My brain is officially broken
Title: To bum a fag
Pairing: Dom/Hans Jensen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Seriously cracked out
Disclaimer: Oh come on!
Notes: I am a sick woman. I have taken the sensationally hot fic that philomel wrote here and turned it into something faintly disturbing. I apologise and suggest that you read her story instead as its good and ever so pleasant in the mental image department. Whilst mine is the product of sleep deprivation. Oh and British slang translations just in case: "fag" = cigarette, "ponce" = to borrow
Dom sighed heavily. Man he needed a cigarette and he needed one now.
So much for giving up. He had tried but all these press events and meet and greets were so boring and that just lead to him being desperate for a way to escape, even if it was only temporary, and the best escape he could think of was to join the other social misfits huddled outside frantically dragging nicotine into their lungs. Right now he would give his right hand for a cig. Well maybe not his right hand cos that was a dead useful part of his anatomy. Maybe a toe or something less important. Yeah a toe, that would be a fair exchange for some blessed nicotine tinged relief. Great now he was having a discussion with himself about the relative merits of body parts.
He really, really needed a fag.
Pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against he made his way through the assembled fabulous people towards the door to the balcony where he was pretty sure the smokers were hanging out.
Once there he looked around, inhaling the second hand smoke as he did so its rich aroma intensifying the craving inside him. Most of the smokers were standing in small groups but he noticed one guy standing on his own partly obscured by a large potted plant.
Dom approached the man making the international signal for "can I ponce a fag", two fingers pressed against his lips and a pleading look in his eyes, as he walked. Just as it was too late to turn back he realised who his possible cigarette donor was.
It was Hans Jensen, the exceptionally odd little German journalist who had interviewed Elijah via satelite that one time.
"Shit" he muttered under his breath as the freak smiled in recognition and pulled his packet of cigarettes out of his pocket offering them in Dom's direction: "serves me right for being an addict I suppose. OK. Make this quick and painless. Smoke his cigarette then go right back inside for a very large drink. Do not engage him in conversation. I repeat do not engage him in conversation - are you listening to me brain? This is not the time to turn on the trademark Monaghan charm"
With his brain firmly instructed in cigarette stealing etiquette as it relates to bizarre European journalists Dom took the proferred packet, removed a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. Patting his pockets down he realised he didn't have a lighter with him. "shit now I'll have to ask him for a light and that will only lead to talking and..." He began to wonder just how much he wanted a nicotine fix. Perhaps he could just stick the cigarette behind his ear for later all nonchalent like and go back inside. Or maybe go home. Yeah home seemed like a good idea about now. Anywhere but here.
His internal monologue was interupted by his benefactor who leaned towards him and with a leer asked:
"Can I light you up?"
A shudder surged through Dom as mental images flashed across his mind. It wasn't that this bloke was ugly, in fact he was rather attractive really, it was just that there was something so damn creepy about him.
Clearly he had been lost in thought for a while for Jensen began to look a little sad and asked:
"It is a bad question?"
Shaking his head to clear the horror show in his mind Dom moved in closer to get within the lighters range answering:
"no its a good question and the answer is yeah. Cheers mate"
Jensen smiled and flicked the wheel on his lighter, bringing it to life and moving it closer to Dom.
It was a windy evening so Dom had to shelter the sputtering flame with both of his hands in order to light his cigarette. He was more than a little disturbed to feel Jensen's free hand move in to cup both of his own and even more disturbed when it lingered there just a little too long.
And yet further disturbed when he spoke:
"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Monaghan. I am big fan of you, very big fan. I like your eyes and your British voice. You are a beautiful man."
Ok this was definitely heading towards the area of the weird now. Dom flailed mentally, trying to think of something to say. The weather thats it talk about the weather.
Too late. The German was talking again.
"You have very grey eyes. very big grey eyes. big grey. I am liking to stare into them"
Alarms began to blare in Dom's head. And then a hint of annoyance added itself to the mix. He wasn't the big eyed freak. That was Elijah. Could no one tell the sodding hobbits apart?
"Yeah right, erm look mate cheers for the fag and all but I have to go. Over there. I, er, need to be alone" Dom backed slowly away from Jensen searching the crowd on the balcony as he did so looking for a familiar face, anyone at all to go and talk with. Anyone but this man. This man who was matching his movements, moving forward as he moved back. This man who was reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder and now trailing a finger slowly down his arm and clearly enjoying feeling the muscles under his fingertips. This time Dom couldn't hide the shudder that coursed through him.
Jensen clearly took this as a sign of arousal and not disgust for he leaned in until his face was mere inches from Dom's and whispered huskily in his ear: "You are sad? Hans could make you happy. We have fun together you and I"
Right that was it. Taking a final drag from the cigarette Dom dropped it to the floor and ground the butt beneath his shoe.
"No you're alright there mate. My girlfriend is inside and I have to be getting back to her."
With those words he turned and fled back inside. Not looking back as he did so and vowing to himself never to smoke again, or at least to bring his own cigarettes in the future.
Pairing: Dom/Hans Jensen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Seriously cracked out
Disclaimer: Oh come on!
Notes: I am a sick woman. I have taken the sensationally hot fic that philomel wrote here and turned it into something faintly disturbing. I apologise and suggest that you read her story instead as its good and ever so pleasant in the mental image department. Whilst mine is the product of sleep deprivation. Oh and British slang translations just in case: "fag" = cigarette, "ponce" = to borrow
Dom sighed heavily. Man he needed a cigarette and he needed one now.
So much for giving up. He had tried but all these press events and meet and greets were so boring and that just lead to him being desperate for a way to escape, even if it was only temporary, and the best escape he could think of was to join the other social misfits huddled outside frantically dragging nicotine into their lungs. Right now he would give his right hand for a cig. Well maybe not his right hand cos that was a dead useful part of his anatomy. Maybe a toe or something less important. Yeah a toe, that would be a fair exchange for some blessed nicotine tinged relief. Great now he was having a discussion with himself about the relative merits of body parts.
He really, really needed a fag.
Pushing himself away from the wall he was leaning against he made his way through the assembled fabulous people towards the door to the balcony where he was pretty sure the smokers were hanging out.
Once there he looked around, inhaling the second hand smoke as he did so its rich aroma intensifying the craving inside him. Most of the smokers were standing in small groups but he noticed one guy standing on his own partly obscured by a large potted plant.
Dom approached the man making the international signal for "can I ponce a fag", two fingers pressed against his lips and a pleading look in his eyes, as he walked. Just as it was too late to turn back he realised who his possible cigarette donor was.
It was Hans Jensen, the exceptionally odd little German journalist who had interviewed Elijah via satelite that one time.
"Shit" he muttered under his breath as the freak smiled in recognition and pulled his packet of cigarettes out of his pocket offering them in Dom's direction: "serves me right for being an addict I suppose. OK. Make this quick and painless. Smoke his cigarette then go right back inside for a very large drink. Do not engage him in conversation. I repeat do not engage him in conversation - are you listening to me brain? This is not the time to turn on the trademark Monaghan charm"
With his brain firmly instructed in cigarette stealing etiquette as it relates to bizarre European journalists Dom took the proferred packet, removed a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. Patting his pockets down he realised he didn't have a lighter with him. "shit now I'll have to ask him for a light and that will only lead to talking and..." He began to wonder just how much he wanted a nicotine fix. Perhaps he could just stick the cigarette behind his ear for later all nonchalent like and go back inside. Or maybe go home. Yeah home seemed like a good idea about now. Anywhere but here.
His internal monologue was interupted by his benefactor who leaned towards him and with a leer asked:
"Can I light you up?"
A shudder surged through Dom as mental images flashed across his mind. It wasn't that this bloke was ugly, in fact he was rather attractive really, it was just that there was something so damn creepy about him.
Clearly he had been lost in thought for a while for Jensen began to look a little sad and asked:
"It is a bad question?"
Shaking his head to clear the horror show in his mind Dom moved in closer to get within the lighters range answering:
"no its a good question and the answer is yeah. Cheers mate"
Jensen smiled and flicked the wheel on his lighter, bringing it to life and moving it closer to Dom.
It was a windy evening so Dom had to shelter the sputtering flame with both of his hands in order to light his cigarette. He was more than a little disturbed to feel Jensen's free hand move in to cup both of his own and even more disturbed when it lingered there just a little too long.
And yet further disturbed when he spoke:
"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Monaghan. I am big fan of you, very big fan. I like your eyes and your British voice. You are a beautiful man."
Ok this was definitely heading towards the area of the weird now. Dom flailed mentally, trying to think of something to say. The weather thats it talk about the weather.
Too late. The German was talking again.
"You have very grey eyes. very big grey eyes. big grey. I am liking to stare into them"
Alarms began to blare in Dom's head. And then a hint of annoyance added itself to the mix. He wasn't the big eyed freak. That was Elijah. Could no one tell the sodding hobbits apart?
"Yeah right, erm look mate cheers for the fag and all but I have to go. Over there. I, er, need to be alone" Dom backed slowly away from Jensen searching the crowd on the balcony as he did so looking for a familiar face, anyone at all to go and talk with. Anyone but this man. This man who was matching his movements, moving forward as he moved back. This man who was reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder and now trailing a finger slowly down his arm and clearly enjoying feeling the muscles under his fingertips. This time Dom couldn't hide the shudder that coursed through him.
Jensen clearly took this as a sign of arousal and not disgust for he leaned in until his face was mere inches from Dom's and whispered huskily in his ear: "You are sad? Hans could make you happy. We have fun together you and I"
Right that was it. Taking a final drag from the cigarette Dom dropped it to the floor and ground the butt beneath his shoe.
"No you're alright there mate. My girlfriend is inside and I have to be getting back to her."
With those words he turned and fled back inside. Not looking back as he did so and vowing to himself never to smoke again, or at least to bring his own cigarettes in the future.