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“Boo, my feet are gross,” Liv complained, tucked against the arm of the sofa in her living room.
Dom shot her a contemptuous look, as he picked through the colors of varnish she'd brought out on the coffee table. “You know, just once, I want to meet a woman who thinks her feet are cute. That would be the ultimate sign of compatibility for me.”
Billy leaned back in the armchair and wriggled his toes, sniffing, “My feet are adorable.”
“Bills, your feet smell like week old tuna fish.”
“Says the man whose fatsuit is molding at the crotch.”
“Only because Wardrobe swears they can’t clean it!” Dom flushed through the cheeks, darting a look at Liv as he patted her foot. “You didn’t hear that. I’ll have you know my underwear are immaculate.”
“Morally and divinely pure,” Billy crowed, “Which in the context of Dom’s pants means nonexistent, luv.”
Liv giggled, flipping the page of her magazine, “Did you hear something, Dom? Someone else in the room?”
Dom beamed, uncapping the nail varnish. “Will you do mine after?”
“Fingers or toes?”
Dom made a face. “Toes, I guess. Pete might get grumbly if Merry shows up to set prettier than Frodo.”
“Oi, what if the hobbits got all tarted up as they went through Rivendell?” Billy quipped behind his own magazine, “You know, like in the Emerald City, before you get to go see the Wizard.”
“Except our wizard travels down the Yellow Brick Road with us, and grumbles that he doesn’t get to be tarted up himself. Not yet anyway,” Dom added with a grin, dabbing at Liv’s toe.
“If I do your toes, that glue remover will screw it up by tomorrow, it smells just like acetone," Liv reminded him.
Dom pulled a petulant frown, “Do ‘em anyway.”
“Dominic has a foot thing,” Billy dropped surreptitiously while he pretended to read. “Foot fetish.”
“It’s true,” Dom confessed, “They say one out of nine men do, so in this Fellowship I guess the someone had to fit the profile.”
“Isn’t there something else about one out of nine being bent as well?” Billy quipped.
“Ian.”
“Oh, right. Well, statistics don’t actually count off in a row.”
Dom paused in his dabbing and raised an eyebrow at Billy, “Are you asking me The Question, mate?”
“For curiosities sake,” Billy set his magazine on his lap momentarily to match that gaze. “And so Liv here doesn’t get the wrong idea. Besides, you’ve quite the talent with pedicures there, and let’s not forget last week when I had to change the bloody tire out on your car.”
“Thanks Bill,” Liv rolled her eyes, “My personal gaydar is touchy. Clearly, I need a second opinion.”
“You were the first one who got out and did it,” Dom retorted, “And don’t forget, it was Orli driving that ran over the board in the road in the first place, and Elijah and Sean who can’t believe anyone does that for themselves when you can call someone. Pair of Hollywood princesses, those two.”
Billy merely shook his head, “I’m just saying, your man card was in dispute long before the subject came up.”
Dom’s grin spread and he shrugged, went back to Liv’s little toe, using the tip of his thumb to clean up an edge and blowing lightly on the varnish. “I don’t like labels.”
“So you’re bent.”
“I’ll try anything, if the circumstances fit," Dom squinted at him.
“Bent.”
"Experimental.”
Liv started to giggle at this exchange, hiding her smile behind her hand.
“Bent.”
“You want a pedicure, Bill?”
“Aye, but can I have pink?” Billy worried his brows in feigned self-consciousness and topped it off with a perfectly timed, one-shouldered shrug, “Red is just too flashy for me.”
“Ever a Plain Jane, Bills.”
“Is that Cosmo?” Billy dropped his magazine on the table and pointed at Liv’s, “Can I? After you’re done? They have the best quizzes.”
“Oh my god, stop,” Liv gasped through her giggles, drumming her bare feet against Dom's thigh. “Stop, you’re gonna make me pee!”
Dom grinned fiendishly, holding Liv's newly painted foot gently so she wouldn't smudge the varnish, “Ahh, a woman’s laugh.”
Billy wriggled his toes at him.