Fandom: State of Play (UK)
Character: Dominic Foy
Notes: Icon Prompt from filthgoblin. Unbeta-ed.
Summary: Dominic is not a happy camper.
Dominic’s just about had it with the lot of them. Cops. Lawyers. Reporters. No one seems to understand that he’s the victim in all this.
Even before that bloody lunatic went Mike Tyson on his arse, he’d already lost what really mattered: Sonia.
Yeah, ok, he always wanted the money, the cars, and the good clothes and the best food and all that stuff, but so did she. They were two of a kind, really, and Collins was meant to be the big score. Leave it to the stupid bint to go and fall in love with him.
Either way, he misses her. They never really shagged, no matter what he said to wind up that reporter bloke with the pretty mouth, but sometimes they’d just lie in bed together, watching telly, talking about the future, touching themselves or sometimes touching each other. Getting off talking about some guy that Dominic saw in the clubs, wondering which of them he’d like better, or if they’d end up sharing. Just for laughs, you know.
Now look at him. Not that anyone would want to. Even if he sues Collins for every pound he’s worth, it ain’t gonna be enough to put Dominic’s face back to rights. He still can’t even breathe properly and it hurts to talk. There’s a joke for you. Dominic Foy forced to keep his mouth shut.
He remembers the way they both laughed when she told him about the baby, although she’d been picturing herself as Mrs. Stephen Collins and Dominic had been seeing large denominations showing up in his bank account.
Good times. Big dreams. One last grope for the road. Dominic’s doped up to the gills on pain-killers, but he still reacts to the memory. That’s a hopeful sign, right? Be nice if one of those reporters was here right now with a friendly hand on his knob. Maybe the pretty one, or that Cal fellow. Or both of them. He needed a lot of help right now. Two hands. Or a hand and a mouth. And some more drugs, because he’s still in pain. And more drugs than that because Sonia is still dead and all the sex in the world won’t change that much less one pathetic wank in this fucking miserable excuse for a safe house.
And that bastard, Stephen Collins, is still alive.
Ain’t bloody fair. Ain’t bloody fair at all.