, and then another annoyed question.
“Hello?”
“Hey Billy; it’s Dom.”
There was more silence and I cringed. I could almost see his electric death glare pierce through the phone. Then,
“Dominic Monaghan! Do you have any clue what time it is!? Any fuc-”
“I know, I know, sorry,” I interrupted as quickly as I could, hoping to stop a rant that could easily last five full minutes. I realized then how deeply I missed his voice. His accent was thicker when he was tired, and it simply sung of Scotland right now.
“Well, you idiot? What do you want? For bloody hell’s sake Dom, you could have at least called at a reasonable hour.”
The corners of my mouth twitched. He had called me Dom. Improvement? I could only hope.
“Yeah, well...I was awake and no time like the present they say.”
There was a pause. “Is there even a point to this or are you just going to prattle on until I hang up on you?”
“No, no, there’s a point. I was wondering if I could come over.”
Another pause, and then a long strain of swearing. I cringed. “Once again, are you even aware of the time? It’s two in the fucking ass crack of dawn!”
“Please?” It had come out as a whisper. I hadn’t meant it like that. It sounded desperate, pleading, vulnerable. I hated it. There was yet another pause, so long that I feared he had hung up. “Hello?”
“This had better be good Dominic Monaghan.”
I smiled slightly with the familiar click of the other phone being hung up.
~~~~~~~
He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing me entrance. I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair, something I regretted. And yet there he stood, wearing a pair of green flannel pants and a simple grey shirt, hair as mussed as mine. It made me feel better. “Dressed for the occasion I see.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, though not in malice. “May I remind you of the time?”
His accent had lessened, and I was sad as he curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of coffee. He was avoiding my gaze as he sipped the hot drink. Awkward silence. Finally the green hues looked at me.
“So did you have something to say or are you going to just stand there? I’m not a bat; I’d like to go to bed.”
I opened my mouth, but then closed it. Everything I had decided to say, the little speech I had formed in my mind as I had driven over, was gone. Completely gone. Erased as easily as chalk off a blackboard. Whoosh. Nothing. I really hated it when that happened. It was always at the worst moments; at a meeting, in a school presentation, now. I tried to think of anything to say; tried to think of the hours I had spent sitting at the corner of my bed, thoughts marinating in my head. Yet no matter how hard I tried I could think of nothing, could say nothing.
Although he waited patiently, I could see Billy’s patience thinning. So I asked what I had been wondering all along, asked what I didn’t want to ask because I was afraid.
“Do you even remember what happened?”
His eyes darted away. No answer.
“That’s what I figured. I don't remember, and everyone always says were so much alike, so of course-”
“I’m nothing like you,” he hissed, eyes glaring at me.
“Before you would have taken that as a compliment.”
He looked away again and spoke quietly. “Things change.”
“What changed?” I asked desperately. I surprised him, and I surprised even myself as I strode over in front of him and knelt. My body had suddenly been disconnected from my mind, and I suddenly found his hand in mine, and I was looking into his eyes, saying things I didn’t want to say. “I don’t even remember; it was something stupid. Was it really worth it, worth the loss of everything?”
He looked as if he were fighting with himself. His eyes were a blur, and I couldn’t read his face. I always prided myself on knowing what was going on in that lovely head of his. I was becoming as distressed as he was.
“No,” he replied calmly, deadly, “I don’t remember either. But I remember it was something stupid, something probably you did.”
“That wasn’t fair. How can you say that if you don’t even remember?”
“Because it’s easier!” He hadn’t mean to say that, it was obvious. It was said in a regular voice, but in the quietude that is the early morning it came off as shouting. “Because I don’t want to talk to you. And I’m angry. Now go away Dominic.”
“I won’t.”
“It’s my house!” His voice was raising, and it sounded horribly loud. “Just go away.”
“Please, I want to talk-”
“There’s nothing to talk about! For Heavens sake, let go of my hand now!”
“Oh come on, this is stupid! Will you stop acting like a pissy 15 year old girl already!? I want us to be ok again, friends at least.” It was becoming hard to speak, and I was desperately trying to stop my eyes from stinging. “I can’t take this Billy.”
“Oh, I’m the fifteen year old!? ‘Wah, woe is me, my world has shattered without you!’ Stop whining already!”
“Look!” I was getting angry now. “I didn’t drive all the way out here in the middle of the night just to have you ignore me! I’m not leaving until we’re at least on speaking terms!”
“Fine. We’re speaking. Now let go of my hand.”
“No.”
“Let go of my bloody hand!” And then he looked down, and a look of surprise took over his face. His voice was sweetly soft again. “What’s that?”
I looked down. Scrawled all over my left hand was Billy’s name. Over and over and over again it was written in neat, tight little rows. The style changed, but it was all so neat it could be easily read. I didn’t even remember doing it. I must have done it as I sat on my bed.
I felt a burning scarlet clawing my face, and hastily I pulled my hands away and shoved them into my coat pockets. It was a mistake, I suddenly knew that now. I was on my feet, dizzy. I had to leave. Now. He started to speak though, a hesitant soft, light-hearted, endearing joking. “Should I be worried? You seem a bit obsessed there, with my name all over your hand.”
“I’m sorry. Forget it. You’re right, it’s too early...” I forced a chuckle. “People do odd things when they’re sleep deprived.” I trailed off, my eyes buring into the ground. I couldn’t look at him. Hands still in pockets, I turned and took quick strides to the door.
“I miss you.”
I stopped abruptly, hand on the door. That wasn’t funny. Now I was just pissed. I spun around.
“Don’t fuck with me Boyd.”
“I’m not fucking with you!” he cried desperately. “Gods, I’m sorry, ok? There, I said it. I’m an asshole, stubborn, stupid...and I hold grudges too much, and...and...I don’t know what else.”
I knelt in front of him again. He had set the mug down and was looking at his hands neatly folded in his lap. He was shaking. As gingerly as I could I took his hands again into mine and smiled.
“Wonderful.”
His head snapped up, a mix of shock and utter confusion. His lips parted in a barely audible whisper. “What?”
“You’re wonderful.”
I laid my head in his lap, and he ran his fingers through my hair. Our comforting silence had returned, and we couldn’t have been happier.
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And you're welcome. I couldn't leave them unhappy. ;_;
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hmm...
i think im going to keep you in my pocket!
*huggles*
you write so beautifully!~ and ahhhh happy ending! yessss. >D
love the part about poor dom forgetting everything he needed/wanted to say. god knows that *does* always happen at the worst times. oye...
keep em coming, girl! :D
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*hugs* Thanks!!!! :)
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