Touched

 

Author:  Kinkyhobbit

Pairing:  EW/DM

Genre:  RPS

Rating:  PG-13

Warnings:  none. 

Disclaimer:  I made it all up. As far as I know, this never ever happened.

Summary:  Step into the TARDIS, friends, it’s time to go back to the beginning…Elijah’s thoughts after Dom’s visit (the month he stayed with Elijah prior to moving to LA).

 

 

“I was up all night hoping I'd dream about you.”

 

He looked at the shirt on the coffee table in front of him. He'd taken it from Dom's bag while he was packing to leave. An instinctive act, he took it because watching it disappear into Dom’s bag made him hold his breath. Dom had zipped up the bag and gone to the bathroom, and in those few minutes he took the shirt.

 

It was just an old, discoloured white cotton t-shirt, with Dom's smell ingrained in the fabric. He reached out and stroked it. Soft and comfortable, the cotton thin with age. He felt a pang of guilt as he realised it was probably an old favourite. Then he smiled as he thought of Dom opening the bag back home, noticing his favourite shirt missing and realising where it had gone.

 

He thought about going into the main house, but he didn’t really feel like seeing anyone else. He thought of playing some music but couldn't think of anything he wanted to play. To create noise would seem almost rude right now, as if getting on as usual was disrespectful. As if he was…mourning Dom’s departure. He was only mildly surprised as he realised this was exactly what he was doing. But the silence seemed almost sacred, so he didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he’d sat when he first walked back through the door. Just sat there staring at the t-shirt, the only bit of Dom left behind.

 

How could one person fill so much space? How could one person have such a presence that their departure leaves a massive hole to be filled?

 

And why hadn't anyone warned him, he thought half-seriously. Yeah, a little warning would have been good. Some time to prepare would have been nice.

 

He picked up the cigarette packet and took one out. Looked at it. Put it back. He didn’t really feel like it. He didn’t feel like anything much right now, except finding a way to turn that plane around. Bring Sblomie back for another month. His Sblomie.

 

He bowed his face into his hands and let the ache deep inside rise to the surface and overwhelm him, the tears spilling through his fingers to the floor. His body shook but he barely made a sound. He felt so empty inside, like a hollow filled with pain. As if crying at the airport and all the way home wasn’t enough. Perhaps his stupid heart was in Dom’s bag too.

 

Everything else seemed so long ago. He remembered Dom’s arrival, how it was unreal seeing Dom sitting in his mother’s kitchen, this bright, colourful, lively creature that seemed to fill the room. To see his New Zealand life overlapping with his LA family life, that was more than a little strange. More than once that first few days he felt like giving Dom a bit of a poke to see if he was real. They’d be walking down the street and he’d keep glancing at Dom to check he was still there.

 

It had been a wonderful month. They spent every waking moment together and it was bliss. Then the last few days got a little melancholy for both of them. They hugged each other more often, and for longer. They spent less time out and more time in, sitting on the sofa cuddling and talking. They watched a load of television, videos and DVDs, and listened to just as much music. Any excuse not to leave that sofa.

 

The same sofa he was sitting alone on now. He picked up a cushion and lay down, hugging it to his chest and burying his face in it as a wave of fresh tears claimed him.

 

He should have realised the trouble he was in. There were little signs scattered in his memories…Looking at Dom and feeling a strong desire to touch his cute sticking-out ears, then blushing and Dom laughing and asking him what his problem was. Waking before Dom and sitting on the floor beside the sofa watching him sleep. Watching Dom talking to his mother and suddenly feeling as if he had been pulled back and was seeing Dom for the first time. Little unguarded moments lying about everywhere. His memory was as messy as he was.

 

It had finally happened the morning of Dom’s last day in LA. He’d woken up to find Dom had, at some point, crawled into bed with him and was holding him. It felt wonderful and he’d lain there trying very hard not to get aroused, especially when he felt Dom’s body pressed against him. He’d stroked Dom’s fingers and Dom had stirred, kissing the back of his neck, a warm lingering kiss that made him shiver. He’d turned slightly and felt Dom’s lips brush his temple. He turned further, and let Dom’s lips find his own.

 

They’d kissed gently, all softness and warmth. When they finally stopped and looked at each other, he realised they had just taken that next big step together. He knew Dom realised it too.

 

He had felt a sudden urge to say “I love you”. They’d said it before, when they were drunk, or casually messing about, without serious emotion behind it. He wanted to say it again, and really mean it. Then Dom had kissed him again and said it first.

 

The last day meant catching up with people who wanted to say goodbye. He didn’t have Dom to himself. That night they had dinner with his family again and sat around talking until the early hours, just like Dom’s first night in LA. When they went back to the house they sat up for a while, until he tentatively stood and took Dom’s hand, and led him quietly to bed.

 

He tried not to think of the trip to the airport. They were silent most of the way. He couldn’t remember much of their goodbye, just tears and Dom holding him and telling him he’d be back soon. Then Dom was gone and he drove home and somehow made it despite crying and paying very little attention to the road.

 

And now he was lying on his sofa in the dark, still hugging that damn cushion and wishing it was Sblomie.

 

He couldn’t stay here all night. He wasn’t hungry, just tired, so he got up and walked wearily to the bedroom and fell into bed.

 

Half an hour later he still wasn’t asleep. He lay there listening to the traffic outside. All he could think of was the feel of Dom’s beard on his cheek. The way Dom kissed. How long until the plane landed. How long until they could talk on the phone. How long until they could see each other again.

 

An hour. Damn, he was exhausted. He got up and went out to the coffee table and picked up the shirt gently, like it was an artefact. He pressed his face into it and smiled, then padded softly back to bed. He climbed in, curling up with Dom’s shirt, keeping a bit of Dom close to him, letting it envelop him in warmth.

 

He closed his eyes, finally, and slept.

 

Kinkyhobbit 2002

 

 

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