Pairing: Dominic Monaghan and various
Rating: PG15
Disclaimer: I don't know these men, it's all completely made up and no money is made. Honest.
AN: A wry look at a day in the life of a "simple man". A simple man with a not-so simple love life. Sex, Lies and Nail Varnish – all in a day's work for Dom Monaghan. This was written in November 2003 but I somehow forgot to put it on the site.
Feedback: Yes please, always appreciated.
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Dominic Monaghan would say he is a simple man. He likes to listen to the Beatles whilst simultaneously watching Man U on the telly, sipping a can of Boddingtons, painting his toenails, and contemplating the beauty of an oak or an elm. He likes apple strudel, and woolly scarves still impregnated with eau de fangirl, and second hand anything – or vintage as Elijah likes to refer to old tat – workmen's boots, and sex on an itchy blanket spread on a forest floor.
Once in a while, Dominic will find himself in a busy place – a restaurant or a bar or a club or a tv studio – with glamorous and totally focused people, and he will wonder how he got there and when he will be found out - when his bubble will burst. He thinks he doesn't deserve this. He's waiting for it to end.
Dominic Monaghan sometimes rings Billy Boyd just to hear his voice, just to feel that voice inside his ear, transmitted across a few thousand miles of ocean and sky and earth and trees. He pretends he had a brainwave about the script, waffles on a bit about story arcs and character progression and mentions he met Charlie Kaufman at the Osbornes' house last week… and Billy laughs and oohs and ahhs on cue; and for an hour on the phone with Billy, Dom is happy and he doesn't think he doesn't deserve this.
But it doesn't last.
For soon, Dominic Monaghan will start thinking of going home. Back to England. But then again, he thinks this every few weeks and every few weeks he reaches the same conclusion.
He cannot go home. Because he is. Home.
And tonight, with the moon full, he stows the itchy blanket in the boot trunk of the car and drives out to the forest. The man who makes him laugh like a drain, who knows him better than anyone alive, who keeps him grounded and (relatively) sane – he is on another continent entirely.
The man he loves with an intensity he finds frightening, whose body he craves, is on this one. And things just might change. Fate might just lend a helping hand in this respect. He has to believe that. Though for that to happen, someone else will have to be hurt. He doesn't like to dwell on that too much.
As always, he finds himself drifting. Warm hands caress his skin and a soft and loving mouth finds his. He channels the moon whilst making himself give himself to the man who lies beside him. Because this is a good man. It's just that…
…he's not Billy; there's only one Billy Boyd and he's out of the equation both orientation-wise and… well, Dom won't muck up the best friendship of his life just because he happened to get totally blathered one night and pushed his best friend up against an alley wall only to have him disentangle himself gently from Dom's ineffectually sloppy embrace and tell him kindly but firmly that he loved him but not like that… will he? No.
And this good man lying beside him isn't Elijah, either. There's only one Elijah but he's not in the e=mc squared either, is he? No. The man with his arms around Dom, on a blanket in the moonlight, isn't Elijah. He's much bigger than Elijah, broader across the shoulder and heavier in limb; this man has soft brown eyes and strong fingers with neatly trimmed nails… he gives Dom everything, is patient and skilled and it should be enough. For anyone else it would be. But he isn't Elijah and therefore it's simply not. Enough.
Dom would say he is a simple man. A part of him still believes that everything has a place, labelled and compartmentalised for easy reference. Friends are friends. Lovers are lovers. If you love someone enough, they love you back because that's natural and right. If you lust after someone enough, they naturally want you as fiercely in return.
But he's coming to realise that life isn't a series of slots, nor is it a vast library with everyone tagged at birth according to the good old Dewey Decimal System. And maybe he has to just accept it and get on and be grateful for what is. Billy doesn't want him sexually but will always be there for him, and how many people have that kind of rock solid anchor in their life? Not many, is how many.
And then there's Elijah, who had wanted him sexually, had been his for the taking. But Dom had left it too late and now Elijah's in love with someone else and Dom doesn't want to think about that right now because if he does he will probably lose it and make a fool of himself here in the moonlight… he isn't even sure he still has Elijah's friendship. But someone does want him. This good man wants him.
"Penny for your thoughts," he hears but it's as if the voice is faraway and has no real connection with him at all. Why is he here? On an itchy blanket in the middle of a forest on a beautiful moonlit night? What's the point? So he can get laid? So the ridiculously romantic setting can distract him from the fact that he's using this man for what he can get and he has nothing to give in return save a body that needs to be sated and will take whatever it can get? Well, actually yes. Chalk it down to one more compartment, this time labelled Dom Doesn't Want To Be Alone…
"At least try to be in the moment, Dom!" A fair request, Dom thinks. So he puts his arms around Karl and pushes his tongue inside Karl's mouth and his hips against Karl's hips. "That's better, much better," Karl whispers and the moonlight illuminates bright white teeth and Dom lets out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
The blanket beneath Dom has rucked up but he doesn't care. The air is cooler on naked skin but it's so good to be beneath someone who knows what they're doing and isn't afraid to do it – again and again.
Still, even now he's comparing and contrasting. He can really dig his fingers into Karl's back and Karl won't mind, won't complain, won't whinny like a gymkhana pony – "no, Dom, no… yes, Dom, yes, more more more, baby…"
Dom realises with a start he's putting words into fantasy Elijah's mouth and reactions into fantasy Elijah's body that he can only assume. He was never with Elijah so it's all coming out of some porn closet in his head. He shouldn't do this. He's torturing himself again and it's got to stop. Now. Before Karl realises…
"You’re out of it again, Dom…"
Too late. But he can redeem himself. "It's you, Karl. You take me to a whole other level," he lies, stroking and patting, and it's apparently good enough because after a second's hesitation, Karl resumes doing what he was doing so well and Dom refuses to acknowledge that he just had a very feminine moment there. He's not a girl, he's a man. He's a fucking man. Well, technically he's a being fucked man, but it comes out the same just from a different angle. Angles… Elijah would be bottom, that'd be cast in stone: a great, natural bottom. But also a dominant bottom. Well, he could be as dominant as he liked if only he was-
"For fuck's sake." And now it's irredeemable but luckily Karl is past the point of no return and couldn't stop if he wanted to and Dom remembers just how sweet it is with Karl even if Karl isn't Billy or Elijah and then it's all – all – all over.
Karl is pulling up his pants and running a hand through his hair and he's standing with his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "I fly home in less than a week, Dom. Could you not at least have tried to make out this meant something?"
Dom sighs. He’ll cop it from Billy when he tells him – and he tells him practically everything. "You blew it, Dom. Karl's a hot guy, a good guy, and you blew it," he can hear it now. And he'd deserve it. All of it.
The drive back into town takes longer than the drive out, the music on the radio is all crap and all the CDs in the car are Elijah's and so obscure as to be virtually unfathomable. Karl has stopped glaring, his natural easygoing disposition reasserting itself, and Dom feels like the worst kind of pond scum that ever evaded natural selection and he knows he has only himself to blame.
"I'm sorry," he says when Karl lets himself out of the car. He's staying with friends but had assumed he would be stopping over at Dom's tonight. But that was then. Not now.
"S'okay. Still love you," Karl says, smiling. He ducks his head down into the car and swipes at Dom's head with the flat of his hand. It's fine. They're cool. They're still friends. Probably never be lovers again, that moment has possibly passed, but there's no glacial front stealing across the horizon. Which is good.
Dom drives home and ponders. He just split from one of the most beautiful men on the planet, a guy he had pretty much lusted after from Day One-Hour Three- Minute Twelve-Second Sixty Nine (and why does that last number always have to figure in his brain at some point?), and he just let him get away. Could he be any more stupid?
Apparently so.
Because here's the Monaghan residence – modest little abode – and there it is again, in the rear view mirror, receding in the distance.
Dominic Monaghan would say he is a simple man. And simple men see life simply, yes? Fate doing the dirty? The powers that be not co-operating? Then take matters into your own hands. Be your own fate, take hold of the power. Yes!
Because here's the Wood residence – modest medium sized hacienda type abode – and there it is again, in the rear view mirror, receding in the distance.
And a few minutes later, here it is again. And there are lights on and he can hear music. And Elijah's in there, he has to be. That's his car parked up on the drive. Dom feels a swell of affection tinged with hatred for that car. He half remembers passing out on the back seat of that car, just about the time he was going to tell Elijah he loved him and would he mind very much proving Dominic's theory about dominant bottoms. So much for timing. When he came to, tucked up on Elijah's couch, it was all too late. During the intervening eight hours, Elijah had fallen. In love. And Not With Him. How fucked up was that? Totally, was how fucked up that was.
At least the car's not cosying up with a Lamborghini or a Merc or something. It's all alone. Beautiful, sweet, faithful little car.
It's late. In Glasgow it's even later, or earlier depending on which angle you are approaching time from and Dom is approaching it warily. Either way, Billy will be in bed. He's probably been in bed for hours. He has theatre people to see in London in a day or so and Dom thinks Billy might be more nervous about his West End debut than he's letting on. When he's sorted things out here, he'll maybe see about flying over and supporting Billy. Maybe Lij'll come with him, make a mini-break of it. That Bridget Jones moment safely behind him, Dominic parks the car and makes his way up the drive. Elijah, Elijah, man – where is the security you promised you were going to have installed? Where are the snarling, diabolical Dobermans? Anyone could come ring your bell, man.
His finger is within a millimetre of the bell when he stops. Think this through, Monaghan. Consider the evidence. Yes, Elijah's car is in glorious isolation. But what if Elijah picked up the boyfriend from someplace and the boyfriend is in there – naked and sweaty and - on the nest? And that's a physical blow right where it hurts. He turns from the bell push and leans heavily against the wall. Breathe, Monaghan. Breathe. He can do that; he's a trained actor, right?
So, the boyfriend might be inside. Inside the house, damn it, not inside Elijah! - if he doesn't stop thinking like that, he'll throw up right here on Elijah's porch and –
The music's stopped. There's a change in the pattern of the illumination within the house. A light has been turned off in one room and on in another. That has a kind of symmetry, Dom thinks: light off, light on - it appeals to the simple man that he believes he is.
"Dom. That you?"
"Yeah."
"I thought that was your car! I'm going to bed, dude. You okay?" Elijah's at the door, peering out at him from behind his second best pair of glasses and Dom sees that he's wearing little white cotton socks right out of a Hockney, and soft white shorts. Nothing else. He's been working out. It isn't working.
"Yeah." Dom moves away from the wall and casually looks over Elijah's shoulder into the house. He hasn't been here for a few months. Not since waking up on that couch to a world changed beyond recognition and mankind ravaged by plague. Or as good as. "You?"
"Great! Man, come in, don't stand there like a dork," Elijah pulls him enthusiastically inside and closes the door. This is nice. This is cosy. Being here in Elijah's tight little vestibule. And thinking things like that can get a man into a whole lot of trouble.
"Like your hair, Lij," Dom says, blinking. He doesn't, but he thinks he ought not to get off on the wrong foot here. Anyway, hair grows, that's its defining characteristic, right? So, no real tragedy.
"You look like shit," Elijah replies, smiling. Then he's wandering off into the kitchen and Dom is following. Fate. Power. Make something happen. He glances into the little living room but there are no signs of –
"Coffee? Tea? Beer?" Elijah asks, scratching a nipple absently while he fiddles with canisters and fills the kettle…
"Tea would be great, thanks," Dom says and he sits down at the counter on a high stool and scans the key rack.
"On your own, then?" he says, taking the mug from Lij and trying to focus on something other than Elijah's chest. It's so pale and somehow undefined. But nice. Karl has a very well developed chest, his working-out actually working.
"Oh, yeah. He's in Vancouver, gotta go where the work is, you know how it is," Elijah says and sips his tea, elbows on the counter. "This is so good, Dom. I missed you!"
"I missed you, too," Dom says. "I love you, Elijah Wood. I want to fuck you so badly I could cry from wanting it. Never an hour has gone by in these last three months when I haven't thought about your mouth round my cock, my cock up your arse, my arms round you, my tongue in your ear…"
"So, how's Billy?" Elijah asks, yawning discreetly.
"Shitting his pants about the play but being all manly and thinking he's hiding it," Dom laughs and Elijah nods.
"When's he back then?" Dom asks, setting down his mug. "Cos while I've got you alone, Lij, I'm going to take my own fate in my own hands and make it happen. I'm going to take you in the living room and shag you on that couch and pretend the last few months never happened, that you never fell in love with that git while I was sleeping…"
"Oh, day after tomorrow – all being well. You know what it can be like. You wrapped on that one, the one in London? Yeah? I have to go to London in the spring, you remember?" Elijah takes the mugs to the dishwasher and Dom notices that Elijah turns when he opens the dishwasher door… denies him the sight of his firm little arse. It bothers him. But then Elijah is straightening up again and smiling.
"I remember, yeah. You'd just found out about it, you were really buzzed. I liked the soccer one, you were good in that…" Dom is about to ask for a beer when the phone rings and Elijah is shifting his weight from one naked leg to another and looking at the phone and then at Dom and then back to the phone.
"I'll just get that. Help yourself to a beer," he says and then he's taking the call but not in the kitchen, not on that phone, but in the living room where the couch is. It bothers Dom, but he opens up the fridge and takes out a can; he notices the health foods and supplements and weird looking vegetables in the crisper. No chocolate, no half-eaten pizza…
He tries not to listen at the door, but the low giggling and the creaking of the couch are siren calls and he can no more stay this side of dignity and discretion than he can kill a kakapo. He has to listen. How can he take his fate in his hands and make something happen if he balks at a spot of eavesdropping?
"… you know what that does to me… yeah… the couch… no… I can't… course I want to, but I have a visitor…Dom… yeah, I know…me? like a rock… later… love you too, babes, you're my world…" and Dom has to hold onto the door jamb and surely Elijah will hear Dom's heart breaking and will drop the phone and come love him better?
"…I have to go. Yeah. Call me back in about ten, he should have gone by then, yeah."
Dom's back in his seat, draining his beer, when Elijah walks into the kitchen, only now Elijah's wearing a big baggy t-shirt and Dom knows why.
"I can make you rock hard, too, Elijah. I can do things to you no one else can. You don't need him, Lij. I can be your world…"
"So, best be off then, Lij," he says, crushing the beer can with unnecessary force and dropping it in the trash.
"You sure? You could stay a while, we should catch up on stuff. You seeing anyone, Dom?" Elijah lays a hand on Dom's arm and it's burning hot through Dom's sleeve.
"Nah, I should go. I just left Karl, actually," he adds. He sees Elijah's eyebrows commune with Elijah's hairline for a second and remembers that Elijah had as big a crush on Karl in New Zealand as he did. Score one to Dom. But then Elijah's smiling again, though a little wistfully perhaps.
"That's great, Dom."
"Yeah, it is, Lij," he says, and before he even knows he's going to do it, he's holding Elijah close and kissing the top of his head and breathing in the smell of him; and he knows this is all there is.
"You sure you're okay?" Elijah asks, though he doesn't pull away and for a split second Dom thinks it might be all right. He can stand here in Elijah's tiny kitchen and hold him and it will be months earlier and he will have said what he should have said and the Elijah in his arms will be the Elijah who loved him then, who was his. But it's not months earlier and that Elijah is gone.
"Bye, love," Dom says and he finally lets go and backs away. On the doorstep, Dom knows he's leaving an Elijah who is puzzled, but one who will, in approximately ten minutes, be naked on that couch, having phone sex with the man he loves.
Dom pats the bonnet of Elijah's little car for old times' sake, and then heads towards his own.
For a simple man, Dom reflects, he sure has a way of complicating things, blurring lines and overstepping marks. Could he have messed up any more completely? Has he got it right with anyone?
Just as he turns the key in the lock, Dom feels a tingle that starts at the base of his neck and careers south down his spine. It could be a cool breeze starting up.
Or maybe, just maybe it's fate. What if, in a few months time, he's cursing because he didn't do something right now, at this very moment, here outside Elijah's house? What if life is throwing him a bone here, a second chance? What if fate means for him to march right back in there and grab the phone out of Elijah's hand? What if that's the plan? Elijah…
Or Karl? Maybe Karl's even now expecting him to drive over there and make some kind of commitment. And maybe he's the one and Dom can learn to fall in love with him and forget all about Elijah…
Or Billy? What if, in Glasgow, Billy has realised he's not straight at all and he wants to lose his gay cherry to his best mate, Dom Monaghan?
Or what if there's some entirely new guy who's sitting at some bar downtown and who just happens to have this big thing for shortish guys with storm-tossed grey eyes?
What if… he just goes home?
With a shrug, Dom gets in his car. He'll leave fate to others. For now, there's Bend It Like Beckham on the dvd and beers in the fridge and a nice pot of magenta nail polish waiting to be deflowered.
And tomorrow is another day for the simple Mr. Monaghan.
The End