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fox_confessortitle: Here Comes the Sun
author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo (Dani)
fandom: Lotrips
pairing: bb/dm
word count: 602
notes: written for 2010 schmoop bingo (prompt: sunscreen)
"You smell good. Like cocoanuts. Like summer. Like girls in bikinis."
Dominic is, admittedly, a bit distracted when Billy starts to talk. To begin with, he has a hangover when Billy doesn't, which is all kinds of wrong, too long a list to even get a good start on enumerating. Secondly, there is his plate of beans on toast, a proven hangover remedy. Thirdly, there is an elf at their table. A big, distracting elf, who at the moment is nursing his own hangover with a blood mary that looks more mary than bloody, and Dominic really wants to crack the joke but he can’t quite work up the energy. Plus there’s Billy, who is distracting enough when he isn't talking. "Girls? What girls?"
"Tiny little string bikinis, with pink polkadots maybe even."
Dominic finally looks over to where Billy is sat next to him, a piece of egg perched on the end of his fork and a point of toast in his other hand, waiting to sop up his runny yolks. "You've gone mental," Dominic says, turning back to his own plate and eyeing it as if it’s done him some offense.
"You do. You smell like every vacation I've ever had." Billy waves his fork a bit, his eyes gone kind of misty with memory, and Dominic closes his eyes, not wanting to look because it’s too lovely a sight when his head is dancing a conga line.
"Florida in '96,” Billy continues. “Inverness in '88. Loch Ness on a school trip in '80. All the other lads looked for Nessie but I had more important priorities. Sheila O'Malley in the back of the school bus. Ah, she was a stunner."
"She had to have been eleven," Dominic says, squinting as he retries his math.
"Twelve. I've always had a thing for the older woman. She smelled just like you do now, like a pina colada with a blue umbrella tipped at the edge of the glass, and she let me kiss her on the cheek and hold her hand on the way home." Billy suddenly turns to Dominic, his eyes bright. "Would you let me, Dom, just for old time's sake?"
Dominic carefully sets his own fork onto the side of his plate and pushes his plate away a bit. "You're saying that I remind you of a girl you had a crush on when you were 11, and you expect that to get you a kiss?"
"You remind me of every good thing, Dom," Billy says, as if explaining the meaning of life to a particularly dim child. He put his own fork down and smoothed out the napkin in his lap. "You remind me of standing on the beach and squishing my toes into the sand. You remind me of laying in bed between cool sheets with my shoulders prickling from sunburn. You remind me of my first kiss."
For a moment, Dominic can’t say anything, and so doesn’t. He feels small and petty, mean for having snarled at Orlando for streaking the sunscreen over his cheeks and nose when they’d come out this morning. Had he known, he’d have slathered it everywhere, fairly bathed in it. Finally, Dominic straightens up and finds the courage to face Billy. “I kept your jumper, last month, the last time you wore it and you left it at my house. I kept it so that I could put it on sometimes and feel that you were near.”
“Does that bit of thievery mean I can kiss you now?”
“It means you can kiss me whenever you like, Billy Boyd.”
author:
escribo (Dani)fandom: Lotrips
pairing: bb/dm
word count: 602
notes: written for 2010 schmoop bingo (prompt: sunscreen)
"You smell good. Like cocoanuts. Like summer. Like girls in bikinis."
Dominic is, admittedly, a bit distracted when Billy starts to talk. To begin with, he has a hangover when Billy doesn't, which is all kinds of wrong, too long a list to even get a good start on enumerating. Secondly, there is his plate of beans on toast, a proven hangover remedy. Thirdly, there is an elf at their table. A big, distracting elf, who at the moment is nursing his own hangover with a blood mary that looks more mary than bloody, and Dominic really wants to crack the joke but he can’t quite work up the energy. Plus there’s Billy, who is distracting enough when he isn't talking. "Girls? What girls?"
"Tiny little string bikinis, with pink polkadots maybe even."
Dominic finally looks over to where Billy is sat next to him, a piece of egg perched on the end of his fork and a point of toast in his other hand, waiting to sop up his runny yolks. "You've gone mental," Dominic says, turning back to his own plate and eyeing it as if it’s done him some offense.
"You do. You smell like every vacation I've ever had." Billy waves his fork a bit, his eyes gone kind of misty with memory, and Dominic closes his eyes, not wanting to look because it’s too lovely a sight when his head is dancing a conga line.
"Florida in '96,” Billy continues. “Inverness in '88. Loch Ness on a school trip in '80. All the other lads looked for Nessie but I had more important priorities. Sheila O'Malley in the back of the school bus. Ah, she was a stunner."
"She had to have been eleven," Dominic says, squinting as he retries his math.
"Twelve. I've always had a thing for the older woman. She smelled just like you do now, like a pina colada with a blue umbrella tipped at the edge of the glass, and she let me kiss her on the cheek and hold her hand on the way home." Billy suddenly turns to Dominic, his eyes bright. "Would you let me, Dom, just for old time's sake?"
Dominic carefully sets his own fork onto the side of his plate and pushes his plate away a bit. "You're saying that I remind you of a girl you had a crush on when you were 11, and you expect that to get you a kiss?"
"You remind me of every good thing, Dom," Billy says, as if explaining the meaning of life to a particularly dim child. He put his own fork down and smoothed out the napkin in his lap. "You remind me of standing on the beach and squishing my toes into the sand. You remind me of laying in bed between cool sheets with my shoulders prickling from sunburn. You remind me of my first kiss."
For a moment, Dominic can’t say anything, and so doesn’t. He feels small and petty, mean for having snarled at Orlando for streaking the sunscreen over his cheeks and nose when they’d come out this morning. Had he known, he’d have slathered it everywhere, fairly bathed in it. Finally, Dominic straightens up and finds the courage to face Billy. “I kept your jumper, last month, the last time you wore it and you left it at my house. I kept it so that I could put it on sometimes and feel that you were near.”
“Does that bit of thievery mean I can kiss you now?”
“It means you can kiss me whenever you like, Billy Boyd.”
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