|The Sign of the Prancing Pony - Monaboyd
||[Jan. 23rd, 2005|09:40 am]
Title: The Sign of the Prancing Pony
Rating: PG ? The one that comes before NC17
Disclaimer: This is completely made up. I can't even imagine this being true. No harm or profit intended.
This was done for the LOTR Chapter Title challenge at fic_inspiration and will also be cross-posted at Monaboyd
Summary: drinking + bonding + supposed familiarisation with the text
A/N. I apologise profusely and am the first to admit that this could be better. In my, rather pathetic, defence I'd like to say I have a 4 month old son and have been sick as a dog for a week - staying upright has been an issue. That said, I am running very late and it hasn't been beta-ed. (though the darling hubbie did have a quick proof read) Sorry, sorry, sorry. However, I am stil open to any comment or constructive-criticism that you'd like to send my way.
THE SIGN OF THE PRANCING PONY
Dom had given up trying to juggle their drinks and relented, accepting the proffered tray. Now he felt like the barman, balancing the two bottles of beer and four pots of creamy-foamed lager, as he wove his way towards where his mates had taken over the corner of the small hotel bar. He could hear them from halfway across the room as it was.
Billy and Bean were bent in pissed laughter, gasping into the remains of their pots and Andy’s face was lit up with a manic grin.
“Dude, that’s the best, it’s totally awesome.” Elijah was enthusing.
“The hair, Mount Doom, the hair,” Billy had tears streaming down his face, “I can’t wait to see his face when we tell him.”
Bean clapped Andy on the back, “Mate, you’re a genius.”
Andy grinned, as Dom set the tray down, “Can’t blame the lad. If Liv Tyler told me I’d look sexy with a mohawk, I’d have had it cut the same day too.”
Sean looked up from the label he was studiously picking off his beer bottle, “I’m not sure this is exactly what PJ had in mind when he said we should spend some time together, go through the books.”
“We’re going over it chapter by chapter,” Lij blurted indignantly. “Andy’s ‘The Taming of Smeagol’…..”
“That’s a given,” agreed Billy, nodding seriously.
“Viggo is ‘Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit’…….”
“Renaissance man and fisher extraordinaire” extrapolated Bean, gesturing expansively.
“You’re ‘Three is Company’……..”
“I think maybe you’ve had too much to drink Lij,” Sean interjected.
“No, Three is Company totally suits you, Seanie,” Elijah added, “I couldn’t have picked a better one myself.”
“Yep,” Bean burped in agreement, waving his hands in the air counting, as his beer sloshed precariously, “One is Mr Astin, two is Mrs Astin and three is little Miss Astin. S’all perfect” He chuckled to himself, pleased with his fine summation of the suitability of the chapter title to Sean.
Sean frowned disapprovingly then suddenly leant forward in his chair, a mischievous smile spreading across his face, and pronounced, “Lij should be ‘Flotsam and Jetsam’.”
There was a moment of surprised silence at Sean’s suggestion.
“I’ve seen where you live; even little Ali’s not that messy.”
The group burst into more hearty laughter and reached, as one, for their next round.
Lij managed his best cheeky grin, “Hey, I totally resemble that remark. I s’pose I’ll have to take it”
Lij directed a satisfied smirk at Dom, “At least I haven’t got my panties in a bunch over it all.”
“I just don’t think it suits me,” Dom grumbled.
“You do nance around a lot,” Bean’s broad accent rounded out the words.
“Prance, it’s sodding ‘prance’ and you have met Orli, right?”
“Nice bloke, ‘specially if you like them girly,” Andy explained.
“High cheekbones” Billy added.
“And you’re suggesting I’m the one prancing around?.” Dom finished.
Bean just chuckled at the look of semi-outrage on Dom’s face.
Dom continued “Bills, back me up here.”
“Aye, said the fashion-victim with the penchant for eyeliner.”
Andy snorted and followed up with, “Said the Vicar to the Nun,” and the group burst into more furious giggles.
“Right, fuck you all.”
Dom added an after-thought, “’Cept you Bill, there’ll be none for you if that’s the sort of back up I get.”
* * * *
Dom stood in their bedroom doorway towelling his hair, steam rising from his shower-hot skin in the coolness of the bedroom.
Billy eased himself up onto one elbow to enjoy the view.
“Are you really angry with me then, y’wee dafty?”
Dom tried to look coy, “I might be.”
Billy let his gaze wander up and down Dom; slowly, meticulously appraising his body, “You know they certainly were right about one thing.”
“Mmmm?” Dom sounded dubious.
Billy’s eyes glinted wickedly and his grin turned to a leer, as he focused his gaze pointedly, “The horse reference in ‘At the Sign of the Prancing Pony’ certainly is appropriate”