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fellowshippers2004-02-28 07:44 pm
shellies.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-28 07:44 pm
Certainly, BB/DM PG-13
Title: Certainly
Author: Shelly
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Billy didn’t like Dom. Like that.
Website: Little Things
Disclaimer: Lies, all of them.
Notes: My contribution to Slasha, Baby, which was about two million years ago. But I finished it! *fist-pump o’triumph*Merry Christmas! Happy February, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shirasade!
Thanks oodles too4fuxache for the beta.
Billy was completely certain of but a few things in this world. He was certain that nothing got him drunker than a good single malt scotch. If he wanted to get a secret out of Margaret, all he had to do was tickle her under her arms. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and his Gran made the best shortbread there ever was.
He was also certain that Dominic Monaghan liked him. As in, liked him. Liked him-liked him. As in a crush. An infatuation.
As in, liked him. Liked him-liked him. As in a crush. An infatuation.
Billy wasn’t quite certain yet if it was love.
But he knew one thing – Dom cared for him in a more-than-friendly way. He showed it in everything he did. The way he looked at Billy, the way he called him at three in the morning, just to say goodnight – despite the fact that Billy’s bedtime far preceded Dom’s. Dom teased Billy, played with him. Touched him far more than was necessary. Billy suspected that if he were a girl, Dom would be snapping his bra.
But he wasn’t a girl – he was Billy, Pippin to Dom’s Merry, and that’s what made this rather complicated.
No, it wasn’t the ‘not a girl’ thing that made this complicated. Billy had definitely taken a boy or six to bed before. Rather, it was that Billy was Billy and Dom was Dom. And Billy was not interested in Dom. Like that. At all.
The thing was, Dom had never actually said anything to Billy. At least, not in words. Not ‘Billy, I seem to have developed a ridiculous crush on you and have decided that I can’t live without you. Please be mine, forever and ever amen.’ No, he only spoke in actions. Actions that seemed to become far more frequent – and courageous – when Dom drank.
Billy pondered this one night at their latest New Zealand haunt. Dom’s arm, per usual, was slung across Billy’s shoulders, its heat contrasting to the wet-cold of the pint of beer in Billy’s hand. And, per usual, Dom’s hands and arms grew more daring as the night rolled along.
Four beers in and there was a hand on Billy’s thigh. It was times like this that Billy grew exasperated.
It wasn’t that Billy was afraid to talk to Dom about this. No, on the contrary, Billy would love to. He just didn’t want to be the one who brought it up. Maybe it was paranoia, but Billy had problems with flat-out rejecting someone even before they had made an official move.
Not that the hand on his thigh was anything unofficial. No, the hand was officially there. The thumb of said hand was moving slowly, massaging small circles into Billy’s inner thigh, and was creeping dangerously close to other parts of Billy – parts he’d prefer to have left alone by Dom, thank you very much.
And then the hand was gone.
It surprised Billy so much that his head darted to the left before he could stop himself. But Dom was standing now, and moving farther away. A combination of relief and… no, just relief, washed over Bill.
“You leavin?”
Dom shook his head, ‘No,’ and smiled. “We’re gonna dance, Bills.”
Oh, no, no they certainly were not. Not if Billy had anything to say about.
Which, apparently, he didn’t, because he was yanked to his feet and dragged to the small pub’s makeshift dance floor before he could say a word.
Dom pulled Billy close, too close, and rested his head on Billy’s shoulder. “Glad you’re here,” he murmured, his lips touching the curve of Billy’s ear, and that was silly, really. Billy was always there. They worked together, lived together. Spent all their sodding time together.
But he had a sinking feeling he knew what Dom meant. Now’s your chance, Bill.
Billy pulled back, distancing himself from Dom by straightening his arms and placing his hands on Dom’s shoulders. “Dom,” he sighed. “I…I’m not sure that I am here. Not like you want me to be.”
Dom’s face, initially a mixture of happy-fuzzy-drunkenness, fell. “You’re…” he started to speak, but Billy didn’t want to wait and listen to what he had to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said, letting his hands drop from Dom’s body. “Goodnight, Dom.”
Billy didn’t remember going back home. But he was, and he wasn’t alone. His body was being smothered by a larger, solid, and definitely masculine body.
Not that he was complaining.
Billy leaned back, pressing himself closer to the warm body and smiled. He didn’t know what had made him bring someone home, but he was surely glad he had. Nothing like some unattached shagging.
Billy felt he should turn over, press his mouth against the mouth that was doing such wonderful things to his neck, ears, spine, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Might as well just relax and enjoy it. He sighed happily, sleepily, as a tongue darted out, painting a stripe from his ear and down his throat.
A hand rested on Billy’s bicep, but soon it slid lower, lower. Around his waist to his stomach. Through the hair at his belly and lower still. It paused above the waistband to Billy’s shorts.
Billy decided to roll over after all. No need to end this before it began, right?
His eyes blinked open once, twice, trying to focus in the darkness of night. As his vision cleared, he could make out a face, a long, crooked jaw. Shining lips, curved into a smile.
“Billy…”
Billy’s senses suddenly snapped into focus. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in complete and utter shock. What the…?
“Dom?”
“Bill…” Dom’s arm wrapped itself around Billy again, but this time Billy knew better. Knew it was fucking Dom and how the fuck had that happened? He grabbed Dom’s hand and pushed it away forcefully, jumping off the bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Billy’s eyes darted around the room, back to Dom and around again. This wasn’t his fucking flat, it was Orlando’s. It all came crashing back – the party at Orlando’s, fighting with Elijah for the couch, falling asleep next to Dominic and…fuck. Having a dream about… well, about someone. But not Dom, for Christ’s sake!
Dom sat up, eyes wide and concerned. “I thought…I…” he stuttered, trailed off. He looked terrified.
“What are you doing, Dominic?” Billy was near hysterics. His erection was long gone and he was shaking with what could be called rage, or possibly just horror. “Were you touching me?!” His voice was becoming more high-pitched with each syllable, and where the hell was his shirt?
Dom didn’t seem to be in a much better state. “I – you were sleeping and you looked so beautiful and I put my—my arm around you.” Dom was shaking now as well, his voice breaking. “You responded, Billy, you—”
“I was sleeping! Dreaming, I thought you were…” Billy trailed off, pacing about the small guest bedroom and cursing himself for not taking the couch. Fucking Elijah, and what had be been thinking, getting into a bed with Dom in the first place?
“You thought I was who?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business!” Billy’s voice reached a volume that was most definitely not appropriate for the middle of the night, and he shook his head, trying to get himself together. “Fuck…” The last thing he needed to do was wake the others.
And the last place he needed to be was here.
He looked around the room and grabbed a shirt – it might have been his, he didn’t care at this point—and pulled it over his head.
His hand was on the doorknob when Dom’s voice broke through the silence. “Billy, wait—”
“I don’t want to fucking talk to you right now, Dom.”
Billy slammed the door behind him and began to hunt for his car keys.
Billy was cold. Really, really cold. His teeth were chattering against each other so hard, it had given him one hell of a headache. He couldn’t feel his fingers, or his toes. Or his nose, or entire face for that matter. He only knew it was still there from the unrelenting chattering. And he wasn’t quite sure if his dick had simply fallen off, or just shrunk back into his body so far that he now officially had a vagina.
The day, he decided, couldn’t possibly get any worse.
They were on what felt like their fiftieth take – though it was probably more along the lines of twentieth – and all Billy wanted to do was go home. And dethaw.
He cursed Peter for making them film in this weather. He cursed his own body for not being able to handle it. He cursed his old professors for encouraging him to act, and his agent for persuading him to audition for Pippin.
And he definitely cursed Dom.
Dom hadn’t done anything today, per se, but Billy felt like cursing him nonetheless.
Dom. Billy sighed. Dom, who hadn’t said a word to Billy since that night. Not that Billy had been very talkative himself, but – well, things were getting ridiculous. The only time words were ever exchanged were in character. And Billy would have to be blind to notice the concerned looks that Elijah and Sean had begun to share when they thought he wasn’t looking.
And speaking of looks. Dom would not stop looking at him.
That was the thing. He hadn’t said a word, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Billy. He stared at him between every take, eyes sad and wounded and it was fucking unnerving.
Billy would think about doing something if he weren’t frozen solid to the ground. For the time being, he was content to concentrate on not dying.
When Peter yelled that it’s a wrap for the night, Billy wanted to jump with joy, but couldn’t because of the whole ice-block-leg issue. He sat in the corner of their on-location trailer and tried to warm up. The thick flannel blanket was only mildly helping.
“Here.”
The voice startled Billy and he looked up to see Dom standing in front of him. He was holding out a cup with steam rising from it.
“Thought you might want this.” Dom’s voice was low, monotone. He wasn’t making eye contact.
It made Billy sad, really, not that he wasn’t still furious at what he had done. But he had brought… ooh, tea. It made Billy’s chest hurt to think how much Dom must care.
He unraveled his hand from the blanket and took the offered cup. “Thank you.”
Dom’s eyes flickered up to Billy’s and stayed there, locked for a brief moment before returning to the ground. “Figured you needed it.” Dom shrugged. “Take a bath when you get home, yeah? Make the temperature lukewarm, you’ll get sick if your body temperature rises too quickly. ”
He walked away.
Billy was a tree, a tall and beautiful tree, with branches like arms. In them, he cradled a small figure. He looked down and realized that he held a hobbit.
Merry.
Merry was asleep, his face nestled into Billy’s leaves. His body rose and fell with each relaxed breath. He turned, letting out a soft whimper-sigh and curled his body tighter into Billy’s branches.
He looked lovely.
Billy curled his branches inward, tightening his hold on the small form. He wanted to make sure he was happy, comfortable. Safe.
Merry stirred and blinked his eyes up at Billy’s towering head. He gave a small smile and whispered, ‘thank you’ before closing them again and drifting.
When Billy awoke, it was with a smile. He had been having a delightful dream... what had it been?
Oh.
The smile, now a frown, confused Billy. Where the hell had that come from?
This couldn’t be good.
Time passed. Things returned to normal – or, as normal as they could be. Dom and Billy were speaking again, even starting to hang out more, and that dream, whatever the hell it had been, was barely even eating at Billy anymore.
Barely.
It was doing nicely pushed to the back of his mind, thanks.
Dom even seemed happier. He was smiling again, laughing and joking with the others. It was like Billy had never even...No. Billy refused to admit that he’d broken Dom’s heart.
He had tried to be diplomatic, hadn’t he? Absolutely. And now it didn’t matter, because things were back to normal.
One day on set – blue-screen day and weren’t those boring? – Dom flopped down next to Billy on the floor with a grin.
“What’s with you?”
Dom shrugged. “Just been thinking.”
Billy gave him a questioning look.
Dom smiled at him, a shy smile and not at all Dom-like. “You’ll be glad to know I’m, um. Seeing someone.”
He’s what? “You’re what?” Billy tried to keep the surprise out of his voice, but failed spectacularly.
Dom chuckled, but it was more self-deprecating than joyful. “I’ve decided to get over you, Bills. Move on, I will survive and all that.”
Billy blinked. He didn’t know quite what to say to that, so he just nodded.
“I’m seeing Carl again tonight.”
“Carl from—?” Billy paused. “Again?”
“Carl the grip, yes.” Dom smiled again. “I saw him last night.”
Oh.
“Well, um. Good for you, then.” He attempted a smile of his own, but it turned out more like a grimace. “I’ll uh…” he rose to his feet, motioning toward the studio bathroom. “I’m happy for you, Dom.”
Billy hadn’t asked but he was pretty sure the second date with Carl was also Dom’s last. He didn’t question what had happened, and Dom hadn’t volunteered any information.
Billy would be kidding himself if he thought things were anything remotely close to ‘back to normal.’
And it was starting to piss him off.
That wasn’t the only thing Billy was pissed at lately, though. The majority of his frustration was aimed toward his own subconscious.
He’d had that fucking tree dream for the past three nights in a row.
Billy kicked at the gravel at his feet. He was sitting outside of his own house – the house he shared with the other hobbits. Which was why he was outside.
He couldn’t be arsed with facing anything in his own home, namely Dominic Monaghan.
So, he sat, puffing at a clove he had swiped from Elijah’s desk Afraid to go into his own bloody flat, because he knew Dom was there, sitting at the kitchen table and writing in that blasted journal.
Billy could see him, if he turned his head slightly and leaned to his left. There, in the window, chewing a set of tooth-shaped grooves into what was probably Billy’s pen.
The bastard. Stupid, beautiful, wonderful, ridiculous bastard.
“What’s your problem?”
Dominic’s eyes glared at Billy over the table, but Billy just looked down, moving his cous-cous from side to side on his plate.
What was his problem? Billy nearly laughed at the question. His problem, it seemed, was that he liked Dominic. As in, liked him. Liked him-liked him. As in a crush. An infatuation.
Maybe, possibly, it was love.
Which was precisely why he was acting like a complete wanker. Which made no sense at all, but not much did with Billy lately. Chalk this up to some more nonsensical Boyd behavior, folks.
He didn’t answer Dom. Which, of course, only pissed Dom off more.
“Billy? Jesus, I thought we’d moved past this.” Dom pushed his own plate away in disgust and got up to leave the room. Billy stayed silent. “Let me know when you’re willing to talk.”
Dom was at the doorway when Billy cleared his throat.
“You’ve got me thinking I’m a tree.”
Dom turned. “I—what?”
“I’m a tree Dom, and all I do is hold you, and it makes me so bleeding happy I could burst, and that’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?” He stood and kept speaking, not giving Dom the chance to do anything but stare slack-jawed.
“Every night I fucking hold you and it’s all I want to do, and it freaked me the hell out but it stayed, and now it’s every night.” Billy shook his head. “But it’s not so bad, you know?”
Dom stared. “Um…I have no clue what you’re on about, Billy.”
Billy took a step forward, then another. He stood in front of Dom and finally – finally – met his eyes.
“Are you over me, Dom?”
Dom blinked. Stared. Shifted from one foot to the other.
Then he slowly shook his head.
And for the first time in what seemed like months, Billy grinned at Dom. He moved closer, so close that their noses were nearly touching.
“Can I kiss you then, Dominic?” Billy whispered.
Dom swallowed and nodded.
And so Billy did. About four times.
When they broke, Dom looked at him, still seemingly in a state of shock. Or confusion. Possibly lust, or a healthy combination of all three. “Are you…?”
Billy grinned, going in for another kiss. “Certainly am.”
End.
Author: Shelly
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Billy didn’t like Dom. Like that.
Website: Little Things
Disclaimer: Lies, all of them.
Notes: My contribution to Slasha, Baby, which was about two million years ago. But I finished it! *fist-pump o’triumph*
shirasade!Thanks oodles to
o4fuxache for the beta. Certainly
Billy was completely certain of but a few things in this world. He was certain that nothing got him drunker than a good single malt scotch. If he wanted to get a secret out of Margaret, all he had to do was tickle her under her arms. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and his Gran made the best shortbread there ever was.
He was also certain that Dominic Monaghan liked him. As in, liked him. Liked him-liked him. As in a crush. An infatuation.
As in, liked him. Liked him-liked him. As in a crush. An infatuation.
Billy wasn’t quite certain yet if it was love.
But he knew one thing – Dom cared for him in a more-than-friendly way. He showed it in everything he did. The way he looked at Billy, the way he called him at three in the morning, just to say goodnight – despite the fact that Billy’s bedtime far preceded Dom’s. Dom teased Billy, played with him. Touched him far more than was necessary. Billy suspected that if he were a girl, Dom would be snapping his bra.
But he wasn’t a girl – he was Billy, Pippin to Dom’s Merry, and that’s what made this rather complicated.
No, it wasn’t the ‘not a girl’ thing that made this complicated. Billy had definitely taken a boy or six to bed before. Rather, it was that Billy was Billy and Dom was Dom. And Billy was not interested in Dom. Like that. At all.
The thing was, Dom had never actually said anything to Billy. At least, not in words. Not ‘Billy, I seem to have developed a ridiculous crush on you and have decided that I can’t live without you. Please be mine, forever and ever amen.’ No, he only spoke in actions. Actions that seemed to become far more frequent – and courageous – when Dom drank.
Billy pondered this one night at their latest New Zealand haunt. Dom’s arm, per usual, was slung across Billy’s shoulders, its heat contrasting to the wet-cold of the pint of beer in Billy’s hand. And, per usual, Dom’s hands and arms grew more daring as the night rolled along.
Four beers in and there was a hand on Billy’s thigh. It was times like this that Billy grew exasperated.
It wasn’t that Billy was afraid to talk to Dom about this. No, on the contrary, Billy would love to. He just didn’t want to be the one who brought it up. Maybe it was paranoia, but Billy had problems with flat-out rejecting someone even before they had made an official move.
Not that the hand on his thigh was anything unofficial. No, the hand was officially there. The thumb of said hand was moving slowly, massaging small circles into Billy’s inner thigh, and was creeping dangerously close to other parts of Billy – parts he’d prefer to have left alone by Dom, thank you very much.
And then the hand was gone.
It surprised Billy so much that his head darted to the left before he could stop himself. But Dom was standing now, and moving farther away. A combination of relief and… no, just relief, washed over Bill.
“You leavin?”
Dom shook his head, ‘No,’ and smiled. “We’re gonna dance, Bills.”
Oh, no, no they certainly were not. Not if Billy had anything to say about.
Which, apparently, he didn’t, because he was yanked to his feet and dragged to the small pub’s makeshift dance floor before he could say a word.
Dom pulled Billy close, too close, and rested his head on Billy’s shoulder. “Glad you’re here,” he murmured, his lips touching the curve of Billy’s ear, and that was silly, really. Billy was always there. They worked together, lived together. Spent all their sodding time together.
But he had a sinking feeling he knew what Dom meant. Now’s your chance, Bill.
Billy pulled back, distancing himself from Dom by straightening his arms and placing his hands on Dom’s shoulders. “Dom,” he sighed. “I…I’m not sure that I am here. Not like you want me to be.”
Dom’s face, initially a mixture of happy-fuzzy-drunkenness, fell. “You’re…” he started to speak, but Billy didn’t want to wait and listen to what he had to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said, letting his hands drop from Dom’s body. “Goodnight, Dom.”
Billy didn’t remember going back home. But he was, and he wasn’t alone. His body was being smothered by a larger, solid, and definitely masculine body.
Not that he was complaining.
Billy leaned back, pressing himself closer to the warm body and smiled. He didn’t know what had made him bring someone home, but he was surely glad he had. Nothing like some unattached shagging.
Billy felt he should turn over, press his mouth against the mouth that was doing such wonderful things to his neck, ears, spine, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Might as well just relax and enjoy it. He sighed happily, sleepily, as a tongue darted out, painting a stripe from his ear and down his throat.
A hand rested on Billy’s bicep, but soon it slid lower, lower. Around his waist to his stomach. Through the hair at his belly and lower still. It paused above the waistband to Billy’s shorts.
Billy decided to roll over after all. No need to end this before it began, right?
His eyes blinked open once, twice, trying to focus in the darkness of night. As his vision cleared, he could make out a face, a long, crooked jaw. Shining lips, curved into a smile.
“Billy…”
Billy’s senses suddenly snapped into focus. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in complete and utter shock. What the…?
“Dom?”
“Bill…” Dom’s arm wrapped itself around Billy again, but this time Billy knew better. Knew it was fucking Dom and how the fuck had that happened? He grabbed Dom’s hand and pushed it away forcefully, jumping off the bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Billy’s eyes darted around the room, back to Dom and around again. This wasn’t his fucking flat, it was Orlando’s. It all came crashing back – the party at Orlando’s, fighting with Elijah for the couch, falling asleep next to Dominic and…fuck. Having a dream about… well, about someone. But not Dom, for Christ’s sake!
Dom sat up, eyes wide and concerned. “I thought…I…” he stuttered, trailed off. He looked terrified.
“What are you doing, Dominic?” Billy was near hysterics. His erection was long gone and he was shaking with what could be called rage, or possibly just horror. “Were you touching me?!” His voice was becoming more high-pitched with each syllable, and where the hell was his shirt?
Dom didn’t seem to be in a much better state. “I – you were sleeping and you looked so beautiful and I put my—my arm around you.” Dom was shaking now as well, his voice breaking. “You responded, Billy, you—”
“I was sleeping! Dreaming, I thought you were…” Billy trailed off, pacing about the small guest bedroom and cursing himself for not taking the couch. Fucking Elijah, and what had be been thinking, getting into a bed with Dom in the first place?
“You thought I was who?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business!” Billy’s voice reached a volume that was most definitely not appropriate for the middle of the night, and he shook his head, trying to get himself together. “Fuck…” The last thing he needed to do was wake the others.
And the last place he needed to be was here.
He looked around the room and grabbed a shirt – it might have been his, he didn’t care at this point—and pulled it over his head.
His hand was on the doorknob when Dom’s voice broke through the silence. “Billy, wait—”
“I don’t want to fucking talk to you right now, Dom.”
Billy slammed the door behind him and began to hunt for his car keys.
Billy was cold. Really, really cold. His teeth were chattering against each other so hard, it had given him one hell of a headache. He couldn’t feel his fingers, or his toes. Or his nose, or entire face for that matter. He only knew it was still there from the unrelenting chattering. And he wasn’t quite sure if his dick had simply fallen off, or just shrunk back into his body so far that he now officially had a vagina.
The day, he decided, couldn’t possibly get any worse.
They were on what felt like their fiftieth take – though it was probably more along the lines of twentieth – and all Billy wanted to do was go home. And dethaw.
He cursed Peter for making them film in this weather. He cursed his own body for not being able to handle it. He cursed his old professors for encouraging him to act, and his agent for persuading him to audition for Pippin.
And he definitely cursed Dom.
Dom hadn’t done anything today, per se, but Billy felt like cursing him nonetheless.
Dom. Billy sighed. Dom, who hadn’t said a word to Billy since that night. Not that Billy had been very talkative himself, but – well, things were getting ridiculous. The only time words were ever exchanged were in character. And Billy would have to be blind to notice the concerned looks that Elijah and Sean had begun to share when they thought he wasn’t looking.
And speaking of looks. Dom would not stop looking at him.
That was the thing. He hadn’t said a word, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Billy. He stared at him between every take, eyes sad and wounded and it was fucking unnerving.
Billy would think about doing something if he weren’t frozen solid to the ground. For the time being, he was content to concentrate on not dying.
When Peter yelled that it’s a wrap for the night, Billy wanted to jump with joy, but couldn’t because of the whole ice-block-leg issue. He sat in the corner of their on-location trailer and tried to warm up. The thick flannel blanket was only mildly helping.
“Here.”
The voice startled Billy and he looked up to see Dom standing in front of him. He was holding out a cup with steam rising from it.
“Thought you might want this.” Dom’s voice was low, monotone. He wasn’t making eye contact.
It made Billy sad, really, not that he wasn’t still furious at what he had done. But he had brought… ooh, tea. It made Billy’s chest hurt to think how much Dom must care.
He unraveled his hand from the blanket and took the offered cup. “Thank you.”
Dom’s eyes flickered up to Billy’s and stayed there, locked for a brief moment before returning to the ground. “Figured you needed it.” Dom shrugged. “Take a bath when you get home, yeah? Make the temperature lukewarm, you’ll get sick if your body temperature rises too quickly. ”
He walked away.
Billy was a tree, a tall and beautiful tree, with branches like arms. In them, he cradled a small figure. He looked down and realized that he held a hobbit.
Merry.
Merry was asleep, his face nestled into Billy’s leaves. His body rose and fell with each relaxed breath. He turned, letting out a soft whimper-sigh and curled his body tighter into Billy’s branches.
He looked lovely.
Billy curled his branches inward, tightening his hold on the small form. He wanted to make sure he was happy, comfortable. Safe.
Merry stirred and blinked his eyes up at Billy’s towering head. He gave a small smile and whispered, ‘thank you’ before closing them again and drifting.
When Billy awoke, it was with a smile. He had been having a delightful dream... what had it been?
Oh.
The smile, now a frown, confused Billy. Where the hell had that come from?
This couldn’t be good.
Time passed. Things returned to normal – or, as normal as they could be. Dom and Billy were speaking again, even starting to hang out more, and that dream, whatever the hell it had been, was barely even eating at Billy anymore.
Barely.
It was doing nicely pushed to the back of his mind, thanks.
Dom even seemed happier. He was smiling again, laughing and joking with the others. It was like Billy had never even...No. Billy refused to admit that he’d broken Dom’s heart.
He had tried to be diplomatic, hadn’t he? Absolutely. And now it didn’t matter, because things were back to normal.
One day on set – blue-screen day and weren’t those boring? – Dom flopped down next to Billy on the floor with a grin.
“What’s with you?”
Dom shrugged. “Just been thinking.”
Billy gave him a questioning look.
Dom smiled at him, a shy smile and not at all Dom-like. “You’ll be glad to know I’m, um. Seeing someone.”
He’s what? “You’re what?” Billy tried to keep the surprise out of his voice, but failed spectacularly.
Dom chuckled, but it was more self-deprecating than joyful. “I’ve decided to get over you, Bills. Move on, I will survive and all that.”
Billy blinked. He didn’t know quite what to say to that, so he just nodded.
“I’m seeing Carl again tonight.”
“Carl from—?” Billy paused. “Again?”
“Carl the grip, yes.” Dom smiled again. “I saw him last night.”
Oh.
“Well, um. Good for you, then.” He attempted a smile of his own, but it turned out more like a grimace. “I’ll uh…” he rose to his feet, motioning toward the studio bathroom. “I’m happy for you, Dom.”
Billy hadn’t asked but he was pretty sure the second date with Carl was also Dom’s last. He didn’t question what had happened, and Dom hadn’t volunteered any information.
Billy would be kidding himself if he thought things were anything remotely close to ‘back to normal.’
And it was starting to piss him off.
That wasn’t the only thing Billy was pissed at lately, though. The majority of his frustration was aimed toward his own subconscious.
He’d had that fucking tree dream for the past three nights in a row.
Billy kicked at the gravel at his feet. He was sitting outside of his own house – the house he shared with the other hobbits. Which was why he was outside.
He couldn’t be arsed with facing anything in his own home, namely Dominic Monaghan.
So, he sat, puffing at a clove he had swiped from Elijah’s desk Afraid to go into his own bloody flat, because he knew Dom was there, sitting at the kitchen table and writing in that blasted journal.
Billy could see him, if he turned his head slightly and leaned to his left. There, in the window, chewing a set of tooth-shaped grooves into what was probably Billy’s pen.
The bastard. Stupid, beautiful, wonderful, ridiculous bastard.
“What’s your problem?”
Dominic’s eyes glared at Billy over the table, but Billy just looked down, moving his cous-cous from side to side on his plate.
What was his problem? Billy nearly laughed at the question. His problem, it seemed, was that he liked Dominic. As in, liked him. Liked him-liked him. As in a crush. An infatuation.
Maybe, possibly, it was love.
Which was precisely why he was acting like a complete wanker. Which made no sense at all, but not much did with Billy lately. Chalk this up to some more nonsensical Boyd behavior, folks.
He didn’t answer Dom. Which, of course, only pissed Dom off more.
“Billy? Jesus, I thought we’d moved past this.” Dom pushed his own plate away in disgust and got up to leave the room. Billy stayed silent. “Let me know when you’re willing to talk.”
Dom was at the doorway when Billy cleared his throat.
“You’ve got me thinking I’m a tree.”
Dom turned. “I—what?”
“I’m a tree Dom, and all I do is hold you, and it makes me so bleeding happy I could burst, and that’s got to mean something, hasn’t it?” He stood and kept speaking, not giving Dom the chance to do anything but stare slack-jawed.
“Every night I fucking hold you and it’s all I want to do, and it freaked me the hell out but it stayed, and now it’s every night.” Billy shook his head. “But it’s not so bad, you know?”
Dom stared. “Um…I have no clue what you’re on about, Billy.”
Billy took a step forward, then another. He stood in front of Dom and finally – finally – met his eyes.
“Are you over me, Dom?”
Dom blinked. Stared. Shifted from one foot to the other.
Then he slowly shook his head.
And for the first time in what seemed like months, Billy grinned at Dom. He moved closer, so close that their noses were nearly touching.
“Can I kiss you then, Dominic?” Billy whispered.
Dom swallowed and nodded.
And so Billy did. About four times.
When they broke, Dom looked at him, still seemingly in a state of shock. Or confusion. Possibly lust, or a healthy combination of all three. “Are you…?”
Billy grinned, going in for another kiss. “Certainly am.”
End.
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