The Memoirs

The thunderclouds weren't the only thing rumbling.

Dominic's stomach was strangely empty. He was hungry, yet not--he poked at his toast, too strung up to do much other then drink a few sips of orange juice. He was alone--Lionel had gone into the office earlier that morning after a very nice kiss, and Dominic, with Ms. Birds help, had gotten ready for the day. He bathed in the shower on the special hair made just for that, the warm kiss of water feeling so much better then he'd thought it would on his achingly sore muscles. He couldn't do more then left his arms to waist length before they cramped, legs just about the same, and so he huddled in his chair now at the breakfast table, half asleep and waiting for the hell he was sure his day was going to be.

Jonathan burst through the front doors, pushing them both wide open in an unconscious gesture he'd learned from Lionel. "Good morning, Sunshine!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Where are you hidin' this mornin'?"

"In hell, with the rest of the damned," Dominic muttered to himself, before lifting his eyes and saying, a little louder, "In the dining room."

Jonathan even had the cheerful audacity to whistle as he went along. "Keep talkin' so I can follow the sound of your--there it is!" He ducked into the dining room and put his hands on his hips. "You ready for your work t'day?"

Dominic shook his head and nodded at the same time.

"Want some toast?"

Jonathan snorted. "Better make up yer mind. And no, I had breakfast this mornin', before I took care of my herd."

Dominic choked on his mouthful, violently, covered his mouth with one hand as his eyes watered. Took... care of the herd. Yes, well. He exploded into very manly little snickers, swallowing the bread in his mouth as he took a swallow of juice.

Jonathan glared. "Breedin' my girls to the bull ain't easy, and it's gotta be done right, or you're not gonna get a good calf."

Dominic kept giggling, nonstop. Breeding the girls. One bull. He choked again, brushing the crumbs from his t-shirt--basic black today, with green work out pants--and took another drink of juice. "Yes. I can imagine the bull must have problems keeping it up and doing it right for his herd of bovine ladies. That's just what I want to imagine at eight thirty in the morning--cow sex! I, unlike you, would rather not ever have that mental image ever grace my mind again."

"Hey, it's a beautiful thing, and part o'life at th'farm. And if yer not nice, I won't be sendin' you the veal."

He shuddered. "I have a rule. I don't eat anything that has probably looked at me at some point before it died. Now, let me use the bathroom, and we'll be ready?"

"Y'ain't never seen any of our calves," Jonathan pointed out. "Y'got five minutes to use the bathroom, or I'm comin' in after you."

Dominic rolled his eyes. "Jonathan, the lift takes five minutes to turn on. Just wait, all right? I'm not going anywhere, Lionel gave me a sufficient enough guilt complex. Now hold your goddamned cow fucking horses." He grabbed the wheels of his chair, glared, and turned, rolling down the hall toward the bathroom by the lab door.

"I don't fuck cows!" he bellowed, watching Dominic trundle down the hallway. He carried the satchel into the gym and started unpacking the things he'd brought. Arm and leg weights, for later in the sessions, hinge oil for the braces, gel packs that could be heated in the microwave for loosening up joints, water bottle for himself that went into the fridge in the corner with the rest of the sports drinks, and he stripped out of his work shirt, replacing it with a plain t-shirt and changing his work boots for sneakers.

It took Dominic eight minutes, to get the lift working, to get himself moved in and out of it, and by the time he'd finished, flushed, washed his hands, and settled in his chair, he was sweating, and in pain. He sighed to himself, glaring at his reflection, and grabbed the chair again.

The cow fucker had already set his things out when Dominic came back in, and he stopped himself by the main table, where Jonathan was waiting. "Sorry. A piss takes longer these days then normal."

"Like I really needed to know that?" Jonathan pointed to the bars. "You're gonna walk those things again, but we're gonna stretch first."

"Yes, you did. If you're going to be my physical therapist, I'm going to tell you my physical limits and how and why it takes me so long to do things," Dominic snapped back, glaring.

"Next you'll be tellin' me if your dick works or not," Jonathan grumbled, and got down on his knees in front of the wheelchair. "Gimmie your arm. Don't care which one."

That stung, a little, and he glared at him silently before offering his left one.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Don't wanna know," he said. "My business is with your body, not your love life."

"I wasn't thinking about my love life," Dominic said, quietly, frowning as the man moved his fingers and wrist.

"Good." Jonathan flexed each finger and each wrist. "Been doin' those squeeze exercises Lionel tol' me about?"

"Yes." He looked away, watching the window impassively as Jonathan moved his hand. It didn't hurt, not like it did a few weeks ago, and so he settled back until the stupid man finished.

"Good! Doin' with both hands, looks like," he said, once he was pleased with the flex of both hands.

"They feel fine. Leave me alone, and get on with it."

"Okay, not that I miss your bubbly personality, but what crawled up yer ass in the five minutes we been workin'?"

"Are you going to work properly with me or not?" Dominic asked, avoiding the question as he glared across at him. "A simple yes or no will do."

"Define properly," Jonathan shot back. "No, I ain't gonna be some pansy-ass little kid who goes could you please and thank you kindly before tellin' you to get up off your ass and move, but by the time I'm done with you, you will be movin'."

"No. That's not what I meant. I've worked for Lionel for twenty years, Jonathan, I don't expect anyone to be running anywhere or doing anything to please me. What I'm telling you is that I was just trying to tell you that my shoulders hurt terribly while I was trying to get into the lift, and that's why it took me so long. They're sore and I can't move them." His glare darkened. "How like you, to think I've only got selfish pleasure on the brain."

"How like you t'think I don't know jack diddlyshit about what's goin' on. I had m'self a five AM phone call from Lionel himself, chewin' my ass off for not makin' you soak after yesterday's work. That's why your damn shoulders and ever'thin else is sore, and that's why we're stretchin' you out now." Jonathan dusted his hands together. "Legs're sore too, so's the joints, specially your hips and your thighs, and the backs of your legs where the brunt of your weight's bein' pulled by the glutes and the flexors. Prob'ly the only thing that ain't hurtin' are the balls of your feet and your fingers, cause they've gotten the most work and flex." He paused. "Sound about right, Mr. I Don't Know What I'm Doin'?"

"That's not what I meant," Dominic grit out. "I was just trying to tell you, I wasn't bloody being smart about it!"

"No, yer doin' what y'always do, and thinkin' that I'm too dumb a hick boy to draw breath," Jonathan pointed out.

"I wasn't," Dominic spit out, utterly frustrated where this whole conversation was going, "I can't think that bloody fast anymore. I was just trying to tell you that it hurt, that's all. You're the one with the complex!"

Jonathan just sighed. "Y'think fast enough to insult people. and you don't stop to think that jus' maybe this old farmboy has a few tricks left in him. Yes, I knew you're hurtin'. Which is why we're doin' what we didn't do yesterday, and why I'm not throwin' you up on the bars first thing, no warnin'."

"I'm not insulting you," Dominic said, but he was too tired to fight, so he slumped a little in his chair, looking out the window as Jonathan kept moving him this way and that.

"Y'want to pay attention to what I'm doin' here?" Jonathan asked.

Dominic shifted his eyes from the window to his left leg. "What should I do?"

"Helpin' would be a good thing, but you really want a place to start? Stop mopin'. You're gettin' up on your feet, you're movin', you're walking and you're makin' progress. 'Steada lookin' at what's wrong with the picture, start lookin' at what's right."

"Don't tell me what to do and what not to do, you bloody oaf. You don't give a shit, and I really don't care, so leave me be," he answered, sharply. "Fuck you."

"Well, you're half right," Jonathan said, straightening with a little oof. "You really don't care."

"Of course I care, you moron. Would I be here if I didn't?"

He nodded. "Sure you would. You'd be here to shut me up and be able to say that least you're tryin', and you could still safely feel sorry for yourself."

More of this. Dominic couldn't take it. Like he'd told Lionel, his dignity and his pride were ripped from him, and now he remembered why he had been so mad at Lionel in the first place. He didn't say anything to Jonathans taunt, his fingers tensing in his lap but the warm safety of his blanket wasn't there, and he couldn't grab it--grab his sanity and pull it back.

"Yeah. Notice your quick retorts ain't quite there when you know I'm right." He got behind the wheelchair and started pushing him towards the bars. "Come on. Time for us to get this over with."

Dominic didn't say anything, as Jonathan grasped the handles of his chair and towed him over to the bars. The horrible, bloody fucking bars.

He looked at them dispassionately, as Jonathan went about whatever it was he was going about with, and watched the bars.

Jonathan whistled again as he went over to the stereo and dialed through the radio stations until he came to one of the country stations in Metropolis, and left it on that as he came back over with his water bottle, a bottle for Dominic, and the leg weights. "If you can make it across the bars today, then we're tryin' the weights on tomorrow for a few leg lifts."

Unfathomable joy.

He took the brace from the table beside the bars, and leaned down, pulling his pant leg up enough to slide it on and buckle it tight around his leg. He'd put gauze and thicker bandages on his knee after his shower this morning so nothing would pull, and fit the brace around it, easily.

"Is the foam paddin' still on there from yesterday, or has the metal rubbed it through yet? 'Ventually, we gotta get you a hard rubber liner for that thing."

"It's fine," Dominic answered, as he pulled it all closed, adjusted it so it was secure, and looked at the bars again, his breath trembling a little when he took it.

"We're gonna go it slow, don't worry. And we're hopefully gonna keep you from fallin' on your ass," Jonathan said. "Need any help standin' with those sore shoulders?"

He'd rather die. "I'll be fine," he said again, and reached to his side to unbuckle the wheel chair so he could get out of it. Carefully, with screaming thighs he lowered his feet to the floor, and then scooted the chair in a little more so he could reach.

He reached out, grasping the bars, and held tight even as his shoulders gave cries of pain all the way to his brain, where he pain tingled and ached. He pulled regardless, getting himself out of the chair if not upright yet--God, he could barely hold himself up.

With effort, and effort it was, he pushed himself up, slowly on shaking elbows, to standing, locking his knees and holding on for dear life.

Jonathan looked him over critically. "Okay. Sit back down, cause ain't no way you're movin' in this shape. Gotta do a little extra for ya--siddown, and don't whine." He picked up the gel packs from where they sat on the bench and carried them over from the microwave, and started them heating.

Ninety seconds later, he took them out and slid them into their elastic bandage wrappings, and carried them over to Dominic and put one on each shoulder. "There. How's that."

Dominic, carefully, got himself back in the chair. That is to say, he half-fell into it. Jonathan set something hot on his shoulders and the heat went into his muscles, but.. "They're fine. It'll be better when they get warmed up."

"That's I hate to admit you might be right about that feeling good," Jonathan translated.

"You like this, don't you?" Dominic asked, without venom in his voice. "Bullying me around."

Jonathan sighed. "Maybe a little bit, cause you've all but stolen m'son away. But no, Dom, I don't get my kicks off this. I'm doin' this to help out a friend--Lionel."

"So you've said." He didn't bother looking up. "I haven't stolen Clark anywhere. I barely see him--he's always running around with Lex."

"But you see 'im more'n I do," Jonathan said. "And when I do see him, he's always quotin' you or Lionel or his real father, and tellin' Martha and me after the fact of what's happenin' in his life. S'not fair, but it's what works for m'boy and I can't argue with it. But that don't mean I have to like it. Or you, for that matter, takin' him away, or Lionel either when it comes to it."

"That's your problem, not mine." Treating me like shit isn't bringing your kid back. "You should speak to him about how you feel." God, he was so tired. "Lets get this over with."

"If I saw him fer more'n two seconds put together, I would talk to him 'bout it." He sighed. "How's the shoulders feelin' under those heatpacks?"

"The pain will be there regardless. Lets just start working."

Jonathan growled. "Yer 'nuff to drive a man to drink, you know that?"

He frowned up at him. "What did I do this time?"

"Here I am tryin' to be nice and not bust your fuckin' balls on the bars, and you're yankin' me around about hurtin' or not hurtin'!"

"You didn't seem to give a bleeding fuck yesterday when I told you this would happen. Yes, well, now I'll have to put up with it, won't I? No amount of heating packs and witch charms and cow cakes are going to fix it, so lets just get on with it. The muscles will warm up on their own."

Jonathan growled again. "Yep, sure did know it was gonna happen, s'why I brought these damn things today!" he yelled, yanking them up off Dominic's shoulders. "But you wanna be a bitch about it? Okay. Get up and move. Now." Jonathan put his foot on the back of the wheelchair so it wouldn't move. "Get your ass on the bars."

"That's what I was bloody fucking trying to do," Dominic snarled back, and reached up to grasp them tightly under his hands. His feet braced on the floor again, and he tightened his fingers to nearly white knuckles as he pulled himself up, much like he did to move from his chair to his bed, or to the lifts in the bathroom. However, instead, he straightened his legs, tightening his back until he was up, straightened as much as he could be while holding the bars for dear life.

"Now walk," Jonathan said, as soon as Dominic was on his feet, and he pushed the wheelchair back a step.

Dominic held on, as tightly as he could, and slowly pled with his body to do what he wanted to do. He closed his eyes, sweat popping out over his forehead and back, the bottom of his back and his hands, as he held tight to the bars for an endless moment, struggling to regain his balance.

"I SAID MOVE!" Jonathan bellowed. "I'm gonna treat you the same way you treat me, so get your ass movin' before I move it for you!"

At the scream Dominic flinched, holding tighter to the bars and slowly moving his left hand forward, grabbing it tightly as he could as he forced his right leg forward. It raised, just enough, and came down again, and he shifted his weight to the other arm, holding just as tightly and forcing his left leg, in the brace, forward.

"Keep goin'!" Jonathan shouted, watching him flinch and timing each bellow with a step. "Move your lazy Irish ass, boy!"

Dominic couldn't have spoken up if he tried--his throat was locked as he forced himself to move. His left leg was still struggling with the step, slow and hard and his body shuddered, agony shooting through his hips and knees as he forced the cold muscle to move enough so that it could be set down. He shifted his weight again, begging his right leg to take the step, and it was slow, careful, sluggish.

"You got another minute to take that step, or I'm gonna get down there and move that foot for you," Jonathan said, hands on his hips as he stood by the bars.

Agony shot through his legs as he moved, and he pushed his leg forward, until it hit contact again. He was breathing hard, sweat sliding down the corners of his face and eyes half closed with pain, as he kept his eyes on his feet. He shifted his weight again, begging just one more step, just one more, just one more.

"Now, turn around and go back to your chair, and tell me if it hurts," Jonathan said. "Cause I'm gonna make this fuckin' point if it kills the both of us. I ask a question, I need an answer, else I'm gonna push you too hard like I just did."

It hurt so badly he could barely breath around it. Each shift of his muscles felt like it was going to kill him, piercing pains shooting through his arms and legs, and he just couldn't turn around. His knees caved in and he fell, like a sack of potatoes, and falling hurt worse then anything else. it took his breath away.

Jonathan moved quickly and picked Dominic up, dragging him back to the wheelchair and setting him in it. "Now. You gonna tell me what hurts, or we gonna do that again?"

Yes, well. Jonathan dragging him anywhere made a cry get lost somewhere in his throat, and the plunk back in the chair worse, and all right, then. He felt weak with it, cold and in pain, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Again, or tell him.

He wish he could have said "again". Instead, he said, "E… everything."

"Finally," Jonathan muttered. "Okay, son. That burn you're feelin'? That's over-exertion. Ain't nothin' gonna fix it but some heat and some rest. So, we're gonna put those heat packs on your legs now, and then when they feel better, we're gonna try another step."

Over exertion. You DON'T say. Mother fucker. He didn't even have it in him to glare as he lay back, trying to calm down from it.

"Breathe," Jonathan said kindly. "Open your mouth, breathe in, and out through your nose. Deep as you can stand it, and then stretch your legs until it stops hurting."

Dominic did as he was told, keeping his eyes closed as he breathed, deep and slow, and then stretched his legs.

They burned, horribly, but after he stretched as much as his muscles were able to, some of the cramps passed, bringing a sting to his eyes in the pain of it.

Jonathan ran his hand along the back of Dominic's calf, feeling how hard and taut the muscles were. "Gonna have to get you rubbed down and loosened up tomorrow, if you keep holdin' stiff like this," he muttered. "Feel better after you stretch it out?"

Dominic didn't say anything for a moment as he let his muscles loosen again and slowly breathed, quietly, eyes closed as he fought to stop the ringing in his ears. After a moment of calming down it, and the dizziness, went away, and he opened his eyes. "A bit."

"Worse'n a horse with colic," Jonathan grumbled. "Gonna puff yourself out if it kills you." He straightened up, and felt the stiffly held muscles along Dominic's back and shoulders. "You always work this tightly, or is just cause you don't like me?"

Dominic's body shuddered when Jonathan prodded his shoulders and back. "Always… this tight. My shoulders are always first, then m-my lower back."

"Kay. You're gonna have to start loosenin' up before you do anythin', cause using muscles these tight and inflexible ain't gonna do nothin' but hurt you," Jonathan said, glaring at him,

"You don't say."

"I do say, and if you don't start listenin' to me, I'm gonna get even more unpleasant."

"I am listening to you," Dominic said, wearily, as he straightened his left leg again to help stop a cramp, closed his eyes. But then he opened them again, and looked up. "I'm trying. There isn't a need to lose your patience. So stop treating me like crap."

Jonathan just beamed. "Y'gonna stop treatin' me like crap?"

"I haven't done anything to you since you got here," Dominic said in response.

"Nah, you just been insultin' me, my wife, my intelligence, and gen'rally makin' sure I know you think I'm shit on your boots," Jonathan said. "And I ain't gonna stand for it."

Dominic didn't say the automatic retort on his tongue, as he so wished to.

It seemed he was at the mercy of this man, of someone else, again. And he could either panic over it, or he could accept it for what it was. Lionel told him that these people were only here to help him, despite the contrary it felt like sometimes, and he watched his lap, thinking that thought through for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

Jonathan held out his hand for a handshake. "And I'm sorry for insultin' your heritage."

Dominic took his hand, shook it. "I want to walk. For my daughter."

"Then I'm gonna help y'do it," he said. "Cause I've got two baby girls of my own, and I know how much you'll need t'be on yer feet with her." He shook Dominic's hand in return, and then let go. "You ready to give it another shot?"

"I suppose so, indeed," Dominic said, and looked again at the bars. "Standing is difficult. My hips don't always seem to want to do anything," he said, as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair before reaching for the bars.

Jonathan pondered that for a moment. "Y'know, that could be just the stiffness in 'em. They work better when you're movin' or when you're still?"

"I don't really know." He frowned. "They work fine when I have to get myself onto the bed, or on the lift in the bathroom. But standing is much more difficult. When I'm straight, and walking, it's easier."

Jonathan hmmed to himself. "We'll have to have a look at th' alignment; mighta popped somethin' outta joint, or got some loose cartilige that needs pulverizin'."

If it was possible, more blood ran out of Dominic's face. "No more surgery," he said, all too firmly, as he grasped the bars even tighter, and with a deep breath, heaved himself up out of it. He grabbed the bars as the pain shot through his calves and up into his shoulders but he held firm, eyes half closed with a hiss.

"Nah, not gonna be a surgery. Maybe a little laser work, but it's outpatient."

"I've been put through the meat grinder the last few months," he answered, hissing in pain as he straightened all the way up, clearing his throat slightly. "I'm starting now," he said, as he pushed his hand forward and moved his leg after it was secure, just as he'd been doing.

"Yeah, you have been." Jonathan ducked under the bars and got in front of him, walking backwards as Dominic started walking forward.

Dominic's eyes clenched shut as he started moving, only opening them a slit to make sure he was going in the right direction. He shifted with each step, little by little, agonizing inch by agonizing inch, and hissed out low curses in Gaelic under his breath as he did.

"Doin' good," Jonathan said encouragingly. "Jus' keep movin', takin' steps in the right direction."

In his hurry this morning to have a chat with Jonathan, Lionel had forgotten his laptop. Not intentionally, he'd just been running late, and he was hurrying past the gym when he heard Dominic cursing, and he stopped, looking in.

And was surprised to see Dominic walking.

On the fourth step he stumbled a little, mostly due to the fact that he wasn't used to wearing tennis shoes, and he glared at them for a moment before continuing on. He took three steps, and he stopped to catch his breath, panting hard.

He felt eyeballs on his neck.

"Lionel, if you're going to come in, stop staring and do so," he muttered, and threw a grin over his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to stare, Dominic, I was just surprised to see you up and about, that's all." But he came into the room, and sat on one of the benches along the wall. "Am I permitted to watch?"

Jonathan threw a glare his way. "Long's you sit there and shaddup, y'can watch."

"I don't... mind," Dominic hissed out, his fingers tightening on the bars as he looked up at Jonathan and concentrated on the cow fucking bastard's face for a moment to get his bearings back, as he locked his knees from shaking too badly.

He took another step with the bad knee, then the better, and though his bad knee wobbled a little he was able to take another two, painfully slow steps and only wobbled badly toward the end of the latter.

"Okay. I think I'm going to fall."

"No, you're not," Jonathan said, sliding his shoulder under Dominic's arm. Lemme have yer weight on this side."

Dominic nodded, but couldn't quite let go of the bar just yet. He held it tighter for a moment, in fear of letting it go, but when Jonathan was secure against his side, he let go of the bar and grasped the man, tightly. "I want to walk for him," he confided, quietly.

Jonathan nodded. "Let's do this then; lean on me till you got it, and then you'll take a few more steps. Short term, anyway. Long term? Y'are gonna walk for him. If'n it's the last thing I do."

Lionel was quiet against the wall as he watched. "Is everything all right?" he asked quickly, when he saw Jonathan and Dominic conferring quietly.

"Y'ain't bein' quiet," Jonathan called out. "Don' need nobody commentatin' on my work!"

Dominic nodded tightly and grasped Jonathan's shoulder, which he could do without throwing up as long as he thought of England. He grasped the man's shoulder and started to move, easier to hold himself up with a warm body helping him, the bad knee having fewer opportunities to cave under too much pressure as it healed, and he walked a little easier. After three more steps he was panting again, heart beating fast in his chest as he struggled.

"There y'go," Jonathan said. "There you go." He took the same slow steps that Dominic did. "Think you can make the last two on yer own while I get yer wheelchair back over here?"

"I could do that," Lionel volunteered.

Jonathan hit him with a glare. "This is why y'ain't allowed in here, Ly."

Dominic flashed a tired grin at their banter, but nodded as Jonathan let go. "Yes... I can do it alone," he grunted, and after another two steps, loosened his grip on Jonathans shoulder and grabbed the bar again, as tightly as he could. He straightened his back, his leg whining pitifully, and moved, slowly, very slowly, through the last two steps. They were pure, unadulterated hell, and he grunted as he finally got toward the end, and his knees began to shake.

As soon as Dominic let him go, Jonathan sprinted down towards the end of the bars and grabbed the wheelchair, pushing it as fast as he could towards the other end of the bars. By the time Dominic was at the end, so was Jonathan, and he held the chair out for Dom to collapse into.

Lionel looked over at his lover with a large smile. "Dominic? How are you feeling?"

How was he feeling?

Actually, pretty good.

He grabbed the chair arm rests and lowered himself into the chair with a low, heaved breath, his aching, numb legs twitching a little with the movement as he pulled them up onto the chair.

And gave his lover a small smile. "Okay. The tenseness is gone… I told you moving around would make it better, Jonathan," he said, as he looked up.

"An' I told you the heat's gonna help too," he said, and he looked at his watch. "Y'got an hour to soak in the hot tub, then we're gonna come back and work 'til this afternoon," he ordered.

Dominic looked over at Lionel with a small, shy smile, and sideglanced at Jonathan, before looking back to Lionel. Come onnn Lionel, get the picture!

Lionel wasn't nearly as dim as Dominic seemed to think he was. "Jonathan?"

Jonathan sighed. "Whatever yer gonna do, be careful with it, cause Dom'nic ain't quite that strong yet, an' if you tire his ass out too much to work this afternoon, your ass is mine. Hear me, Ly?"

"I hear you, Jonathan. But I assume that's a yes?"

"Conditional, but yep. Sure is."

Dominic beamed. Just... beamed . He couldn't help it--he was elated, and did he mention the beaming? "Lets go, Lionel, before he changes his mind." He reached around with his utterly sore arms, grabbed his chair wheels, and motioned his head.

"I'm not changin' my mind, but don't make me supervise it!" Jonathan yelled.

Dominic pulled at his blanket until it was over his lap, grabbed the wheels more firmly in his smooth hands, and gave his lover a broad grin. "Shower. Sex. Somehow, this day is looking up," he teased, as he looked up at Lionel and led them out of the room. "How was work this morning? I missed you."

Lionel gave a little grin. "Work was... rather tense, if you want the truth," he said, keeping pace with his lover. "Lex seems to have an unspoken problem with Mr. Knight, despite the successful completion of the Welchlem deal."

Could it be because he's a mother fucker? Yeah well, Dominic didn't say that out loud, though, cause he was seriously about to make Lionel happy, and get laid, and he was overjoyed. Especially the Lionel part--anything to make his lover smile and laugh and do all the wonderful things he used to do. "Really?"

Lionel nodded. "Yes, really. It seems that most of Lex's... ah, friends, are they? didn't have a great reaction to Mr. Knight when he came in."

"Hmm. Can't imagine why," Dominic said a touch sardonically, as he got into the elevator, with a bump in his chair and a small wince, and waited for Lionel to come in after him. "Could it be because he's an asshole?"

"Well... I'm sure that didn't help matters any, but from what little Lex will say--you know how closed-off he can get--he and Clark especially had a... oh, how did he term it... a bit of a disagreement. Gathering from the fact he was at work instead of the hospital with the young lady in labor? I would imagine he was severely understating the case." He got into the elevator beside Dominic and set it to rising.

"They get into more fights then anyone I've ever met," Dominic said, shaking his head. "By the by, Ms. Bird has Victoria, she told me a bit ago, all right? So...ah." He cleared his throat, and blushed, glancing up at his lover as the lift opened onto the second floor.

"Sometimes it makes me wonder if they are the proper match for each other," he said softly, and then smiled down at his lover. "So we will have no interruptions from little children?"

Dominic blushed, but had the audacity to give his lover a smile. "Well, yes. If... if you want... if it isn't distasteful."

Lionel raised a brow as they rolled out of the elevator. "I am worried about hurting you, Dominic, but why on earth would it be distasteful?"

Dominic furrowed a brow back. "I don't know. I'm just... I suppose I'm just giving you an out, if you want one. I have a habit of doing so when I'm nervous, you know that."

"The only out I am remotely interested in is the one that involves you out of your clothing," Lionel answered quickly.

"Me too," Dominic said, softly, glancing up as he rolled down the hall. "If... now. So… and after… we can bathe. Sound… it.." He shuttered silent as they got to their door.

 

-fin-

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