Pairing: Domlijah... sort of.
Rating: R to be sure
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Pity me.
Author's notes: When I read avondster 's report of ORC, I was attacked by two things: the green monster of envy, and a viscious plotbunny. So this is for her.
Oh, and she beta'd it, too.
“Hi. How are you?”
Dom smiled at the visibly nervous young girl as she handed him her book to sign. While he did so, without so much as looking down – he knew how to sign his own name, thankyouverymuch, especially after doing it for about two thousand times today already – he craned his neck to hopefully check out the line behind her. Nope, still endless.
Surpressing a sigh, he handed the book back to the girl, smiling his smile of fangirl-charming radiance at her.
The girl stammered a thank you, nearly dropping the heavy book as she turned away, her face beet-red.
Dom smirked as he took a moment to select his next marker. This girl looked like a… lime green. Yeah, definitely a lime green. He picked up the selected specimen and tested it out on the back of his hand, which already looked like a prop from Aliens due to all the scratching it had endured that day.
He looked up and smiled. “Hello. How are you?” Sign. Smile. Next.
God, he needed coffee.
Dom liked conventions. He really did. He had always loved being the centre of attention. The stage was definitely in his Top Five of Favourite Places To Be. He liked the fans, too – well, most of them anyway. He didn’t mind talking about his experience in making the films, even if he did have to answer the same questions every single time, because the fans loved it, and he was happy if he could contribute to their having a good time. Plus it paid well, got him around the world, and gave him a chance to get together with his mates.
The only downside was this. He realised why fans wanted his autograph, why they wanted to meet him. Hell, if there had been Beatles conventions, he would probably have been standing just as patiently in line for two hours to get Lennon’s autograph.
But these sessions were just so bloody boring. Hours and hours of writing your name and smiling. No time for breaks, no time to even chat with these people who had paid God-only-knows-how-much money for this. Rush rush rush, no bloody time for that nonsense, we’re on a tight schedule.
Dom flashed what he felt was Genuine Smile Number Six Thousand of the day at Fan Number Six Thousand, a sweet-looking girl. Violet, he decided.
She took back her book from him, and smiled in return. “Thank you so much for doing this for us. I can’t imagine it’s really great fun.”
Dom shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s a great way of meeting the fans,” he said diplomatically.
Beside him, Billy snorted. Dom could be as tactful as he wanted, his best friend could pretty much hear every molecule of him screaming for a break.
Dom never went to a convention if it didn’t have at least one of his friends on the guest-list already. Sure, they didn’t have much chance to interact much during the day except maybe on stage, but there would be someone to take him out to dinner at night, someone with whom he could grab a beer in his hotelroom after a long day, someone who understood. Someone to keep him from going completely insane.
Dom kicked Billy under the table. Yes, it felt good to have his friend with him.
He looked up again, readied his Charming Smile… and faltered.
Before him stood a young man, or boy would perhaps be more appropriate.
Nothing unusual about him at first sight: short, slender, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Slightly geeky too, the sort of kid that got beat up for his lunch money at elementary school, and again at high school because he read books of more than 40 pages.
Nothing extraordinary about him… except for his eyes.
Fuck, his eyes!
They had to be the biggest, bluest, and most expressive Dom had ever seen, and he could not stop looking at them. Eyes were the window to the soul, his drama teacher used to say, and right now Dom felt like he was looking through this window, surprised to see a familiar place behind it. Perhaps even home…
Fucking angel eyes.
“Hello,” came a voice from slightly below the eyes, and Dom snapped back to the Real World. Autograph session. Right. Yeah.
“We’ve met before, right?” That the best fucking line you can come up with, Monaghan?
“I don’t think so,” said Angel-Eyes, smiling. He had a gap between his front teeth, which made him both cuter and geekier than he already was.
“Oh. Right.” Fuck, had his brain gone for coffee break without him or something?
“Well, in that case, hi.” Dom extended his hand, suddenly eager to touch and find out if this wasn’t, in fact, some bizarre freak dream.
The boy’s hand was warm in his, and once again Dom felt a strange sense of familiarity. He looked up into those eyes, and this time knew that the other felt it too.
The eyes widened for a moment, and the hand was pulled back.
Okay, this is fucking weird.
To distract himself, Dom grabbed the book that conveniently sat before him on the table, open at a blank page. “What’s your name?”
“That’s E-L-I-J-A-H, yeah?”
“No personalisations,” prompted one of the handlers, but Dom ignored him. He bent over the book and selected a sea-blue marker, almost without thinking, then slowly began to write, chewing on the cap as he did so.
It took him more than two minutes, and by then both Billy and Sean were giving him puzzled glances, the girls in the line were getting impatient, and the handlers were near despair.
Finally Dom put down his marker and handed the book back to Elijah.
“Thanks for coming. I hope you’ll have a great time.”
“So what did Frodo say to you, Lij?” asked Hannah as they returned to their hotel room. She rolled her eyes. “You certainly stood there long enough.”
Elijah didn’t answer. The whole meeting had been so surreal. Sure, he’d expected it to be. It’s not every day you get to meet the man who plays your favourite character of all time. But that wasn’t it, somehow. There was something else, something deeper. If only he had said something, anything.
Oh yeah, like what? You’ve only seen the guy for two fucking minutes, what would you say? “Hi, I liked your Frodo, and by the way, I feel some kind of weird spiritual connection with you.” Fucking fantastic. Why don’t you just apply for a restraining order now?
Ignoring his sister’s teasing (she wasn’t nearly as into this as he was), he stepped into the bathroom and locked the door, before sitting down on the edge of the bath and opening his book, looking up the page that Dom had signed.
He read the bright blue writing, and his eyes widened impossibly.
Are you sure we’ve never met before? I have this weird feeling I should know you. Sometimes you get that with people, you know? Or perhaps you don’t, and you just think I’m one fucked up little Hobbit. But somehow I don’t think so.
Do you feel like you should know me, too? Because I think I can help you there.
Hi, I’m Dom. I’m 27 years old and from Manchester. My hobbies are football (the real variety), surfing, writing, and acting. I like trees and beaches. My favourite band is The Beatles. My favourite colours are blue and green. I’m a Sagittarius.
I still feel like I should know you, too…
And under that, his phone number.