Sekrit Slasha

Slasha, Baby is the LOTR RPS Fanfiction holiday fic exchange. This story depicts real-life public figures engaged in completely fictional, false and untrue activities. It never happened. 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.

I'll Tell You Why I Can't Find You

Title: I'll Tell You Why I Can't Find You
Pairing: Viggo Mortensen/Dominic Monaghan
Rating: R
Summary: You get a line and I'll get a pole, honey.
Notes: for eyebrowofdoom, a very Happy Holiday to you.


When Dom gets too twitchy on set, Viggo takes him fishing.

Of course, Dom is known for being fidgety. Dom skips, picks at thread and unravels his sweaters, hums choruses to three songs at once. Dom is constantly in motion, but Viggo sees him clearly. It is when Viggo blinks and misses Dom entirely that he knows that Dom needs a break.


He takes Dom to the tackle shop and lets him run around like a five year-old.

Dom spins feathered flies around with the tips of his fingers and then attempts to weave them into Viggo's beard. He sticks his hands into containers of fresh worms and fingerling bait fish. More engrossed in a reel on consignment than with his hyper companion, Viggo finds a chilly piece of squid mashed into one of his ears. Cackling, Dom is halfway across the shop before Viggo can cuff him on the head.

They end up at the cash register with a plethora of trout-tempting items. On the counter is a large container of angleworms, an assortment of glittering, delicate lures, and a box of flies crafted from what look to be peacock feathers. There is also a bobber that resembles an octopus, squishy and brilliant pink, a box of blood red hooks sharp as cat's claws, and -- to top it all off -- a pair of gumboots with camouflage print.

Viggo smirks. "Aren't you forgetting a stick of dynamite?"

Dom grins, but Viggo can see his eyes flick around the store to see if there is such an option available.

"Nah. Figure'll give 'em a bit more of a chance than that."

The clerk looks harried, probably not looking forward to cleaning up squashed squid. Viggo picks up the box of peacock flies as Dom pays.

"We're not going fly fishing," he says.

"I know." Dom takes the box from Viggo and puts it in his bag. "I'm going to use them as earrings."


Rods already stowed in the back of Viggo's truck, they head towards the lake, only stopping off for snacks and drinks -- or so Viggo plans. Dom buys an extra-large Red Bull and they end up stopping three more times along the road so he can piss into the ditch. Viggo predicts a lot of good natured splashing at the lake and no fish for dinner.

They park at desolate campground and hike along the shore a ways, rods over their shoulders, sun on their faces. Viggo carries the tackle box and Dom's bag of tricks, while Dom toddles behind skipping rocks and making great hooting sounds across the water. Viggo likes kids in adult bodies. Viggo thinks that Dom will be full of randomness and wonder should he live to the age of ninety-four.

"What did you say?" Dom asks from behind him.

"Nothing," Viggo answers.

"Heard you thinking." There is a large splash and then, "oh, bugger!"

Viggo keeps walking. Another splash and then Dom is running to keep up, pant leg flapping. Thud, fwap. Thud, fwap. Thud, fwap. Viggo can hear Dom's breath coming in short huffs. Too much Red Bull, not enough water.

"Can we fish now?" There is a touch of whinge in Dom's voice.

There are some large boulders ahead, jutting out into the lake.

"Yes," Viggo says, and drops their tackle.


Viggo can see Dom for a long while now in between blinks.

Dom has been quiet and still for at least twenty minutes now, after an initial fiasco involving getting himself tangled in a length of fishing line. Viggo wonders how Dom does not have more scars. Perhaps they are underneath, clothing or skin.

Dom is perched on the biggest boulder, the furthest one out into the lake. Viggo would never have been able to Gollum his way up the slick sides, but Dom has Merry's hobbit feet as well as his attitude and he managed it with nary a slip. There he sits, his wet pant leg rolled up to just below the knee, chewing on one of the legs of his octopus bobber, looking every bit the part of Tom Sawyer. His fishing rod is the only thing twitching now, and that up and down, not madly off in all directions.

They have managed to catch and throw back a couple of small young trout, which do not know any better than to swallow anything that presents itself. Viggo thinks to catch the big ones they would have to be out in the deeper parts of the lake, but there is no way he is getting into a boat with Dom. Besides, catching fish was never what the trip was about, not really.

They sit for a long time, apart but together. Dom looks Viggo's way and smiles every so often. Viggo smiles back. Neither has anything important enough to say out loud.


It is nearly dark when they get back to the truck, the windows cranked down and the doors barely slammed shut, when Dom asks something in a tone so casual that Viggo is sure he has not heard him correctly.

"Come again?"

Dom looks at him, steady. "I asked if I could go down on you."

Viggo breathes. He blinks. He watches Dom do the same.

"Oh," Viggo manages. "I thought that's what... It's just, the door..."

"Yeah," says Dom.

Dom simply sits. He watches. Damn him, if he is not completely in focus, Viggo thinks.

"I. Uh."

"Yeah," Dom says again. As if butter would not melt in his mouth.

Then he moves. And somehow his face is level with Viggo's belt buckle. And somehow Viggo has slid over on the bench seat so that Dom has room to get on the floor of the truck, between his legs.

Dom's fingers are slow when Viggo wants them to be fast, his zipper is stiff and the opening of his pants not wide enough. All he can think is that even with the windows open this truck smells to high heaven of mashed worms, dank lake water, fish scales, and his muddy boots - which are still on his feet. This does not feel quite right, but it is what Dom wants, and perhaps he should just go along and oh.

Dom's tongue is soft, his jaw strong, and Viggo cannot look him in the eyes longer than a second or two. Dom's eyes are like glass, they reflect him back to himself, and he is unsettled. It has been years and it is good, oh so good, he has missed it and this and fuck.

Dom reaches up and grasps the base of Viggo's cock in his hand, twisting, pulling, smooth and hot and Viggo barely has time to register the fire burning low in his belly before he's coming, lazy and rolling, and Dom swallows and hums, hums his own chorus, and smiles as he releases Viggo's cock.

They sit for a moment, breathing ragged, looking at each other.

When Viggo opens his mouth, he does not know what he is going to say.

"I'm hungry," he says, and realizes it is the truth. He worries that he may have hurt Dom's feelings, but Dom just grins.

"Me too," he says. "I could murder some halibut and chips."

Viggo's laughter carries across the lake.

slashababy was created by megolas, revised by yueni
fabulous artwork 2002 by Hope
now moderated by MSilverstar & feelforfaith