fox_confessor: (Default)
fox_confessor ([personal profile] fox_confessor) wrote2008-12-20 12:40 pm

Ficlet: Claire de Lune

bb/dm, from the merman au in [livejournal.com profile] who_said_what




Photobucket


Billy stands on the edge of the shore, leaning heavily against his cane where it has sunk into the wet sand, and waits. Though the water is calm tonight, it's been stormy for the last week. It may be the last night they'll be able to come out, Billy fears, before the winter storms begin in earnest. They'll have to go home soon and Dominic's never done very well when they've been trapped in Glasgow, their little beach house boarded up for the season.

Searching the waves, Billy thinks that even without his glasses he can see Dominic's head and shoulders as he breaks the surface, far out in the distance, almost to the horizon. Billy raises his hand as if Dominic can see him in turn and is surprised to see, though it's all rather unclear, Dominic waving back before ducking back beneath the waves, flipping his tail before he disappears altogether, making Billy bark out a laugh before he glances around self-consciously. He's relieved to find they're still alone.

Later that week, the car already packed for an early drive back to Glasgow and the house closed up except for their small things they'll need in the morning, Billy sits in his chair, his thoughts too scattered for the book that rests on his knee. Dominic, sitting near the hearth of the dead fireplace, whittles a piece of wood into the carving of a bird that will join the menagerie of years' past on the mantle. Billy watches Dominic's hands, his long fingers, and knows that once Dominic's set wing to the small creature in his hand, he'll use the shaving to build Billy a fire just as the sun sets. Even later still, ones the flames have died out, Dominic will come to him to pull him towards bed. By then, Dominic's hair will have dried completely from his earlier swim and his skin will feel warm, so much warmer than Billy's ever has.

The dreams will come then, of Billy walking into the water and no longer feeling the fear he once had of his lungs filling, of sinking like a rock. It would be a relief, he sometimes thinks, for both of them. A release in more ways than one. There's no way to know how long it would be before Dominic would follow, and that's what stops Billy from taking those first steps. He thinks himself rather selfish for it. Do mermen even die? They must, since Dominic's family is gone. But do they go to heaven? Would Billy? There's no one left to ask and the thought of an eternity spent without Dominic frightens Billy more than his fear of drowning.

Closing his mind against those thoughts, Billy instead brings up the memories of how Dominic's body had felt in the water when Billy had first met him--smooth skin stretched taut over muscle, muscle covered in smooth, iridescent sheen of scale. It's been too long since he's felt it. Too long since he's felt Dominic.

"Are you tired?" Dominic asks, and Billy closes his eyes to hear the secret melody in the way Dominic talks. He doesn't open them until he feels that Dominic's moved closer--until he feels Dominic's hand against his cheek, until he hears Dominic sing just the first line of his old song. "Seh mee-yeh-doh.

"I'm getting old, Dominic," Billy whispers and welcomes the warmth of Dominic's body over his own, the gentle kisses that Dominic presses against his throat. His cheeks. Over his face and lips.

"You look the same to me."

"Dominic," Billy begins, meaning to say so much more--about the weariness that goes deeper than his bones, about his fears of being alone, of not being able to protect Dominic even though Dominic is the one who has long provided Billy with comfort and protection. He's quieted by Dominic's kiss, by the feel of smooth skin stretched taut over muscle when his hands slip beneath Dominic's shirt. He feels a strange spread of warmth in his own limbs, smells the wind and sea on Dominic's skin. He follows Dominic to their room, his cane clattering on the floor, unneeded.

"Seh mee-yeh-doh," Dominic sings again.

"I used to think, Dominic."

"Ehn ah-mah-ree-yoh"

"I used to think that merfolk used their song to lure men to their deaths. It's what we were told." Billy falls to his back on the bed and watches with an eagerness he's not felt in too long as Dominic strips the clothes off that Billy knows he's never liked to wear. As he crawls toward Billy on the bed and Billy wonders when he lost his own clothes. Wonders how his arthritic fingers have straightened, how the ever present ache in his back, knees, and hips has mended. How his skin has become so smooth. "When I was a child," he says. "It's what we were told."

"Seh mee-yeh-doh. Meh beh of koh-moh see ehs-too-bee-eh rah ehn-fehr-mah."

Dominic sings and Billy closes his eyes, his hands on Dominic, feeling muscle covered in the smooth, iridescent sheen of scale beneath his fingertips.

[identity profile] kiltsandlollies.livejournal.com 2008-12-21 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)
oh oh oh oh oh I love this so, so much <3333333333333 like Dominic knew it was time, and it was okay, and and and. I love how you write Billy older, even as depressed as he feels there until Dominic takes him to bed. I love that you've let Billy die before they had to go back to Glasgow, and that Dominic won't be penned up another season now. And I love all the cold and warm references. There are so many pretty images I'm going to have to come back here a few times today to rub up against them some more. And the whittling, <333333333333333 That is just lovely. These two are so lovely. You are so lovely.

[identity profile] escribo.livejournal.com 2009-01-13 01:39 am (UTC)(link)
I'm glad someone loves it :D