lunchtime

[eff-reality.livejournal.com]

More fic ahoy.


rubicund: having a healthy reddish color

The splotches of crimson that are just starting to fade from Billy's chest remind Dom of a coloring book he had when he was four or five. He'd turned his Razzmattazz crayon on its side, ripped the paper off, and used his palm to apply quick, wide strokes to a big turtle on the first page. The reddish pinkish magenta-like color'd had gaps in it, little spots of white where the crayon didn't make contact with the page. And it certainly hadn't stayed within the turtle's shell.

Billy isn't quite Razzmattazz right now; no, he's more Fuzzy Wuzzy or Mahogany. But Dom feels the need to lean over and chase the shade with his tongue, anyway. He'll blame nostalgia.



parley: conference

"I really don't think you should be doing this right now."

"...What?" Billy hates being looked at like he's an idiot, especially by Elijah. "What?"

Elijah twists his neck back in the direction of the muffled techno music and sighs, pulling out his cloves--he just had one not ten minutes ago, but he told Dom that's what he and Billy were headed out here to do, and, what the hell, he can afford to be a little Method tonight. He lights up quickly and inhales, and it gives him courage. Yes, he can do this. He can give a stern warning to his much older, much wiser, much stronger, but ultimately much more stubborn and often oblivious friend. "I really don't think you should do this tonight, you know? With everyone that's here."

"Lij, I don't know what you're on about. And I'm really not in the mood to decipher whatever it is." He moves to go back inside, but Elijah--the fucking kid--grabs him by both arms.

The look Billy gives him makes Elijah recoil, his grip loosening. "I'm not trying to be a dick here, Bill--you're my friend too, I just. It's Dom's birthday. Seriously. And I know it hasn't been put out there in the open by anyone, which is shocking at this point, quite frankly, but you know how he feels about you. I mean, you know. So just, try not to do that tonight, if you can help it. Alright? And if you really can't help yourself, does it have to be a guy?"

Billy wraps his hands around Elijah's forearms, his eyes clear and sharp. "What do you mean 'how Dom feels about me'?"

"...Are you fucking serious?" Elijah pulls out of his grip and shakes his head violently, exasperated. "God, the two of you!" He takes a final drag of his clove--leaving it burned not even halfway down--and throws it over Billy's shoulder. Billy watches it spin through the air like a firecracker and extinguish in a puddle several feet away, dazed. "I can't deal with this shit anymore."

When Billy turns back he's alone, but the air still crackles in Elijah's wake. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, crossing his arms over himself protectively, the hot Kiwi waiting for him at the bar completely forgotten.

Comments

[owlgrey.livejournal.com]

OMG wise little Elijah!

[eff-reality.livejournal.com]

It's fun when Elijah knows everything, isn't it? Thank you!

[glass-moment.livejournal.com]

Again, the second one! Your monaboyd + Elijah is fantastic.

[eff-reality.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I only recently got into writing Elijah, and I must say, I really enjoy it. :)

[dashery.livejournal.com]

But Dom feels the need to lean over and chase the shade with his tongue, anyway. He'll blame nostalgia.
Whatever works for you, Monaghan. I approve.

And I heart your exasperated, voice of reason, Elijah. He can come out and play anytime. :)

[eff-reality.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I've just recently started writing Elijah, and I really enjoy it. For many reasons. But mostly because I don't have to worry about sounding too American.