The thing was, Dom was really fucking certain he hadn't set the alarm. He hadn't had the chance, what with the sex - and there was a nice memory, one to stretch his lips in a sleepy smile - and the falling asleep afterwards. And anyway, he wouldn't have done something as fucking stupid as setting the alarm on his weekend off.

But there it was, happily beeping away, and in a minute, he'd work up the energy to open his eyes, and roll over and switch it o-

The alarm stopped.

Dom's eyes snapped open. There was movement in the bed, behind him, but Viggo had gone home last night, and it wasn't his voice that said, rough and grumbling: "Sodding hell, Liv."

By the last word, Dom was out of bed, three staggered paces away, breathing hard and fast. He turned to face the bed, and the sole remaining, tousled occupant. Who was looking at him quizzically. "Liv?"

Dom's reeling mind grasped something, a straw floating past in the maelstrom, and he gasped, raised his hands.

His hands.

He looked down. He was only wearing boxers above hairy legs. His chest was bare. And flat.

He looked up again, and found his voice. "Orlando?" His voice. It sounded almost wrong coming out of his mouth.

Orli was pretty quick for that time of the morning. It only took a second for his eyes to clear from confusion to realisation. "Dom?"

That was about the point where Dom's legs gave way, and he sat down on the floor. Hard.

First things first. First, he'd deal with the fact that he was back in his body. Then he'd think about other things.

Like why, precisely, Orlando had been in his bed. Practically naked. All night.

Shut up. Not going to think about that until he'd had a cup of tea. If he could find any fucking tea.

"What the hell is with this shit?" Still rummaging through the cupboard with one hand, he held out a packet with the other.

Someone took it from his hand. He didn't see who; he was busy in the cupboard. There had to be some motherfucking tea in here somewhere.

"Oh." Billy's voice, bleary, accent broader than usual. He'd been woken up by the thud of Dom hitting the floor, which had been a good ten minutes ago. He wasn't as good at mornings as Orlando, though, and still didn't seem to be in his body. "Aye, that's Liv's herbal tea. Smells nice."

"I don't want it to smell nice," Dom declared, voice echoing in the cupboard. "I want it to be sodding tea. Ah-hah!" He retreated out of the cupboard, holding a half-full box of teabags. He checked the label. "Total bollocks, but it'll have to do." He switched the kettle on. "God, I have a terrible headache."

"Not surprised," Orlando commented from the other side of the kitchen. At least he was wearing clothes now. Clothes which had been on the floor of Dom's room. Not thinking about this yet! "You had a lot to drink last night."

Dom opened a cupboard, looking for mugs. Wrong cupboard. Wrong house. Where did they keep the mugs here? Oh yeah, he remembered. "I only had a couple of glasses of wine." Good wine. Great wine. And then he fucked Viggo. Not thinking about that, either. Think about that much later. "Why the fuck do I have to put up with Liv's damn hangover?" As the kettle boiled, he opened the fridge. Ah, juice. Heavensent.

He drank straight from the bottle, and Billy suddenly laughed. Dom lowered the bottle, looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Now I know you're back," Billy declared.

Dom swallowed the juice, grinned back at Billy as the kettle started to whistle. "Yeah," he said. "I'm back."

Yeah. He was.

His eyes strayed across the kitchen to Orlando. So now he supposed he had to think about that. And then about Viggo. Bugger. He really needed that cup of tea.

Mug, teabag, boiling water. Hardly rocket science, but even simply the scent of the rising steam was starting to make Dom feel better. Swirling the bag in the water, Dom turned back to the kitchen. "We should have a chat," he said to Orlando.

Billy took the hint. "I'm off to shower."

Orlando yawned, reached for the juice bottle. "Out on the balcony? S'nice out there." He didn't wait for an answer, just led the way.

It was nice out on the balcony, with the sun not too far above the horizon, and the neighbourhood still quiet. The screaming kids wouldn't be awake for hours. Clever kids.

They sat on either side of the picnic table that'd come with the house. Big wooden monstrosity. Dom was always afraid it'd give him a splinter somewhere very uncomfortable. His tea was almost steeped enough. Orlando was sipping from the bottle, squinting up the street.

"So," Dom started, fishing his teabag out with a spoon, squeezing it with the string. "You want to tell me what the hell happened last night?"

Orlando turned back, shrugged with that typical Orli-smile. "We went out and possibly had a little bit too much to drink," he offered. "Liv mentioned that she hadn't, yanno, got a leg over since the whole switch thing, and that she was really curious about what it was like for a guy, but she didn't want to do it with anyone who didn't know what the situation was."

Dom took a mouthful of tea. Oh, that was good. "So you volunteered your services?" Orli just raised an eyebrow. Well, yeah, it was obvious from the fact that he was still here. Jesus. This body had slept with Orlando less than twelve hours ago. Dom wondered who'd been on top. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask. But he did want to know... "Why?"

Orlando shrugged. And look at that, he was uncomfortable. Dom could tell from the way he tilted his head. After learning to understand Viggo's body language, everyone else just about screamed. Not thinking about that yet. Orlando looked back at him, his smile small and rueful. "Well, I sorta, well... had this crush. On, like, you."

Dom blinked, his mug stopped halfway to his mouth. "Huh? But... you never said... or did..."

Orli had one leg drawn up on the chair, seemed to be thoroughly interested in his toenails. "Yeah, well, you weren't interested in me like that, yanno. No big deal. I respected you, though. Too much to just, like, wind you up for a one-time shag or anything. But Liv, well, she wasn't you, now was she?" Orlando squinted up at him. "But it was your body, and I figured, why the hell not? Just for a laugh."

Dom drank his tea, and thought about that. No, he wasn't interested in Orli like that, like he wasn't interested in Lij like that, but... "Hang on, you didn't think I was interested in you. Not that I was straight?"

Orlando pulled a face, finished the last of the juice. "I don't believe in that designated sexuality bollocks. Total crap. Relationships are between people, not... not... I dunno. Gender representatives. That's just fucked. You fall in love with people, not -"

"Plumbing," Dom provided.

"Yeah." Orli grinned at him across the table. "Yeah, not plumbing."

Dom drank his tea, and thought about that, too. "Orli, I think you might just be the coolest person I know."

Orlando laughed out loud. "Mate, considering the people you know, I think that's the biggest compliment anyone's ever paid me. But Dom?"

"Yeah?"

"Please stop sitting like that."

Dom looked down. At his carefully crossed legs. And burst out laughing.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring. "Hello, Liv Tyler speaking."

"And don't you sound smug about it."

"Dom!" she practically squealed. "Welcome back!"

He was grinning, couldn't help it. "You too."

"I was going to ring you, but I got caught up in cleaning. You left this place in a fucking mess!" She didn't sound mad at all.

"And I've got your fucking hangover, so don't whinge to me. If I'd known we were going to be swapping back, I'd have changed your mobile phone to Arabic and all."

"Bastard. You even left dishes in the sink!"

Oh, yeah, the dishes. The wineglasses. Last night. "Um, Liv, I guess I should probably tell you that -"

"You and Viggo did the wild thing last night. The sheets are in the wash right now. Now aren't I glad I made you keep taking the Pill."

Dom laughed. There was no other response. Liv was like that. "Meanwhile, Orlando and I sorted everything out, thanks."

Her turn to laugh. "Yeah, well. Guess we both got some last night. Maybe that was the magic trigger for the switch back."

"Remind me never to have sex the same time as you."

"We'll co-ordinate our schedules."

They laughed together, sheer relief and delight.

"Seriously, Dom," Liv said, and he shifted, leaning against the wall. "Is everything fine?"

He thought about people, and plumbing. "I don't know. Hope so."

"Well, if you need me, you know where I live."

He grinned. "Yeah, I do. Listen, Liv, we're going out for a drink tonight. You know, to celebrate. Coming?"

"No way! For the first time in two months I don't have to do out and be one of the guys. I'm going to stay home and pamper myself!"

Dom laughed. "Well, you have fun."

"You too. I'll catch up with you sometime during the week. We can swap horror stories and go through everything then."

"Sounds good."

They went to the usual pub, and after the first pint, they didn't feel quite so seedy anymore. After the second, they were starting to feel positively merry again. Elijah kept hugging Dom at random, usually squealing: "You're baaack!" in the process. After they started playing pool, Dom figured he was just doing it as a diversionary tactic. When he suggested that, Elijah laughed, and stole a gulp out of his beer. "I owe you," he stated. "For the whole breasts thing."

Dom supposed he had a point.

"Hey, look." Sean nudged Dom, sloshing the beer in his glass, already too far down to spill. "Bean and Viggo are here, too."

Dom couldn't help it; he was turning before Sean had even finished the sentence, looking across the crowded pub to the corner the older actors preferred. He saw Bean, only here for a little while longer, and Hugo, and there was Cate, laughing her head off. Then someone in the crowd shifted slightly, and there he was. Viggo.

Viggo smiled, and raised his hand in a brief wave. Dom felt his answering smile was too quick, too broad, too Liv; he'd got used to smiling a lot. Beside him, Sean grinned like a loon, waved manically, and Viggo laughed.

It was indescribable, the way Dom felt watching Viggo laugh. Indescribable, but he tried anyway.

Euphoric. Distant and distracted. Like his breath stopped, but he kept moving.

Drunk. No, not quite. He looked down into his almost-empty glass. Not quite, but it was a short trip from here. What was he waiting for?

"Oi." It was Billy, nudging him and handing him the cue. "Your break."

Later, after many games and many beers, it was his round, and he was playing finger percussion on the bar in random rhythms, nodding his head and waiting for the bartender to finish drawing the beers. The world was, finally, a fuzzy place, and he didn't have to think about anything until tomorrow morning.

Unless, of course, Viggo slid into the space next to him at the bar. Which was exactly what happened.

But who cared, really, when the world was such a lovely, fluffy place, and Viggo was offering him a smile that was nothing like the one he gave to Liv, but close enough. Dom smiled back, unable to stop the warmth in his face. "Hey, Viggo."

"Hey. How's filming going?" Viggo asked, and Dom burst out laughing.

"I have no idea!" he declared, and then he was laughing again at the bemused expression on Viggo's face. He had to look away from that direct gaze, because Viggo could see too much, even if he never saw Dom before.

He dropped his gaze to the collar of Viggo's shirt, which he figured was fairly safe. And it was, until Viggo shrugged, and turned to wave down a barman. The movement pulled his collar away from his throat, and then Dom's breath did stop. He could barely hear Viggo ordering ("Two brown ales, a Stella and a dry cider") because there was a mark on Viggo's neck. It was down the side, almost at his shoulder, darkening against his skin. And Dom remembered putting it there. Remembered pushing Viggo back, sliding a trailing hand down his body, and his lips down his neck, fingers and teeth gripping at the same time, and Viggo's breath rattling in his throat under Dom's mouth. Dom remembered the taste of Viggo's sweat on his tongue as he sucked it away, sucked the blood to the surface.

His hand was moving before he even thought about it, independent of thought, and Dom only realised it when his fingers touched Viggo's neck, and Viggo turned, startled, to look at him.

Dom blinked. Oh yeah, and the whole personal space thing. Different for men and women. Women could touch men casually in ways men just couldn't. He drew his hand back hurriedly. "Sorry. Sorry." Needed something other than an apology. "There was a mark on your neck." Shit! Not that.

Viggo shrugged, a little uncomfortably. "Oh, ah. Yeah." But he didn't offer an excuse. Changed the subject. "How's the weekend off going?"

Small talk. Fucking small talk. Three days ago Viggo had confided his concerns about not being a good enough father. Tonight they were making polite fucking small talk. Dom laughed bitterly. How was it going? "Frankly, I was expecting it to be better." Two months, and he was in his own body again, and all he wanted was to go back to last night, even before anything happened. Back to sitting in his kitchen, eating laksa with Viggo.

Except it wasn't his kitchen.

"I miss you already."

And again, he hadn't wanted to say that out loud, hadn't realised he had until Viggo raised an eyebrow, said, "What?"

He had a moment of searing, blinding panic, and then deliverance arrived. "Because here are the drinks, and I'm going to have to leave you." He gathered up the drinks - five at once, this time, and no one even blinked - and grinned. Just typical mad, drunk Dom. Nothing to see here. "Can you handle the separation?"

Viggo was chuckling, not like the way he'd laughed with Liv, not at all. "I'll manage." He turned back to the bar before Dom was even gone.

He'd manage. Dom wasn't so sure he could. He fucking hated it already.

He deposited the drinks on their table, snatched one up and downed a third of it in one gulp.

"Easy, tiger," Sean laughed, as he came up for air.

"Don't let me talk to Viggo again tonight, OK?" Dom stated.

"What?" Sean looked confused, turned his whole attention away from Elijah and Orlando wrestling over the white ball. "Talk to Viggo?"

Dom took a deep breath, looking down at his beer. "Just... don't let me talk to him. Tie me down. Knock me out. Whatever."

When he looked up, Sean was looking at him like he was mad. Maybe he was. Surely he had reason enough. But Sean just shrugged. "Sure thing."

And that, Dom supposed, was what friends were for, after all.

Friends were also for helping you get home at two in the morning, when you'd forgotten the meaning of a straight line, but could remember all the words to "Diamonds are a girl's best friend" and were busy regaling the neighbourhood with them.

Billy was laughing when he eventually dropped Dom on his bed. "It's good to have you back, Dom. Noisy, but good."

Dom wrapped his arms around Billy's neck, pulled him down to plant a smacking kiss on his forehead. "Missed you, Bill."

Billy laughed more, and disentangled himself. "Missed you too. Daft git."

Dom rolled over, snuggling up to his pillow, and was nearly out when he heard Billy say: "Why didn't you want to talk to Viggo?"

Because. Because I want...

But Dom couldn't finish the thought, and wasn't sure if he'd said anything out loud. Sleep claimed him.

Friends were also for having the tea ready when you staggered out of bed late the following morning, hungover as hell.

"You're a God," he croaked, eagerly accepting the mug.

"You're running out of tea," Billy replied, amused.

Dom was running out of tea, so when he got off early on Monday afternoon, he took the chance to go shopping.

It would have been better, he mused as he wandered up and down the aisles, if he'd got off early because everything had been going well. But no, he was still stuck halfway between Liv and himself, and he was so damn distracted, and he couldn't get a fucking thing right. PJ had told him he'd be able to act better with his head up his own arse, and frankly, Dom had to agree with him.

The problem, he rationalised, was fucking Viggo.

Yes, fucking Viggo. Precisely.

To top it all off, there was an off-license just outside the supermarket. Well, not quite an off-license. More a wine shop, really. It was called "The Wineseller", and there was a Penfolds' display in the window.

Before Dom knew it, he was inside, and two minutes after that, he was walking out with a bottle of Penfolds Bin 128 Coonawarra Shiraz. The girl behind the counter hadn't looked at him like it was anything unusual, anything special. Nothing at all for Dominic Monaghan to ask for a wine by name. Dom felt a bit like his head was on backwards. Like he was damning himself. He didn't even wait for a bag, just left his change and grabbed the bottle by the neck and fled.

It was supposed to be shared. He wanted to share it. Wanted it so bad he could taste it, like the memory of rich, fruity wine and someone else's saliva in the back of his mouth.

Fuck.

He walked home, trying to ignore the weight of the wine in his hand, balancing out the plastic shopping bag in the other. Distracted himself. Had he forgotten anything he needed to buy? Tea, yes, lots of tea. Oranges. Razor blades. Some of that dark chocolate with almonds he knew Billy loved but would never buy for himself, new soap because he'd actually really liked the smell of the stuff Liv used. Wine.

Fuck.

There were two kids pelting down the footpath outside his house - and yes, it was the right one, he'd made certain he was heading in the right direction - sitting on their skateboards and screaming at each other. He dodged out of their way, laughing, watched them disappear down the road, curving around the corner as he turned it at the front gate.

Which was why it came as such a shock when he looked up and realised someone was sitting on the front steps.

"Viggo!"

Fuck!

He was sitting still, almost hidden in the lengthening shadows of the afternoon. His eyes were downcast, fixed on something he was fidgeting with. Dom made himself continue walking up the path, until he was at the bottom of the stairs. Déjà vu. Been here before, looking up at Viggo.

Viggo looked up at him. "Even when I try thinking it through, nothing's making sense." That was all Viggo. No greeting, just straight into the existentialism. "I'm not even sure why I'm here, but if nothing else is making sense, and neither do I, maybe I'll start to understand. What's in the bottle?"

Oh, shit, the bottle. Dom looked down, breathed a sigh of relief that he was holding it against his leg, the label turned away from Viggo. "Oh, just some wine. For cooking." Inspired. Now, move the conversation forward. What the hell was Viggo doing on his front steps? "You, ah, want to come in or something, Viggo?"

"No, I think I'd rather discuss this out here."

"Discuss what?" Confused, innocent, not at all having sinking doubts and wishing, praying, he was somewhere else. Yep, Dom was fucking superb. He deserved an Oscar right here and now.

Viggo looked down at his hands again. What was he playing with, anyway? Some sort of cord thing. Leather, with something attach- Oh, fuck. But then Viggo looked up again, caught Dom's gaze, and Dom schooled his face to stillness. Viggo always saw too much. "I'm not really sure," Viggo began, voice so quiet and thoughtful. "There're just discrepancies. Everything was... now suddenly nothing makes sense. Things. Like our conversation the other night, at the bar."

Keep your face blank. After controlling Liv's features for so long, his own were a breeze. Viggo had never seen past that, Dom reminded himself with a trace of bitterness. Why should he start seeing past it now? "To tell you the truth, I don't remember most of that night. I was completely rat-arsed." Half-true, at least.

Viggo nodded slowly, his eyes still on Dom's, and Dom couldn't look away. He felt like he was walking on a tightrope. Don't look down.

"I've been asking impossible questions," Viggo said, and his voice was even more quiet now, as if he was talking to himself. "Thinking impossible thoughts." He raised his hand, the leather cord tangled in his fingers, the tiki dangling just below his palm. "Liv gave this back."

Dom's mouth was dry. He couldn't look away, though he had no idea what might be showing in his own eyes. There were things he should be saying, he knew, more innocent things, but what came out of his mouth was: "She gave it back?"

"Mhm." Viggo nodded slightly. The tiki swayed a little, like he was trying to hypnotise Dom. Dom was already hypnotised. "She came up, gave me one of those big, flashy, winning smiles, and told me I'd left it at her place by accident."

By accident. The words went through Dom like a knife. The words were too much. Dom had to look away, had to close his eyes, but the darkness was no refuge because could still hear Viggo's voice, low and insistent and running over him like whiskey over ice.

"Dom. Show me the bottle of wine."

Dom opened his eyes, looked up at Viggo looking at him, that direct gaze of his, and he'd done it. He'd seen through it, seen through Dom.

Dom felt surprisingly calm, centred, like he was still and the world was moving, as he lifted the bottle, turned it so the label faced Viggo. He'd been here before, holding out a bottle at the bottom of the steps.

Then, Viggo had told him it was meant to be shared, had offered to open it. Dom doubted that would happen now.

Now, Viggo read the label, face blank like he was contemplating milk. And then dropped his head into his hands. Ran fingers already tangled in the forgotten tiki through his hair. Curled up, he edged sideways, slid across the step until there was space next to him. "Sit down," he offered.

Dom did. Climbed the steps and settled beside Viggo, brushed hips and shoulders together as he shifted to set his shopping on the step below, nestled between his feet.

"Tell me," Viggo ordered, quiet and definite.

So Dom did. Just started talking, about waking up in someone else's body, the sheer blinding panic, the anger, the slow growth to numbness that bled into acceptance you barely noticed until one day you woke up and suddenly you could meet your own eye in the mirror without flinching. And staring out from his front steps, out into the horizon that started to bruise as somewhere to his right the sun began to set, Dom talked about missing his old life, and about finding a new one. About finding someone he'd never expected.

His voice trailed off into the sunset air, vibrating gold. He still didn't look at Viggo as he added, "I don't think I would have made it through the past two months without you."

Still nothing, and Dom cleared his throat, asked, "How did you figure it out?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Viggo shrug, eyes still focussed down, on his tangled fingers and the leather cord threading between them. "Suddenly Liv calls me Viggo, not Vig, and then it's changed again. It's all gone, and I swear I recognise that look in someone else's eyes. Little things." He spread out his hands, and the tiki slipped off his palm. He twisted his hand, flipped it back onto his palm. He was staring at it so closely that Dom felt safe to watch him openly.

"It's weird," Dom stated. "I'm sorry. I've had two months to get used to it. You've had two minutes."

Viggo looked up at him, and Dom was caught unawares by those eyes, by the gaze. Time passed.

Then Viggo looked down at his hand between them, palm up, the tiki lying amidst its tangled leather cord. "What are we going to do with this?"

Dom hesitated a moment, then lay his hand on top. Viggo didn't pull away. "Memory is what you make of it," he said quietly.

"What?"

Dom smiled slightly, looking down at his hand over Viggo's. "That's what you said when you bought it."

"You remember?"

"It's been something of a personal motto for the past two months." There was silence, then, and Viggo still didn't move his hand, so Dom pressed on. "You gave it to me as a reminder. I don't need a reminder. But..."

"But maybe I do."

Dom risked a look at Viggo, but he was staring off, towards the darkening horizon. "You know," Viggo said quietly, that rusty mumble that caught Dom up in all sorts of intimate memories. "You know, in the past two months, I've spent more time with Liv than I ever did before." A moment's pause. "And Liv never asked me to stay."

"Really?" Dom couldn't help it, it was out of his mouth before he thought of it.

Viggo turned, caught his gaze, and Dom couldn't look away again. "Yes. Really." He looked down, then, and Dom followed his gaze to the bottle of wine sitting between his feet. "It should really be shared, you know."

His tone was guarded, and when Dom looked up, he could see the hesitation, the not-quite-yet.

He smiled anyway. "Well, I'll keep it for a special occasion." And his smile broadened. "Just let me know when you want to drink it."

Viggo smiled back. "I will."

He turned back to gaze out at the setting sun, and after a moment, Dom did too. They sat there, palm to palm, with the tiki between. Almost holding hands. The sort of thing girls could do. Guys couldn't.

Dom smiled into the gathering darkness. Who said they couldn't?