What Can't Be Labeled

[stumphed.livejournal.com]

Title: What Can't Be Labeled
Author: Joey (booshgal33)
Pairing: Billastin
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nothing's true. I know no one. I own nothing.
A/N: This one's for beizy because without her, I never would have found the Sean love. Her fic is so amazing that I felt I wanted to try my hand at capturing Sean. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but this is what I was able to do.

Huge thanks to my lovely likeneveris for the beta. *smooches*

x-posted to fellow_shippers, billastin & smut_barons


Sean only goes out with the other Hobbits occasionally. He just isn’t part of the always drinking, always dancing, always joking group that goes out to a pub every time they have a day off from filming. In fact, Sean would say that that scene doesn’t interest him at all, except that there is Billy.

Arriving in New Zealand had been terrifying for Sean, though he would never admit it. He isn’t the oldest Hobbit, but he is married and has a daughter and a very settled life. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Elijah is the star, Dom the cool one, Orlando the beauty, Viggo the artist, and Billy the comedian. Sean had to fit in somehow, and it just worked out that there was room for someone to step in and be the mature one. He accepted his role and wore his title with pride. His most important job is to act as the designated driver for the pub outings when Christine and Ally aren’t in New Zealand. Nights without Christine in bed beside him and Ally sleeping soundly in the room next door are usually very lonely anyway, so it isn’t a nuisance to help out where he is needed.

So here he is, his one and only bottle of beer of the night half-empty -- though Sean doesn’t like to be pessimistic if he can help it, so maybe half-full is a better way to look at it -- and his pants feeling uncomfortably tight -- which isn’t due to Sam’s weight for once, much to Sean’s delight.

The half-full bottle of beer had been forgotten the second Billy clapped him on the back as Dom dragged him onto the dance floor which, coincidentally, was when Sean’s pants got a size and a half too small. Strange, really.

Sean’s left battling with a part of his subconscious he hadn’t been aware of prior to meeting Billy. This new part tends to speak up when Sean is alone in his room when Christine is absent, his hand moving slowly along his cock. This new part tells Sean how Billy’s lips would feel running over his skin, or even how they would feel wrapped around his erection.

The old, more responsible part of his subconscious, the part Sean has grown to know well and count on in times of confusion, tells him that it’s wrong to be having these thoughts because he’s married, and it’s even more wrong because they’re about a man. A man who is both a friend and a colleague. Big red neon signs light up in his mind, flashing wildly, but Sean hasn’t figured out if they’re warnings for what he’s doing -- flashing to get his attention to stop what he’s doing and act like the mature, straight, married man he is -- or if the signs are a warning for his impending orgasm which wracks his body so fiercely it nearly renders him unconscious.

This new part is starting to speak up now as Sean stares at Billy across the dark, crowded dance floor. Sean’s eyes run the length of Billy’s compact body, drinking in its hard edges and sharp angles which are so unlike a female’s. Dom chooses the moment Sean’s eyes are locked on Billy’s hips to shove his pelvis forward, rubbing his clearly visible erection against the bone there. Sean’s cock twitches in its cage of clothing.

When Sean finally drags his eyes away, he follows Dom’s roaming hands as they slide under the hem of Billy’s shirt for a moment before resuming their path up his chest atop the fabric. Billy wraps his arms loosely around Dom, linking his fingers and resting his hands at the small of Dom’s back, just above the smooth curve of his ass. They’re positioned so their legs alternate -- Dom, Billy, Dom, Billy -- and they are presented with the hard bone of a knee to rock their pelvis against. They’re smiling and laughing as their bodies rock and gyrate and Sean can’t understand their relationship.

Labels. Call him narrow-minded or obsessive, but Sean needs to label things to understand them. Dom and Billy are friends. Sure. But so are Billy and Elijah, only Sean never sees Billy act this way with Elijah. Not really. There are the expected hugs and even playful kisses, but that’s definitely not the same. So Sean comes to the conclusion that it must be more than that. They’re beautiful together and perfect for each other, no one can deny that, but Billy routinely mentions girls he’s taken out or spent the night with, and Dom leaves the pubs with someone new virtually every time they go out, showing no prejudice towards male or female. But according to Billy’s accounts of wild nights and romantic dinners, Billy’s straight. As straight as Sean, even.

When Dom pushes against Billy’s chest with the palms of his hands, Billy’s head falls back, revealing the expanse of creamy white skin along his neck. Sean’s left with the conclusion that if Billy’s as straight as he is, that may not be saying much. His erection is throbbing and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, blushing as he adjusts himself and swallows the lump in his throat.

This is where the problem exists. By all definitions he has stored in his own brain, Sean is straight. He is happily married to a woman who can make him hard in a second. He doesn’t find Dom’s wanton ways sexy. He doesn’t find Elijah’s eyes sexy. He doesn’t find Orlando’s beauty sexy. It’s just Billy. Just Billy and his small body, and his fair features, and his nimble hands, and his wicked lips, and his liquid green eyes, and his undeniably sexy accent. There’s no label in Sean’s book for what he’s feeling, so he can’t study it and figure it out. Instead, he continually pushes it away, focusing intently on the grain of the wood of the table he’s sitting at, or the ring of moisture his half-full beer bottle makes when he moves it across the table, or even the sound of the old man two tables away who has a hacking cough.

By the end of the night, Sean is exhausted from distracting himself. He has spent the last few minutes calculating the amount of time one spends showering over the course of their life on the back of a napkin. He only gets as far as the number of minutes spent showering in a year if one takes ten-minute showers (3,650 minutes, or 60.83 hours) when he gives up because the image of Billy standing in the shower, shrouded by steam, enters his mind and that’s precisely what he is trying to avoid.

“Can ye give me a ride?”

Sean’s head snaps up and he’s surprised to see Billy standing there. His face is flushed, his nose and cheeks a deep red that Sean has come to associate with Billy. He has even gotten so far as imaging Billy flushed that deep red colour as they move against each other, their cocks pressing hotly together between their bodies. Sean turns his attention back to the napkin he has been writing on. 60.83 hours is roughly 2 and a half days…

“Sean? Can ye give me a ride back tae my flat?”

“Oh. Of course. It’s why I’m here.” Billy always asks Sean for a ride, even though they are all aware that’s why he’s there. It makes Sean feel appreciated instead of as if he’s being taken for granted. “Where’s Dom?”

“He left with some bloke earlier… Took a cab.” Billy adds the last bit when he sees Sean’s worried look. “Where’s Orli? Elijah?”

“They left about an hour ago to find a club they haven’t been to yet. As if such a place exists.” Sean’s rewarded with one of Billy’s beautiful, full-on grins.

“Aye. Just ye and me then?”

-----

The ride to Billy’s flat is lighthearted and Sean realises that Billy really isn’t drunk at all. He had been so engrossed in keeping his attention away from Billy that he didn’t see that Billy had only had two beers between dances with Dom.

“Mind if Ah stay at your place?” It is a strange request considering Billy’s flat is on the way to Sean’s. Billy senses Sean’s confusion. “Ah think Dom’s got his bloke back at the flat.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, it’s no problem. You can stay in Ally’s room if you like.” Billy doesn’t respond and Sean assumes it’s because he’s tired. As he pulls into the driveway of his small house, Sean hopes that it isn’t too messy. He hates to have people over when Ally’s toys are strewn about, especially if it’s one of the younger guys, or even Billy. With Viggo and Bean he can act like the father he is, and as much as he knows Billy, Dom and Elijah love Ally, he sometimes thinks it would be easier to fit in with them if they aren’t always reminded of how different they are.

The mess is minimal and when they’re inside, Sean tells Billy have a seat on the sofa while he makes up Ally’s bed. He steps on one or two toys as he does so, and kicks them under the bed. When he’s finished, he goes back into the living room.

“Bed’s ready if you’re tired.”

Billy only nods and motions for Sean to join him on the sofa. It isn’t so much the fact that Billy wants Sean to sit with him as it is the strangeness of the night as a whole, but whatever the case, Sean’s insides churn nervously as he tries to act casual, dropping onto the cushion beside Billy. He wipes his sweaty palms on his denim-clad knees and waits. For something.

“Ye don’t have tae play chauffer, yanno.”

“I don’t mind. I have nothing else to do when Christine and Ally aren’t here.”

“Ye just don’t exactly look like ye’re having a very good time is all.”

“Huh?”

“At the pubs. Whenever Ah see ye, ye always look terribly bored.”

“I’m not much for dancing. I’d rather watch.”

“But ye don’t watch.” Billy smiles knowingly. “Well, ye watch, but only until Dom gets close.”

Sean’s speechless.

“Ah can feel ye watching me when Ah dance.”

Sean makes a weird, nervous noise that comes from somewhere deep in his chest.

“It’s okay. Ah like it. Ye should watch more. Ah’m dancing for you.”

Silver dollars, giant campaign buttons, two of Ally’s plastic cookies. He is sure his eyes have gone that wide in both surprise and confusion. And worry as well. They go wider when Billy’s hand covers his own on his knee.

“Why don’t ye watch me dance?”

It sounds like a plane is coming in for a landing. Billy’s words are echoing though his head, Sean’s boxes of sorted phrases unable to hold them, and his loud breathing adds to the nearly deafening noise.

“Look at me.”

Sean does. He turns his head and locks eyes with Billy. He knows Billy can read everything in his eyes.

“Stop worrying, Sean.” The way his name rolls off of Billy’s tongue causes Sean’s gaze to slip downwards to his lips. Big. Huge. Monumental. Mistake. His cock hardens as he remembers a vivid dream where his cock is being engulfed by that sweet, thin-lipped mouth.

“Do ye want tae kiss me?”

Sean finds it funny that any other time when he’s nervous or scared he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. Words usually flow from his mouth so heavily he wonders how anyone can stand to be near him as he says one idiotic and annoying thing after another, anything to avoid an awkward silence. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. And now -- when one part of him is desperately screaming, Yes, yes. Oh God, yes. I want to kiss you Billy! and the other part is saying in a calm clear voice, No. That would make me gay and I’m not. I’m married. I like women. -- he can’t form a single syllable.

“Ah’m not going tae kiss ye. If ye want tae kiss me, do it. Ah’m right here.”

“I don’t know-“

“If ye want tae kiss me, do it. Stop being so afraid of what ye think it will mean.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Liar.” Billy smiles, Sean can hear it in his voice though he can see it as well since his eyes are still glued to his lips. “Kissing me doesn’t make ye gay, Sean. Ah’m not gay.”

“You and Dom?”

“We dance and we kiss. We’ve even fooled around a bit, but that doesn’t make me gay. Ah’m just attracted tae him. Who isn’t?”

“I’m not.”

“No?”

Sean shakes his head.

“What about Elijah? Orli?”

“No.”

“Me?”

Sean watches Billy’s lip curve even further upwards.

“Are ye attracted tae me, Sean?”

Sean nods.

“Then, what are ye waiting for?”

Sean doesn’t have an answer to that, so he leans in and brushes his lips against Billy’s smile. That’s all it is; a brush of lips. He pulls away.

“Are ye satisfied?”

No.

“No.”

“Well?”

This time he presses his lips against Billy’s and after a second, he feels Billy’s lips part slightly. Sean pushes his tongue forward fractionally, taking a taste before pushing in all the way. His free hand -- the other still held on his knee by Billy’s hand -- moves to cradle Billy’s neck and he feels Billy do the same in response.

A soft moan of pleasure escapes Sean’s lips and he almost pulls away in embarrassment, but the sound is echoed by Billy and Sean instead delves deeper into Billy’s hot mouth with his tongue, exploring every inch, seeking out every taste.

Finally, when breathing becomes necessary, they pull away and rest their foreheads together.

“Satisfied?”

“I think so. I mean, I don’t-“

“Shh. Don’t worry about it, Sean. This is all we have tae do. Ah would never expect more.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. Ah’m going tae bed now, aye?”

Sean nods softly, which Billy feels because of their touching foreheads. Billy squeezes Sean once on the back of the neck and then gets up and heads for Ally’s room.

“G’night, Sean.”

“Goodnight.”

Sean lies in his bed that night and is finally able to grasp his feelings well enough to think about them. He has never had friends like this before, and he has never known anyone like Billy before. Experiences that are new can’t possibly fit into old boxes with old labels, and forcing them to fit where they don’t belong -- like Ally forcing puzzle pieces together that don’t fit -- will break them or change their meaning. Maybe he enjoyed kissing Billy, but he knows now it wasn’t as defining a moment as he had thought it would be. Enjoyable, yes, but there were no fireworks, no desperate want radiating through his body like when he kisses Christine. It’s a completely different thing altogether.

Sean has some spring cleaning to do, and for the first time in his life he doesn’t care if everything doesn’t fit neatly into a box. Call him old-fashioned, but he doesn’t believe in labeling love, no matter the form.