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The Fast and the Furious, Dom/Brian, PG, (1,256 words)
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raynedanser asked for Six months after Unfinished Business
There was a sofa on the sidewalk.
Brian eased his car up to the curb and stared at it, recognized it. His sofa, on the sidewalk in front of his house.
And wow, did it look worse in the daylight than it did in the relative shadow of his living room. There was other stuff too. The standing lamp from the corner that hadn't worked since about a month after he'd picked it up at a yard sale and that he'd never managed to find the time to rewire. There was a box of pots and pans and plastic plates, all filched from his father's house in Barstow at some point. Going unused and he doubted his dad would have cared if he'd known. He'd never asked for them back.
The driveway held Dom's car and a longbed truck, still full of boxes. Not a truck he recognized as he walked past it and toward the house.
The doorway was half blocked by more furniture; an end table, a side chair that looked vaguely familiar and a lot more comfortable than the other yard sale find that had occupied the corner of the living room since he'd moved in. There were more boxes on the counter that opened onto the kitchen.
There was music playing, not overly loud, some kind of rock-salsa on the stereo and pretty much every light (that remained) was on. No sign of Dom or the owner of the truck but there was a new-used sofa in the living room, looking overstuffed and proprietary in it's brown leather and deep cushioned solidness.
He kind of wondered if his own kind of thinly stuffed and mass manufactured little loveseat hadn't run to the street on its own in sheer terror. The match of the end table blocking the door was already set at one end with a light that worked blazing cheerfully away.
"Jesus, Vince, it's not going to bite you. Just pick it up." Dom's voice snapped out from the bedroom, sounding equal parts annoyed and amused.
"I don't like messing with other people's stuff," Vince said, a little more muffled, petulant and put upon.
"It's a curtain rod, you moron. And take your shoes off, idiot!"
The smile that had been haunting the corners of Brian's mouth bloomed into a full-blown grin as he edged to the doorway, and peered in.
Vince was just stepping up onto the bed, looking like it might be booby-trapped, using his good arm to lift the long end of the curtain rod. There had already been curtains of a sort, dark sheets that Brian had first tacked up over the bedroom windows and that Mia had finally at least found a rod to thread through the hems of to hang up like actual curtains instead of what she asserted was a college student's easy fix-it. The same rod now held actual heavy drapes to help block out the morning sun. Already in place were a set of sheer panels that would let afternoon light in without surrendering their privacy to the neighbors in the next house over. There was a new dresser too, or rather an older one put into service in addition to the massive hulk of Brian's, which was admittedly, large, but not really large enough for all of his and Dom's clothes. Brian had put his vacated clothes in a shelf in the closet.
The curtain rod was popped into its brackets and Dom stepped down, twitching the fabric into place. Vince got down from the bed more gingerly and stared at Dom like he'd grown two heads.
"What do you think?"
"They're curtains, Dom," Vince said, close to a whine. "What do you want me to say?"
Dom glared and rolled his eyes.
"They look, nice, okay? They're fine," Vince huffed under that glare.
Dom grinned and stepped back. "Not bad."
Brian couldn't stand it. "I don't know. I think that burgundy kind of clashes with the walls."
He thought Vince might have squeaked a little and almost ended up face down on the bed when he jumped. Dom didn't react nearly as visibly, eyes widening for a half-second before narrowing. He cocked his head and glared at Brian. "The walls are white, you dick."
Brian's grin got wider. Dom only scowled harder but there was a glint in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing home?"
Brian shrugged. "Doctor's appointment. Follow up," he added quickly when Dom's expression started to shift. "It's all good, just didn't take as long as I thought it would. Why is all my shit on the sidewalk?"
"Because it's shit," Dom said and Vince shifted uncomfortably, looking between them like he was expecting there to be fists instead of words.
"I…I'm gonna finish unloading the truck," Vince said and Brian had to flatten himself against the wall, lest Vince knock him on his ass trying to get out of the bedroom.
Brian looked around the room again, noting the other small changes; the pictures of Dom's family on the dresser next to the single shot Brian had of his own academy graduation. The set of three prints of antique cars on the wall -- they'd hung in the living room of Dom and Mia's house. Two smaller lamps on the end tables at either side of the bed. The vintage clothes butler that now held Brian's freshly cleaned and still in the bag uniforms. It was a far cry and vast improvement to the undecorated, completely utilitarian way the bedroom used to look.
"I like the curtains."
"Yeah," Dom's scowl eased and he nodded. "Mia made them. Altered them. Used to be in the dining room."
"I like 'em,' Brian reasserted. "Couch too."
"Nice to be able to both sit on it," Dom said, looking not at all worried about whether Brian would approve or disapprove of the changes.
That, more than anything, made Brian feel a little giddy and maybe even a little horny. He stepped further into the room, fingering the heavy metal cross that spilled across the top of Dom's dresser, the links cool on his fingertips.
"What did the doctor say?" Dom asked, also shifting in closer.
"I'm good. No congestion left. BP fine, heart, all of it good. Off the antibiotics, off the physical restrictions. I'm good, Dom. Really good," Brian said. He meant more than his physical health. "I kind of liked those plastic plates, though."
Dom was close enough for his breath to fan warmly over Brian's face. "We can salvage them. They're probably toxic though -- they're older than you are, Bri."
"You're older than me. I haven't noticed any adverse affects," Brian said.
"I'll give you older," Dom said and really, Brian was glad Dom's dresser was as sturdy as it was. It didn't shift at all when Dom pinned him against it and showed him what older and experienced had to offer. Brian was feeling a little flushed and a lot hard when Dom's mouth finally left his. "Anything you want to keep of the stuff I tossed, we'll keep," Dom said.
"Just the important stuff." Brian hooked his fingers into Dom's belt. "I'm good with what's left, and what's new," he said.
Dom's grin took up his whole face when he leaned in again.
"Oh, man! Would you guys not do that in front of me!" Vince snapped from the hallway.
Dom reached over and gave the door a hard shove, shutting it.
"I'm not unpacking the dishes!" Vince yelled.
Neither Dom nor Brian heard him.
The Fast and the Furious, Dom/Brian, PG, (1,256 words)
raynedanser asked for Six months after Unfinished BusinessThere was a sofa on the sidewalk.
Brian eased his car up to the curb and stared at it, recognized it. His sofa, on the sidewalk in front of his house.
And wow, did it look worse in the daylight than it did in the relative shadow of his living room. There was other stuff too. The standing lamp from the corner that hadn't worked since about a month after he'd picked it up at a yard sale and that he'd never managed to find the time to rewire. There was a box of pots and pans and plastic plates, all filched from his father's house in Barstow at some point. Going unused and he doubted his dad would have cared if he'd known. He'd never asked for them back.
The driveway held Dom's car and a longbed truck, still full of boxes. Not a truck he recognized as he walked past it and toward the house.
The doorway was half blocked by more furniture; an end table, a side chair that looked vaguely familiar and a lot more comfortable than the other yard sale find that had occupied the corner of the living room since he'd moved in. There were more boxes on the counter that opened onto the kitchen.
There was music playing, not overly loud, some kind of rock-salsa on the stereo and pretty much every light (that remained) was on. No sign of Dom or the owner of the truck but there was a new-used sofa in the living room, looking overstuffed and proprietary in it's brown leather and deep cushioned solidness.
He kind of wondered if his own kind of thinly stuffed and mass manufactured little loveseat hadn't run to the street on its own in sheer terror. The match of the end table blocking the door was already set at one end with a light that worked blazing cheerfully away.
"Jesus, Vince, it's not going to bite you. Just pick it up." Dom's voice snapped out from the bedroom, sounding equal parts annoyed and amused.
"I don't like messing with other people's stuff," Vince said, a little more muffled, petulant and put upon.
"It's a curtain rod, you moron. And take your shoes off, idiot!"
The smile that had been haunting the corners of Brian's mouth bloomed into a full-blown grin as he edged to the doorway, and peered in.
Vince was just stepping up onto the bed, looking like it might be booby-trapped, using his good arm to lift the long end of the curtain rod. There had already been curtains of a sort, dark sheets that Brian had first tacked up over the bedroom windows and that Mia had finally at least found a rod to thread through the hems of to hang up like actual curtains instead of what she asserted was a college student's easy fix-it. The same rod now held actual heavy drapes to help block out the morning sun. Already in place were a set of sheer panels that would let afternoon light in without surrendering their privacy to the neighbors in the next house over. There was a new dresser too, or rather an older one put into service in addition to the massive hulk of Brian's, which was admittedly, large, but not really large enough for all of his and Dom's clothes. Brian had put his vacated clothes in a shelf in the closet.
The curtain rod was popped into its brackets and Dom stepped down, twitching the fabric into place. Vince got down from the bed more gingerly and stared at Dom like he'd grown two heads.
"What do you think?"
"They're curtains, Dom," Vince said, close to a whine. "What do you want me to say?"
Dom glared and rolled his eyes.
"They look, nice, okay? They're fine," Vince huffed under that glare.
Dom grinned and stepped back. "Not bad."
Brian couldn't stand it. "I don't know. I think that burgundy kind of clashes with the walls."
He thought Vince might have squeaked a little and almost ended up face down on the bed when he jumped. Dom didn't react nearly as visibly, eyes widening for a half-second before narrowing. He cocked his head and glared at Brian. "The walls are white, you dick."
Brian's grin got wider. Dom only scowled harder but there was a glint in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing home?"
Brian shrugged. "Doctor's appointment. Follow up," he added quickly when Dom's expression started to shift. "It's all good, just didn't take as long as I thought it would. Why is all my shit on the sidewalk?"
"Because it's shit," Dom said and Vince shifted uncomfortably, looking between them like he was expecting there to be fists instead of words.
"I…I'm gonna finish unloading the truck," Vince said and Brian had to flatten himself against the wall, lest Vince knock him on his ass trying to get out of the bedroom.
Brian looked around the room again, noting the other small changes; the pictures of Dom's family on the dresser next to the single shot Brian had of his own academy graduation. The set of three prints of antique cars on the wall -- they'd hung in the living room of Dom and Mia's house. Two smaller lamps on the end tables at either side of the bed. The vintage clothes butler that now held Brian's freshly cleaned and still in the bag uniforms. It was a far cry and vast improvement to the undecorated, completely utilitarian way the bedroom used to look.
"I like the curtains."
"Yeah," Dom's scowl eased and he nodded. "Mia made them. Altered them. Used to be in the dining room."
"I like 'em,' Brian reasserted. "Couch too."
"Nice to be able to both sit on it," Dom said, looking not at all worried about whether Brian would approve or disapprove of the changes.
That, more than anything, made Brian feel a little giddy and maybe even a little horny. He stepped further into the room, fingering the heavy metal cross that spilled across the top of Dom's dresser, the links cool on his fingertips.
"What did the doctor say?" Dom asked, also shifting in closer.
"I'm good. No congestion left. BP fine, heart, all of it good. Off the antibiotics, off the physical restrictions. I'm good, Dom. Really good," Brian said. He meant more than his physical health. "I kind of liked those plastic plates, though."
Dom was close enough for his breath to fan warmly over Brian's face. "We can salvage them. They're probably toxic though -- they're older than you are, Bri."
"You're older than me. I haven't noticed any adverse affects," Brian said.
"I'll give you older," Dom said and really, Brian was glad Dom's dresser was as sturdy as it was. It didn't shift at all when Dom pinned him against it and showed him what older and experienced had to offer. Brian was feeling a little flushed and a lot hard when Dom's mouth finally left his. "Anything you want to keep of the stuff I tossed, we'll keep," Dom said.
"Just the important stuff." Brian hooked his fingers into Dom's belt. "I'm good with what's left, and what's new," he said.
Dom's grin took up his whole face when he leaned in again.
"Oh, man! Would you guys not do that in front of me!" Vince snapped from the hallway.
Dom reached over and gave the door a hard shove, shutting it.
"I'm not unpacking the dishes!" Vince yelled.
Neither Dom nor Brian heard him.
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Date: 2008-03-09 07:22 pm (UTC)