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Dom hates his alarm clock. All that bloody annoying screeching that wakes him up so fucking early makes him want to bash it to pieces. He's managed to restrain himself so far, but each morning his reserve slips a little more, and he hits the snooze button with increasing force. However, he's grown rather adept at falling asleep during the five-minute increments the snooze button affords him. He usually hits the button six times each morning, so the timer is set for half an hour before he actually needs to get up. Elijah makes fun of him for it, but Dom doesn't let it bother him. After all, Elijah's the one who sleeps right through his alarm every morning and has to be dragged out of bed. Yet he continues to set it each night so that it can go off in the morning for no apparent reason. And he thinks Dom's habits are odd? This particular morning, Dom doesn't engage in his daily alarm ritual. Instead, he's abruptly awakened by a soft voice near his ear. "Dom." Acting from habit, Dom reaches out to slap his alarm, only to encounter a warm body. Since he's lying on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow, Dom's hand gropes its way from what he discovers is a shoulder, up the smooth column of neck, over stubble, and to a smiling mouth. "Good morning," the mouth moves under Dom's fingertips, puffing warm breath on them. Dom finally gathers the energy to raise his body to his elbows, turn his head, and open one eye a crack. "Viggo?" he croaks in disbelief. The man is crouched next to Dom's bed, looking for all the world as if it's not an ungodly hour and as though he's been up for hours. Then again, that's entirely possible considering that he's still adjusting to semi-decent sleeping hours now that he's off the Helm's Deep shoot. Viggo is all dressed and groomed, bright-eyed, and practically vibrating restrained energy. Dom feels even more tired just by looking at him. Then he realizes that his fingers are still on Viggo's mouth, and he pulls them back quickly, clearing his throat and sitting up. "What are you doing here?" Dom asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and stretching simultaneously. "I mean, not to be rude or anything, but I still had a good," Dom glances at the clock, "45 minutes of sleep coming my way." "I'm sorry," Viggo says simply, and he's just so Viggo that he doesn't need to make any other gestures for Dom to believe he's sincere. "But I woke up earlier, realized what today is, and I wanted to do something special." "Couldn't you have chosen someone else to do something special with?" Dom whines, unable to keep the childish tone from his voice. "Wow, just how tired are you?" Viggo asks, grinning. Without waiting for a response, he continues. "I didn't think it would do much good to have breakfast with Billy on your birthday, to tell the truth, but if that's what you want..." "No, that's okay," Dom interrupts, fully awake now. "It's very sweet of you to think of me on my birthday, and I appreciate it. But couldn't you have thought of me at, say, noon? Birthday lunch?" Viggo cocks his head to the side, and in true Viggo fashion, he actually thinks about it before answering. "Well, I could have," he concedes. "But then it wouldn't be as special. Besides, I'm sure there'll be other plans for you today; the others will want some time with you. I want you to myself for a while," Viggo answers, voice clear and eyes honest. And how can Dom resist that? "Okay," he agrees, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just let me shower and change, and then we'll go, you sweet talker." "No need," Viggo declares, springing up from his crouching position enthusiastically. "You can come as you are." Dom casts a doubtful glance down at his bare feet, rumpled boxers, and bare chest. "Look, Vig, it may be my birthday, but you can only get so far playing the birthday boy card." Viggo chuckles, a low rumble in his chest accompanied by the amused crinkles around his eyes. "It's no problem," he insists. Then he grabs Dom's hand and pulls him from his sitting position on the bed. Still grasping one hand, he leads a bemused Dom down the hall and into the kitchen. Then he lets Dom go and pulls a chair back from the table with a flourish. "Your breakfast, sir," Viggo announces, and Dom looks down to discover that Viggo has laid out a veritable feast for him. Eggs--both fried and scrambled--sit next to a plate of bacon and sausage, three types of pancakes (blueberry, buttermilk, and banana nut) are laid out on a platter and accompanied by several types of syrup, a pot of coffee is brewing on the counter while milk and orange juice sit on the table, fresh fruit is artfully arranged in a bowl, fresh bagels and cream cheese sit next to a plate of french toast and waffles, and there are cinnamon rolls cooling on a rack. Dom drops into the proffered chair, mouth agape in surprise. "When did you get up?" he asks in awe. Viggo eases Dom's chair toward the table, and then he leans forward over Dom's shoulder to get a napkin. "Honestly? I haven't gone to sleep," he confesses, placing the napkin on Dom's lap. Dom turns to face him and remark that Viggo shouldn't have lost sleep for him, but when he turns his head, so does Viggo. Dom's mind blanks the moment he notices just how close their faces are. He can feel Viggo's hair tickling the back of his neck, Viggo's warm breath caressing his lips. His lips part involuntarily, and he leans forward a scant inch, wondering if he's crazy. But then Viggo leans forward just a bit, too, and their lips brush gently. After a beautiful moment of contact, Dom pulls back, covering his mouth. Viggo looks at him questioningly, offering an out if he needs it. "I haven't brushed my teeth," Dom explains. "Ah," Viggo nods. "Well, go on and eat up. You don't want all my hard work going to waste, do you?" Viggo runs one finger up Dom's chest before standing and going to retrieve the coffee and cinnamon rolls. "You know I can't possibly eat even a fraction of this, don't you?" Dom surveys the meal again, still amazed that Viggo somehow made all this. Viggo lays down a potholder, placing the cinnamon rolls on top. "That's what the other guys are for," he says, meeting Dom's eyes. "But you get to pick all the best stuff before they get up. So get eating." Dom picks up his fork to obey. "I get my pick of anything, do I?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Ask and ye shall receive, birthday boy," Viggo answers, mock bowing. "And if I were to ask for something that isn't on the table? Even if it wasn't my birthday?" Dom asks, completely serious for once, meaning something far from food. "You still get first pick. Of anything you want," Viggo answers quietly. "Good," Dom grins. "Could you get me some pepper, then?" "Absolutely." And Viggo presents it to him, their fingers brushing during the exchange. Then he yawns widely. "Sorry." "It's okay," Dom says, spearing a pancake and picking up some syrup. "If you're tired, my bed's right down the hall. Complete with one rather annoying alarm clock." "Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to be on set today. No rest for the weary and all that," Viggo replies wryly. "Well, I'm sure you'll still be tired tonight," Dom gathers his courage before continuing, "and my offer will still be open." Their eyes meet and they smile together. Down the hall, an alarm starts beeping loudly. END
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