(![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
tilney.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
monaboyd Jan. 29th, 2004 11:36 pm)
tilney.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 29th, 2004 11:36 pm)Title: Jetlag
Author: ... me, tilney.
Disclaimer: I lie. All the time.
Rating: PG13 for language
Summary: End credits roll.
Author's Note: I posted this at f_s, and only then learned about this here gorgeous place. I'm reposting it - I hope it's OK, and sorry for the crosspost - because I'minsecure curious of the opinions of you specialists on the subject, as this is my debut. Eh, stagefright.
They filed into the plane in a chatting gaggle, all of them, waving and laughing loudly and not looking at each other’s faces too closely. Tactful, because this wasn’t easy for anybody. The plane was posh and had seats placed in fours on both sides of small tables, the polished, quasi-wooden surfaces spotless and bright sun streaming through the small windows. Without thinking, Dom smoothed the front of his shirt when he saw all that.
Now he was just numb and sitting opposite Billy, who went to sleep right after take-off, tired after days of celebrating the wrap. Dom was looking up from the in-flight magazine every once in a while just to make sure and think of how still Billy was, for once, at last. Usually, he was tight-strung and conscious of his body, back straight and movements expressive and maybe even studied. So adult, Dom thought. But maybe it was just experience and knowing what to do to achieve an effect. This interested Dom, who was like water and just flowed into everything, nice and easy, into surroundings and situations. It was only with yoga when Dom would deliberately push at the space around him. Jeet-Kune-Do, Dom thought, being able to deflect the energy, not fight against it, Jeet-Kune-Do, he thought, Billy in sweatpants and a black tee. Billy made a sleepy sound and Dom forgot all about the paper, put his chin in his hand and watched.
Billy was sprawled in the seat, right palm tucked under his left arm, left hand loose along his thigh. His watch was off, Billy couldn’t go to sleep with something ticking around, didn’t like clocks, at that, as Dom learned one tipsy night when from out of the darkness tangled with semi-conscious bodies there came a grunt and Dom inched his head up just to squint at Billy groping for the old-school alarm clock ticking on the nightstand and then fucking throwing it against a wall nearby and fucking going back to sleep. If everyone haven’t been so sloshed and if next day hadn’t been free, that would have been the last of William Boyd. Anyhow, Billy’s watch was off now, and his sinewy wrist was all the more naked without its brown, leather wristband. Naked, fucking hell, Dom thought, I need to get my shite together.
But there was Billy’s tilted head, blood pulsing underneath the skin below his Adam’s apple and Dom thought about how during the first screening of TTT in the ‘There won’t be a Shire, Pip’ scene all he could see onscreen was Billy’s neck, however times bigger, and there, between the collarbones, he could see Billy’s blood coursing through Pippin, thrumming against Pippin’s skin from the inside. It was just unbearably intimate, inappropriately so, that everyone should see that in close-up, and Dom barely heard that Liv’s skirt rustled like there was new money sewn into it and Lij’s excited voice in his ear, whispering, ‘Man, you’re fucking wicked, both of you’. Dom kept staring straight ahead, his mouth dry, and it was then that he was afraid to look around at Billy for the first time, in the shivering darkness of a cinema theatre.
Now Billy snaps out of sleep, eyes clear and saturated with light, his small lips surprised at himself, a shallow, pink groove like a scar high on his cheek from sleeping on a fold of the fabric of his jacket. Dom leans forward just as Billy exhales, his hand resting on the inside of Billy’s knee, to anchor him back to where they are, to quiet conversations, the tinkling of glass, the hum of the engine, the processed air, the airport waiting for them:
- You all right, mate? - Dom asks in a half-voice. Billy huddles a bit around himself, like a bird in the cold fluffing its feathers, then squares his shoulders and says, in a sing-song voice of a child irritated by the mother’s interrogation:
- Yes, Dom, I’m fine. - Then, in an amused lilt, - I just had this awful nightmare about having to sort your dirty laundry forever and ever. - Billy smiles right into Dom’s gap-toothed grin that’s already there, and Dom’s thankful that things may well be the same for a bit longer, and he takes a while before lifting his hand from Billy’s knee to flip him off.
Author: ... me, tilney.
Disclaimer: I lie. All the time.
Rating: PG13 for language
Summary: End credits roll.
Author's Note: I posted this at f_s, and only then learned about this here gorgeous place. I'm reposting it - I hope it's OK, and sorry for the crosspost - because I'm
They filed into the plane in a chatting gaggle, all of them, waving and laughing loudly and not looking at each other’s faces too closely. Tactful, because this wasn’t easy for anybody. The plane was posh and had seats placed in fours on both sides of small tables, the polished, quasi-wooden surfaces spotless and bright sun streaming through the small windows. Without thinking, Dom smoothed the front of his shirt when he saw all that.
Now he was just numb and sitting opposite Billy, who went to sleep right after take-off, tired after days of celebrating the wrap. Dom was looking up from the in-flight magazine every once in a while just to make sure and think of how still Billy was, for once, at last. Usually, he was tight-strung and conscious of his body, back straight and movements expressive and maybe even studied. So adult, Dom thought. But maybe it was just experience and knowing what to do to achieve an effect. This interested Dom, who was like water and just flowed into everything, nice and easy, into surroundings and situations. It was only with yoga when Dom would deliberately push at the space around him. Jeet-Kune-Do, Dom thought, being able to deflect the energy, not fight against it, Jeet-Kune-Do, he thought, Billy in sweatpants and a black tee. Billy made a sleepy sound and Dom forgot all about the paper, put his chin in his hand and watched.
Billy was sprawled in the seat, right palm tucked under his left arm, left hand loose along his thigh. His watch was off, Billy couldn’t go to sleep with something ticking around, didn’t like clocks, at that, as Dom learned one tipsy night when from out of the darkness tangled with semi-conscious bodies there came a grunt and Dom inched his head up just to squint at Billy groping for the old-school alarm clock ticking on the nightstand and then fucking throwing it against a wall nearby and fucking going back to sleep. If everyone haven’t been so sloshed and if next day hadn’t been free, that would have been the last of William Boyd. Anyhow, Billy’s watch was off now, and his sinewy wrist was all the more naked without its brown, leather wristband. Naked, fucking hell, Dom thought, I need to get my shite together.
But there was Billy’s tilted head, blood pulsing underneath the skin below his Adam’s apple and Dom thought about how during the first screening of TTT in the ‘There won’t be a Shire, Pip’ scene all he could see onscreen was Billy’s neck, however times bigger, and there, between the collarbones, he could see Billy’s blood coursing through Pippin, thrumming against Pippin’s skin from the inside. It was just unbearably intimate, inappropriately so, that everyone should see that in close-up, and Dom barely heard that Liv’s skirt rustled like there was new money sewn into it and Lij’s excited voice in his ear, whispering, ‘Man, you’re fucking wicked, both of you’. Dom kept staring straight ahead, his mouth dry, and it was then that he was afraid to look around at Billy for the first time, in the shivering darkness of a cinema theatre.
Now Billy snaps out of sleep, eyes clear and saturated with light, his small lips surprised at himself, a shallow, pink groove like a scar high on his cheek from sleeping on a fold of the fabric of his jacket. Dom leans forward just as Billy exhales, his hand resting on the inside of Billy’s knee, to anchor him back to where they are, to quiet conversations, the tinkling of glass, the hum of the engine, the processed air, the airport waiting for them:
- You all right, mate? - Dom asks in a half-voice. Billy huddles a bit around himself, like a bird in the cold fluffing its feathers, then squares his shoulders and says, in a sing-song voice of a child irritated by the mother’s interrogation:
- Yes, Dom, I’m fine. - Then, in an amused lilt, - I just had this awful nightmare about having to sort your dirty laundry forever and ever. - Billy smiles right into Dom’s gap-toothed grin that’s already there, and Dom’s thankful that things may well be the same for a bit longer, and he takes a while before lifting his hand from Billy’s knee to flip him off.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
I love the small details, about Billy's Adam's apple, his watch, the way he sleeps. And I especially loved the ending lines, Billy smiles right into Dom’s gap-toothed grin that’s already there, and Dom’s thankful that things may well be the same for a bit longer, and he takes a while before lifting his hand from Billy’s knee to flip him off. That's perfect. :))
From:
Re:
Why, thank you:) I'm so very glad you took your time to read it and comment. Mmm, I'm all about the details, you know? Especially when they concern Billeh. :)
Mmm, Bonden.
From:
no subject
You'll post more now, right?
From:
Re:
Ahahahahahha *cough*. Fantastic. And-thank you so very much for the feedback. I'm quite glad you enjoyed this. I love them so.
I'm actually writing right now. American Literature exam be damned.
:)!
From:
Re:
I'm actually writing right now. American Literature exam be damned.
Atta girl! ;o)
From:
no subject
From:
Re:
From:
no subject
From:
Re:
From:
no subject
From:
Re:
Thank you so very much. I'm glad, glad, glad. *smooches pseudo-Japanese Dom* It flatters me very much that it made you greedy:)!
From:
Re:
Your Billy icon is wearing the shirt that he's wearing in my wallpaper. Not that that makes sense, but yeah. :D He ish.
From:
no subject
I just read Make Do and now Jetlag and I'll come straight out : They rank among the best Billy/Dom's I've ever read.
I just love love love this particular type of writing with the original/not obvious depictions that most people would never think of but that turn out to resonate so true and make the scene so vivid.
Just your first paragraph, you got
and not looking at each other’s faces too closely. Tactful, because this wasn’t easy for anybody
and then
quasi-wooden
AND!
Without thinking, Dom smoothed the front of his shirt when he saw all that</>
And then I went Oh!fuck!yes! because I love it when I can tell within the first paragraph that it's going to be a good one. And then I kind of don't want to go on reading because I know it will be short and I don't want it to be over. So then I keep reading anyway but I take my time and linger on each sentence.
And then you don't stop and each following paragraph is as good as the first!
So yeah, thank you and I hope you keep writing Billy/Dom...
From:
no subject
Because that is an amazing compliment; thank you very much for saying so, I'm incredibly flattered! I love it that you appreciate my style of writing; sometimes I feel it's too, uh, you know, mine, and people will read it and go 'What is she ON about?', so it's very nice to hear.
But keep reading:)! Please keep reading! And thank YOU. Your review made my day!
From:
no subject
:)