A Dinner of Herbs1Better is a dinner of herbs, where love is: than a stalled ox, and hatred therewith. (This part is dedicated to the effulgent Lady Sunrope - when she reads it, she'll know why! She had nothing whatsoever to do with this series...which disclaimer, I am sure will make her very bloody grateful. ) *** Elijah was sitting on the couch, his feet drawn up under him, a finger in his mouth nibbling at the nail voraciously, and with a book clutched tightly in his other hand. This was serious stuff. Elijah was reading A Prayer For Owen Mean. His myopic gaze travelled eagerly across the page. He stopped nibbling long enough to push his glasses further up his nose, then resumed gnawing, with the application of a rabbit with a choice carrot between its paws. Dom came into the room with a paper and pen. His hair was tousled and damp from the shower. He too, had a look of avid concentration etched on his face. "......................, Lighe?". Elijah, immersed in his story, heard the last word. He usually responded well to his name, if nothing else, when he was reading. This augured well if he was ever reduced to a state of coma. "Mmm?" Elijah managed, not taking his eyes off the book. He wet his finger, and turned the page. "I said - O, Best Beloved - "what d'you fancy for dinner?" "Kipling!", Elijah's attention was finally surgically severed from the book. He put it down, and turned an expectant stare on his life's partner. "You want Kipling for...oh, I see! Fuckwit!" This with so much love in the tone, it was a term of endearment. Elijah picked up his book, again, and wet his finger, again. "Lighe! For fuck's sake, if not for mine... dinner?" "I'm not buggered. Sblom. Whatever!" Dominic's eyebrows began to gather, ominously. He sat on the couch next to his man, took the book from him, and threw it across the room. Elijah cast a knowing eye at him. "Pissed?" "Too royal, love! It is my turn to cook fucking dinner, and when I do it, it gets done properly". Elijah bent a disapproving eye on his fellow couch-mate. "Are you insinuating, Monaghan, that I did not organize last night's dinner, fucking properly?" "No, love - I'm not. Your phone call to the Pizza Parlor was so well organized, it was a pleasure to watch you do it!" Dom kissed Elijah's nose. Elijah kissed Dom's smiling mouth. Dom sat there, his pen poised over the paper. "Ribs?", Elijah suggested. Dom lowered the fucking pen. "Elijah", he said, in the manner of one speaking to a very small child, "ribs have to be marinated overnight. This means we can have ribs tomorrow, but not today - cunt!" Another smile. More endearments. "Okay, so we'll have ribs tomorrow!", decided, Elijah brightly, and getting up, retrieved his book. He sat down, and Dominic took the book, again, and threw it across the room, again. "Very, very pissed?" Dom nodded. "You see, Elwood - tomorrow is your turn, so we can have ribs then!" "But I can't cook ribs!", Elijah wailed. Dom took his hand. "You can organize the phone beautifully, again, Lighe! Tonight?", he prompted. "Um, fish?" "Had it Tuesday!" "Curry?" "Too fucking hot!" "Salad?" "But you don't like fucking salad, Lighe!" Elijah sighed. He went to get his book for a third time, pressing down the edges where they had come into contact with the wood flooring. "I will eat fucking salad every fucking day �til fucking Christmas, if I can finish my fucking book! Look, I'm nearly at the end, now!" Elijah fluttered his eyelashes at Dom, in the manner of an orphan tossed out into the storm. "Okay", said Dom, writing on his paper. He stopped. He thought of the love of his life struggling through a meal he didn't like, just to be able to finish his book. Dom looked at him, sitting there with his glasses half way down his nose, nibbling his finger. His heart filled with a love so strong he had to swallow it before he could speak. "Lighe?", very sweet and gentle. Elijah looked up, smiling softly; adoration pooling in his cerulean orbs. "...Fuck it, let's eat out, tonight!", said Dom. "Mmmm!", said Lighe, returning, thankfully, to Owen Meany. "Elijah?", Dom called from the doorway. "What d'you fancy the day after tomorrow?" Elijah laughed, and aiming, threw the book at Dom, hard. "Whatever!", he said. "Lighe...!� |