Monaboyd

[just-angie.livejournal.com]

Apologies for any icky cross-posting but this is my latest fic, written for nippa56 *loves her*

hope you all enjoy




Author = moi
pairing = billydom, which is nice, as I've never written them together before.
dedication = for you, nippa56 because your obsession with Dom's hands makes me smile :) it's maybe not exactly porn, but it's cute, and obsessive ;)
disclaimer = ah, shit, it never happened :(
feedback = yes, please, and especially if you're Ian McKellen, because, you know, he should say if he's reading fics, right?!?!

:)




It all started one day when Billy unwittingly volunteered himself to fetch the coffees from the catering tent. His feet were done early, so he padded off, half himself, half Pippin, already planning to annoy Dom with too many sugars when the sound of his name caught his ears (thankfully still latex and glue free for the time being.)
"Never mind Billy, have you worked with Dom Monaghan yet?"
"Can't say I have. Why?"
The first voice sounded to Billy (who had shamelessly stopped to listen) like one of the small, dark headed make-up girls, Catrina. She had a pretty face, but was well known for gossip.
"Well, if you do, get a look at his hands - the length of his fingers! They could do you some damage, if you know what I mean!"
This comment was followed by much giggling and twittering like birds, to which Billy rolled his eyes. Dom's hands? they were just like any old pair of hands, weren't they?
How wrong Billy was.
Making a mental note to tell Dom of his fame, he went about his task. When he got back to Feet with one of those grey cardboard trays and four steaming Styrofoam cups, a crossword was in progress.
"Bills! Six down, ten letters - 'a backwards clock.'"
"I'm telling you, it's time-travel," Elijah said smugly, fiddling with his CD collection. Billy dumped the coffees and went to Dom, who had the paper open and the pen in his mouth.
"Any other letters?" he asked, catching sight of Dom's hands as they skittered across the page and retrieved the pen deftly from his mouth. Hey! Billy noticed, he does have long fingers!
"Third letter is M," Dom counted, tip of the pen tapping each square of the puzzle.
"What a strange way to hold your pen," Billy said out loud, then flushed when Dom frowned at him.
"Think you could keep your mind on the job here Billy?"
"Aye, sorry. Ten letters, you say?"
After that, Billy thought, it started to become a little bit silly. He found himself fixated with the movement of Dom's hands whenever they were together, the way they wound tightly around necks of bottles or slipped under and over fabrics of Merry's jackets and elven cloaks. He liked to watch the edges of their shared script when Dom would grip the paper so tight his tendons stood out and Billy could visibly see the way he was connected inside. They were graceful, Dom's hands, which Billy surmised was odd, considering everything else about Dom was impulsive and energetic. It was almost like his hands were the graceful side to him.
Of course, Billy also surmised that it was strange for a heterosexual male to be fixating on his best mate's hands.
But it was like he was drawn, magnetically. Of late he'd started to wonder how Dom's hand would feel, not just to the touch, brushed in passing or the exchange of money, but nestled firmly in his, those long fingers intertwined with his, holding on tight. He'd never held hands with a bloke before - try it in Glasgow and you'd get your teeth knocked out, but now he wanted to know what it would feel like - there was something so personal about holding hands, it was creating a connection.
He was, however, very very straight, and so he figured he'd best stop thinking on the matter - it was melting his brain.
A few months later, they were sitting in the Feet trailer after a hard day's shoot. Elijah and Sean had been detained with some angsty Frodo and Sam stuff on set so Billy and Dom were getting their feet washed, wigs off, talk of going to the pub being suggested.
"Everything alright, Bills?"
"Yeah," he said casually, but it wasn't - Dom was running circles on his Merry pants with the tip of his index finger - Billy watched as his nail went white with the pressure.
"You've been a bit quiet, matey, anything you want to share while Elwood and Astin are out of the way?"
Billy looked blankly up at Dom, who was wearing his most concerned expression.
"I can keep a secret, honest. Cross my heart." The fingers lifted themselves to his chest and slowly drew a cross over his left side. A thought hit Billy like a 90 mile speed train - wonder what those fingers would look like in his mouth?
"Billy? Bills?" Now the fingers were snapping in front of his eyes impatiently, the click, click noise sounding in Billy's ears as the pads of skin on Dom's hands slapped together.
For a terrible moment, Billy thought he might bite Dom.
"What?"
"God, you're away with the fairies, mate," Dom sighed, flicking bits of fallen glue from his cloak, unaware that Billy was hyperaware. "I just said, if you ever need to talk then I'm - "
Elijah interrupted him by bursting through the door, groaning loudly. The people drying Dom's feet looked up to see the noise.
"I'm fucked," Elijah announced, (and Billy thought, 'me too'.) "My feet are aching like hell, man!"
All at once make-up artists and prosthetics experts came out of nowhere. "Let me take your wig off, Elijah," one girl said, clearly happy to be of help. Dom, whose feet were done, stood up and let Lijah sit.
Billy wasn't sure of the sequence of events (his mind was still reeling) but before he knew it, Elijah was in the chair opposite him, minus his Frodo wig, scratching his head and complaining of migraine. Dom, who had been annoying one of the set builders in the corner of the trailer, came back and without warning started to massage Elijah's scalp.
"God that's good, Dommie," Elijah sighed, shutting his eyes, head falling back slightly. Billy watched wordlessly as the tips of Dom's fingers appeared from within the soft strands of Elijah's hair, applying gentle pressure at his temples for stress release. A conversation struck up between Dom, Elijah and the guy messing with Billy's feet but he didn't hear it, all he saw were those hands, massaging, soothing and working their magic on Elijah, who was reviving slowly. Although it should have, it didn't shock Billy to find he was jealous.
God, he thought, I need sex, now, and lots of it. From women, maybe a few women at once, just to prove my masculinity. It was the answer to all this madness, this heat that nestled itself low in his groin as he watched his best mate fiddle with someone's hair.
"You're done now Billy," Paul told him, and Billy flexed his toes to find them free. He had to get out, quickly, before Dom started offering head massages to all and he found himself excepting. Thankfully, Sean chose that moment to enter, so he left unnoticed.
That night though, Dom called him up and told him everyone was meeting at the pub. Billy didn't think he should go, thought maybe he needed some distance from those hands, but -
"You've got to come, Billy. It'll be boring with you."
"Talk to Elwood, he'll keep you company."
"Elijah's fun, but he's not you. Please, Billy?"
He seriously considered fake-dying down the phone.
"I don't feel like it."
"Course you don't feel like it, you haven't copped off in weeks and now you're sulking about it."
"Pardon?"
"I said - "
"Yeah, I know what you said, I heard you, and I'm not sulking."
"Yes you are, you've been quiet all day."
"I have things on my mind," Billy grumbled.
"Come out, get pissed, we'll taunt Sean for a few hours about that safety comment he made earlier and you'll feel better in no time."
So he went. Well, Dom persuaded him to meet him at his house first, so he arrived there an hour later, shivering from cold.
"Is it still freezing?" Dom asked. Best shirt, Billy noticed.
"Bloody hell, yeah."
"Right, gonna get my scarf and gloves then, wait here." Impatient and slightly disconcerted that he'd started noticing what Dom wore, Billy wandered into the living room. The Playstation was out, games scattered everywhere. The thought of Dom's thumbs on the control pad mad him flustered so he went through to the more neutral kitchen, wondering if there was some kind of mental help available for this kind of thing.
"Billy?"
"Mmmm?"
"Are my gloves out there?"
Billy cast an eye around.
"No!"
After a few more minutes of being righteously fed up, Billy went back through to the living room to leave without Dom when he spotted said gloves on the coffee table and picked them up.
"Dom, I - "
And then he thought, gloves? covering up hands?
"Yeah? did you find them?" came a voice from down the hall. Looking guiltily down at the soft pile of wool in his hands, he considered his options.
"No!" he shouted, stuffing them in his coat pocket then blushing at the thought.
"I've gone and fucking lost them," Dom complained, re-appearing at the doorway.
"Well I'm not waiting any longer," Billy said, keeping his voice airy, thinking, Shit! this must be how shoplifters or mad perverted stalkers feel!
"Right," Dom sighed, eyes still scanning the surrounding area. "I'll have to go without, then."

*********

By taking home the sweet, young blonde from behind the bar that night, Billy managed to persuade himself he wasn't in the slightest bit gay - he proudly told himself that he really enjoyed the sex, he even took her number afterwards, and he didn't think about Dom's hands once.
Well, maybe once, but that was when he had his eyes shut and the girl was writing filthy messages on the inside of his thigh with a finger that was wet with his precome. He hadn't actually imagined it was Dom that was doing it but - well, yes, he had actually, but he wasn't thinking about that, he figured maybe just his hormones were having a second wind or something.
The whole thing came to a head one day during the first few weeks of spring. Dom had invited Billy and the others around for a barbeque. Billy had been roped into turning up early to help prepare, so when he let himself into Dom's hallway, he was shocked to find him sitting partially dressed on the sofa.
"You're not ready," he frowned, throwing his keys down by the phone and shrugging off his jacket.
"Have to look my best," Dom grinned, and Billy realised he was painting his nails. Oh Fuck......
"I've done my toes," Dom said, wiggling them to prove, "and I've just about finished this hand, but you'll have to do the other, or else the polish goes everywhere."
"You're like a lass," Billy pointed out, then realised the tone of disgust he was going for hadn't quite come out properly.
"Shut it, cunt," Dom smiled with affection, "Just sit down."
Aware he couldn't say no, Billy went to the couch near to Dom and sat, staring strangely at the pot of purple nail polish. "All the cool boys are doing it," Dom informed him, dancing the tiny brush before him exaggeratedly.
Half of Billy wanted to run, the other half wanted to stick around, ready for the games to begin.
"Here, hold it like this," Dominic said, grasping his hand and placing the bottle top between his thumb and forefinger gently. Several annoying shivers danced up Billy's spine.
"What if I get it all over your skin?"
"You won't, Pip, you're a clever hobbit. Get to it." Suddenly his hand was extended, waiting for Billy to take it. He gulped, the lifted his own hand to join them together, skin fizzing like newly popped champagne as he let his index finger run the length of Dom's little finger. Somewhere in the background it occurred to him that Dom's t.v. was on, he was watching 'Help!' again on video and John Lennon was singing his throaty little heart out.
The skin felt smoother than he had expected, and his hand shook a little as he dipped it in the pot. He muttered something under his breath about feeling like a girl and Dom laughed.
"What?"
"I love your hands."
"Pardon?" Billy frowned, dropping all pretences of painting nails and closing his hand a little tighter around Dom's at the base of his fingers where it felt warm and soft.
"You've got sweet little dainty hands," Dom smiled, effortlessly picking up Billy's free hand with his and holding them both out in front of him for inspection.
Billy wondered when the tables had turned.
"They're so small and cute, not like my big ugly things."
"I don't think yours are that bad," Billy said, finding his voice, heart racing like hell.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, actually, they're quite.......sexy."
Dom's eyes twinkled with mischief and slowly the edges of his mouth curled upwards into a soft grin.
"Now who's being like a lass?"
Billy laughed, then realised there was a tension. His fingers, seemingly of their own accord and long repression, aligned themselves against Dom's and then curled downwards, clasping. So this is what it feels like to hold hands with your best mate.
The next second, the door banged open and Elijah walked in carrying three four-packs of beer.
"Holding hands, boys?" he asked tonelessly, not stopping but going straight through to the kitchen with his heavy load. Sean and Orli could be heard outside, debating about who was to carry what.
Billy snapped out of his moment and went to pull his hands back, but Dom only let one go.
The other he raised to his lips, still with that dazzling grin (which had now started to look slightly......predatory, Billy noticed) and kissed it gently.
"We'll carry this conversation on later," he told him, before springing from the sofa, already calling out to the lads outside, "I do hope you've brought enough booze Sean, I plan to get hideously drunk this evening."