Slashababy 2004 Stories

  FANFICTION: This story depicts real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. It never happened, it never will happen. This story is a work of fantasy and satire which in no way professes to express the truth about the life, thoughts, feelings, desires, opinions, beliefs, activities or sexual orientation of any person mentioned herein.

Happy Anniversary

for flusteredspeech
by ckdutchess

Pairing: DM/VM
Rating: R/NC-17
Warnings: None, really.

Viggo has a sneaking suspicion that Dom is up to something. And it's a proven fact that when Dom is up to something, Viggo usually ends up suffering.

All the usual signs are there. The sideways glances, the secret phone calls, the late night trips to who knows where. Viggo is pretty sure it has something to do with their upcoming anniversary, but as Dom hasn't remembered the last four, he doubts this year will be any different.

It does, however, come as a surprise that some of his artwork is missing. It doesn't occur to Viggo to connect the two until one day, when he comes home and Dom has a sheaf of papers curled under one arm.

"What are those?" Viggo asks, trying to sound nonchalant about it, when he's really starting to freak out. He has visions of Dom selling his stuff on eBay, and that just can't be good.

"What are what?"

Viggo points to the papers. "Those. Under your arm. What are they?"

Dom stares for a split second, and Viggo can almost hear the wheels churning in his head as he tries to come up with a plausible lie. "Uh, nothing. Just something I'm taking to Lij's." Dom smiles, a lopsided grin that Viggo isn't going to fall for. But, rather than pressing the issue, he lets it go. It's only a matter of time before Dom lets the proverbial cat out of the bag.

"Ok, Dom." Viggo leans over, presses a kiss to Dom's lips and backs away. "I'll see you later then, right?"

"Yeah. Right. Later." And Dom is out the door before Viggo can even sigh. Dom has just escaped with five more of Viggo's paintings.


He thinks about calling Elijah, or Sean, or even Billy and asking them what Dom is playing at, but he knows it would be futile. Even if Dom has told them, he's sure that they've been sworn to secrecy and wouldn't tell him under pain of death.

There is one person, though, who can't keep a secret. Especially when he's drunk off his ass.

Viggo picks up the phone and dials.


Four and a half hours later, and Viggo is sitting across from Orlando in a bar that's far smokier than any should be allowed to be, and Orlando is well on his way to being well and truly pissed.

Viggo signals to the waitress for another round, and surreptitiously lets her know to make Orlando's a double.

He starts the conversation off slowly and innocuously. If he tries to pry anything out of Orlando too soon Orli will clam up and Viggo will have wasted his time and money on nothing. So they talk about Orlando's new movie, and how screwdrivers really should not have pulp in them. The weather is studiously avoided, because, really. Viggo hates talking about the weather.

When Orlando starts to slosh his glass, drops of alcohol splashing on the table and himself, Viggo figures this is as good a time as any to bring up The Topic.

"Hey, have you talked to Dom recently?" He says this softly, unassumingly, not wanting Orlando, despite all odds, to guess what he's trying to do.

Orlando laughs and licks vodka from the back of his hand. "Not recently, no. Did you two have a row?"

Viggo shakes his head and says, "No, I was just wondering. He's been acting sneaky lately. Has anyone said anything to you?"

"Has anywho said what?"

And it is at that precise moment that Viggo realizes he's gotten Orlando too drunk. He sighs.

"Never mind. You ready to go?"

Orlando hiccups. "Go where?"


Later that evening, Viggo is lying in bed, arms tucked under his head, eyes vacantly staring at the space where the ceiling is, though he can't see it with the lights out.

It's not so much that he's worried about Dom, or the possibilities Dom's secrecy could represent. Despite the precedents Dom has set with his Great Ideas (like the time he wanted to surprise Viggo with a candlelit dinner and ended up setting the kitchen on fire) Viggo trusts Dom.

No, Viggo thinks, turning over on his side, it isn't that he's worried. Ok, worried a lot. It's that the curiosity is eating at him like some kind of parasite and he hates being left in the dark.

Downstairs, he hears a door open and close softly, and shuts his eyes, not wanting Dom to know he's awake. He follows the sounds Dom makes, the soft footfalls, the opening and closing of doors. There's a thud, followed by a muffled curse that Viggo thinks involves the words "bloody" and "fucking."

He listens as Dom makes his way down the hall to their bedroom. When the door opens and a strand of light flows in, Viggo fakes a yawn and blinks in what he hopes is an owlish manor.


"It's me, Viggo. Did I wake you?"

Viggo sits up and adjusts the covers around himself. "No. Not really."

Dom strips off his clothes, leaving a pile of fabric on the floor next to the bed. He crawls under the covers and wraps an arm around Viggo, pulling his head down for a half-hearted kiss. "Goodnight."

Viggo pulls Dom closer to him and settles down. His mind is still working, but he's tired of thinking.


It's three days until their anniversary, and Viggo has just about given up on finding out what's going on. His pictures and artwork are still missing, but there's some little voice inside his head that's telling him to be patient.

He hates being patient.

He has, however, resigned himself to the fact that he has no choice in this situation. All of the guys, even Orlando, are being quiet about it, and keep telling him to wait. That everything will be clear soon enough.

One afternoon, he comes home early to find Dom in the living room, arranging what appears to be a floral display. The sight momentarily stops him dead.

"What are you doing, Dom?" he asks, and he can see that he's startled Dom, because Dom throws a handful of posies in the air and whirls around like he's been caught robbing the cookie jar.

"Nothing, dear. You're home early, are you? Come and give us a kiss." Dom thrusts the remaining flowers he's holding behind his back and smiles at Viggo.

Arching an eyebrow, Viggo walks over to Dom, wraps one arm around his waist and pulls him in. He kisses Dom hard on the mouth, nips lightly at Dom's lower lip, but pulls away before Dom can react. "You're not doing nothing, Dom. What's with all the flowers?"

"Nothing for you to worry over." He grins and, dropping the rest of the posies on the table behind him, wraps both arms around Viggo's neck. "Why don't you think about finishing that kiss, instead."

"Okay," Viggo growls it, and leans down until he's a breath away from Dom's mouth. "If you tell me what's going on."

Dom grins widely and shakes his head. "You'll find out soon enough, dear, so don't keep asking. I'm not going to tell." Dom raises his head just a bit and fuses his mouth to Viggo's.

Viggo decides he can be patient, after all.


The next morning, Viggo wakes up early, like a child eager for Christmas. Dom has already left the bed, though the sheets are still warm on his side, so Viggo knows it hasn't been that long since he got up.

Deciding to try his hand at spying, Viggo gets out of bed, not bothering to get dressed and wanders out of the bedroom.

He hears noises coming from the kitchen, but when he gets there Dom is doing nothing more than burning bacon.

Viggo wrinkles his nose at the smell and wanders into the room. "You know, bacon is less likely to burn if you don't have the burner on high."

Dom looks exasperated and turns from the stove to stick his tongue out at Viggo. When he does, he notices that Viggo is naked. Thoughts instantly turned from burning meat, he places the fork he'd been holding on the counter and closes the distance between them.

"You're naked."

"You're right."

"I'm glad." Dom flashes a feral grin.

"Yeah? Why?"

"Makes it easier to do this..." And with those words, Dom is suddenly on his knees in front of Viggo, hands grabbing at Viggo's sides, tongue flicking out to taste Viggo's length.

Viggo's knees wobble, and he reaches behind him for the door jam, scrabbling for support before his legs give out. A moan escapes him and his vision goes black. "Dominic," he breathes.

Dom doesn't answer with words, just makes a rumbly sound in the back of his throat and Viggo feels it through his entire body.


The next day is their anniversary. Five years since they've been together and Viggo thinks about tying Dom to the bed and forcing him to spend the day naked and sweaty. It's such a beautiful picture that he doesn't immediately hear Dom's voice floating into the bedroom from somewhere else in the house.

Dom calls his name again and Viggo sighs.

"I really think you'd better get your arse out here." Dom is starting to sound impatient, and Viggo decides that he'd probably better find out what Dom wants, because this might lead to him finding out what the hell has been going on for the last couple of weeks.

He grabs a robe and wraps it around himself as he walks down the hall. Dom is standing in the living room, looking very much like he's getting ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" Viggo asks through a yawn.

"I've errands to do, so you just make sure you're ready to go out by five." Dom gives Viggo what's supposed to be a stern look. Viggo laughs.

"Uh huh. Ready to go where?"

"Some place nice, love. I mean it. Don't make me wait on you."

Viggo raises his hand in a salute. "Sir, yes sir."

Dom raises a different kind of salute, a two fingered one, and is out the door before Viggo can say anything. Viggo checks the clock on the wall. Seven hours to go.


It's 5:20 before Viggo hears the click of the front door being opened, and he straightens his shirt one last time. He goes into the living room and stares at Dom, arms crossed over his chest.

"You're late."

"No, I told you to be ready by five. I never said I was going to be."

Viggo glares. "Where are we going?" he asks.

"You'll find out soon enough. Just let me change my clothes and we'll leave, alright?"

"Fine, but make it quick. You're killing me here, you know."

Dom smiles and cups Viggo's cheek. "I know. Just give me a few more minutes."


When Dom emerges from the bedroom, he's dressed in a suit. Viggo stares. One of his favorite things in life is Dom in a suit.

"You should know better than to wear that if we have to go out," Viggo says and reaches for Dom, dragging him closer with a hand fisted in Dom's tie.

Dom smacks Viggo's hand away and says, "You'll have to restrain yourself just this once. We've somewhere to be, and I'm not going to get all wrinkled because you can't control your dick."

"It's your fault, you know," Viggo grumbles like a petulant child.

Dom grins. "I know."


The car ride is quiet and Viggo is starting to get more than a little impatient. His fingers are tapping on the seat, he's sighed at least five times in the last twenty minutes, and he keeps staring at Dom out of the corner of his eye. It's down to the wire now, and it's always the last couple of hours of waiting that are the toughest.

Dom, for his part, is doing a wonderful job of ignoring Viggo. He's done nothing but stare out the windshield, hands at ten and two, and the slight smirk on his face makes Viggo want to smack him.

"Are we there yet?" he asks instead.

"Don't be such a bloody infant. No, we're not there yet. You'll know when we get there, because I won't be driving any longer, I'll have parked the car." Dom takes a second to glare at Viggo, then turns back to the road.

It's exactly 94 seconds later (he's been counting to pass the time) that Viggo sees their destination. He's confused when he realizes they're going to an art gallery.

Then, all of a sudden, it hits him.

The missing paintings, the pictures gone from his albums, the phone calls, the sight before him. It all adds up to one thing.

"Dom?" Viggo's voice squeaks and he hates that he sounds like a 15 year old but he can't help it. "Why are we going to the gallery?" He's afraid to hope, but he doesn't want to believe he could be wrong.

Dom pulls the car into a space and shuts off the engine. He turns, wraps Viggo's hands in his, and says, "Come inside, and you'll see."

So Viggo does the only thing he can do at this point. He follows Dom inside, through a double doorway, down a long hall, and into the main gallery.

What greets him there robs him of breath.

His artwork, his photographs, are there on display. Hung in frames, sitting on pedestals, all of them lit from above by those tiny little art lamps.

Dom laughs at the look on Viggo's face. "Happy anniversary, baby."

Viggo hears a noise of shock, but doesn't realize that it's him. He's surprised, yes, but even more so, he's touched. Dom obviously went to quite a bit of effort to get this together, and the wonder of it all staggers him.

"Thank you," he says, turning to Dom and gathering him close. "Thank you, so very much."

Dom's eyes are suspiciously bright when he looks up at Viggo. "You're so very welcome."


Later, they're lying in bed, wrapped around one another, and Viggo still can't grasp what's just happened.

All of it, the lights, the sounds, the people, blur together in his mind to make one huge brightly colored picture that he knows he'll never forget.

"I love you," he whispers and Dom shifts a little so that he can see Viggo's eyes.

"I love you, too." Dom raises his head and pushes himself against Viggo as their mouths join.


Slashababy 2004 Stories