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monaboyd Jan. 30th, 2004 11:47 pm)
mctaggart-pegg.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 30th, 2004 11:47 pm)Title: Anyone Have a Scottish-English Dictionary? Part Trois
Author: Pippin (McTaggart_Pegg@hotmail.com)
Pairing: implied BB/DM (if you choose to read it that way--or not, your call)
Rating: Somewhere between PG and R for language, I guess? Will take suggestions on this one.
Warning: !Superdialect! Dialect thicker than 3-day old porridge. If you don't like dialect, GO AWAY. Please do not complain to me that I'm writing Billy with a thick accent--that is the point, and I will laugh at you. This is supposed to be fun.
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, this is all lies. (*sigh*)
Summary: Billy suffers. Dom snores. Elijah wanders around.
Feedback: Yes please. Pretty please. I've discovered I'm a feedback junkie.
For those who were interested in a continuation of Scottish-English Dictionary and Part Deux I hope you like, and thank you so much for requesting! Billy and Dom were supposed to have their little talk, but Billy's far too messed up for that. Thanks to him and his hangover, there will now be a Part Quatre.
(OMG, this is turning into the neverending fic. I blame all of you.) Btw, this is un-beta'd--if there are any Scottish readers out there who would like to beta and make sure I'm not messing up your lovely (if odd) language, please let me know.
Billy woke up groaning. Knew something had to be desperately wrong if he was waking up groaning. And then it hit.
The worst hangover he'd ever had in his fucking life.
He opened bloodshot eyes. Kept them squinted against a dim light. Oh God, where was he? Please at least let him still be in New York. He blearily looked around.
Oh. Good. 'Lij's spare room. His stomach rolled, and he moaned. What the fuck did he drink to feel like this? And how much? Even the other morning after the strip club was a frolic through the daisies compared to this.
His stomach finally rebelled, and pounding head or no, he leapt from the bed and raced to the bathroom. Made it just in time.
Dom sat on the sofa in the living room where he was watching TV with the sound down, and listened to Billy retch. He sighed, threw back the blanket, and went to the kitchen to gather his supplies. He'd seen Billy that drunk once before, and knew the aftereffects would be hell for him. So after dumping the unconscious Boyd on his bed earlier, Dom had nipped round to the local pharmacy and stocked up.
Just as Dom was getting the pitcher of water, Elijah wandered in wearing striped pyjamas that Dom called his 'Grandpa PJ's', yawning, scritching his head. "Billy okay?"
"He will be. Just don't slam any doors in the morning."
Elijah grinned sleepily. "Or cook bacon, right?"
Dom chuckled quietly at the reminder of one time in New Zealand when the two of them had been really, really hungover. Orli, trying to be a good friend, made breakfast. The penetrating smell of cooking bacon had sent Elijah into the bathroom, and since the bathroom was already occupied, Dom outside into the bushes.
"Right. Nothing more pungent than tea. Go on back to bed, 'Lij. I can't sleep anyway, I'll look after him."
Elijah yawned again. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
"'K. You need anything, just shout."
"Yeah. 'Night."
"'Night." Elijah wandered back out.
Dom carried his 'keep Billy alive' kit into the spare room. Wrinkled his nose at the pervasive smell of stale alcohol. He cracked the window, figuring even New York air had to be an improvement. Stood looking down at the cars, the people still walking about in the cold. He heard Billy stumble back into the room, turned around to see him collapse on the bed.
"Billy?" he said very softly.
Billy jumped. Groaned. "Go awa', 'Lij."
Dom went over, sat gently on the edge of the bed beside him. "Can you sit up for a minute, Bill?"
Billy peered at him from one eye. "Dom?" he croaked.
"The one and only."
"Wha' are ye doin' heer--oh," he trailed off, vaguely remembering. "Ye came tae get meh."
"A day too late, apparently. C'mon, sit up."
"No. Busy dyin'."
"I've got some stuff to help. Just for a minute, Bills."
Slowly, painfully, Billy hauled himself up. Leaned back against the headboard.
Dom poured a glass of water and handed it to him. "Drink."
"Water?" Billy muttered. "This is wha' ye're torturin' meh foor? Water?"
"Drink it."
Billy drank. Slowly.
Dom picked up three bottles in turn, shaking little white pills from them. Handed Billy two of each. "Can you get these down?"
"Oanly if they're arsenic. Oor cyanide. Wha'ever's quicker."
"They're B vitamins. They'll help, trust me."
Billy grumbled, but one by one swallowed them. As he did, Dom picked up a fourth bottle and shook two more, slightly larger pills out. Handed them over when Billy was ready.
He peered at them. With a twinge of hope said, "Henbane?"
"What's henbane?"
"Hamlet. His da'. Henbane innis ear. Deid."
"Tylenol. Paracetamol. And don't shove it in your ear."
"Bugger." He swallowed them. "Wha' th' fuck did Ah drink, anyweh?"
"Beer and Scotch."
"Is tha' all? Ah do tha' all th' time."
"And then bourbon."
"Ach, bloody hell," he croaked.
"How's your stomach?"
"Doan ask."
"I've got Maalox, if you want it."
"Hand it oover."
Dom shook the bottle, unscrewed the lid; passed it to Billy who took two long swigs. Followed by a water chaser. Dom took both the bottle and glass back. "Lie down again," he instructed quietly.
Billy did so, with only a couple miserable noises.
"On your back."
He rolled over.
Dom took an ice pack, wrapped it in a towel, and laid it across Billy's closed eyes.
"No--ge' et off. 'S too heavy."
"Give it a minute," he said soothingly.
The cold slowly began to seep through, easing Billy's burning eyes and dulling the ache in his skull.
"Better?" Dom whispered.
"Aye. A wee bit. Ah might still die, thoo."
Dom smiled. "No. You're going to make it. Doctor Dom to the rescue."
"Jest keep yer hands tae yerself, 'Doctor Dom'. Ah doan need a physical," he mumbled with the ghost of a smile.
A pause. "All right."
"Yer a guid mannie, Dominic Monaghan."
"I know. Shut up and go to sleep."
"Okeh. Loove ye."
"Love you too."
Billy passed out.
He woke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the foul taste in his mouth. He vaguely remembered a mad dash to the bathroom during the night. And Maalox? Who gave him the Maalox? It explained the chalky residue on his tongue, anyway.
The second thing he became aware of was noise. The window must be open, because firstly it was cold outside the blanket, but more importantly he could hear cars and horns and yelling and a fucking buzz saw. It had to still be early--who the hell was running a buzz saw so early in the morning? Sounded like it was right in the fucking room. He carefully opened his eyes to the merest slits--just in case the light shattered his skull like an icepick through a cube. But no, it wasn't too bad. A headache, but not completely intolerable. He turned his head toward the window.
Oh. Look at that--not a buzz saw after all. Dom in bed. Snoring.
That explains the Maalox, then.
And vitamins. And water. And Tylenol. It all trickled back.
Friends don't get any dearer than that.
Billy rolled on his side, laid his head on Dom's chest, put his arm across him as well.
The insanely loud snoring ended with a wheeze. Dom stirred. Mumbled, "Survived, then?"
"Think soo." His voice was nearly an octave lower than usual.
"Good. Head?"
"Definitely theer. But seems tae be in one piece."
"Good."
"Dom--"
"Yeah?"
Billy lifted his head, looked up him. "Thank ye. Ah'd be in a bad way withoot ye."
"Bloody hell, Bill!" Dom protested, swiveling his head away. "Go brush your teeth! God, your breath would choke a hyena."
"A hyena?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. They eat carrion. I'm guessing their breath leaves a lot to be desired."
"Ah cannae believe ye're makin' meh get oop."
Dom snickered, remembering Billy's suggestion in regard to that possibility the day before.
"Wha'?"
"Nothing. Go on. And put the kettle on while you're out there."
Billy slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. Tried to straighten a kink out of his neck. Rubbed his scalp with his fingertips. Realized he was only wearing his shorts. "Noo woonder Ah wiz cold."
"Would you rather have slept in your tight little jeans all night?"
"Noo, tha's no what Ah seid. Ah jus' seid 'noo woonder Ah wiz cold', tha's all."
"I should hope so."
Billy shuffled over to the dresser, rummaged in a drawer. Found a pair of track pants; tried to put them on but a distinct lack of balance suggested he sit down again to do so. He returned to the bed to see Dom laying there, arms behind his head, grinning.
"Wha'?" Defensive.
"You're so cute when you're hungover."
"Ah, shut yer coupon, ye daftie cunt." He managed to dress himself.
Billy went to the bathroom. Took a long, bladder-relieving piss. God, that felt fantastic. Brushed his teeth, scrubbed his face. Felt marginally human again. As he was leaving the bathroom, Elijah poked his head out of his door. His hair stuck up in every direction, and there was sleep in the corners of his unfocused eyes.
"Morning, Bill," he said quietly. "How you doing?"
"'Lij," Billy felt a little embarrassed for the first time. "Soorry, eh? Guess Ah'm no a very guid guest."
"'S fine," he smiled. "We all have our days, right?"
"Ah'll restock yer cabinet."
"You'll have to."
"Soorry."
"Nah, I was just kidding. No worries, Bills."
"Righ'. Thanks, 'Lij. Yer a mate."
"I'm going back to bed. Six is way too fucking early to be up unless there's feet to be applied."
"Aye. Ah'll be quiet." Billy detoured into the kitchen, filled the kettle with fresh water, and turned it on. Damned electric stoves, didn't allow for real kettles. Probably the only way he would've approved of 'Lij going fucking vintage--a real kettle. He returned to the bedroom, taking a glass of water with him.
Stopped dead when he entered and took in what he hadn't noticed before.
His bottles.
He barely remembered how he'd left them on the coffee table. But knew they had been of great significance yesterday; knew it had been imperative they were perfectly aligned.
Like they were now. On top of the chest at the end of the bed there were two beer bottles, a Scotch bottle, another beer bottle, a bourbon bottle, and two more beer bottles. Billy knew exactly what the distances between them would be if he measured them. To top it off, the labels were gone. Perfect fucking symmetry.
He looked past them, met Dom's eyes. His own suddenly filled.
"Ah, Bills..."
"Doan 'Ah Bills' me. Ah'm just tired an' hungover."
"It was really bugging you. I just wanted to..."
"Ah noo. Doan, okeh?"
"Listen, Bill, we have to--"
"No," he cut him off. "No righ' noo. This is too importan'. Let meh have a cuppa. Get meh synapses under mah oan control again."
Dom couldn't help but smile. "All right. But today."
"Aye. Later todeh." He gave a slightly wavery smile. "After Ah pick ye oop at th' airpoort."
Dom laughed.
Author: Pippin (McTaggart_Pegg@hotmail.com)
Pairing: implied BB/DM (if you choose to read it that way--or not, your call)
Rating: Somewhere between PG and R for language, I guess? Will take suggestions on this one.
Warning: !Superdialect! Dialect thicker than 3-day old porridge. If you don't like dialect, GO AWAY. Please do not complain to me that I'm writing Billy with a thick accent--that is the point, and I will laugh at you. This is supposed to be fun.
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, this is all lies. (*sigh*)
Summary: Billy suffers. Dom snores. Elijah wanders around.
Feedback: Yes please. Pretty please. I've discovered I'm a feedback junkie.
For those who were interested in a continuation of Scottish-English Dictionary and Part Deux I hope you like, and thank you so much for requesting! Billy and Dom were supposed to have their little talk, but Billy's far too messed up for that. Thanks to him and his hangover, there will now be a Part Quatre.
(OMG, this is turning into the neverending fic. I blame all of you.) Btw, this is un-beta'd--if there are any Scottish readers out there who would like to beta and make sure I'm not messing up your lovely (if odd) language, please let me know.
Billy woke up groaning. Knew something had to be desperately wrong if he was waking up groaning. And then it hit.
The worst hangover he'd ever had in his fucking life.
He opened bloodshot eyes. Kept them squinted against a dim light. Oh God, where was he? Please at least let him still be in New York. He blearily looked around.
Oh. Good. 'Lij's spare room. His stomach rolled, and he moaned. What the fuck did he drink to feel like this? And how much? Even the other morning after the strip club was a frolic through the daisies compared to this.
His stomach finally rebelled, and pounding head or no, he leapt from the bed and raced to the bathroom. Made it just in time.
Dom sat on the sofa in the living room where he was watching TV with the sound down, and listened to Billy retch. He sighed, threw back the blanket, and went to the kitchen to gather his supplies. He'd seen Billy that drunk once before, and knew the aftereffects would be hell for him. So after dumping the unconscious Boyd on his bed earlier, Dom had nipped round to the local pharmacy and stocked up.
Just as Dom was getting the pitcher of water, Elijah wandered in wearing striped pyjamas that Dom called his 'Grandpa PJ's', yawning, scritching his head. "Billy okay?"
"He will be. Just don't slam any doors in the morning."
Elijah grinned sleepily. "Or cook bacon, right?"
Dom chuckled quietly at the reminder of one time in New Zealand when the two of them had been really, really hungover. Orli, trying to be a good friend, made breakfast. The penetrating smell of cooking bacon had sent Elijah into the bathroom, and since the bathroom was already occupied, Dom outside into the bushes.
"Right. Nothing more pungent than tea. Go on back to bed, 'Lij. I can't sleep anyway, I'll look after him."
Elijah yawned again. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
"'K. You need anything, just shout."
"Yeah. 'Night."
"'Night." Elijah wandered back out.
Dom carried his 'keep Billy alive' kit into the spare room. Wrinkled his nose at the pervasive smell of stale alcohol. He cracked the window, figuring even New York air had to be an improvement. Stood looking down at the cars, the people still walking about in the cold. He heard Billy stumble back into the room, turned around to see him collapse on the bed.
"Billy?" he said very softly.
Billy jumped. Groaned. "Go awa', 'Lij."
Dom went over, sat gently on the edge of the bed beside him. "Can you sit up for a minute, Bill?"
Billy peered at him from one eye. "Dom?" he croaked.
"The one and only."
"Wha' are ye doin' heer--oh," he trailed off, vaguely remembering. "Ye came tae get meh."
"A day too late, apparently. C'mon, sit up."
"No. Busy dyin'."
"I've got some stuff to help. Just for a minute, Bills."
Slowly, painfully, Billy hauled himself up. Leaned back against the headboard.
Dom poured a glass of water and handed it to him. "Drink."
"Water?" Billy muttered. "This is wha' ye're torturin' meh foor? Water?"
"Drink it."
Billy drank. Slowly.
Dom picked up three bottles in turn, shaking little white pills from them. Handed Billy two of each. "Can you get these down?"
"Oanly if they're arsenic. Oor cyanide. Wha'ever's quicker."
"They're B vitamins. They'll help, trust me."
Billy grumbled, but one by one swallowed them. As he did, Dom picked up a fourth bottle and shook two more, slightly larger pills out. Handed them over when Billy was ready.
He peered at them. With a twinge of hope said, "Henbane?"
"What's henbane?"
"Hamlet. His da'. Henbane innis ear. Deid."
"Tylenol. Paracetamol. And don't shove it in your ear."
"Bugger." He swallowed them. "Wha' th' fuck did Ah drink, anyweh?"
"Beer and Scotch."
"Is tha' all? Ah do tha' all th' time."
"And then bourbon."
"Ach, bloody hell," he croaked.
"How's your stomach?"
"Doan ask."
"I've got Maalox, if you want it."
"Hand it oover."
Dom shook the bottle, unscrewed the lid; passed it to Billy who took two long swigs. Followed by a water chaser. Dom took both the bottle and glass back. "Lie down again," he instructed quietly.
Billy did so, with only a couple miserable noises.
"On your back."
He rolled over.
Dom took an ice pack, wrapped it in a towel, and laid it across Billy's closed eyes.
"No--ge' et off. 'S too heavy."
"Give it a minute," he said soothingly.
The cold slowly began to seep through, easing Billy's burning eyes and dulling the ache in his skull.
"Better?" Dom whispered.
"Aye. A wee bit. Ah might still die, thoo."
Dom smiled. "No. You're going to make it. Doctor Dom to the rescue."
"Jest keep yer hands tae yerself, 'Doctor Dom'. Ah doan need a physical," he mumbled with the ghost of a smile.
A pause. "All right."
"Yer a guid mannie, Dominic Monaghan."
"I know. Shut up and go to sleep."
"Okeh. Loove ye."
"Love you too."
Billy passed out.
He woke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the foul taste in his mouth. He vaguely remembered a mad dash to the bathroom during the night. And Maalox? Who gave him the Maalox? It explained the chalky residue on his tongue, anyway.
The second thing he became aware of was noise. The window must be open, because firstly it was cold outside the blanket, but more importantly he could hear cars and horns and yelling and a fucking buzz saw. It had to still be early--who the hell was running a buzz saw so early in the morning? Sounded like it was right in the fucking room. He carefully opened his eyes to the merest slits--just in case the light shattered his skull like an icepick through a cube. But no, it wasn't too bad. A headache, but not completely intolerable. He turned his head toward the window.
Oh. Look at that--not a buzz saw after all. Dom in bed. Snoring.
That explains the Maalox, then.
And vitamins. And water. And Tylenol. It all trickled back.
Friends don't get any dearer than that.
Billy rolled on his side, laid his head on Dom's chest, put his arm across him as well.
The insanely loud snoring ended with a wheeze. Dom stirred. Mumbled, "Survived, then?"
"Think soo." His voice was nearly an octave lower than usual.
"Good. Head?"
"Definitely theer. But seems tae be in one piece."
"Good."
"Dom--"
"Yeah?"
Billy lifted his head, looked up him. "Thank ye. Ah'd be in a bad way withoot ye."
"Bloody hell, Bill!" Dom protested, swiveling his head away. "Go brush your teeth! God, your breath would choke a hyena."
"A hyena?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. They eat carrion. I'm guessing their breath leaves a lot to be desired."
"Ah cannae believe ye're makin' meh get oop."
Dom snickered, remembering Billy's suggestion in regard to that possibility the day before.
"Wha'?"
"Nothing. Go on. And put the kettle on while you're out there."
Billy slowly sat up on the edge of the bed. Tried to straighten a kink out of his neck. Rubbed his scalp with his fingertips. Realized he was only wearing his shorts. "Noo woonder Ah wiz cold."
"Would you rather have slept in your tight little jeans all night?"
"Noo, tha's no what Ah seid. Ah jus' seid 'noo woonder Ah wiz cold', tha's all."
"I should hope so."
Billy shuffled over to the dresser, rummaged in a drawer. Found a pair of track pants; tried to put them on but a distinct lack of balance suggested he sit down again to do so. He returned to the bed to see Dom laying there, arms behind his head, grinning.
"Wha'?" Defensive.
"You're so cute when you're hungover."
"Ah, shut yer coupon, ye daftie cunt." He managed to dress himself.
Billy went to the bathroom. Took a long, bladder-relieving piss. God, that felt fantastic. Brushed his teeth, scrubbed his face. Felt marginally human again. As he was leaving the bathroom, Elijah poked his head out of his door. His hair stuck up in every direction, and there was sleep in the corners of his unfocused eyes.
"Morning, Bill," he said quietly. "How you doing?"
"'Lij," Billy felt a little embarrassed for the first time. "Soorry, eh? Guess Ah'm no a very guid guest."
"'S fine," he smiled. "We all have our days, right?"
"Ah'll restock yer cabinet."
"You'll have to."
"Soorry."
"Nah, I was just kidding. No worries, Bills."
"Righ'. Thanks, 'Lij. Yer a mate."
"I'm going back to bed. Six is way too fucking early to be up unless there's feet to be applied."
"Aye. Ah'll be quiet." Billy detoured into the kitchen, filled the kettle with fresh water, and turned it on. Damned electric stoves, didn't allow for real kettles. Probably the only way he would've approved of 'Lij going fucking vintage--a real kettle. He returned to the bedroom, taking a glass of water with him.
Stopped dead when he entered and took in what he hadn't noticed before.
His bottles.
He barely remembered how he'd left them on the coffee table. But knew they had been of great significance yesterday; knew it had been imperative they were perfectly aligned.
Like they were now. On top of the chest at the end of the bed there were two beer bottles, a Scotch bottle, another beer bottle, a bourbon bottle, and two more beer bottles. Billy knew exactly what the distances between them would be if he measured them. To top it off, the labels were gone. Perfect fucking symmetry.
He looked past them, met Dom's eyes. His own suddenly filled.
"Ah, Bills..."
"Doan 'Ah Bills' me. Ah'm just tired an' hungover."
"It was really bugging you. I just wanted to..."
"Ah noo. Doan, okeh?"
"Listen, Bill, we have to--"
"No," he cut him off. "No righ' noo. This is too importan'. Let meh have a cuppa. Get meh synapses under mah oan control again."
Dom couldn't help but smile. "All right. But today."
"Aye. Later todeh." He gave a slightly wavery smile. "After Ah pick ye oop at th' airpoort."
Dom laughed.
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*lol* that was great. I for one wouldn't mind this being a neverending Fic. Keep it coming!
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Well, there will be at least one more chapter. Probably two, if pillowtalk!Billy shows up.
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btw, have you ever read any irvine welsh? if you like writing in scottish dialect, it's very entertaining. plus, his books are just excellent.
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Thanks!
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;)
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I love this series. :)
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Poor hungover Billy *hugs him tenderly while carefully averting face from his hyena breath*
Very amusing incomprehensible!Billy but with an intriguing undercurrent of melancholy - curious to know what has driven him to go on such a bender.
(One minor comment from a Scot - 'daftie' is a noun rather than an adjective. The equivalent adjective would be 'daft', e.g. 'ye daft cunt' or 'ye daftie' . Sadly I don't feel qualified to offer too many other observations on whether your rendering of his dialect is authentic or not as I come from the far north of Scotland and don't speak Glaswegian, lol! It all comes across as pretty convincing though :))
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Aha! Thank you! (Having never been closer to Scotland than Harrogate for 4 days in 1989, these are the things I just don't know!) If you ever have any other suggestions, I'd love to hear them!
And soon both you and I will find out what's up with Billy. ;)
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...
*controls*
Dude, and I mean this, this is the best Monaboyd I've read it ages, and I read everything. It's so refreshing to see such quality again! Thank you so much. And please, please, please keep going.
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Thanks for that lovely compliment. You'll stick around, yeah? ;)
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*Hops up and down in glee*
Sleep is so overrated, dear. Writing is better. So is updating at the speed of light. ;)
Anyway...
Billy is so precious. :) I can actually hear his accent in my head while reading your work, and it makes me all squishy inside. *Pets Billy poster* He's so cute! With the bottles and with Dom... AW!!!
Now... *Attempts serious face* Where is that pillow-talk-Billy-style chapter we've discussed? Hmn? Is it coming up? Yeessss?
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No speed of light here, I'm afraid. Speed of carpet, maybe. Part four will be a while, and even it may not yet include pillowtalk!Billy. Depends how long 'the talk' ends up being. (Man, if I'm not careful, pretty soon I'm going to be capitalizing it to 'The Talk'. And that would be *wrong*.)
Thank you so much for reading, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!
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I wish I could talk like Billy. He's seams a whole lot cooler when he speaks in all that super thick scottish stuff. :D
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