Author: DancingWithOceanWaves PM
Why Twatt loves Classical music. I know he's not a very popular character, but it wouldn't get out of my head. Bad summary, I know, but please give it a chance.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance - Words: 2,310 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Published: 09-15-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5379921
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I know Dominic Twatt isn't one of the most popular characters, but I love Jack Davenport, so I therefore decided I liked his character even though he was sort of a bad guy. Anyway. Why Dominic Twatt loves classical music.
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Boat that Rocked", or any of the characters, I only own Iris and the briefly mentioned janitor. I also do not own Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
London. A great city, perfect for a great country. A city booming and strong, the pride of her country, and the people who occupy her. Who wouldn't be proud to live in a place where Big Ben's great, ringing dongs could be heard for miles around the city, where the Thames flowed about, powerful and dignified, where the countrie's goverment was practically a powerhouse? Dominic Twatt was no exception.
Tall, slender and handsom, with a suit that could please anyone, and a reputation to make any goverment official happy, Twatt felt like royalty. However, though proud and admitting to himself all of the things of his great city and country, he knew also that the powerful place could be a depressing, grueling place to work as well. Who wouldn't think it depressing and grueling if they had to work for Sir Alistair Dormandy? Dormandy, an older "gentleman", shortish, also with a suit to impress, thick framed glasses, and beedy, arrogant eyes, with an attitude to match. Yes, the small man was a bundle of...well, for lack of a better word in Twatt's mind, atrociousness. What was that saying..? Oh, yes! "Dynamite comes in small packages." Twatt just had to nod his head in agreement at this, smiling on the inside though physically he winced as the train screeched to a halt at its first stop. He straightned himself up again with a grunt, readjusting the holds he had on the standing pole and brief case, mulling over the day's events while someone to his left coughed.
He was to shut down the Radio Rock, the most popular, powerful, and(in his oppinion), inappropriate pirate radio station in English waters. Not that the music was inappropriate, so much, but the djs' themselves. His oppinion didn't matter, however; his job was to shut down Radio Rock, and all other manner of pirate radio, not ponder on how moral or immoral the djs' were.
Twatt checked his pocket watch(a watched that had been given to him by a very stuck-up family member) as the train came yet again to another screeching halt, yet again throwing him off blanace(this time nearly to the floor, since he'd released the pole to check his watch), as another grunt of annoyance passed his lips while he waited for the doors to open. Never again, he decided, wiping his hand off with a handkerchief as he left the train, would he ever ride one of those wretched vehicles. A simple quirk of the brows was the only sign of acknowledgement he showed the snowflakes and his visible breath while he left the Underground, now treading through the snow slush on the side walks.
"Radio Rock. Have you ever listened to them, Twatt?"
"A bit, sir, not much. I'm more a Classical fan." he'd answered with a smile.
"Indeed." he said to himself, whistling Beethoven's Fifth down the lonely sidewalk.
"Good man!" Dormandy cooed. "By the end of the year, I want to effectively rid our currently great nation, and her waters, of the filth called "pirate rock". I don't care what we have to do to do it, just get ride of them. Now then, off to work!"
He was on the steps of the...rather plain-looking building of floor-upon floor of flats(some of the nicest, most expensive flats in London, he thought with a smile), brushing the snowflakes from his brouad shoulders, before pressing one of the buttons on the speaker.
"Who is it?"
"It's me...I forgot my key was on my car keys...which you were in posession of this morning." he smiled.
From above his head, a shrill buzzer sounded, telling him in its annoying scream that the door was unlocked. He passed through it quietly, his feet dragging as he made his way to the elevator.
"Sorry, Mr. Twatt." A janitor said from behind him, pausing his sweeping. "The elevators are out of order this evening for repairs."
Twatt's hand fell limply from its poised position in front of the "up" button to his side. "You're joking."
The janitor shook his head, giving the obviously tired man a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, sir, I'm afraid not. The stairs are available, however."
He was tripping over his own feet by the time he reached the sixth floor, swearing lightly under his breath, though he knew it wasn't gentlemanly in the least. But the gentleman's feet were sore, the gentleman was tired, the gentleman's hair was falling down in his eyes because his gel had worn out by the end of the day, and he worked for(who liked to humor himself with calling), the son of the devil. That being said, the gentleman didn't give a damn of if he was acting like a gentlman or not.
Finally he was able to open the door to his flat, and-...Hold on. Why was the door to his flat unlocked? he'd locked it this morning when he'd left for work; he thought he had, anyway. Twatt rushed the door open, storming the flat in a short fit of panic, only hear Moonlight Sonata floating calmly on the unusually warm air of the flat. A woman, short, petite and brunette, gasped from her position in front of the stove as she whirled around to face him, her blue eyes wide and startled. The man and woman stared at each other, silently, the only sounds being the music and their panicked breaths.
"Dominic," The woman scolded, "What's gotten into you? Rushing in here like that..." Despite her grumbling, she walked to him, helping him remove his trench coat and suit jacket after he set his brief case down.
"The door was unlocked; you never leave it unlocked; I was worried about you...I thought someone may have broken in." he murmured, numbly allowing her to take his things. He was still bewitched by her, by how she wore nothing but a silky white nightgown, only partially covered by her open, bright red robe.
"Nope, I'm fine, obviously. I stepped out to take a few things to Pattie."
Twatt allowed his eyes to widen. "You went out...like that?"
"It was just across the hallway, Dom. Now then," she smiled, standing up on her toes to peck his cheek, "Are you hungry?"
Twatt smiled lightly, loving how his wife always knew what was affecting him...other than the obvious bewitching, which she had indeed taken note of with a smirk. "Indeed." I didn't have any lunch today."
Mrs. Dominic Twatt "awed" as she closed the door, setting the brief case by it. "Nothing?" Turning around again, she found her husband sitting at the kitchen bar, loosening his tie as he stared at her. "That's not healthy, Dom."
"I didn't have time; Dormandy gave me a lot of work today."
"Hmph. I don't like Dormandy. You do know I don't like him, right?" she asked her husband with a cocked brow, walking to him.
"Mhm." he smiled, placing his hands on his wife's hips, pulling her gently between his legs, while leaning back tiredly in the bar-chair. "You've told me...several times." Then, furrowing his brows, "Iris...why are you listening to Moonlight Sonata?"
"I...like it." she answered, her tone sounding as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why, darling?"
Twatt shook his head, arching his eyebrows. "You usually don't listen to it unless you're in a bad mood."
"Or a relaxed one. It keeps me calm when I cook."
Again, Twatt quirked his brows. "Why specifically when you're cooking?"
Iris smiled sheepishly, stroking her husband's hair out of his eyes. "I get angry with things when they don't cook right."
Twatt snorted, wrapping his arms securely around his wife's waist. "When do we eat?"
"Half and hour." she answered casually, still stroking his hair. "The oven isn't heating up as quickly as usual. So in the mean time..."
Iris slipped away from her husband's grasp, a tiny fit of giggles bursting past her lips as she danced into the living room, flitting quickly from Twatt's sight. Twatt, both intrigued and amused, followed. He found her bent over a wooden box full of records, her fingers shuffling through them like her life depended on it.
"Darling..?" he called.
"Just a moment!" she giggled in a sing-song voice. Apparently she found the record she'd been looking for, for she sprang up with one and replaced the Moonlight Sonata record with it. Iris stood straight, then, eye-balling her husband with a simple smile as a slow, calm waltz began to play, before holding her hand out. "Care to dance?" she murmured, her eyes gleaming.
Twatt cocked his head to the side, pulling his brows close together. "Darling...I'm very tired."
"If you're not too tired to eat," she smiled, placing herself in front of him, "Then you're not too tired to dance."
Twatt's shoulders fell. "Darling..." he whined.
Iris lifted his left hand with her right, fitting it easily in his palm, while she stroked his chest with her left. "But Dom..." she wimpered, "We haven't really spent any time together, Dom...I'd really like to dance with you."
Twatt sighed. How could he resist her pleading eyes, crush the hope in them, and ignore the seduction in her voice? He couldn't. He simply couldn't ignore his wife...not today. "Okay," he sighed again, smiling, "I'll dance with you."
Mrs. Twatt giggled, jerking her husband into a waltz, taking the lead without asking.
Twatt, unable to ignore his wife's spirits, offered his own soft fit of laughter as he pulled his wife closer, dipping his head down so that their foreheads touched. "Really, Iris, what's gotten into you?"
Iris breathed in through her mouth, grinning as she rubbed her nose against his. "Can a woman not enjoy the presence of her husband?"
"Yes, she can, but," he chuckled, cradling the back of her head in his right hand, "You're acting nutty!"
"Come now," she whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, "You know I act nutty when I'm excited."
"Mmm." he nodded. "Okay."
Iris smirked; she had her husband right where she wanted him. She leaned up again, capturing his lower lip, pressing her body against the length of him while snaking her arms around his neck.
"Iris," Twatt murmured after a moment, not bothering to open his eyes. "I have a lot of work tonight. I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate i-"
Iris didn't allow him to continue, knowing if she didn't press on, she'd lose him for tonight to his work. She delved her fingers through his hair, kissing him harder, rougher, sliding her tongue between his teeth.
"Iris," he panted, "I really must-"
Iris only repeated her gestures, using more force while, at the same time, the waltz grew louder, slightly faster, adding to the mood, making Twatt lower his guard as he felt the notes surround them, push them closer and harder as Iris forced her husband to listen.
"Iris," he murmured, cradling her face, "Why is it so warm in here?"
"The oven finally warmed up...faster than I thought it would, actually." she whispered.
"Turn the oven off...we don't want a fire to break out while we dance."
Dinner was long forgotten, sitting in the stove like a distant memory. The record on the record player had long ago played out, now sounding like static since the needle was no longer touching it. The only sounds in the master bedroom were that of a breeze floating freely through an open window, the slight rustling of sheets, and easy breathing.
Twatt shifted again, allowing his hand to fall lightly on the side of his wife's face, touching his forehead to hers. "Thank you."
Iris smiled, inching closer to cuddle as she pulled the sheets to her shoudlers. "Not a problem...I love you."
Twatt smiled. "I love you too, but...that was completely random, if I may say so."
A soft chuckle passed Iris's lips as she placed her hand over her husband's. "No, I agree. But you liked it, right?"
He coughed, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Of course! Yes, yes, I did. I was just wondering..."
"What brought this on?"
He coughed again, nodding.
"The music. I listened to several different albums of classical music, and it made me think of you."
Twatt's eye brows arched. "Really?"
"Mhm." she nodded.
Oh, he couldn't help himself. He rolled over on to his back, grinning up at ceiling as his wife pressed herself against his side. "I always knew there was a reason I was a fan of classical music."
Well, there you have it! Why Twatt(in my imagination)loves classical music. Hopefully it wasn't corny, and hopefully it wasn't a waste of time writing this. I know it's a one-shot, but please review, even if it's just constructive criticism; I'll appreciate what you have to say. Thank you!