fellowshippers | Fic - Grab Me Gently

Title: Grab Me Gently 1/2
Author: Pippin (McTaggart_Pegg@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Monaboyd
Rating: R for language, nudity, adult situations :)
Warning: a bit long 'cos I can't write less than 8 million words to save my freakin' life
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em. *sigh*
Summary: Billy breaks his finger while surfing. Good thing Dom's there to help him out.
Feedback: Yes please--I'm a feedback junkie. Give me a fix?

Huge thanks to

1420 and

vanaofthevalar for the enormous help in beta-ing (and dealing with pronouns). It wouldn't be the same without them.

EDIT: Unbeknownst to me,

strawberryelfsp wrote a killer Drugged!Billy prior to my arrival on LJ. Go read hers too, it's fantastic.

It was a big wave. An incredible wave, as a matter of fact. Billy had been paddling for ages, patiently riding his board full-length, watching for the lull. That lull in the breakers, in the bubble lines that told him when to paddle full out. He was getting better at reading them. He'd seen it, finally, started stroking beneath the board with both arms in unison, pulling out to sea. Got to the spot he thought it would start, flipped himself around to face the shore. He watched the water in front of him, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. ("Never look behind you," he'd been taught. "If you start looking behind you, your mind is facing the wrong way. Focus forward.") He focused. Sawheardfelt the wave approaching. Paddled faster, pulled with the water this time. The board rose, and so did he. Lightly to his feet, balancing, feeling the shift, feeling the strength, absorbing the power. God, there was nothing better than that feeling of flying with the might of the Pacific at your back. He looked further ahead, gauging where the wave would peter out, whether he could ride this nearly to shore. Nearly to Dom? Fuck, that'd be perfect. Show him what he missed by giving up so easily. What was Dom doing, anyway?

Dom stood at the shoreline in the wet sand, arms spread wide. He could see the passion, the intensity, the thrill on Billy's face. Wanted to show him, even from this distance, that he got it.

Billy glanced from the cresting water back up to Dom. What the fu-- As Dom started triumphantly thrusting his hips, shouting something unintelligible over the roar of the water in Billy's ears (blood in his veins), Billy lost focus. Or rather, started focusing on something different. Not new, but different. And when the board tilted, Billy was no longer one with it, and was firmly tipped off. Into the wipeout he'd been expecting for some time, back in the furthest reaches of his pessimistic brain. In one of those slow-motion moments that he had been sure only happened in the movies (Aragorn moments, he now called them), as he tumbled arse over teakettle over the crest he had time to think, "Oh well--at least I can blame Dom for this."

Dom watched Billy cartwheel over the breaking wave with a spectacular, awe-inspiring lack of grace and co-ordination. Watched him collide with the surfboard. Gasped so sharply it hurt. Didn't realize he'd started running until salt water splashed up by his knees hit him in the face. Slogged on as fast as he could.

Billy was rolled over a few times before managing to determine which way was up. Watched the bubbles. He'd had enough wipeouts to know that staying relaxed was the key. He was conscious, that was the main thing. He followed the leash, tethered to the board already bobbing on the surface. He broke through the waves, took a deep gasping breath, groped blindly for the board. The fingers of one hand found it, gripped it tightly as he caught his breath.

Dom stopped swimming when he saw Billy's head break the surface. Oh, thank God. Floated where he was, treading water, waiting to see if he was needed. Billy saw him, waved him off, gave him a half-assed grin for reassurance, so Dom turned and swam back to shore.

Dom was pacing knee-deep in the ocean, waiting to take the board for him when Billy finally floated in.

"Bill--you all right, man? That was the biggest fucking wipeout I've ever seen!"

Billy slowly rose to his feet, leaned over, and cradled one hand with his other arm. "I am not entirely all right, no," he ground out, pain sparkflashing up his arm.

"Why? What's wrong?" Instantly the board was dropped and Dom returned to his side, a hand on his back.

"My hand. I think something's broken."

"Shit. C'mon." Led him up the sand.

"Get my board, you fucker," Billy snapped. Disliked himself for doing that, but couldn't seem to help it. It wasn't like it was a life-threatening injury, but that the moment his nerve-endings were complaining loudly. Fiercely.

Wordlessly Dom jogged back, picked up the board, and followed to the car. Once he had both board and Billy installed, Dom climbed in. "Hospital?"

"I suppose." He bit back a grimace as the car bounced and rattled back to the road. "Take it easy, would you?"

Dom glanced over. "Sorry."

"You should be. Pete's going to kill you."

"Kill me?" he protested. "What the fuck did I do?"

"It's your fault I fell," Billy said, sounding a little more like himself.

"How do you figure that, then?"

"Your little--dance. You know, the one you must have learned at a strip club." One corner of his mouth lifted.

Dom flushed. "I was just--oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand," he muttered, heading the car back toward the city.

"Try me."

"No."

"Yes. You owe me. I'm in pain, thanks to your pelvis."

Dom looked over at the hand gingerly held in the still-wet lap. "Is it your pinkie?"

"I think so."

"It looks crooked."

"That would explain why it bloody well hurts, then, wouldn't it? What were you doing?"

Dom groaned, and Billy actually gave a little grin. God bless Mother Nature and her painkilling endorphins.

"Come on, Dom, you know I won't quit."

Dom knew it all too well. Billy never quit at anything, dammit. "It's one of those things that…as soon as I explain it, sounds really fucking stupid. It only makes sense to me."

"Try me," Billy repeated.

"You mock me for this, I'll break the other four," he warned.

"Deal. Just give me the gist of it."

"It was just--you. The look on your face."

"Turned you on, did it?"

"You could at least let me finish," Dom growled, his ears turning red.

Billy wondered why. "Sorry. Thought that was it. Carry on."

"It was a great wave, and you caught it perfectly. And you looked…alive. Fucking alive. The only word I can think of is 'lusty'. But that's not quite right either." Dom took his words seriously.

"Hence the hips?"

"Hence the hips. It just--felt right. Life. I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" he predicted bitterly.

"Yes, you will. But not 'til later." Billy was silent for a minute, then added, "And I do understand, actually. Because you're not far off how it felt. But your thrusting was a little…distracting."

Dom wasn't sure how to take that, so he didn't.

They spent almost an hour in Casualty at the hospital, and Dom nearly drove Billy mad with his incessant attempts to be helpful.

"Dom, for the last time, I do not need a magazine, a pillow, or a glass of water. Now sit down and relax before I beat you to death with my good hand."

Dom sat. "Sorry." Twitched.

Billy shifted uncomfortably. "God, I hate sitting around in my wetsuit while it dries." He sighed. "It wasn't your fault, all right? I lost my concentration, and I fell. Simple as that. Now cut it out."

"Sorry."

"If this is you dealing with a broken finger, I'd hate to see you faced with a real crisis."

Dom finally grinned. "Sorry."

Billy groaned, shook his head. "Relax, yeah?"

"I'll try."

"What's got your knickers in a twist, anyway? Surely all this fidgeting isn't on behalf of my pinkie."

Dom opened his mouth. Closed it again. Finally said, "Well, sure it is. Must be. It's the only thing that's happened today, innit? You gave me a fright."

A nurse approached. "William Boyd?"

Billy stood. Turned back to Dom and with a wicked glint in his eye leaned down to whisper, "Except for me turning you on." He straightened and turned away to follow the nurse, leaving a red-faced Dom staring daggers at his back.

Billy returned some time later with a pinched look around his mouth and slightly glassy eyes.

Dom stood as he approached. Uncertainly said, "What did they do to you?"

"Had to re-set it. Fuck. Demerol. Demerol and I aren't friends. Or maybe we are. Depends how you look at it. I can't feel my finger anymore, that's good. Then again, I can't feel my arse, either."

A nurse had followed him over in time to hear the last statement. She directed Billy to a chair behind them, smiled at Dom. "Your friend has had a reaction to the Demerol. Is there anyone who can stay with him tonight?"

Dom frowned. "Why? Is there a problem--?"

She rushed to reassure him. "No, no. It's just that some patients react a little oddly. He could be uncoordinated, have visual disturbances, possibly even mild hallucinations. It's uncommon, but not unheard of, and as long as he's supervised, it's not dangerous. I've heard stories of aluminum in the microwave and pets almost in the washing machine."

Dom's face cleared. "Oh. Yeah, I can stay with him."

The nurse smiled at him. "He'll keep you on your toes, anyway." She handed him a tiny vial of pills. "He can have two in four hours, and two more three to four hours after that. There's enough for tomorrow if he needs it, but he should try just one at a time by then. Otherwise he can have acetaminophen. We went over the situation with the splint, but I'll let you know in case he forgets. Do you work with him?"

"Er--yes."

"He explained the difficulties involved. We taped the pinkie to the third finger with clear tape. It should be relatively unnoticeable, except from very near. But when he's not filming, he has to wear that splint. At all times." She indicated the metal and foam currently surrounding Billy's pinkie. "Even with the tape, the finger can move too much. The more he wears the splint, the faster and better it will heal."

Dom nodded. "Okay."

The nurse smiled. "And that's it. It was a nasty little break, and the reset was a rough one, but in a couple weeks he'll be right as rain."

"Great. Thanks very much for your help."

"You're welcome. Now I think I'll have to see this film when it comes out." She said goodbye to Billy, who was still in the chair, staring at a picture on the opposite wall, and walked back to the desk.

"Dom. It's green," Billy whispered. Or he obviously thought he was whispering.

"What is?"

"That picture."

Dom turned to look. "No, Billy, it's black and white."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Oh. Okay. Good. That's all right, then."

Dom grinned. "This is going to be fun."

Dom finally got Billy bundled back into the car. It took some time because Billy kept stopping to peer closely at things and comment at some length on their colour, shape, texture, or--in one unfortunate incident--taste.

"Seatbelt, Billy," Dom instructed as he did up his own. Rolled the window down. "Your car really pongs, you know that? Time to get it cleaned."

"I don't smell anything."

"Not now you don't, but that's because your nose is higher than a kite."

"No, it's not. 'S on my face."

Dom ignored that. "I'm gonna stop on the way and pick up a video to watch tonight. You want to get dinner, too?"

"No, I'll cook."

"Oh no, you won't."

"Why not? I make an excellent stir."

"Stir?"

"Fry," he added.

"My point exactly. You might make an excellent stir-fry, but tonight you'd just burn the bleeding flat down. How does pizza grab you?"

"Gently," Billy said distractedly, craning his head to look at something they had passed.

"Gently?"

"Grab me gently. That was a blue dog."

"No, it wasn't." He looked in the rear-view mirror, trying to will away the thought of grabbing Billy. Mates. "It was a laundry sack. It was blue, though."

"Good. I hate it when people dye their pets."

"If you say so, Bills."

At the video store, Dom briefly considered leaving Billy in the car, but quickly came to the realization that would be very, very naïve. Bordering on stupid. He hauled him out of the car, dragged him inside. Let him wander while he looked for a particular film. Found it with a snort of glee. Bounded over to where Billy stood with four DVD's in his left hand. He absently picked up another.

"Hey Bill--want to try an experiment?"

"Sure."

Dom waited, but nothing else followed. "Don't you want to know what?" he demanded.

"Should I?" He picked up another case.

"Never mind. Just how many movies are you planning on watching tonight?"

"Just this one," he held up the six DVD's.

"Right. Want to play a game?"

Billy's face brightened. "Okay. Tig?"

"No, not Tig."

"Elijah isn't here anyway."

Dom sighed. "Billy, focus for a second, will ya?"

"On what?"

He took the DVD cases from Billy's hand, held them behind his back in his left hand. He still held the film he'd chosen in his right. "Pick a hand. Whichever hand you pick, that's the movie we'll watch, okay?"

"Oh. Okay." Billy walked away.

"Oh, for fuck's--Billy!" Dom followed him. "Pick a hand!"

"Left. My right has this bloody great splint on it."

"Not your--never mind. Oh, look." He held up his right hand with the single DVD. "What do you know, you chose the same one I did." He held up Walt Disney's Fantasia. "I think you'll really like this in your current condition." Dom left the other six on the counter. Started to check out. Had to grab Billy's arm and hold on when he tried to wander out.

Back in the car once again, Dom discarded the idea of stopping to pick up dinner. They'd damn well order in.

"Dom?" Billy asked, looking out his window.

"Yeah?"

"We're moving, right?"

Dom looked at him sideways. "Of course we are. Why?"

"Just checking. Dom?"

"Yeah?"

"New Zealand, right?"

"You are so looped out it's not funny, dude."

Billy giggled.

"What?" Dom asked a little warily.

"You said 'dude'."

"Yeah, so?"

"It's funny. Dood."

"Billy?"

"Yeah?" He leaned forward to look up at the sky through the windshield.

"Can I drink all your whiskey, watch some porn, and wank off on your couch tonight?"

"Of course."

"Yeah. Looped." Dom grinned.

Back at the apartment, Dom realized they had a minor problem. They were both still wearing their wetsuits.

"Can I borrow some clothes, Billy?"

Billy was staring at a picture of the two of them that was tacked on his fridge. "Yeah. This is you."

Dom came over to look. "And you."

"We look happy."

"We are happy. We're two very happy blokes."

"I'm not."

"You're by far the happiest person in this room, Billy."

"Demerol," Billy said, as if pointing out how incredibly thick Dom was for not noticing.

"I know it's the Demerol, Bill. Just…enjoy it."

"You mean that?"

Dom frowned. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Just checking."

Dom shook his head. "Okay, Bill. I'm just gonna go change. I'll be back."

He rummaged through the drawers in Billy's room. Found some boxers and a t-shirt. Stripped off the no-longer-wet wetsuit (which wasn't particularly easy with two good hands--what the fuck was he going to do about Billy?) and discovered sand stuck in places he really hated having sand. "Bollocks," he muttered. Sprinted down the hall to the bathroom, clothes held low just in case. Didn't want Billy looking. Or touching, or tasting--oh God. Where the hell did that come from? Dom slammed the bathroom door shut. Fuck fuck fuck. Just shower. Cold water. Mates, dammit.

Cleaned, dried, and dressed in shorts and tee, Dom returned to the kitchen only to find Billy pulling out virtually every pot and pan the kitchen held. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Cooking. 'M hungry."

"No, no, no. Pizza, remember? I'll order it." He moved Billy away from the cupboards. "I'll help you get your sleeve off over your hand, and then you go get changed."

Billy unzipped to his waist, and held out his right hand to Dom. "Careful," he said timidly.

"I will be." Dom gently, gingerly removed the splint. Took the wristband of the wetsuit in his fingers, and began trying to ease the tough material along. With a minimum of jerks and tugs, he pulled it off until the sleeve was loose enough for Billy to wriggle out of. His mouth had that pinched look again, but he didn't complain. "All right, Bills?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He tried to walk away, but Dom caught his elbow.

"Hang on, we have to put this back on." Dom replaced the splint, taping it up tightly.

"Ow. Cut it out."

"I'm done. Now go change. And if your wetsuit's like mine, you'll need a shower."

"Yeah. Sand up my arse."

"I thought you couldn't feel your arse?" Dom grinned.

"Nope. Can't. But I can feel sand."

Billy wandered out toward his bedroom. Dom prayed Billy could manage the rest of the suit on his own. He didn't know where the hell these thoughts were coming from lately, but they really didn't need that kind of encouragement. He just needed a good shag, that was all. With someone who wasn't his best mate.

Dom had just hung up after ordering the pizza when a resounding crash came from Billy's bedroom. "Shit!" He hurried in to find Billy's bedside table toppled over and Billy himself on the floor, his wetsuit tangled around his knees. And otherwise naked.

Locking his eyes on Billy's feet, Dom knelt beside him. "You all right, Billy?"

"I think--I think. No. Ow."

"Need a hand with the suit?"

"Yes. Ow. Fuck." He closed his eyes tightly.

Dom started yanking at the ankles of Billy's wetsuit. "Did you hit your hand?"

"Yes. Fuck. Ow."

"I guess that means more Demerol tonight, huh?"

"Now."

"You can't now, it's too soon. After you eat." Dom freed one foot from the neoprene. He glanced up, meaning to look Billy in the face. Didn't get that far. His eyes locked on Billy's cock--half-erect and growing stiffer as he watched. He swallowed painfully, wrenched his eyes away, wished he'd put on jeans instead of these flimsy boxers.

Billy was now looking at himself too. "Wow. Not bad for someone who's doped up."

"Billy--" Dom stopped, not sure exactly what he had intended to follow that.

"I mean, look at it," Billy continued wonderingly. "I wish I was a dog. 'Cos you know dogs can--"

Abruptly Dom stood, lifting Billy's ankle and forcing him on his back again. He roughly pulled the last leg of the wetsuit until it came off. "Go shower." Started to walk away.

"Dom?"

He stopped. "What?"

"Help me up?"

Dom clenched his jaw, tried to get a hold of himself. Fucking mates. Oh God. Re-phrase, quick. He returned to Billy, stared at his nose, and held out a hand.

Billy took it with his left, and awkwardly, slowly got to his feet. "Help me with the shower?"

"No." Dom shook his head quickly. "You're on your own in there."

"What if I drown?"

"Stay on your feet, you git."

"Oh. Yeah, that might work. I hope I can wank okay. I don't want to look like you."

Dom made a choking noise. "What?"

Billy gestured to Dom's crotch. "That hard-on. You might want to do something about that, or it's going to be a long night," he said helpfully. Ambled out of the bedroom, leaving Dom frozen in place.

"Fuckshitfuckdamn."

Dom used Billy's time in the shower to try and quell his rising and unacceptable lust. He didn't want to examine it too closely, but this had to stop. He and Billy were friends, would only ever be friends, and that's all there was to it. Billy liked to tease him, yes, but then they both teased Elijah something fierce. Thanks to the Demerol, Billy seemed to have no inhibitions whatsoever, so Dom would just have to have enough for both of them. He did some yoga breathing, eyes closed, focused inward.

Slowly, gradually, Dom noticed the apartment had grown silent. With a sense of foreboding he opened his eyes.

And looked directly into Billy's green ones, inches away.

"Fuck!" he jumped.

Billy sat cross-legged in front of him, leaning in, still damp from his shower and still naked. "Whatcha doing, Dom?"

"Billy! Go put some fucking clothes on!"

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, I don't know--maybe because I'm sitting right here??"

"I know. I need your help."

"Pull your damn pants up with your other hand."

"Not that."

Dom's stomach lurched. He had a bad feeling about this--

"I need you to get me off."

Dom closed his eyes. Groaned, "Tell me you didn't just ask me to give you a blowjob."

"A handjob would be fine, if you'd rather," he said politely.

Dom lurched to his feet. "No more Demerol for you. Ever."

"But Dom," he wheedled, "I've got a hard-on. And I can't do anything about it, the splint gets in the way."

"Use your left hand," Dom ground out.

"I tried. Can't. I'm not ambiguous." Billy shook his head sadly.

"Ambig--you mean ambidextrous?"

"'S what I said. It's all your fault, so I think you should help."

"You said it wasn't my fault you fell," he protested.

"It wasn't. It's your fault I'm hard, you idiot."

Dom took a deep breath. Concentrated on letting his boxers lay flat again. "Billy, we are not going to have this conversation. Go get dressed. Now."

"Why won't you help me?"

"Because I'm not your lover! I'm your mate. And mates don't wank each other off."

"That was your choice."

Dom froze. "What was?"

"To be--not get--the lover part. That bit."

"What do you mean 'my choice'?" Dom's head was whirling. Why did he ever think Billy on Demerol would be fun?

"I offered. You didn't accept."

"When the hell was that??" Dom nearly squealed in his agitation. "You never fucking offered!"

"You're so sad, Dom. I've been offering for months."

Dom sat weakly on the sofa. "Why do I feel like I'm the one on drugs?"

"Want some?"

"No, Billy, I don't. Can you please go put some clothes on? I need to--I can't… I need process time, okay? Besides, the pizza guy will be here any minute," he added desperately.

"Can I ask him to help me?"

"No!" Dom thundered. "Go!" Added, "And bring me a pair of jeans!"

After the delivery boy had come and gone (unmolested by Billy), they sat in front of the TV to eat. Billy was still making odd remarks--such as how the news anchor's hair looked like spider legs--but not as often. Dom prayed the effects of the Demerol were wearing off.

"Dom?" Billy suddenly asked.

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember if I have any biscuits?"

"I think so. Top shelf by the fridge."

Billy got up, shuffled to the kitchen. A minute later there was muffled talking, thumping.

"Bill? What are you doing?"

"Biscuits," came the answer. "Chair."

"Oh. Okay." Then it sunk in. Chair. Fuck. "No, Bill, don't--" he called ahead as he hurried in. Arrived just in time to be landed on by a tumbling Billy. They hit the floor, Dom on the bottom. Billy's metal splint made a tinging noise as it hit the cupboard door handle beside them. They both froze, waiting for the reaction.

"Bill?" Dom finally said.

"Yeah? Oh--oh, wait, no, here it comes. Yep, that hurt. Ow. Ow. Ow! Fuck! Bloody fucking hell!" The volume increased with each word as his senses sluggishly passed the pain message along.

"Shit, Bill--" Dom scrambled out from beneath him. Helped him sit up.

Billy's eyes stung with tears. "Fuck fuck fuck. It hurts, Dom."

"I know," he said soothingly. "It'll go away. Come on, take it easy, it's just your pinkie. Try and ignore it."

"Just my pinkie? One fucking word, Monaghan--splinter."

"Okay, okay," he said, hands up in surrender. "Do you want some ice?"

"Yeah. And Demerol."

"Okay."

"Demerol. Fuck. Now."

"Okay, hold on, I'm just getting your ice. Sit at the table."

As Dom got the ice cube trays from the freezer, Billy slowly hauled himself to his feet. Leaving the overturned chair where it was, he sat in another one. Dom handed him a towel full of ice cubes. "Put that on it. I'll go get your pills."

He returned a moment later, put two on the table, and poured him a glass of water. Watched as Billy quickly swallowed them. "You keep pulling stunts like that, it's never going to heal," he warned.

"I just wanted a biscuit. How was I to know the chair would tip?" he asked plaintively.

Dom wryly said, "I suspect it wasn't the chair. Look, if you need anything, just ask. Why the hell do you think I'm here?"

"Anything?"

"Yes, anyth--" Dom saw the trap just in time. "Almost anything. Anything that could result in you getting hurt. Look, just bring your ice, sit on the couch, and we'll watch the film, yeah?"

"Okay." Billy went into the other room.

Dom picked up the chair, placed it meticulously back at the table. Ran his hands through his hair. Then followed Billy.

Fic - Grab Me Gently

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