fellowshippers | Adding It All Up

Title: Adding It All Up (4/?)
Author: The Chad (

buggerthis22)
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Part four in Angst: The Series (prev. parts: Bruises, Give and Take, and Through My Veins.)
Warnings: Sick Billy… and all the lovely *sarcasm* things that go with it.
Beta: The Grand

anyothergirl415 and

celtprincess13

I don’t really remember what happened after I first woke up. All I really remember is the sharp, stinging cold that woke me. I also remember this constant flashing light — which, later – was discovered to be a local paparazzi.

Somehow I’d stumbled my way back to my hotel which ended up being closer than walking back to Elijah’s. And who knows what would have happened if I were there. Something tells me that Dom would be going to Elijah’s as soon as he left Pete’s party, and I wouldn’t have trusted myself within a thousand feet of Dom. But it also meant my rental car was still at his hotel.

When I wake, the sheets are covered in melted snow. I roll on my side to look at the digital clock.

“7:18,” it glares at me.

I move to get out of the bed, but I’m shivering in an instant. A sneeze wracks my body. Oh shite. I call down to the front desk and ask if someone can bring me up new sheets.

The receptionist said she already had some waiting outside my door because she saw me come in at three this morning absolutely covered in snow. She offered to send up some food — no charge — or call a doctor if I wanted.

I thanked her and said that some porridge would be nice as long as it was steaming hot, came with an equally hot cup of tea, and some whole milk.

She told me that she’d have it brought right up. She would send someone to change my sheets and all that.

I told her that I could change my own sheets, but she insisted. Not even five minutes later, I opened the door, bed ruffled and feeling half-way decent, to welcome a maid. She shoved her way in and went about changing the sheets as if she wasn’t barging in.

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Here,” She hands me some extra blankets that obviously don’t belong to your average hotel. There’s a thermometer blanched precariously on top.

“Um…” I pull my wallet out from my pocket. It’s dripping wet. “It’s a little soggy,” I hand her the twenty, attempting to get a smile from her.

“Oh well,” She snatches it from me and walks out of the room — not before scoffing and a over-emphasized eye-roll.

By now, I’m wondering if I didn’t make a big deal out of a little sneeze. I’m feeling all right, and I’ve managed to change out of my wet clothes. I probably did make to big of a deal over it. It’s not like one night in the snow is going to give me pneumonia.

There’s a knock on the door, and I open it to let in the room service man who places his tray down on my table.

“Here you are, sir,” This one’s a great deal nicer than the maid.

“Thank you so much,” I say, absorbing the smell of the porridge. “Here you are,” I hand the man a fifty, just for being nice and for bringing such a delectable treat in.

“Thank you, sir,” He beams at me. Christ, I’ve probably made this bloke’s day. “I hope you start to feel well,” He says before shuffling out of the room.

I sit down in front of the telly and purchase Star Wars Episode III for my amusement. The porridge puts a nice full feeling in my stomach, the way it ought to. I’ve decided that I’m fine and it was just the cold that made me sneeze. At least that’s how I feel until Anakin cuts off Christopher Lee’s head.

I’m racing toward the bathroom, one hand covering my mouth as the once welcome porridge tries to escape the same way it went in.

After that, it’s all a blur of vomit and looking in the mirror to see a white-green face of a Scottish man I can barely recognize, only to heave myself over to the toilet and vomit again.
I’d guess it takes me about twelve times before everything I’ve consumed for the past two days to get out of my system. Then I’m reduced to dry heaves before it returns to nothing.

I crawl my way out of the bathroom and into the bed. At first, I’m so miserable, I think sleep will either never come or come far too easily — unfortunately, it wasn’t the latter.

I stare up at the ceiling through half-closed eyelids. Thoughts of everything that’s happened swim through my mind. I can tell that I have a high fever the second Dominic’s face appears in front of me and says, “I like it when you get jealous; it’s hot,” over and over again. The room keeps spinning, and some memory I hadn’t thought of comes drifting through my feverish brain.

“Li…” Dom whispers as he slips into me.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice just as breathy.

“Like?” He elaborates.

“Of course, I love you,” I pant. “Move.”

Why hadn’t it occurred to me before? There were so many signs.

“Billy,” Elijah had taken me out to coffee, claiming he needed someone to talk to. “Billy, you’re the only one I can trust. I... I’m doing something wrong that’s only seconds away from ruining my life. I can’t lose him.”

Dom… he was doing Dom.

That’s what the whole thing was. I was being told that Elijah, though he loves Orlando, was shagging my — whatever Dom is.

A knock on the door disrupts me from thoughts that I’d been left alone with for far too long.

“Come in!” I call, amazed at how much stronger my voice is compared to how I’m feeling.

“I can’t!” A somewhat familiar voice calls back. “It’s a hotel, and I don’t have a key.”

Oh… right.

“Well, you’ll have to wait a bleeding second then,” I push the covers off myself and move to get off the bed. My feet don’t quite reach the floor before the rest of me, and, with a sickening thump, my entirety meets burgundy carpet. What is it with hotels and the colour red?

I finally make it do the door and fling it open.

“Can we talk?” Orlando’s standing there, his hair not too different from what Elijah’s was the night before — bloody hell, was that only last night? Feels like ages.

“Come in,” I step back so he can sidle past. No part of me is mad at him; he got as bad as a deal as I did.

“I knew,” Orlando doesn’t look at me.

“Knew what?” As far as I know, I’m the only one who knows about Dom and Lij.

“I knew about Dom and Snicker doodle,” He kicks the annoyingly crimson carpet with his foot. “You do know right?”

“Just found out last night,” I admit.

“I’m sorry,” He finally meets my gaze. “Christ, Billy, you look like shit,” He wrinkles his nose at me. “I wondered what that smell was.”

“I’m really sick; in fact, I’m probably contagious. I don’t know if you should be here,” I state.

“Let me help you into bed. I can order some porridge up if you like,” Orlando has his sympathetic look on his face.

At the word ‘porridge’ I’m running past him with a hand over my mouth. I get to the bathroom only to lean over the toilet and heave with no effect, since there’s nothing in me to throw up. I groan, agonizing over the fact that I’ll probably never be able to look at porridge the same. Like the reason we call Elijah ‘Snicker doodle.’

Good, he loved those cookies. Of course, he already had the nickname doodle, but when he got a package from his mom, we’d never seen him so excited. He ate three dozen snicker doodle cookies in less than two hours. Needless to say, he’ll never do that again.

“Bloody hell, Billy,” Orlando comes into the bathroom and lifts me off the ground. He carries me into bed and tucks the covers in around me; then he fluffs my pillow softly.

“Billy, before I go, I want you to hear this,” Orlando pulls out his mobile and dials a number. “Here,” He hands me the phone.

“Orli…? Or…Orlando… I w-want to tal-talk to you,” Elijah’s voice says; it’s obviously a message he left in Orlando’s voicemail. “Baby, I-I did-didn’t mean to-to hurt you. Dom—Dom doesn’t mean anything to me. It-it was a mistake. I-I’m sorry. Please, I can’t live without you. I’m so in love… please, Orlando,” The line goes dead and a female voice says that it’s the end of the message.

“God, Orli,” I hand him the phone.

“I’m not taking it anymore, Billy,” He shakes his head. “He’s broken my heart one too many times for me to put up with.”

“Call me when you get the chance,” I tell him, understanding that if I say anything else, he’ll run back to Elijah’s arms.

“I will,” Orlando grabs the coat he’d thrown over the chair right by my bed. “Bye, Billy.”

“Orlando?” He looks at me.

“Yeah?”

“What about Viggo?”

Orlando scoffs. “That was a tactic to make Elijah think — I mean know — that I can live without him.”

“Can you?”

“Maybe not right now, but someday,” Orlando smiles sadly at the blood-red carpet and goes silent for a moment. “Well, goodbye.”

“Bye.”

I wake to the smell of coffee brewing. God, I’ve got a massive headache. Not to mention my stomach feels like it’s been squished to a pulp and rebuilt only to be squished again.

I open my eyes only to realize that there’s a film over them, like I’ve stepped into a thick London fog. I groan, rolling over to look at the clock. I can’t tell if that means it’s two in the morning or in the afternoon.

“You’re awake!” A cheerful voice says to me.

I look in the direction the voice came, but I can’t see through the fog. I definitely can’t tell who it is until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with a cup of tea in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

“Dom?” Is that my voice? Christ, I’ve got to be sick.

“I’ve come to take care of you. Well, actually, I came to shag you, but you were passed out. Orlando left a note saying that you’re not feeling well. I guess he knew I’d be heading over here,” He sets down the mugs. “I know you can’t drink this, but at least the smell can make you have some appetite. I bought some peach juice, saltines, and club soda. They’re supposed to make your stomach better. If you can keep down some peach juice, we’ll work you up through the soda to the crackers. You’ll be well in no time,” He smiles and fluffs my pillow for good measure. What is it with people doing that? “Now, I’ll go and get the juice, don’t move.”

“Dom?” I can barely lift my hand to pull him back down on the bed.

“Yes, Bills?” He sits and looks at me.

“What are we?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He smiles. “We’re in love.”

“I thought you’d say that,” He grins again before turning to leave.

“Dom?” I stop him.

“Yes, Bills?” He doesn’t sit or face me this time, and I know he’s trying to control his temper.

“Then why’d you do it?” I croak, angry at the hot tears that fill my eyes.

“Do what?” He still faces the door.

“Why Lij? Of all people, why snicker doodle?”

“What are you talking about?” He does turn to me then.

“I found the note.”

We just stare at each other.

*Fin*

Adding It All Up

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