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[personal profile] unautremonde
Title: Tomorrow
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: I'd say PG... or PG-13 for some talk, but definitely mild.
Summary: Dom could have been Bill Murray... and then, maybe Billy could have been his Andie McDowell.
Disclaimer: if this were true, the only one who would know about it would be Dom, anyway. Not true, not implying anything and not making money out of this.
Author's note: Slasha Baby fic for Fiona who asked for Billy/Dom, any genre. I'm not sure this delivers but I hope you like it. Have a great Christmas!
Thanks to: [livejournal.com profile] rynalwyn and [livejournal.com profile] piran for letting me submit them to my whining while writing this. Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] patchworkdragon and [livejournal.com profile] untappedbeauty whose betas were very very useful. This story wouldn't be this story without you, girls.
Feedback: always welcome, any kind, good or bad.


The sun'll come out
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day away!

From the musical Annie

Dom can’t remember why he started it, why he made the first harebrained suggestion that it would be fun if life was like a movie and they got to do more than one take for everything. It’s maybe the kind of idea Viggo would come up with, or Elijah, or hell, even Orlando or Billy if they’d had enough beers, but he’s the one who voiced it and it’s been days, now. Dom just can’t remember what yesterday was like.

Yesterday, ha.

Dom has lost count, he doesn’t remember when yesterday was and if that’s not fucked up then he doesn’t know what is. He does know however that he’s had more takes than necessary and that if things keep happening the way they have so far, he’ll have to resort to drastic measures.

Then again. Dom likes Bill Murray, he’s seen every single one of the man’s movies and knows Groundhog Day by heart. Suicide is probably not even the solution to his problems.





“Sorry, mate. I couldn’t drive all the way back tonight.”


“Dom? You alright?”




“You silly bugger. Obviously, you’re sloshed. Way past sloshed, even. You go sleep it off, Dom. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”


“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Goodnight, Dominic.”

Dom would try and make conversation some more, but… this dial tone doesn’t have a trace of Scottish accent. Well, damn.


Despite having lived today time and time again, Dom still never wakes up before the phone and that’s only the first thing in a succession of impossibly annoying recurring events that he knows will happen exactly the same way, over and over and over…

Every morning, Dom briefly considers not picking the phone up, because after all, he knows who is trying to reach him and why. That said, he’s tried that at least three or four times, it’s never helped: Orlando will keep calling back until Dom finally shouts “what!?” in the receiver. The boy is relentless.

When Dom picks up and shouts, Orlando invariably meeps into Dom’s ear, literally. It’s a little startled sound and it makes Dom’s day slightly better for being responsible for it. Dom’s good at that, at dragging startled sounds out of Orlando, whimpers and moans… And yes, Dom knows what Orlando sounds like when he’s being fucked senseless: one of the perks of having to live the same day over and over again.

It took a couple of loops before Dom really understood what being woken up at the ass crack of dawn by Orlando in the exact same manner every single damn day really meant. Once the realization hit, though, Dom didn’t take long to understand there were a lot of things to be seen, quite a few people to be done, and zero responsibility and awkwardness to be put through the following day. Because guess what? There is no following day.

Orlando came first—no pun intended, though he really did. Come first, that is—followed closely by Elijah, blushing virgin that he is. Liv took a few days to convince, long enough for Dom to be slapped across the face a few times and learn what buttons to push to get her to do him despite her proclaimed faithfulness to her fiancé. Miranda was easier, though not quite what Dom would qualify as easy. Cate was just a fail and by the time Dom got to her, he’d already grown tired of his own games anyway. Once in a while he wakes up horny, though, and Orlando is Dom’s safest bet because it is easy and fun and with no strings attached. Orlando is still broken hearted enough over Sarah leaving to not be looking for happily ever afters. Even if the loop Dom is stuck in suddenly broke and he woke up in Orlando’s bed, there wouldn’t be much awkwardness to deal with. Dom knows Orlando only wants a good time and that it wouldn’t be hard to convince him it’s only been that.





“Sorry, mate. I couldn’t drive all the way back tonight.”


“Dom? You alright?”




“You silly bugger. Obviously, you’re sloshed. Way past sloshed, even. You go sleep it off, Dom. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”


“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Goodnight, Dominic.”

Dom would try and make conversation some more, but… this dial tone doesn’t have a trace of Scottish accent. Well, damn.


At first, Dom tried to keep track. On the set, there is always some handy assistant with a clap board who quite conveniently tells you which take you are doing. Number two, three, twelve… In his never ending loop of a life, however, there is no way for Dom to really know which take he is on. If he writes the number of days he’s been going through this down on paper, he can be sure the paper will just be gone the next time he wakes up.

Keeping a diary doesn’t really help either, since every morning the pages are blank again, all traces of previous ramblings erased like they’ve never really been there… which yeah, technically, they’ve never really been at all.

As a result, Dom no longer knows whether he’s been doing this scene for ten days, three weeks or even a month; it’s all just a big blur. If only Dom didn’t remember anything at all, it wouldn’t be as hard, but he doesn’t think there would be much point for it if he kept forgetting about it.

As it turns out, memories are far from being weightless and some days, Dom feels them heavy and sharp, weighing down on his mood and his sanity. He wakes up more restless, more likely to snap and shout and hit random objects—when he’s not feeling close to actually hitting random people. Dom learned early on that in order to fight off this bristling insanity he can sometimes feel eating at his mind, he just has to let it out, blow steam off and not think about the fact that consequences or not, he’s letting himself be something he’s always fought not to be.

He snarls, throws insults right and left and itches for a fight. He’s pretty sure Sala broke his nose once, and even if it didn’t leave a mark in his bones, he can still taste the sharp metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

Other days, escape lies with more refined means. Those are the days that Dom likes to remember best, because it’s not as difficult to erase the guilt he feels over skipping work and letting PJ fume and fire him off the set as it is over messing up Viggo’s face or making Elijah cry. It doesn’t matter if Fran calls him and catches him doing yoga on the beach to tell him he doesn’t have a career anymore, because yeah, it’s not like anybody else but him will remember about it eventually.



“Hey, Dom. How did you know it was me?”

“Well, I… uh… I just knew?”

“You just knew? We’re that connected, uh? Hehehehe. Right, look, sorry, mate but I couldn’t drive all the way back tonight.”

“I know.”

“You know? Dom? You alright?”

“Yeah, I… uh…!”

“Have you been drinking, fair Dominic? Me thinks you have.”

“Hey! I’m not drunk, cunt!”

“Of course you aren’t. I still think you should go sleep it off, Dom. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

“Billy! Wait!”


“I. Uh. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Bright and early, even. I’ll bring breakfast. I’ll bring second breakfast, elevensies, lunch…we’ll make a day of it. Now go sleep, Dom.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

“Goodnight, Dommie.”


The one thing that makes Dom hate this repetitive day more than anything else is Billy’s absence from it.

It is of course Dom’s luck that this happened on the day Billy is due back, yes, but has been gone for over a week. Pippin has his own storyline, to a point, and despite the fact that Dom had almost come to believe Pippin and Merry were twin brothers rather than just cousins, Billy still had to go away for a bit and film other scenes, elsewhere, with people who aren’t Dom.

It wasn’t meant to last all that long, not long enough for Dom to miss Billy more than reasonable. Of course, Dom was always going to miss Billy, because Billy is Billy, and to Dom, that’s reason enough to not be able to function properly without him around.

Dom isn’t quite clear on how that came to be, but it’s glaringly obvious now that a world without Billy in it is bound to be duller than a weekend without a pub crawl. It’s not that he didn’t know it before; it’s just that it didn’t strike him immediately that part of the sharp stab of disappointment he feels every morning when the phone rings comes from knowing with unwavering certainty that he’s not going to see Billy any time soon.

The irony is… Billy was due back, was going to drive back, to be back before the following day which would have been a well deserved day off. Dom was going to go out and get wasted, then go home and find Billy there, waiting for him and mocking him for being drunk off his arse.

Instead, on that first day before things started taking a turn towards the unbearably ridiculously freaky, Dom went out, got drunk and went home only to find it empty. Billy never made it back, deciding on stopping for the night before he’d crashed the car falling asleep at its wheel. Any other day, Dom would have agreed that that had been a wise move. Always better to sleep off the stress and drive with your eyes open. But now…

Now, it means Dom not only starts his day to the sound of his phone ringing, he also ends it on a phone call. With Billy. Telling him he’s not going to be back until tomorrow.

The only catch being of course that there is no tomorrow for Dom. Not anymore, anyway.



“Hey, Dom. How did you know it was me?”

“Because it’s always you. Billy, I swear, if I have to live this day all over again, I’ll...”

“You’ll what? Stay away from Anduril, Dom, you know what happened last time you pissed Viggo off! Is he still seeing that guy chick?”

“I don’t know, Viggo can shag whoever he fancies. But Billy, you have to come back. I can’t take it anymore, Orlando calls every morning and it starts all over again and again and again… It’s driving me mad!”

“Dom? You alright? I’m not sure I’m with you on that one… what’s going on?”

“I just told you! I’m living the same day over and over and over again, and…”

“Dom… have you been drinking import stuff again? Is it what this is about? You know you can’t take that import shite, it always makes you a cranky drunk and…”

“I am not drunk. I just want you to come back. Why can’t you come back now?”

“Look, Dom, I want to be home, too, but I’m too tired to drive. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, ok? I’ll even bring you breakfast. Now go sleep your funk off.”

“Billy! Wait!”


“I. Uh… Goodnight, Billy.”

“Goodnight, Dom.”


After the novelty of being able to shag every single hottie on the set has worn off, and after Dom gets too numb to even throw hissy fits anymore, he slips into what the others seem to think might be depression.

They’re a little lost and surprised, too, of course. After all, to them, Dom has been the life of the party ever since day one, and what has been building for him for days is all too sudden for everybody else. To them, yesterday is still fresh and close, and no one understands why Dom is being so miserable when he was having so much fun the day before. Dom tries to explain it once or twice, but apparently, the only thing he could get out of explaining he’s been living the same day over and over again is being called a “freaky Brit with a Murray complex” by Astin, and being told his jokes are never funny and could he stop spouting nonsense before they all decide it’d be good to have him committed before the shoot is even done. After he’s been forcefully dragged to see the onset doctor and given a massive dose of anti-depressants twice in a row, he gives up on trying to make others believe him entirely.

Dom lets himself wallow in self-pity for a few loops, unable to think of anything that could help put him out of his misery. He spends those few days hanging onto his phone, calling Billy’s repeatedly and leaving cryptic messages on his voice mail. Apparently, though, Billy never gets them because instead of driving all the way back for Dom’s sake, he still stops on the road every night and calls Dom from the hotel to tell him he won’t be home until tomorrow.


Dom hates the word, hates the concept, hates his life, hates his friends, hates this bloody stupid movie, this bloody stupid wanker of a film director, hateshateshateshates…

As Dom sings Annie songs under his breath, he thinks he might very well hate himself as well.



“Hey, Dom. How did you know it was me?”

“Because it’s always you.”

“What? Think you lost me there, mate. Look, I’m sorry but I can’t drive all the way back tonight.”

“I know. Again. Damnit, why don’t you just get in that car and drive? You’re what…not even two hours away from here! You do the same every-fucking-day!”

“Whoa, there, Dominic. What’s gotten your panties in a twist? And what do you mean I do this everyday?”

“I’m just… Why can’t you come back now, for Pete’s sake!!”

“Dom? You okay, mate?”

“No, I’m not okay! I want this bloody day to end already; I want to wake up tomorrow, for bleeding’s sake!”

“Listen, you wanker, you’re getting me worried, here, so stop with the cryptic. What is it, Dom? Tell me.”

“I’m… I…I was just really looking forward to you coming back, I guess.”

“I know, me too. I’ll be home early, though, I promise. We can go bugger the hell out of Orlando before lunch, should make that pretty elf cranky as hell, yeah?”

“Yeah. Alright.”

“That’s my Dommie. Now go sleep, you silly bugger.”

“Goodnight, Billy.”

“Goodnight, Dommie.”


Dom shakes himself out of his despair on the day he brings up Groundhog Day in conversation and Elijah starts rambling about the possibility of going trough the same day several times in a row until every wrong has been righted.

Of course, everybody calls Elijah a silly idealist dreamer, but Dom thinks maybe this is it. After all, what would be the point of having him go through the same thing day after day if there wasn’t an ultimately higher purpose to all of it? Not to mention that Dom needs to believe there is a way out of it at some point; he cannot keep on going otherwise.

Elijah’s theory brings Dom hope and he throws himself into this next venture with all of his energy. It’s not an easy task, righting all the wrongs done around him in one day, but he intends to do his best and succeed. One day, the day will be perfect and then, finally, finally he will have a tomorrow again.

First, Dom goes through a couple of days trying not to change a thing from the first time he lived it all. He sits back and… well, he doesn’t enjoy the show but he takes notes. Not literally takes notes, since there is still that problem about disappearing papers and diaries, but he tries to watch and remember. It shouldn’t be too hard, he thinks, not when it’s obvious that unless he does something to change the course of events, nothing is going to happen any other way than it did the first time round. It’s the same bee that sits still every single day, waiting for Bean to sit himself down and get stung on the butt. It’s the same annoying tree branch that gets caught in Liv’s dress and rips it to the horror of both Liv and wardrobe, and it’s the same stupid assistant who bumps into Peter and sends him flying to the ground, not to mention manages to have him rip his favourite pair of shorts. It strikes Dom how awfully bad the day really went, and has been going and going without him, and how could he not have thought of righting things before?

After three days spent observing, Dom gets to work. It’s exhausting work, and Dom wasn’t prepared for how stressed and tired he is at the end of the day. Bean is grumpy and not one bit grateful, Liv is mad at Dom because he accidentally pushed her against a tree and even though her dress isn’t ripped, she doesn’t believe him when he tells her he only wanted to help, not snog her without warning. His face still stings sharply from her slap. Peter isn’t happy either, because Dom kept asking for breaks and his performance for the day’s scene is far from being flawless. Add to that the fact that the clumsy assistant managed to send a camera flying to the floor when Dom pushed him out of Peter’s way, and all in all, it’s not a truly successful day. Dom will have to try again.

Dom tries again. And again. And again… but nothing ever goes completely right. There’s the day Bean swallows the bee instead of sitting on it, the time when Liv ends up knocking Sala over instead of ripping her dress on that branch, and every damn day, that clumsy assistant manages to make a wreck of things.

Dom doesn’t know what to do anymore. Still no tomorrow, still no Billy, and things don’t seem to be taking a turn for the better at all. Even when Dom succeeds in minimizing the chaos surrounding him, there is still the sharp disappointment of going back to an empty home and a phone call confirming his best friend isn’t getting any closer to being there for him.

The day Dom finds himself in the hospital fighting an allergic reaction to a bee sting while nursing a few bruises from Liv and a broken foot courtesy of clumsy-assistant and the heaviest lighting rig in the entire world, Dom goes to sleep swearing he’ll never miss another phone call from Billy. If it’s all Dom has left to look forward to for the rest of eternity, then fuck Bean and Liv’s dress and Peter’s shorts, it’s Dom’s day that’s been going to hell for weeks, after all, it’s Dom’s wrongs that Dom needs to right.



“Hey, Dom. How did you know it was me?”

“I miss you, Billy. You need to come back.”

“Haha, Dom. It’s only been a week. And you’ll see me tomorrow, ok? I can’t drive back tonight, too sleepy. But I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I don’t want to wait a few hours, Bill. I’ve waited long enough, and I think you should just stop for a cup of coffee then drive the rest of the way back. Please, Billy? For me?”

“Dom? You alright? Because you don’t sound too good. Something wrong? You’re not sick, are you?”

“I’m just… Why can’t you come back now? Please?”

“Did something happen on set? Did Miranda tease you about the wig again? You know she’s only joking when she does that. And she loves your sexy ears, anyway.”

“It’s not that, Billy. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I really miss you, I guess.”

“Awwwwww… I miss you too, honeybee. I’ll bring you flowers when I get home and we can make sweeeeeeeet love under the starry night, and…”


“Now that’s the Dommie I know and love. Look. It’s only been a week and you’re being silly. I will see you tomorrow, ok? It’s only a few hours delay so go sleep off this funk you’re in and I’ll bring you coffee instead of flowers.”

“Billy! Wait!”


“Thanks. And goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dominic.”


Dom wakes up a fraction of a second before the phone rings and answers it before it can ring twice. Orlando is surprised, maybe even a little shocked because Dom isn’t angry, isn’t shouting abuse in his ear for waking him up a full hour before his alarm would have gone off. Dom doesn’t mind, he’s gotten used to Orlando waking him up, even if he can’t quite tell his friend that.

Dom tries to go through his day as simply as he can. He doesn’t sleep in and miss his alarm, doesn’t make it late to the set the way he did that first day at the start of this loop. The actual filming goes great, even though Peter still falls over and rips his shorts. Dom feels guilty watching him look mournfully at the hole in his pants, but he knows from experience that Peter falling over is the lesser of many evils. Better Peter getting acquainted with the floor than a camera breaking or a lighting rig dropping.

With each passing hour, however, Dom misses Billy more. He looks at Bean grumbling and rubbing his sore butt, and he can imagine Billy laughing like a loon and maybe even getting Bean to forget about the pain in his ass instead of turning into a pain in everybody else’s. Dom could try to cheer Bean up himself, of course, but he knows he couldn’t do it as effectively as Billy would.

Dom already told Billy about the bee at least a dozen times. Dom loves to hear Billy laugh and Bean’s misadventure gets a laugh out of Billy every time. When Billy laughs, their nightly phone call lasts a few minutes longer. A few more minutes of Dom clinging to his phone and trying not to crack and shout and just spill everything out to Billy. He’s tried that already, tried telling Billy about his crazy loop of a life but there’s never enough time and Billy always dismisses it easily. Dom stopped getting wasted every night a long while back but Billy still blames alcohol on the rare times Dom can’t keep it inside and just has to beg Billy to come home, or tells Billy about being like Bill Murray but without his Andie McDowell. Dom maybe, probably even went as far as asking Billy to be his Andie McDowell, and if nothing else, it made Billy laugh harder.

Dom misses Billy’s laugh.

Dom doesn’t feel sad, doesn’t feel depressed… not the way he was feeling a few loops ago. He’s… resigned, maybe is good a word for it. Resigned and determined to make the best of all of this. He concentrates on his acting and nails the performance each time, basking in Peter’s enthusiasm for the scene. Dom can’t wait to tell Billy tonight, knowing his friend will probably take the piss out of him but will still share his pride.

Liv can be a pain when she is upset, and since there’s nothing Dom can do about her dress, he tries to at least warn others away from her until she’s vented her frustration to her heart’s content; then he goes over to her and drags her to the pub to join everybody else. It’s a cheery night and beer is flowing freely but Dom restrains himself, still set on telling Billy all about his day, which won’t happen if he’s too sloshed to find his words.

He’s happy where he is, anyway, doesn’t really need the blur that would come with alcohol. He thinks maybe he’s missed it before because of said alcohol, and isn’t that just a shame? He told Billy about it yesterday, told him about missing him, of course—as no pub outing is complete without his best friend—but he’s here with his other best friends and it’s quite close to being perfect. With Billy along it would be.

Viggo buys him a drink and teases him for being too quiet, interpreting Dom’s silence as him trying not to bolt out of his chair to run back home and wait for Billy. Everybody knows him well and Elijah affectionately tells him that seeing Merry without his Pippin is like eating pickles without peanut butter, which is… well, it’s gross, but Dom gets the sentiment, he thinks. Elijah’s weird tastes are not exactly news, even though Dom can’t wait to hear Billy crack up and mock retch about it when he tells him later.

Someone asks Dom about Billy, asks whether anybody’s called him to let him know they would all be here as Billy of course is due home any time soon. Dom doesn’t tell them there’s no point in calling since Billy’s cell doesn’t work, which is a right shame. Had that bloody piece of technology not been as unreliable as that, Dom would have probably been able to convince Billy to drive all the way back a long time ago. Maybe he’d still be locked in this loop, but at least he wouldn’t have to make do with just a voice over the phone lines. Dom thinks he might not have minded so much having to do so many takes for one bloody day had he been able to see Billy more.

Dom gets home just on time, body thrumming with anticipation. It’s funny how that’s one thing that’s never dulled, this excitement at knowing he’ll be talking to Billy soon. He steps inside and heads right for the sofa, sits down with his hand on the phone, waiting for it to ring, knowing he’ll jump a little despite expecting the shrill sound and growing more and more impatient as the clock ticks closer to that one moment when it finally happens.

Only… this time, the clock ticks past.

Dom didn’t think of turning the light on when he walked in, so now that the phone isn’t ringing, now that for the first time in what feels like forever something Dom hasn’t done anything to change is changing on its own, Dom sits still in the dark and waits. At some point, the phone has to ring, it just has to. Dom didn’t call Billy’s cell, and anyway, if Billy’s cell was broken before, it’s still broken now and no one could have reached him. Dom knows from experience that unless he does something, pushes things around and forces them to follow a course that isn’t the one they followed on the first day of this loop, then nothing changes, nothing goes off its previous course at all.

When the clock’s needle makes it past 11 and confirms that Billy is indeed a full hour late, Dom suddenly shakes the panic off and jumps up, spurred into frantic motion by the sound of the clock ringing the hour. He checks the phone, cursing himself for not thinking of checking before as it’s entirely possible he pushed it slightly off the hook when he walked in, but no. The phone is secure in its cradle and the dial-tone when Dom picks it up confirms it’s still working.

Dom checks and double checks and grows steadily more frantic. There is nothing that can explain this sudden turn of events and Dom isn’t prepared for the unexpected at all. Nothing has been unexpected in too long, nothing has been spontaneous, unrehearsed, nothing has left him as unprepared as this and he can’t help his mind from screaming wrongwrongwrong!

Time keeps ticking away and the phone still hasn’t rung. Dom has tried calling both Billy’s cell and the hotel where he’s been staying at for nights, but to no avail: Billy is nowhere to be found. Dom is worried sick. The one thing that has kept him going all this time and it’s not happening. Dom’s missed Billy’s call only once before and that was because of himself, not because of something he had no hand in, which is not at all helping in keeping him sane at the moment. He thinks about leaving the house, calling everybody else, visiting every ER service within a 50 miles radius… he rushes to the door, flings it open…

And freezes.

Billy is there, keys in hand, bewildered look on his face, half a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

Billy is there.

“Hey Dom. Where were you going, mate? Weren’t you waiting for me? Gosh, I’m knackered.”

Billy is there, Billy is talking and it’s not on a phone. Dom seems to have lost the ability to do anything else but gape—quite unappealingly, for sure. He gapes and gapes, taking in the sight of his best friend, thinking he hasn’t changed a bit, and really, why should he have? It’s not like he’s been gone for longer than a day.

Billy keeps talking, flushed and happy to be home, evidently, even though looking quizzically at his suddenly mute friend.

“Dom? Can I come in? You’re blocking the door. You sure you’re ok?”

At that Dom finally laughs, finally surrenders to the overwhelming happiness that is making his day finally, finally complete. He doesn’t know why Billy is here, can’t explain it in the light of the past repeating day but he thinks he really, really couldn’t care less. He grabs Billy and squeezes him, hugs him for all he’s worth, still laughing breathlessly and revelling in Billy’s surprised “oomph”. Billy hugs him back, of course, dismissing his friend’s sudden insanity and just squeezing Dom’s shoulders tighter when Dom whispers more to himself than to anybody else.

“I missed you, Bill.”

Billy smiles and pushes back from Dom enough to answer, his face crinkling when he smiles wide.

“You wanker. You know I missed you too. I was going to stop at a hotel on the way, but something told me you’d be too disappointed if I didn’t come here and take the piss out of you a bit before bed.”

Billy hugs him a bit longer before unwrapping himself from Dom’s arms and pushing past him into the hall. He disappears around the corner and shouts something about taking a piss before taking the piss, which makes Dom grin like a loon. When Dom closes the door to follow Billy inside, his eyes come across the clock on the wall and he suddenly stops in his tracks, his heart picking up speed and rushing blood to his ears, his breath catching in his throat.

Five past midnight.

Relief floods over him, sending him reeling against the opposite wall and sliding down to the floor. He sits there, eyes glued to the clock, holding his breath as the needle moves slowly down, creeps incrementally further on the path to ten past midnight.

As today dies a long awaited death to slip slowly into a long awaited tomorrow, Dom smiles and whispers quietly to himself.

“And…. Scene.”


Right. Well, now that that's done, I'm off to see RotK with the bro. Something tells me that it'll make my reading the other slashas even more enjoyable. :-) Have fun, kiddies!
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