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Dom's eyes bother you. Like, a lot. It's not as though he has some creepy staring thing going on, it's just that his eyes themselves are creepy. Seriously, you can never figure out what the fuck color they are. Every once in a while you think you've figured it out. The light shines just right one day, and you're sure they're blue. Not a light, clear blue like Elijah's, but they look bluer than...well, than any other color they could be. But then another day everyone's watching to see what the CG effects people have come up with for Gollum. Gollum's eyes (Smeagol, Elijah insists on calling him, because it's a scene where his pupils are big and he's acting like a worshipful puppy) are absolutely huge and light, clear blue -- even more so than Elijah's. At the same moment you think of that, Dom laughs. "Hey, look, 'Lij! Finally, someone's eyes who are even creepier than yours!" And you think that, no, this isn't something you've been waiting for, to see if someone's eyes could rival Elijah's. Because Elijah's eyes, you think, are pretty plain. Blue. Normal, sort of, except for the whole abnormally large thing. And after Dom says that, you yell, "I was thinking the exact same thing!" Even though it wasn't quite the same thing, you figure it was close enough. Dom looks over at you, eyes all squinched up while he grins with his tongue between his teeth, and his eyes don't look blue anymore. They're certainly not blue compared to Gollum's. In fact, they look sort of green in this light. You're bothered by the change, because you were so sure you had pinned his eye color down at last. Trust Dom to be unaccomodating and to let his eye color change on you. But you don't really have time to dwell on that bothersome little detail when Dom swings an arm around your shoulder and winks. You just know that his eyes are all sparkling and happy, and it doesn't seem to matter then what color they actually are. Definitions, bah. They're just eyes, right? So you let it go. You're over it. Never mind that sometimes you stand in front of the mirror when no one else is around, trying to figure out how your own eyes can be so plain all the time. Brown. They're not changing. They're just brown. Always have been, always will be. Strange, that it's never bothered you until now. One day, when you're supposed to be shooting at Edoras, it gets too windy to do much of anything, so you're allowed to leave the location while the crew concentrates on one of Miranda's scenes, grappling with wildly swaying equipment. It's nice to get off so early, and you head home without getting out of makeup and costume. You just remove your helmet, wig, and sword, entrusting them to capable hands, and you leave in (otherwise) full costume. If Viggo can do it, so can you. When you get to your house, you're surpised to find Dom sitting on the front step with a beer bottle and a bored expression, rolling the empty bottle in his hands. He glances up when you approach, leather creaking and chainmail clanking, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. "Ah, Eomer! But what misfortune befell your hair?" "Why are you talking like that?" you ask, brushing past him to unlock the door. "I may still be in costume, but you're certainly not Merry right now." "'Course I'm merry," he argues, brandishing the empty beer bottle and following you into the kitchen. He watches unhelpfully while you strip off the breastplate, shoulder-piece, bracers, and chainmail. "After drinking a few of these, how could I not be?" "Right," you humor him. "What are you doing here?" "I was bored. Figured I'd make some mischief over here," Dom says, shrugging. You level a skeptical stare at him from over the refrigerator door to where he's commandeered a bar stool. "In case you forgot, I was supposed to be shooting Eomer's arrival at Edoras most of today. Why would it be any more interesting to be over here, waiting for me to get back?" "Wellll," Dom drawls. "It was interesting until you got back. Now you're all sucking the fun out of my mischief-making." You close the refrigerator door with a soft sound and a whoosh of cold air, and you hand him one of the two beers you got from inside. "Looked like you were just sitting on the porch to me. Besides, what possible mischief could you make outside my house?" "Like I'm stupid enough to tell you," he snorts, looking disdainfully at the beer bottle. "Aren't you going to open this for me?" You sigh in a show of great reluctance, but you grab the beer and open it anyway. "So spill." Dom stares at you for a second, eyebrows raised, and then he tips the bottle over and pours beer all over your kitchen counter. "What the fuck was that about?" You jump back in surprise and grimace, more concerned with the fact that you sounded all screechy and strange when you asked that than with the fact that Dom just got beer all over your tunic and leggings. Which is not a good thing. No, not at all. "You told me to spill!" Dom states, looking for all the world like he's completely innocent. He's already gotten some napkins, though, and he's mopping up the mess on the countertop. "Come here, then," he motions you over, and when you stare at him uncomprehendingly, he comes over to you. You blink a couple of times when he stops less than a foot in front of you, and suddenly he's using napkins to rub ineffectually away at your costume. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and you think he actually sounds contrite until he raises his head and looks up at you. And those damned eyes again! Of course they can't just stay green or blue or purple and yellow polka-dotted or anything that's at least definitive and something you can count on. No, not Dom's eyes. This time they're this wishy-washy grey color that's certainly not blue, but not green, either. And that's not even the weirdest thing. The strangest part is that, though you know you have to be imagining it, his eyes look like they're getting darker or something. Transmuting from the pale, wishy-washy grey into a deeper dark grey that, if you were feeling more poetic, you might compare to clouds gathering and growing before a thunderstorm. "Ahem," you clear your throat, hoping to break the mounting tension. It seems like you've succeeded when Dom steps back a bit and his eyes leave yours, but you're so wrong. Because now his hands are reaching for the bottom of your tunic and tugging it up. "What --" you start to ask, but you can't finish your question because the material is coming up over your face, muffling your voice. When you can see again, Dom's staring at you once more, giving you a crooked grin (one that you don't think you're mistaken in defining as seductive), and then he's using possibly the cheesiest and most blatant come on you've ever heard. "We've got to get you out of these wet clothes," he practically purrs. When his smile turns from seductive -- because, yes, it's just been established that it's positively the right adjective -- to genuinely amused, you realize that your nice, normal brown eyes are probably Gollum-wide right about now. And before you have a chance to say anything in return, he licks a path up the center of your neck, over your chin, and his mouth claims yours for a wicked kiss. Now you really don't need to ask your question, find out what he's doing, because it's quite obvious. Dom is making mischief, like he said he intended to. He pulls back, eyes definitely darker now, and asks, "Well?" And right, you're supposed to say something here. But the only words your mouth seems able to form are what you gasp when his fingers find the lacings on Eomer's leggings. "Want you." He laughs airily. "Doesn't anyone say 'please' anymore?" You hear his sharp intake of breath when your hands grip his firm ass and pull him up until his denim-clad erection rubs against your own. "Sure," you manage to say, shaky though your voice may be. "It would 'please' me very much if we moved this into the bedroom." "I think I could handle that," he breathes against your mouth, and his eyes...Well, you really don't much care about his eyes anymore. Because, um. Better things to be distracted by. END
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