Fic- A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Librairie (84/100)

[v-angelique.livejournal.com]

Title: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Librairie (84/100)
Authors: v_angelique and rainbowcobweb
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Big fat fiction.
Feedback: Appreciated.
Summary: Billy and Andy watch a football match and try not to get on Dom's bad side.




"Andy, mate, come in, come in. The telly's on and I've got a case of beer with our names on it," Billy announced, ushering Andy into the flat with a manly pat-on-the-back-style hug.

"You have?" Andy asked with a wicked little grin, bending down and bringing something in from outside the door, "Shame, really, as I've got one here as well. Might just have to drink them both, won't we?"

"Well otherwise would be wasteful," Billy agreed with a wide grin of his own, leading Andy to the sofa and smacking Wilde in the rear to get him to scamper off of it, depositing his own arse firmly on the cushions.

"Ahhh, lovely," Andy said, sitting down and cracking a can of beer open with a sigh, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table.

"William?" Dom said, coming out of the kitchen with a trembling Wilde in his arms, "What have you done to our cat?"

"He was in the way," Billy explained, keeping his eyes on the television where they were announcing the players. "Do you mind making sure he stays in the kitchen, love?"

"Come on, chicken," Dom said, kissing the top of Wilde's head and walking back into the kitchen with him. "We know when we're not wanted."

"What's up with him?" Andy asked, turning to look at Dom's retreating back and then turning to the TV again.

"He doesn't like it when I ignore him," Billy explained quietly. "And he was particularly stroppy about my wanting to watch the match with you and not inviting him. He doesn't even like football all that much, though. Last time we tried to watch a match together we ended up snogging on my sofa instead."

"Oh, right," Andy said with a little roll of his eyes, chugging on his beer. "What's he doing in there?"

"God only knows," Billy replied. "Probably reading wedding magazines again. How did your appointment at the tailor's go, by the way?"

"Not too badly," Andy replied, nodding. "Bit of a perv. Felt me up a little. I'm not complaining."

Billy laughed and shook his head. "Takes one to know one, then. Was he attractive?"

"Not bad-looking, actually." Andy grinned. "I would have gone for it if I wasn't attached."

"Well I can look forward to my appointment, then," Billy joked, groaning as a player made a really weak pass. Honestly, he couldn't care less who won between Liverpool and West Ham, but it was nice to have a beer and watch the match nonetheless.

For ten minutes or so, Billy and Andy watched the match in comfortable silence, occasionally shouting abuse at the players or the ref. Intrigued by the noise, Dom poked his head round the kitchen door then went and insinuated himself between the two men on the settee, beaming as he put his feet up and flinched one of the cans of beer. "Who's winning?"

"Oi!" Andy exclaimed. "Get your own."

"No one's winning," Billy grumbled. "As you can see by the two zeros at the bottom of the screen, there."

"Alright, no need to get all arsey with me," Dom replied, clonking Andy on the head with the beer can and grabbing a handful out of the packet of crisps that Billy was holding. "Who's playing?

"West Ham and Liverpool," Billy replied, deciding that it would be unwise to point out the team names on the players' jerseys. "And please, help yourself," he added with just a hint of sarcasm.

"Will do," Dom replied, resting his head on Billy's shoulder and throwing one leg across him. "Who are we supporting? I certainly hope it's not the Scouse cunts, although I'm not all that keen on the Cockney bastards, either. No offence, Andy."

"Right," Andy grunted, taking a sip of his beer.

"I believe it'd be the 'Cockney bastards,' lad," Billy replied. "Weren't you working on something in there?"

"No," Dom said, staring blankly at the screen. He loved football when he was a kid, but then he'd discovered sex and it was all kind of downhill from there. "I'm going to make dinner in a bit, but apart from that..." He trailed off and then smirked and rested his hand over Billy's crotch. "Remember the last time we watched football, Bill?"

"Aye," Billy replied, wrapping his fingers around Dom's wrist and returning his hand from his own lap. "I also seem to remember that we were alone that time, lad."

"What's for tea then?" Andy asked with a little smirk.

Dom pulled a face and, missing Andy's sarcasm entirely, replied, "Jacket potatoes with a various number of fillings. What would you like? We've got tuna, cheese, beans, I could make some cauliflower cheese, I suppose." Dom sipped his beer and then wrinkled his nose. "That's fucking disgusting, by the way. I'm opening a bottle of wine, I can't drink that."

Billy sighed and took the barely touched can from Dom, replacing his own empty with it. "Cauliflower cheese sounds good," he agreed, hoping maybe Dom would get distracted by cooking and leave them alone.

"Right, I'll do that in a bit. How's school, Andy? How are my lot getting on with Lou?"

"They're fine, Dom," Andy replied distractedly, trying to pay attention to the match.

Dom stuck his bottom lip out, not in a sulky manner, but one that suggested he wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was welcome. "Where's the ref come from?" he asked after a minute, tapping his hands on his thighs.

"Birmingham," Andy replied immediately, gesturing angrily at the screen and rolling his eyes when the ref sent one of the West Ham players off. "The referee!" he began, pointing his finger, "'s got BSE! The referee's got BSE!" Andy hummed the tune to 'The Saints Go Marching In' before starting in on the second verse as the crowd on the telly continued to boo the ref. "And foot and mouth! And foot and mouth! The referee's got foot and mouth!"

Billy laughed at Andy's chant and then sighed at Dom's pouty look. "Cheer up, chicken," he whispered. "You can have treats later."

"Promise?" Dom asked with a little grin, rubbing his nose over Billy's jaw and kissing it softly.

"Promise," Billy agreed.

"What on earth did you promise him?" Andy asked, the commotion on the telly having calmed down a bit.

"Treats!" Dom crowed happily, a big grin on his face. "Blowjobs and stuff, and maybe rimming if I'm really really good."

"Dominic Monaghan Jesus Christ!" Billy exclaimed, as Andy burst out laughing and took a deep swig of his beer.

"Yeah, just as long as you don't give those to the tailor first," he muttered.

"Andy!" Billy groaned. "Ix-nay on the ailor-tay."

"What?" Dom asked, very confused but not at all liking the sound of what he was hearing. "What about the tailor?"

"Honestly nothing, Dom," Billy replied, rubbing Dom's knee comfortingly with his thumb. "Andy was just taking the piss; don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" Dom asked reproachfully, folding his arms and frowning. "Andy said you were...you wouldn't, would you?"

"What? No! Of course I wouldn't," Billy exclaimed. "Do you really think I'd do such a thing?"

"No," Dom replied, shaking his head. He motioned towards Billy's beer. "How many's that you've had now?"

"Only my second," Billy replied. "Well, and the one before Andy got here."

"Starting without me? Rude bugger you are."

Dom frowned again. "Don't drink too much. I don't like you drinking too much."

"I'm not drinking too much," Billy pouted. "It's only three beers."

"Well you get a hard-on when you drink and I don't want you to come begging to me for a blow job or something if I'm going to be cooking."

"Ah, don't worry, Dom, I'm sure I'll be able to service your good man," Andy said with a little grin, causing Dom to glare at him as menacingly as he could manage.

"You know I think I can control myself for the duration of a football match and tea," Billy grumbled.

"Couldn't control yourself in the pub the other night, could you?" Dom replied a bit snarkily, raising an eyebrow and standing up.

"That wasn't my fault," Billy hissed, glaring up at Dom as Andy started laughing again.

"You two should have your own television show. Call it 'Married with Mantis.'"

"Shut up, twat. Liverpool just scored, by the way." Dom walked off into the kitchen in a huff, beginning to coo at Wilde as soon as he got in there.

"Oh, bloody hell," Andy groaned grumpily, knocking back the rest of his beer and grabbing another.

"Looks like the Scouse cunts are doing pretty well," Billy commented cheerfully, leaning back against the cushions.

"Oh shut it, you, or I'll sic your fiancé on you. Tell him you're mighty drunk and randy and I'd like to watch," Andy threatened.

Billy, to his credit, blushed, sat back, and shut up.