Both one and the other (lostlollipop) wrote,
Both one and the other

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Ficlet: Book

Title: Book
Pairing: Dom/Elijah, Dom/a Book
Rating: Tried very hard to keep it G, will have to go with PG at the least, though.
Summary: Dom has bought A Certain Book and can't stop reading; Elijah sulks prettily.
Warnings: Please note that this contains major spoilers for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK AND DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED!! There, I warned you.
Disclaimer: I have no idea if Dom is a HP fan, and if he was, he would certainly not confide in me, because everyone knows I am a total and utter liar and tend to make things up that aren't real.
Feedback: Is like Dom: I can never have enough of it.
Author's notes:: Just a little bit of nonsense I made up at work, inspired by people being completely engrossed in HBP (including yours truly), and because I wanted to write some sort of a review about the book but sucked at it. Beta'd by the wonderful dominicluver.


It has been like this all day.

Dom is sitting on the living room couch in his LA apartment; a small huddled figure framed in the sunlight that streams in from the man-high windows that look out over the sea. It is a magnificent day, but Dom has no eyes to spare for it.

One of his bare feet is swinging idly from the edge of the couch cushions, the other is tucked under his tracksuit-clad bum. He is twisting his bleached bangs around one long, slender forefinger, only pausing now and then to flip a page of the hated thing that resides in his other hand.

The book.

Elijah is pretty sure that his hated paper-and-ink rival has not broken physical contact with Dom since the moment the two first became aquainted, which has been midnight last night at the first open Barnes & Nobles they had been able to find.

Elijah can, unfortunately, not say the same.

Dom had let Elijah drive them home from the shop, a gesture which was in itself rather alarming, since Dom had proclaimed Elijah’s driving a world-health hazard when first forced to sample it, and had insisted on being the driver in this relationship.

But even when the younger man had been happily racing Dom’s precious car around treacherous turns and corners, cut off pretty much everyone he’d encountered, car and pedestrian alike, and taken his boyfriend’s other true love well over any speed limit known to man, Dom’s nose had remained firmly buried in the hated pages.

Once home, Elijah had suggested everything from going clubbing to watching a soccer game, but Dom, curling up on the couch with the accursed hardback, had wordlessly shaken his head at every one of his favourite activities suggested, and even Elijah’s hints and promises of long and unspeakable after-activities failed to make him so much as look at his boyfriend.

Finally the younger man had admitted defeat and gone off to bed, announcing this loudly in the desperate hope that Dom might follow, but the older man had simply raised a hand in acknowledgement and mumbled something eerily Viggo-ish sounding.

Elijah stayed awake for some time after, but did not hear Dom come to bed when he at last fell asleep alone.

And when he woke up next morning – afternoon – the other side of the bed was just as empty as the previous night, and Dom was still where Elijah had left him: on the couch, book in hand, eyes on the pages, a cooling cup of tea at his elbow.

After some feeble attempts at tempting his boyfriend to do something other than read – most of them illegal in many countries, all of them without any effect whatsoever – Elijah had once again given up the fight – for the time being.

It’s late in the afternoon now, and Elijah thinks he has tried everything he could think of to entertain himself (or at least keep himself busy). He has watched TV. He’s gone out and bought a few new CD’s. He has listened to the new CD’s. He’s slaughtered a couple of hundred aliens on his Playstation. He’s checked his email. He’s gone grocery shopping. He has even cleaned. He has called several people for a chat: Hannah (whose phone was off the hook), Zach (where he got the answering machine), Sean (who had picked up only long enough to say that he was watching the girls, because Chris wanted a day to herself and the babysitter had other engagements, and he was really sorry but he had to hang up now, because Allie wanted to be read to), his mom (who asked him to call back later because she was busy), several of his friends (who all seemed in a hurry to finish the call, even if they did pick up), and, as a final resort, Orlando, who rattled on endlessly and annoyed Elijah so much he eliminated the call after fifteen minutes.

And still Dom reads on.

And Elijah has had enough.

“Dom?” he says.

No reply. Elijah sits opposite his boyfriend in the armchair and glares at the book cover.

“Do-hom!” he whines.

“Hmm?” Semi-coherent answer, but no eye contact. Try again.

“Doooommiiiiiie!” he sings in a ridiculous and rather obnoxious falsetto.

What, Elijah?”

Elijah looks up hopefully, but Dom is still in the same position, and his hands still occupied in the same way they have been the previous hours. His eyes are still scanning the pages. The only change is a tiny crease that has formed between his eyebrows.

“I’m bored,” Elijah declares with a pout that would make Liv… well, pout. “Entertain me.”

“I’m reading this, Elijah,” says Dom in a perfect imitation of Sean’s Allie-please-don’t-bother-Daddy-while-he’s-doing-grownups-stuff voice. “I’m nearly finished, okay? Why don’t you entertain yourself for a while, there’s a good lad.”

Elijah stands gulping for air for a moment with the injustice of it all, then finds his voice again.

“Entertain myself?” he explodes. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last day? I’m bored out of my skull and I want to have fun with you, but all you have eyes for is that stupid book! You haven’t so much as looked at me today! And no one wants to hang out with me, and you’re just sitting here, ignoring me, and if you don’t take your eyes off that page right now and look at me, Monaghan, I’m going to kick you off that couch!”

He stops shouting, chest heaving, and takes a careful peek to see whether his outburst has had any effect. And yes, Dom has looked up from the page. And yes, he is looking at Elijah.

And his face is wet with tears.

His anger forgotten, Elijah immediately climbs out of his armchair and onto the couch to wrap Dom in a hug. “Don’t cry, Dom, it’s not that big a deal, it’s not like I’m leaving you over this or anything…” And, when the tears continue to fall: “look, I’m sorry I yelled at you…”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I… that is why you were crying, right?”

“No, I was crying because… because he’s dead, Elijah. He’s been… murdered.”

“What?” says Elijah, utterly confused now. “Who?”

Dom takes a few shaky breaths. “Dumbledore! I can’t believe that bastard Snape killed him! And he was one of my favourite characters, too!”

Elijah opens his eyes and his mouth wide in shocked outrage, then gets up off the couch and without a backwards glance stalks out of the living room, slamming the door behind him, and sits on the bed waiting for Dom to come running after him with a hundred apologies and perhaps a peace offering in the form of some passionate make-up sex.

He waits for a full five minutes before getting up and going to peek around the door to see what’s taking Dom so long.

Dom sits on the couch. Reading.

Elijah returns to the bedroom and turns on the PC to play a few rounds of ‘Battle for Middle-Earth’, all of which involve a mysterious, untimely, and rather gruesome demise of the cute little pixellated Merry.

Half an hour later, there is a soft knock at the door, which Elijah doesn’t hear over the girly death squeals emitting from the speakers, and a moment later Dom is standing beside his chair.

“What do you want?” says Elijah testily, not taking his eyes off the screen, on which Merry is being mercilessly clubbed to death by six Cave Trolls. “Finished your book, have you?”


“And how was it?”

Dom shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”

“Okay?” Elijah swivels around on his chair, looking scandalised. “That’s it? You abandon me for a whole day over a book, and all you have to say about it is that it’s okay?”

“Well,” says Dom, crouching down so he can look Elijah in the eye, “like I said, one of my favourite characters died by the hands of one of my other favourite characters, the pairings were a bit obvious, though I don’t understand what the werewolf is doing with the shapeshifter girl, because I thought he was at it with that prisoner bloke, but whatever. Oh, and there was this part I was thinking about auditioning for, but it turns out he gets mauled beyond recognition, which is sort of a turnoff. So, you know,” he shrugs. “It was okay.”

Elijah still looking rather forbidding, Dom shuffles forward a bit and begins to stroke his hands up and down his boyfriend’s thighs, which softens Elijah’s mood, but hardens certain other things, which, now you mention it, have been feeling a bit neglected so far.

This does not go unnoticed by Dom, who continues his rubbing and glances at Elijah, whose eyes, like his, are darkening. He grins.

“Oh, and I forgot to say: I thought the ending was a bit of an anti-climax, and it left me feeling a bit, shall we say, unfulfilled.” To emphasize his point, he leans forward and breathes hotly onto the crotch of Elijah’s by now rather tight jeans, making him squirm.

“So, what say you stop doing despicable things to my poor innocent digital self,” he turns off the computer screen without taking his eyes off the prize, “… and let my actual self do despicable things to you, instead, hmmm?” He nuzzles a bit at a strategic place, causing a whimper.

Taking this as a sound of assent, Dom stops rubbing Elijah’s thighs as his deft fingers reach for the fastenings of his boyfriend’s jeans.

Alohomora,” he murmurs, and that’s the last coherent word he’s able to form for quite a while.

Tags: fic, humour, one-off

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