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ariadne12_27 (Miranda/Dom) | 1guiltypleasure (Billy/Dom) | magickalmolly (Billy/Dom) | voontah (Billy/Dom) | the0oneru (Miranda/David) | cindyjade (Billy/Dom) | lil1pinay (Dom/Normal Reedus) | bunniewabbit (Billy/Elijah) | hancoll (Billy/Dom) | almaviva (Billy/Dom) | 1guiltypleasure (Billy/Dom) | cindyjade (Billy/Dom) | ariadne12_27 (Billy/Dom) | water_vole (Billy/Dom) | begiled (Dom/Sean A) | quailquill (Billy/Cate) | begiled (Billy/Dom) | ariadne12_27 (Billy/Dom) | 1guiltypleasure (Billy/Dom) | circe_tigana (Billy/Dom) | thuribrandybuck (Billy/Dom) | almaviva (Billy/Liv) | piratesorka (Billy/Dom) | thepsychicclam (Dominic/Elijah) | bunniewabbit (Elijah/Viggo) | magickalmolly (Billy/Dom) | queenofalostart (Viggo/Dominic) | dutcheowyn (Dom/Elijah) | thuribrandybuck (Billy/Dom) | thuribrandybuck (Billy/Dom) | frisbyg (Billy/Dom) | isilwen (Billy/Charlie) | slightlytricky (Billy/Dom) | calvin_would (Billy/Dom) | zoniduck (Billy/Dom) | bunniewabbit and mirabile_dictu (Dom/Elijah) |


For ariadne12_27, Miranda/Dom

“It’s a chessboard,” Liv had confided to Miranda. “The pieces move around constantly. The boys are all fucking the other boys, and it’s so cute.”

The one called Dominic is gorgeous, in a ratty, disturbed way. Miranda wants him, and she moves the pieces around until he’s within her reach. Her strategy allows everyone on the board their chance at happiness—as long as it doesn’t interfere with her own.

When the rook falls—Billy, furious after an indelicate, indiscreet rumour has exploded—her hand settles gently on Dominic’s back.

Miranda is a winner, and she intends to take all.

-------------------

For 1guiltypleasure, Billy/Dom

“Billy, what’s taking so long?” Dominic peers into the bedroom where Billy paces, fuming.

“I’m missing a sock, you git. No more unsupervised laundry work for you.”

“How about no laundry work, full stop—“

“Shut it and come help me.”

“It’s a sock, Billy. Buy some more.”

“I would, if I hadn’t already done so ten times since you moved in.” Billy advances on Dominic, his expression fierce, then stops, eyes fixed on Dominic’s feet.

“Those aren’t—“

“Of course not,” Dominic laughs, backtracking. “Preposterous.”

“You’re a dead man.”

Dominic holds up a restraining hand. “But very well–dressed.”

-------------------

For magickalmolly, Billy/Dom

“Light ice cream,” Billy glares at the pint Dominic’s purchased for him. “This is the worst idea you’ve had yet.”

He ventures a taste, finding that while it’s not horrible, it’s not luscious, either. Dominic digs into his own pint happily until Billy’s finger drags across the top of what is Dominic’s obviously full–fat dessert.

“Thought you’d like something different,” Dominic giggles. Billy pulls Dominic to stand, walking him toward the nearby airing cupboard. “Billy? Billy.”

“Different is good,” Billy nods, shoving Dominic inside and locking the door.

“Billy—“

“You’ll let me know how good, won’t you, Dom?”

-------------------

For voontah, Billy/Dom

“Viggo says it’s an artistic expression.”

“Viggo also says anyone can catch a fish.” Billy snorts from behind his paper.

“Just because you impaled your own finger on your hook—“ Billy shoots him a glare, but Dominic plows forward. “Viggo says it’s like getting back to childhood. An unfettered creative activity.”

“Unfettered, Dom? Unfetter yourself from Viggo’s arse.”

“Billy, come on, just once—“

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Billy sighs. “Fine. We’ll fingerpaint. But not on paper, understand?”

Dominic frowns, confused. “But—“

“My childhood never included edible body paint, Dom,” Billy smiles. “My adult life’s been more unfettered.”

-----------------

For the0neru, Miranda/David

Sense memory leads David to find Miranda the night Viggo calls for a camp–out, to watch for and celebrate the sunrise.

He finds her alone, sipping from a steaming mug of something alcoholic, the starlight reflecting against her skin, turning it translucent. They share the drink and several slow kisses before David pulls away, remembering their lovers at home, remembering their commitments—

Remembering the damage they’ve caused before.

He moves to stand, and Miranda reaches for him again, eyes bright and smile challenging.

“Long way till morning, love,” she drawls, and David sinks back to the sandy, starlit ground.

-----------------

For cindyjade, Billy/Dom

“Be sure,” Billy had murmured, before they began.

Dominic waited forever for Billy to realize he wanted more than a quick, dirty fuck in wardrobe. He knows now that Billy’s measured him and found him worth breaking—and not just another piece of wretched, slutty English work.

He kneels now, blindfolded, wrists trapped behind his back and locked to restraints at his ankles. Billy’s circled him twice, murmuring words of praise, and now Dominic feels Billy’s cock at his lips, demanding entrance.

“Be sure,” Billy had murmured, before they began—

And Dominic has never been so sure in his life.

-----------------

For lil1pinay, Dominic/Norman Reedus

Two drinks into the night, they were laughing about English girls and American boys. Two more, and they were in bed, Dominic’s greedy mouth around Norman’s cock and Norman’s broad hands in Dominic’s hair.

It was sordid, awkward and the best Dominic’s had in a long time.

Dominic’s eyes move across the room, settling on the floor where Mingus’s teddy bear sits, head tilted forward as if it really doesn’t want to know. Dominic smiles, nudging Norman awake.

“You’re good with this?” Norman asks sleepily, turning Dominic to his back, and Dominic’s smile grows warmer and wider.

“Right as rain.”

--------

For bunniewabbit, Billy/Elijah

“Did you ever do this with Dominic?”

Elijah’s voice is high and a little breathless. Billy smiles and stretches beside him in the bed, casting soft green eyes over the body he’s enjoyed for the last several hours.

“I did, yes. Still do, in fact.”

The silence then is broken only by the sound of ice cracking in Billy’s glass. Elijah flinches, and licks his lips.

“He lets you—“

“He does.”

“When did you—when do you let him go?”

Billy smiles again, reaching above to tighten the knot around Elijah’s wrists. “A lot sooner than I will you.”

--------

For hanncoll, Billy/Dom

“Give us a kiss,” Dominic mumbles, curling up next to Billy in the booth, hands traveling everywhere.

“Fuck off, Dom,” Billy grunts. “You’ve been a complete bastard tonight.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” Dominic says, nestling closer. Across the table, Elijah rolls his eyes and Astin becomes fascinated with his beer.

“Love me elsewhere, then,” Billy sighs, and Dominic disappears under the table. It’s scant seconds until Elijah and Astin realize what’s going on, and disappear themselves in a flurry of motion.

“Did it work?” Dominic asks, his eyes dancing. Billy nods, smiling.

“Absolutely. Now finish what you’ve started.”

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For almaviva; bb/dm; lortuni–verse, speaking German. <3

“Einschuldensie,” Billy says, but it sounds more like Eyenskooldensee, and Dominic struggles not to let his smile widen further in amusement.

“Close,” he nods, pronouncing the word correctly again, watching Billy watch him. “See? Like that.” Billy tries again, slowly, and nails it this time, his own smile temporarily lighting up his tired face.

“I don’t think I’m meant to speak German,” Billy mutters then, darkly, staring at the little phrasebook Dominic’s given him as if it might bite. “It’s too difficult.”

“So’s philosophy,” Dominic laughs. “But here’s the thing, Billy.” It’s Billy’s turn to struggle then as Dominic murmurs a long, quiet stream of German, from which Billy can only understand bed, you, wine, tie, chair and possibly the only German word Billy can pronounce correctly, sachertorte.

While Billy tries to imagine the significance of this particular combination of words, Dominic’s hand wraps around his and squeezes. Billy allows it, welcomes it even, and opens the phrasebook again with a deep breath and a determined set of his lips. Dominic dozes off while Billy reads, waking only when Billy suddenly erupts in giggles.

“What is it?”

“Kaffee und bucht,” Billy smiles. “Not sure I need to know much else.”

-----------------

For 1guiltypleasure; bb/dm; static. Personally, I’m beginning to think Kay has a laundry fetish. <3

Billy doesn’t have issues with laundry itself, just with the way Dominic handles it. Billy’s still missing three pairs of socks, and because he hasn’t seen them on Dominic’s feet, he can only imagine where they’ve disappeared to.

He can hear Dominic singing, more lager–lout than lounge lizard, and Billy’s torn between smiling and wincing. The balance tips when he catches sight of Dominic dancing shirtless in the middle of the room, a dryer sheet attached to the bum of his jeans and his hair sticking up wildly.

Dominic spins around, on cue with the music, and in seconds he’s grinding against Billy, hips swaying and dipping while Billy continues to laugh. The friction is made marginally less arousing by Dominic’s ridiculous appearance, but Billy still feels the need to pull away after half a song.

“Enough,” he bellows over the music. “Finish up here so we can meet Elijah.”

Dominic nods, turning back to the dryer, and Billy makes to leave. The moment he reaches the door, he inhales sharply and recoils, shaking his shocked hand and staring at the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Call it the static,” Dominic smiles innocently. “I’m more electrifying than usual today.”

-----------------

For cindyjade; bb/dm; prettiest

Dominic watches Elijah from afar, marveling at his skin, his hair and eyes, at his easy laughter and good cheer. Elijah’s a pretty thing, perhaps even more so than Orlando, whose prettiness is darker, less welcoming.

While Dominic has his good days, he’s still too scarred–up and imperfect to be called pretty. It doesn’t usually bother him, though—he knows that too often pretty is followed by vacant. Still, he’s drawn to Elijah during filming and at night, even as it costs him more every day in the loss of Billy. Not that Billy’s ever scolded him over this. They are all friends here.

Over a long night of drinking Billy tries to convince Dominic that pretty shouldn’t ever be the goal. “Pretty isn’t beautiful, Dommie,” Billy trills, to a tune Dominic doesn’t recognize. Dominic nods and says nothing, until several minutes pass and Billy pulls him away from the pub.

An hour later Billy presses Dominic down across his bed and begins counting with fingers and lips every beautiful part of Dominic’s body, from the little star tattoos on his right foot to the deep, sensitive wells of his hipbones, from the scar on his forehead to the blond streaks in his hair. It goes on forever, until tears sting Dominic’s eyes and spill down his cheeks.

“I don’t want pretty,” Billy whispers hotly, rising above Dominic with suddenly dark eyes and rough hands. “Though I can tell you do. I can’t give you what Elijah can, Dom, so after tonight you’re not going to have to choose anymore.”

Dominic’s noise of surprise sounds pathetic even to his own ears. He falls silent rather than fight, watching Billy’s eyes and lips, the deepening lines in his face and the hard set of his jaw, and feeling regret washing over him with every thrust of Billy’s body against his own. When Billy slips away from him finally, breathless and shaking with a repressed anger Dominic’s never seen before, Dominic imagines it’s the prettiest—no, the most beautiful—thing he’s ever seen.

And he never wants to see it again.

-----------------

For ariadne12_27; Bernard, Dom also bb/dm; mischievous, key

One of Dominic’s many dubious talents—one he doesn’t share if he can help it—is the ability to pout like a five–year–old whose favourite toy has been stolen by a frustrated teacher who wants his attention. After two weeks without Billy and surrounded by Rohirrim, Dominic still catches himself glaring at Peter, his expression sulky and miserable.

It’s not as if he hasn’t made friends here. Dominic’s generally cheerful anyway, and Karl and Miranda are good fun. Bruce, too. But there’s no one to really play with—no one on whom to exercise his energies. Dominic wanders the set aimlessly now, until he quite nearly stumbles into Bernard in full costume and makeup, looking every inch a King and, Dominic finds himself thinking, also looking rather … good.

“No. Not you, not now.” Bernard holds Dominic back at arm’s length, and Dominic allows himself a better pout than usual, Bernard rolls his eyes and grabs Dominic’s leather–armoured arm, yanking him back to the far trailers. Dominic releases a stream of pre–emptive babble, until Bernard covers his mouth with one large, gloved hand.

“Don’t flatter y’self,” Bernard snorts affectionately, producing a key and pointing behind him to the trailer at the edge of the woods. “Don’t believe you’ve got the stuff, and my life’s too short to sit and watch you try. Now go on.”

Dominic barely has the key in the lock before Billy reaches and yanks him inside, pulling and tearing at the armour until Dominic’s half naked and bucking already in Billy’s hands.

“How, fuck, Billy, how did you—“

“Bernard, he did everything, now shut it and let me—“

“But why would he—“

“Because he can recognize someone in need of a shag,” Billy smirks. “And he likes to watch.”

-----------------

For water_vole; bb/dm; after ComiCon, Dominic’s feeling “frosty”

“Look. At. You.” Dominic pokes Billy backwards into the deserted conference room. “Thought you’d never shut up. Thought you’d spill all our secrets.”

“That’s your job,” Billy pokes back. “Fucking never keep your mouth shut—“

“Give me a reason to—“

They’re interrupted, as they always are, and they smile and walk away, as they always do. Later when Billy pushes him against the Chinese restaurant’s hideous, flock–papered wall behind the Gents’ and quizzes Dominic on every question Billy answered earlier that day, every secret he may or may not have shared, Dominic’s smile is still intact.

He loves pushing Billy to the edge and beyond, knowing it’s so much more satisfying than pushing Elijah. Where Elijah will stomp off and play video games or lose himself in his music instead of arguing, Billy will fight back with everything he has. Billy will tear the smile from Dominic’s face and replace it with an expression that while very different, will still bare Dominic’s teeth.

When Billy fucks him, and even later, when he fucks Billy, neither of them will be smiling. In the morning, Dominic will take and answer questions himself, and he will lose his train of thought every time he moves and his body reminds him of the consequences of pushing Billy. He will call himself “frosty” and tired and explain both obliquely and clearly that he’d spent most of the evening with Billy. He will catch Billy standing in the wings while he speaks, and he will shiver with the knowledge that it’s not over.

“Look. At. You.” Billy will murmur afterward, back in the Chinese restaurant. “Thought you’d never—“

“Shut up,” Dominic will breathe softly, pressing Billy against the wall. They only have four more hours before Billy has to leave for the airport, and there’s nowhere and nothing more to push. All that’s left is to pull away, something that Dominic, for all his pushing, cannot yet do. It falls to Billy, and every time it gets a little bit harder.

“Keep you mouth shut this time,” Billy sighs as they wait for his taxi.

“Give me a reason to—“

They’re interrupted, as they always are, and they smile and walk away, as they always do.

-----------------

For begiled; dm/sa; silver nitrate, Valentino, Berlin

Dominic speaks of the German girls, of his love for the country, of everything he can think of. The local reporters are drawn to him and his comfort with the language, even in the face of his occasionally incorrect grammar. And Dominic revels a little in the attention, only displaying a surprised shyness when he takes the microphone and speaks to the Berlin premiere crowd.

Sean watches, smiling and laughing with the rest of the cast and curling his body into Christine’s beside him. There’s an odd tension in the air, and only after the premiere does Sean realize that tonight is the first time he’s really watched Dominic this way, comfortable in a different way than ever before at a premiere or any event. Yes, Billy stands by Dominic’s side, but not for the whole night. Billy mingles, as he’s supposed to do, and speaks to everyone he can.

Hours later, after Christine’s fallen asleep, Sean rises from the chair by his hotel room’s window and slips out of the room, down to the darkened, for the most part closed bar. Billy and Dominic are in corner, Billy speaking softly and Dominic gesturing a bit wildly, a bit—angrily. Sean watches in silence as Billy takes Dominic’s face in his hands, calming him, and kisses Dominic gently. Dominic’s eyes open before the kiss ends, as if he feels Sean’s eyes on them. And Dominic’s eyes are dark–rimmed like some silent screen movie idol—like an angered, addled Valentino. They meet Sean’s with no challenge, just sadness and need.

Billy steps back, and Dominic still says nothing. Sean ducks into a corner, allowing Billy to pass without noticing his presence, and seconds later he stands facing Dominic, so close they’re almost sharing breath.

“He’s not staying,” Dominic says, terribly soft and just on the wrong side of resigned. Sean nods, and one hand reaches of its own volition to wrap around Dominic’s arm. Dominic’s skin is hot even through his shirt and that tweedy jacket, and Sean registers surprise in his eyes, enough to make Dominic smile.

“You fancy something?” Dominic asks, moving closer. “Just for a bit, you know, if you wanted—?”

“Dom—"

“Cause I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t. ‘s alright, innit? Who’s going to tell?”

“Dom.”

“Who’s going to care?”

Dominic’s room is tidier than Sean expects, but that might be the effect of Billy’s presence in there earlier. Now Dominic flings his clothes everywhere, until he’s naked before Sean, working the buttons of Sean’s shirt open with clever fingers while his shadowed eyes rake over Sean’s broad chest and stomach.

“It’s alright,” Dominic murmurs again, and Sean thinks it’s mostly for himself. He falls back to the mattress and lets Dominic climb and straddle him. Every part of Dominic is hard, muscled and tight, his edges fitting perfectly in Sean’s hands. Sean inhales when Dominic descends on him, all teeth and tongue, their stubble scraping against their faces and their cocks brushing against each other.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Sean breathes as Dominic’s fingers encircle his cock. And seconds later that mouth, Dominic’s filthy, charming mouth is on him, making Sean suck in air between his teeth to keep from screaming. He’s so close it’s hardly any work for Dominic, and Sean can hear him chuckling, feel Dominic’s hands wandering to his ass, fingers dancing, readying Sean more than he needs.

“Want to fuck you,” Sean hisses, pulling at Dominic’s hair. He wants to spin Dominic, turn him over and take him from behind, but Dom’s having none of it. He crawls back up Sean’s body, pushing his hands away, and settles on top, pressing himself down in little corkscrewing motions that make him moan and laugh all at once. Dominic curses and growls, his breaths raspy, until Sean tenses beneath him, hips rising and entire body bearing down as he comes. Dominic rides it out, his hand moving to grasp his cock and bring himself off, denying Sean again when he makes to touch him.

Sean’s so absorbed by the sight above him—Dominic’s eyes closed in please, his tongue racing across his bottom lip and sweat pouring from him—that he doesn’t notice the light coming into the room or the sound of Billy’s gasp. Dominic doesn’t stop, not even at the sound of Billy speaking his name, not even at the slam of the door. When Dominic collapses finally, Sean shoves him away, reaching for his clothes before any words of apology or recrimination can be spoken.

In his own bathroom five minutes later, Sean lathers his hands frantically, hands stained by sweat and spit and Dominic’s eyeliner. The black smudges refuse to wash away, and Sean thinks of silver nitrate—of how it sinks into the skin invisibly at first, and only when exposed to light does it turn an ashy, stubborn black. Sean has watched Dominic for more than five years now, allowing him to absorb himself into Sean’s skin. And now that his need, hidden for all those years under layers of denial Sean doesn’t even remember building, has been exposed, it’s not going to disappear easily—or perhaps ever.

Sean spends the rest of the night back in his hotel room’s chair, and prays for morning and absolution. Billy and Dominic will both be long gone when he and Christine leave this place, and with them, Sean hopes, will also go this memory.

-----------------

For quailquill, Billy/Cate; during principal filming, prompt "What about Dom?"

It’s not lost on Cate that most of the Boys’ Adventure Club that makes up the cast cannot seem to keep their eyes off of her and Liv. She’s amused by it, intrigued too, considering what she’s already learned about the younger ones. There’s little Elijah, not so little when you get past the infectious giggle and pretty eyes, and then there’s Sean, who stops just short of clucking behind Elijah in his role as minder, friend and—if you want to believe—lover. There’s Dominic, who tries to move through crowds and inevitably ends up parting them instead, first through the force of his personality and then with his genuine kindness and affection. Dominic is loved by all, adored by some.

And then there is Billy. The quiet one, except for when they’re out drinking. The tightfisted one, except when Elijah is craving an illegal drink and it suddenly appears at his arm. The straight man, except for when Dominic’s cranky and Billy feels the need to pick up the slack. The slightly standoffish one, except for when little Alexandra Astin rushes him from behind and Billy falls in love visibly for the hundredth time.

“He’s a good man,” Viggo says in his utterly direct way one afternoon on the Lorien set. Cate looks up, surprised, and Viggo nods in the direction of Billy, half asleep against one of the enormous tree roots.

“He’s a naughty little thing, like the rest of them,” Cate smiles. “But yes, a good man. Or he will be.”

As if he’s heard them, Billy opens his eyes slowly, locking them with Cate’s until she’s forced to look away. Viggo hums to himself, not at all triumphantly, and Cate, swats him ineffectually with one of her heavy, beautiful sleeves.

“Shut up.”

“He’s not so little,” Viggo says, softer this time. And before Cate can question that, he’s gone, disappearing into the greenery. Cate shrugs a little and looks back across the forest to where the hobbits are now congregating around Billy. He catches her eyes again and rises to his feet, leaving the others to their laughter, and before Cate’s really thought of anything to say, he’s beside her, hands tucked in his high pockets.

“My queen,” Billy murmurs, only the corners of his lips turned up. “My lady.”

“Peregrin Took,” she nods. “Sit.”

Billy shakes his head, a tight little motion, and he purses his lips, looking up at the strings of fairy lights above them. “Y’must be so hot,” he says sympathetically. “All those robes.”

“Very smooth, Master Took. I’ll keep them on, thank you.”

Billy laughs, a giggle that deepens quickly into something more raucous. “I don’t think you have anythin’ to fear from me, Cate.”

She can’t help it, really; the blush overcomes her and her eyes flicker back over to the tree, where Elijah and Sean sit almost in each other’s laps, playing with a video camera Cate distinctly recalls seeing earlier in Orlando’s hands. Dominic stands above them, peering over their shoulders at the screen and looking up every few seconds to find Billy, whose shoulders are still shaking with amusement.

“I think I’m meant to be surprised,” Cate says, her own mouth curling up at the sides now. “Maybe even offended. I think I’ve been spoiled by all the attention. Now I feel denied.”

“No payoff?” Billy raises his eyebrows high, a gorgeous sight under the curls of his wig. “We’re all talk, no action?”

“All eyes, no action, more like,” she sighs. “Girl far from home, surrounded by sweet young men …”

“Some younger than others. I’m older than you are, Cate, d’you know that?”

And in truth, she did not know that. Cate looks at Billy, trying to read those soft green eyes, and Billy offers nothing to help. He does, however, finally sink down next to her, resting his head on her brocaded shoulder.

“Can’t believe how tired I am.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and genuinely means it. “You’ve been working very hard.”

“Not as much as you might think. Lijah has it worst, I think. Sean, too.”

“And what about Dom?”

The smile returns to Billy’s face, and he reaches for Cate’s hand, cool and pale in his slightly dirty palm. “Him too. But again, not as much. We have little to do in comparison. Least until Film Two.”

“So what is it then, little Peregrin?” she whispers, resting her head on top of Billy’s and stroking his hand, twisting their fingers together. “Why so very tired? Long nights?”

Billy nods. “Very.”

“I feel like I should ask, you know,” Cate murmurs, even lower than before. “Just to be sure.”

“Just to be sure,” Billy repeats, his mock–serious expression just as delightful as any other. “Maybe you should.”

“Dominic?”

“Aye, of course.”

“You’ll forgive me if I go on and on about what a terrible waste this is.”

Billy erupts in more giggles, shaking next to her. “I am always open t’negotation, my lady.”

“Are you now?”

“Turn me ‘round, I dare you.”

Cate’s smile is wide and the colour in her cheeks very high. “I don’t think so, Billy.”

The smile hasn’t had time leave her face when she feels him, his sweet, apple–tinged breath first, then his lips, softer and warmer than she expects. Cate’s eyes close slowly, and her hand tightens in Billy’s just as he forces his way inside her mouth expertly. She sinks a little against the tree, and Billy takes it as invitation, moving against a bit harder but still keeping her hand where it is, on her own lap and almost between her knees.

Just a pause for breath, and he’s back again, more hesitating than at first, as if he’s waiting for her to stop him, which she will not. He pulls away only after another full minute of movement, pressing his lips from one corner of her mouth to another and feeling her just begin to twist beneath him, needing more. They’re halfway to stretched over the ground now, and Cate knows she’s going to hear about this from Ngila, from Peter and who knows who else, but it doesn’t bear thinking about, not when Billy’s moving away and she cannot keep him. Even his hand slips from hers with a gentleness that makes clear he has no intentions, good or ill.

“Lovely,” Billy says at last, smoothing down her very wrinkled sleeve. “Be leaving you to it now, my lady.”

“Master Peregrin,” she whispers. “Be good to him.”

“I will,” Billy nods, backing away already, but still with the kindest smile. “Thank you, Cate. For listening and … for hearing.”

Cate watches him go, and feels her own smile spreading back across her face as she tries not to touch her own lips, half–numbed from Billy’s kisses. She can almost hear the hobbits’ laughter again, and imagines that Billy’s now collecting an extraordinary amount of money from his friends, having snogged the Lady Galadriel, having touched the untouchable Cate.

It’s a thought that gets her through the next hour of filming—possibly the next entire day.

-----------------

For begiled, Billy/Dom; prompts burnished and semaphore.

Who knows how long Dominic’s been sitting in front of the hearth in Billy’s house in Wellington, staring at the flames and tossing match after match into them, listening for the hiss and pop and whoosh of brown–orange–yellow fire. The point is that he is there, safe and quiet, where earlier this day he’d been nowhere to be found.

Billy had yelled at him hours ago, furious that he’d disappeared for a day and a half with no word, no call, not even a note. Bean had kicked in the door of Dom’s apartment, thinking the worst might have happened, and Dom would be paying for that, damn it, just as he’d be paying for the petrol Billy wasted searching the city for him. When he voice had finally cracked with exhaustion, the yelling stopped, and Billy drew in a deep breath before he spoke again, this time to a suitably chagrined Dom.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Dom?”

“I want to go home.” Dominic had looked at his hands, flexing and relaxing his fingers, anything to keep from meeting Billy’s eyes. “I can’t stand it anymore. Hate this place, hate these people.”

“Oh, fuck that,” Billy had snapped. “You love it here so much you’re looking for houses. Don’t you fucking lie to me, Dom. You had all of it running like dogs trying t’find you; the least you owe us—least you owe me—is the truth.”

And then Dominic had crumbled, just a bit, under the weight of his grandmother’s death after a long illness and the resulting sleepless night and sickened morning. Dominic told Billy the truth, and all of it: how he’d gone for a drink and found himself wandering the city until he got lost, and loving every disconnected moment of it, and thinking how easily he could have kept walking.

“Until your money ran out,” Billy had said, but his voice had been kinder.

“No,” Dominic had shaken his head. “Until you found me. I knew that no matter how far I got you’d catch up to me.”

Now Billy watches Dominic from the distance of the couch, watching the fire turn his pale skin burnished and warm. He’s certain Dominic can feel his stare, just as he’s certain that he can feel something else from Dominic, too—something desperate and needy, but quietly so. When Dominic finally heaves a great sigh and rises, only to fall next to Billy and rest in the space Billy’s body grants him immediately, Billy sighs too, and waits for Dominic to speak.

“What was I supposed to do?” Dominic whispers, his hand moving to the hem of Billy’s shirt and fisting the material gently.

“You called home?”

Dominic nods. “Before I left. I’d said my goodbyes, Billy; I knew she was dying. That wasn’t the point.”

“So what was it?”

“I don’t think …” Another very deep sigh, and Billy tightens his grip around Dominic’s shoulder. “That I’ve ever felt lonelier in my life.”

“I know,” Billy nods, and Dominic flushes, ducking his head.

“Jesus, Billy, I didn’t mean to—you’re the last person who needs to hear this.”

“Maybe. But if anyone else had found you first, you would’ve run, I bet.”

Dominic is silent for a moment, giving Billy his answer. Then he shifts up, looking into Billy’s eyes carefully.

“It gets better.” He says slowly, and Billy nods again. “No, I’m serious, it does. It has to. Because I don’t think I can do this, Billy, not with all the work, and I miss my mum, right, and what is it, four months until we can even get a break—?”

“Can’t think about that,” Billy smiles. “Let’s just get through tonight, eh? Or maybe the next hour.”

“It has to be that slow?” Dominic whispers. “It takes that long?’ His whole body has curled tight into itself, resting against Billy like a giant semaphore of a question mark. Billy’s hands move slowly on Dominic, forcing his arms and legs gently into more relaxed, looser ease until they’re lying down completely on the couch.

“Longer than you can imagine,” Billy sighs finally. “But it’s alright, Dom. I promise you it’ll be alright.”

“I ‘m holding you to that.”

Billy laughs, and turns to look at the fire still burning high and hot. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“Am I in a massive amount of trouble, then?” Dominic looks up, and he’s smiling. It’s a small thing, to be sure, but Billy’s filled with the warmth of it.

“Just wait until you see your door.”

-----------------

For ariadne12_27, Billy/Dom; set at St. Paul's in London, prompts evensong and candlelight.

Five o’clock on a drizzling winter’s Thursday night, and if you’d told Billy earlier this day that he would now be sitting through an Evensong service he would have laughed in your face and taken your drink from you, seeing how you were already past the point of no return.

And yet here he sits, more uncomfortable than he has reason to be, next to Dominic, who obviously cannot get enough of the drama and quiet British intensity of the service. Billy had made the mistake of telling Dominic that he’d never been to St. Paul’s Cathedral, not even on school trips to London as a child. He’d seen it, of course, on the telly during Diana and Charles’ wedding, but that didn’t count. He’d seen pictures in books, too, but again, it just wasn’t the same.

Dominic had pulled him from the pub and made him walk twenty minutes into the City, forgetting the Tube in favour of giving Billy a lesson in Anglican history while they walked. Billy had listened politely, frowning only every few minutes up at the threatening sky and murmuring really and no, you’re joking when it was appropriate.

He wasn’t about to tell Dominic that he doesn’t like churches, finds them mostly horrible, and hasn’t attended a service since Margaret’s wedding shortly before he left for New Zealand. Of course he can appreciate the fine architecture and the historical significance. And he dragged Dominic to a few in Scotland himself, mostly to fill awkward time on a bad day in which they’d fought about stupid things and couldn’t decide who should apologize first.

This is different. This is solemn and candlelit and actually quite beautiful. It stirs something in Billy that hasn’t surfaced in years. It had pained him earlier to be forbidden to take photographs inside the building, but now Billy can almost understand the reasoning behind the rule. This place, and this feeling, can’t be captured on film. It’s simply too evocative—too strong to sit within a frame and left to lie flat. And Dominic had soothed Billy’s disappointment a little in the Whispering Gallery, speaking secrets that had nothing to do with the building itself, and everything to do with the quiet grace of its confines—the feeling of absolute peace that came over Dominic as he looked around.

Billy had thought they would leave after the tour, but Dominic insisted that they remain for the service. Tempted enough by the idea of sitting down for an hour, Billy had nodded his assent, and now he’s beginning to actually enjoy it. He can feel his discomfort fading, breaths slowing. And the candlelight is more than beautiful now; it just may be the most wonderful thing Billy’s ever seen.

Dominic shifts in his seat next to Billy, and Billy smiles at him, wanting very much to reach for his hand but feeling like that might not be quite appreciated here. His eyes flit to the statue on the left of the choirspace, Henry Moore’s Mother and Child, and Billy stares for a moment before he’s forced to look away. However much it might be appropriate to feel overcome by emotion in a church, Billy’s not looking for that. Doesn’t need it, cannot bear it. But Dominic’s caught him looking anyway, and before Billy understands what is happening, his hand is trapped gently in Dominic’s. Dominic’s thumb traces circles inside Billy’s palm as the service moves to its finish, and Billy relaxes completely into the touch, suddenly not wanting this hour to end.

It’s cold outside, and the rain is harder now, Billy can hear it even over the sound of the music. In here, it is warm and lovely and safe, and Billy wonders how long they could stay before being forcibly removed by some kind docent.

It might be worth finding out.

He’s still contemplating that, staring at the candles, when Dominic pulls him to stand and they’re leaving.

“You alright, Billy?”

“Better than I expected, actually,” Billy smiles. “But I could use another drink.”

“Your wish,” Dominic laughs. “Really, though. Not too horrible, was it?”

“You were with me,” Billy shrugs, surprised by how easily the words suddenly come. “Not horrible at all.”

-----------------

For 1guiltypleasure, Billy/Dom; prompts torrid and espionage.

“You know they’re fucking,” Dominic murmurs into his drink, and across the table Billy snorts.

“Which ‘they’? At this point, innit easier to figure out who isn’t fucking, Dom?”

“Elijah. And Orlando.” Billy makes a face, and Dominic returns it even worse, just to hear Billy laugh. “I’m serious, Billy. You can hear them in the trailer. Orli’s loud, man, like a fucking girl.”

“Oh no,” Billy smiles. “You’re not going t’convince me Orli’s taking it from Elijah. No.”

“I’m serious. And Elijah’s a fucking beast, all grunty and shite.”

Billy giggles wildly, and his grip on his drink loosens, and he only just catches it before it spills. “You sick little fuck, listening at doors for grunts and groans. You’d think you weren’t getting enough yourself.”

“I’m a hell of a lot quieter than they are—“

“Then why haven’t I heard them, Dom? You wake the dead.”

“Because they aren’t doing it right.”

“What?” Billy releases his drink completely, sinking down into his booth with wide eyes and even more laughter. “Not doing it right?”

“We, Billy, you and me,” Dominic says, leaning forward, as serious as he can get without losing his balance and falling over. “We’re having an affair, yeah? A torrid affair, and we’re subtle, like, and they’re not.”

“An affair? We’re having an affair?”

“A torrid affair. Are you deaf?”

“Are you daft? Affairs are when other people are involved, Dom. Nobody else involved in our case, ‘less there’s something you want t’tell me, and I’d really like to know now—“

Dominic throws one hand in the air. “Emphasis on the torrid part, Billy. Affair just comes next in the phrase.”

“An’ hopefully not in actual fact.”

“Hope is a good thing to have.” Dominic’s smirk is wide, and he reaches for Billy’s drink, finishing it off while Billy’s eyes travel across the room to where Orlando stands, folded over Elijah a bit, like a fucking girl.

“I told you,” Dominic singsongs, grabbing Billy’s hand. “I’ve heard. I’ve done everything but seen it in action.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, though?” Billy’s face is red from his giggles now. “You’ve a career in espionage waiting for you.”

“Eh.” Dominic shakes his head. “I’m about ruined for it. I told you, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t say you’d be good at it.”

“Better than you’d be, I bet.”

Billy snorts again. “You’re off your head.”

“Then you do it.” Another hand in the air. “You go and have a listen or a look and report back to me.

Billy nods, stands up quickly, only once reaching for the booth to steady himself. “Fuck all tha.’ I know a better way.”

“Billy, hey, I don’t think—“ Dominic doesn’t rise as quickly as he’d like to, and he’s several steps behind Billy when he hears Billy just flat out say it, flat out ask it more like, and the expressions on Elijah and Orlando’s faces are enough to have made this whole thing worthwhile.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Elijah brays, and Orlando goes white around the eyes and mouth.

Billy points behind him, innocent as a newborn and with a voice as sweet as pie. “Dom said he heard you. Said you’re a beast, Elijah. Are you a beast? Is he good, Orli?”

“I am going to fucking kill you, Dom,” Elijah shouts, and Dominic finally gives, falling to the floor in a heap of laughter. Billy turns to face him, and Dominic only just catches enough breath to speak.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Billy …”

“And now three people want you dead, Dom.” Billy stares down at him, a broad smile still on his face. “How does that feel?”

“Best night ever,” Dominic wheezes, and his dilated, drunken eyes fall shut.

-----------------

For circe_tigana; Billy/Dom; prompts slow and slender, and there's cheating in the air.

Billy will not lie to you. He was pleased when Dominic finally found his own home outside Los Angeles, enough that he flew into that hated city to help him move from Elijah’s guesthouse and into the new, ridiculously small house on a stretch of beach Billy would never have found on his own. He was thrilled by the setting of sand and water and the incredible sunsets—and by the thought of sharing them with Dominic whenever work allowed for it.

For all his enthusiasm during filming, Elijah is not as much of a surfer as Dominic and Billy, and he does not often join them at Dominic’s house anymore. Billy imagines that he’s still not recovered from the one time they ripped him mercilessly about floating off and going nowhere fast, just staring at the sunset when they were meant to be hitting the waves another ten minutes down the beach.

Billy revels now in having Dominic all to himself tonight, his first night back at the house in two months. It’s only after he’s heard Dominic mention Elijah for easily the tenth time at their late dinner—bitching about the things Elijah left here the last time he visited weeks, no, months ago—that Billy’s smile begins to falter, and his mind begins to work.

Billy puts down his glass and stares at the table, unable to turn off his thoughts even as Dominic continues to speak about everything and nothing, about Lost, about how he has to go to New York next weekend, about how he’s thinking of just packing this shit up and taking it to Elijah there. Billy rises from the table in a haze, hearing neither Dominic’s concerned question nor the scrape of Dominic’s chair as he follows him out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom.

Billy stares at Dominic’s bed, willing it to provide answers, and he doesn’t even blink when Dominic wraps himself around him from behind. His arms are enormous, Billy thinks, more muscled and stronger every time Billy sees him, feels him. And yet Dominic’s body is still slender, his hipbones still sharp against the small of Billy’s back. He feels different and yet the same.

“You tired?” Dom asks, gently. “Thought you wanted to go for a swim.”

“I do,” Billy nods. “Give me a minute; I’ll meet you out there.”

Dominic presses his lips to Billy’s neck, leaving the tiniest bite there, and still Billy does not move. Behind him Billy feels Dominic take a deep breath and then nod, releasing him. “Alright. Take your time.”

Billy knows that Dominic is stripping off his clothes in the moonlit front room, tossing them over the sofa like he always does. He knows that Dominic will walk proudly into the water outside his home, comfortable as ever in his skin and nothing else. Skin that Billy wants to see, wants to examine for fingerprints that are not his own. And from the bedroom doorway, he can see a little bit—the curve of Dominic’s hip and thigh, his strong back as he turns to shut off the stereo.

And then he turns again, this time to answer his cellphone, ringing quietly on the shelf by the sliding glass doors. Billy can see everything now, and it’s almost too much. Dominic leans against the wall, eyes closed, and as he speaks his hand travels down his chest to his stomach, fingers stroking through dusty brown hair that begins below his navel. Billy watches until the sight burns itself into his eyes: Dominic breathing hard, shaking his head no, this is not the time, and then his hand, moving again, lower, fingers stroking once down his cock until he inhales sharply and slams the phone shut, letting it fall to the floor.

Billy backs into the darkness of the bedroom, then, pulling at his own clothes until they are in a heap on the bed and he’s striding into the front room, one hand held out to Dominic.

“Ready, then?”

Dominic nods, still a little breathless, and they walk outside. They make slow progress across the sand, in silence, and Billy finds that he’s not angry, not as upset as he wants to be. There doesn’t seem to be much point in fighting it, not when it’s obvious that Dominic’s guilt is an ugly enough thing on its own. But he can’t quite let it go.

When they are up to their waists in the water, Billy releases Dominic’s hand and falls to his back, floating gently and staring up at the moon.

“When is he coming back, Dom?” he asks, strangely amused at the sound of Dominic’s little breath in response.

“Billy, it’s not—"

“When,” Billy sighs. “Will he be back?”

“Friday,” Dominic whispers. “Billy, I’m sorry.”

“Today is Monday,” Billy nods. “Or Sunday. Still Sunday here, Monday morning to me. And so we have four days.”

“Billy, stop,” Dominic says, very quietly.

“Four days, Dom. Ninety–six hours in which I do not want to hear his name again. Ninety–six hours in which you will not answer that fucking telephone, and ninety-six in which the only hand or voice that touches you will be mine. Are we clear?”

“I’m sorry—"

“Are we clear, Dom?”

Dominic nods, swiping one hand across his face in an exhausted, worthless attempt to hide his fear and embarrassment. Billy’s still staring at the moon and the sky, determined to stay calm.

“’s a beautiful night,” he says, and his hand reaches out in the water, searching for Dominic’s. Dominic moves closer and leans back as well, until they’re moving side by side, floating—

And going nowhere fast.

-----------------

For thuribrandybuck; Billy/Dom, prompt: Fellowship premiere (I chose London, dearling) and sudden longing. One line nicked from "Into the Woods".

It’s only the fourth or fifth time Billy’s seen Dominic in a proper suit, and as much as the cliché bothers him, the sight really does take his breath away. Yes, there is the orange tie, which should never have been even considered, much less purchased, much less worn. But the striking colour of the suit—purple in the right light, electric blue in the wrong—suits Dominic so incredibly well.

They’re still relatively early in the red carpet proceedings, and Dominic’s only just begun to sweat a little. It’s only visible at first in his hair, the dark spikes curling down and into themselves. Billy wonders sometimes how much time Dominic invests in such a little thing as his hairstyle, and then wonders why he himself does not.

These thoughts are distracting, especially when there are people calling his name and Dom’s, and Elijah’s, too, and all three of them stand and smile and pose and hold each other in a circle like scruffy Cinderellas at a scruffy ball, speaking all at once and saying nothing.

“Fucking incredible—“

“I told you, I told you it was gonna be like this—“

“Dunno if I should be terrified—

“There’s girls; there’s girls everywhere—“

“When do we have to get inside?”

“I love you. Both of you. Fuck me, I do.”

There’s a rush of laughter, of fizzy adrenaline and nervousness and joy. Elijah’s hands tighten around Dominic’s waist, and Dominic reaches for Billy’s sleeve, and Billy tilts his head to smile at Elijah. It’s perfection, this, Billy thinks, and the best it will ever be.

It’s only later, after the movie’s run and the drinks are flowing, that he notices how Elijah’s hand is still on Dominic’s body. On his back or at his waist. On his shoulder or once—in a an unguarded moment by the bar, in relative quiet—racing through Dominic’s sweaty hair. Dominic never seems to mind the attention, especially when it’s given so freely and with such eager sweetness, but he’s also not reciprocating Elijah’s touches, at least not with the energy Billy’s know he’s capable of showing.

There has to be a reason for that.

Billy walks steadily to the bar, with the aim of another drink, nothing else. Elijah doesn’t let go of Dominic’s waist, even as his smile widens to include Billy. But then there is Dominic’s hand again, tugging at Billy’s sleeve and drawing him closer, back into an embrace Billy figures he has no choice but to enjoy.

“I’ve made a decision,” Dominic laughs, all jagged teeth and lips wet from the ice in his drink.

“All on your own?” Billy smirks. “What is it, blonde or brunette?”

Elijah swats him on the chest. “Dude, no. This is serious.”

“A thousand pardons.”

Dominic takes a drink, sets his shoulders and back straighter and meets Billy’s eyes with something that’s just on the gentler side of a challenge.

“I’m moving. To Los Angeles. I want to be there before pickups begin.”

Later on Billy will allow himself several drinks as a reward for not falling over at the sound of Dominic’s words. Here and now, he just stares, forcing a smile.

“That … could work out for you, I suppose.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You can come too, Billy,” Elijah says, pulling him in closer. “Tons of room. Or we could all get a place.”

Dominic’s eyes go softer. “I thought that, too. We thought … we thought you’d maybe like that. The waves, and the—the sun. The weather.”

“The weather,” Billy parrots, nodding.

“Will you think about it?” Elijah’s head is tilted now, and he stares at Billy with no malice or challenge in his smile. “It’d be awesome.”

“I think—“

“Hobbits!” John bellows from across the room, and Elijah’s grip tightens one last time. Dominic’s hand fists Billy’s sleeve and Billy’s hand falters in the air above it. Another shout, this time from Ian, and they separate, slowly, heeding the call. Billy knows that Dominic is still watching, waiting for a proper answer—to a question, Billy thinks, that has not really been asked and obviously doesn’t merit the effort it would take to speak it, otherwise Dominic would have done so.

If he wanted to know, he would have asked. And Billy would have told him.

“Take your time,” Elijah’s whispering as they walk. “Your decision, totally.”

You know what your decision is, Billy sings to himself. Which is not to decide—

At least not tonight.

---------------

For almaviva; Billy/Liv, prompt: simple questions and simple answers, under an umbrella.

It’s cold, just absolutely unnecessarily cold. Rainy, too, enough that Billy’s feet are getting wet even in their very nice, very new shoes. The feeling of encroaching pissiness and complete frustration with this day is almost overwhelming, but he’d promised Liv a drive into town and a walk to Fidel’s, come rain or shine. Dominic might meet them there, if he remembers to get out of bed in time to do so, but Billy is not holding his breath.

Liv’s not nearly as unsettled by the rain. Her boots click on the pavement in harmony with the slaps of Billy’s soles as they walk close together under her hot pink and black plaid umbrella, and she lalalas to herself when Billy is silent until she can’t keep down a snort of laughter.

“What?” Billy snaps, shoving his hands down low in his pockets. When she turns, her umbrella moves with her, and Billy sighs as his entire right side is immediately drenched.

“I was just thinking about the other night. Your face, Billy; I’m never going to forget that.”

“And for several reasons, neither am I.”

“Oh come on, it was cute.” Her accent doesn’t bother Billy the way Elijah’s does, though they are both sometimes flat and nasal. She is after all like an elongated, even more feminine Elijah in some ways—all dark, beautiful hair and big blue eyes and dirty little laugh. “You proved us wrong.”

“I’m still not sure why it was even a matter for discussion. Especially at a poker table.”

“Everything’s up for discussion at a poker table, Billy.”

“Not my sex life, no. I don’t think so.”

“Or lack thereof.” She giggles. “But see what came out of it? You got some, Billy. And while the heavens may not approve—“ She trails one hand out from underneath the umbrella, catching the rain in his fingers. “It’s been raining ever since that night, did you know that—we know that at least Dominic does.”

“Alright, look.” Billy stops them on the doorstep to Fidel’s, his hand stopping hers from reaching the doorknob. “It’s complicated, Livvie; I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and he obviously does, and I’m just not—“

“Why is it so complicated?” Her smile is gone, replaced by concern and absolutely guileless kindness. “You said you loved him.”

“I said a lot of things the other night—“

“Okay, so make it simple then.” She nods, and Billy narrows his eyes, confused. “You’re sober, and it’s daylight, and it’s two days later and you can’t even breathe without thinking about him, right?”

“…”

“Hello?”

“Right, okay, yes.”

“Simple question, Billy.” She pushes the door open, glides through the entrance and closes the umbrella all in one graceful movement before turning back to him. “Do you still think you love him?”

Billy toes the ground for a moment, thinking. The music in the café seems a bit overwhelming, but not as much as Liv’s stare.

“Simple question,” she repeats, very quietly.

“Yes.”

“Imagine my relief,” Dominic snorts from the booth behind them, and then there’s nothing but the sound of Liv’s laughter, echoing off the tile floor and walls.

-----------------

For piratesorka, Billy/Dom, lotruniversity-verse, prompt: Les Miserables, omg. Apologies for all the accent marks that dropped out. *kicks software*

Sometimes it is Billy who whispers secrets into Dominic’s skin in the middle of the night. Sometimes he turns over in his sleep already speaking, already reaching for Dominic and tangling them in the sheets until neither knows where the other begins and ends.

Billy doesn’t speak German, and feels like he can never hope to, considering his age and how long it’s been since he attempted to learn another language. These things come harder with every passing year, and he has no grounding in the way he would a romance language like Italian or Spanish. Even the small German phrases he’s managed to memorize are grammatically imperfect, and though Dominic tolerates them with smiles and laughter, it frustrates Billy to know that he will really never be able to communicate with Dominic in the language that sounds just right coming from Dominic’s mouth.

But Billy cannot in good conscience allow Dominic to have all the fun. It is a tiny thrill for him to use what he does know—French, and more than a little of it—and murmur in Dominic’s ear just before he pushes inside Dominic’s sleepy, yielding body. That thrill expands when Dominic strains to comprehend his words just as his taut muscles strain to meet Billy’s thrusts.

“Say again,” Dominic whispers, eyes still closed and hands drifting up and down Billy’s back in the dark. “One more time.”

“Le premiere fois,” Billy sighs, slowing his pace to lean down and brush kisses over Dominic’s forehead and eyelids, “qu’en mon joyeaux bouge … je pris un baiser a ta levre en feu …”

“There was more—“ Dominic’s words are cut off by his own sigh, his own deep inhale as his hips rise. Billy laughs, just a little, and moves again, just to hear that sound again.

“Quand tu t’en allas décoiffée et rouge,” Billy continues, softer now, lower, arching his back when Dominic’s blunt fingernails plunge into his skin. “Je restai tout pale et je crus en Dieu.”

“Dieu,” Dominic smiles. “I know that one.” Billy nods and laughs again, stilling himself and resting almost completely inside Dominic, waiting for him to need more.

“Tell me,” Dominic says, his thumb tracing the line of Billy’s lips. Billy takes Dominic’s hand, kisses it, draws the skin up until it is red and warm, until Dominic’s legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

“The first time in my joyful hovel,” Billy translates, believing the words considerably less interesting in his own tired burr, “I stole a kiss from your fiery lips …”

Dominic reaches again for him, and his lips redefine fiery, redefine everything. It takes Billy a full minute to recover and find his pace again, both in speech and movement. “When you went off disheveled and—so close now, chiontach, I can feel you—disheveled and, and pink—“

“Billy, don’t stop, please—“

Billy swallows, takes a hard breath. “I stayed there,” he whispers, “and believed in God.”

Dominic’s face crumples in emotion, and Billy ducks his head again for another kiss before he’s moving again, listening now for Dominic’s cries to go wilder. And when they do, Billy’s eyes fall shut and he pushes one last time, feeling Dominic shake beneath him.

It’s over, and yet never over, not as long as Dominic continues to stroke his long fingers through Billy’s hair while Billy rests still mostly across his body. “What’s that from?” Dominic asks, his voice terribly clear in the night’s silence.

Billy clicks his tongue. “Would you believe me if I said I made it up?”

Dominic laughs. “No.”

“And you’d be right not to. It’s Victor Hugo, chiontach, from Les Miserables. Book Eleven.” Billy yawns widely, rolling to his side next to Dominic. “Christ, you take everything I have.”

“I don’t think you actually know any French, Billy,” Dominic says, but he is still smiling. “Bar what you’ve read in that book.”

“You might be on to something there.”

A moment’s quiet, and then Billy’s eyes open again to face Dominic’s gentle smile.

“I was joking,” Dominic says softly, and Billy smiles, too.

“Sleep, chiontach. Or you’ll have no energy to wake me in German.”

------------

For thepsychicclam, Dominic/Elijah, prompt: teh hot angst.

It doesn’t hit Elijah until he sees the music spread out all over the front room. Piles of CD cases strewn everywhere, towers of sound and fury that served as the soundtrack to two years of the best and worst years of Elijah’s life.

Dominic’s torn through the house like a madman, inventorying everything and packing and unpacking relentlessly, ignoring Elijah’s (admittedly grudging) offers to help. There are empty cans and bottles left on shelves in the midst of the chaos, empty candy bar wrappers and very full ashtrays left everywhere else.

And there are little streaks of blood here and there, to mark each of the several times Dominic has cut his fingers on the packing tape dispenser’s blade.

Elijah knows Dominic has wanted to move for weeks now. And now that he’s found his beloved place on the beach, there is no stopping him from doing so. Not even the force of Elijah’s love—alright, Elijah’s need, even he recognizes that—is strong enough to keep Dominic still, not when there are waves to be worshipped and sand to settle in. Elijah watches Dominic now in the bedroom, pacing back and forth and piling the last bunch of his clothes haphazardly into a box that is much too small.

“That’s gonna take about a year to iron,” Elijah says softly, and Dominic cannot hold back his smile.

“I’ll take that up with the maid.”

“Dude, if you’ve been able to afford a maid and you didn’t, then you are one sick motherfucker. Because we could’ve used one.”

“Well, then,” Dominic sighs. “Now there’ll be half the mess, right?”

“Fuck, Dom.”

“Sorry. You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, okay. You want me to go, let you finish up?”

“Actually, no.” Dominic tilts his head, moves across the room and pulls Dominic back out into the front room. “I think. I’m not sure which of these—“ An expansive sweep of hand over the hundreds of CDs. “Are mine anymore. And I don’t—I’ve taken enough from you, don’t you think?”

“Dom.” Elijah whispers. Dominic closes his eyes and turns until he can bump their foreheads together.

“Don’t you believe that I don’t love you,” he says, and the tremor in his voice makes Elijah want to push him away and cling to him all at the same time. “Don’t think I’m going to disappear.”

“You don’t need this anymore, though,” Elijah mumbles, his mouth working strangely. “Don’t need me.”

Dominic sighs and pulls Elijah in close, threads his fingers into the short, dark hair at Elijah’s neck. “I don’t need this, no. But maybe I still need you, and us, and to know that you’re good, Elijah, because if you’ve lied to me and turns out you can’t deal with this, I don’t know how I can help you without—without making it worse.”

“No, it’s good, everything’s good. It’s just gonna be quiet here, ‘s’all.”

“No, it won’t. You’ll just turn everything up louder.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Dom—“

Dominic’s kiss is long and slow and deep, his hands strong enough to grasp Elijah’s and bring them both down to their knees. Boxes surround them, some opened, some closed, and Elijah looks around the room one more time before he closes his eyes and just lets Dominic do this, lets his hand travel inside Elijah’s jeans to cup him and stroke him with none of the usual tease and all of the usual care and expertise. Elijah feels himself being tipped backward, and he falls willingly. Dominic disappears from view and reappears only in the feeling of his mouth and cool fingers.

“I’m still gonna be here,” Dominic whispers against Elijah’s hip, and Elijah twists his fingers in Dom’s hair, hard.

“Don’t want to hear it, stop, stop, Dom.”

“You can call me, always, always, Elijah, I promise you, I’ll do whatever I can to make this better.”

“Jesus, Dom, stop.”

And Dominic’s quiet again, back to work he’s never going to finish, if Elijah can help it.

-----------------

For bunniewabbit; elijah/viggo, rain, glass

Elijah never talks about it aloud. He leaves little notes where they can be found, sometimes by Dominic but more often by Viggo. Notes that describe where his thoughts run to in the middle of the night when he’s alone, notes on coloured paper, illustrated in their margins by stick figures in boxes and birdcages. Dominic makes beautiful paper cranes from the notes and presents them, cupped gently in his hands, to Elijah at the end of each week, and pretends not to notice when Elijah’s eyes turn glassy every single time.

Viggo keeps the notes, pinning them to a corkboard in his house in Wellington and putting them in context over time. He comes to the set early one day in the spring, a day that promises rain later but shimmers with promise right now. Peter and Dominic both grants his requests without argument, and by lunchtime, only Elijah is surprised when he’s scooped up and dragged, still in costume and clutching an apple, from the catering tent and into Viggo’s Jeep. Viggo’s surprised when Elijah’s protests stop after only ten minutes’ driving, but less so when he realizes that Elijah’s simply fallen asleep—the gentlest and yet most powerful protest of all.

At their destination, Viggo wakes Elijah with a polite shake and then walks him up a steep hillside to an abandoned house. Elijah frowns, waiting for a punchline he’s too tired to guess at, but they keep walking, through the house and into an enormous room at the back, overlooking other edge of the short cliff they’ve just scaled. Three walls of glass surround them, and Elijah whirls around the room, his breaths coming too fast. Viggo moves faster, though, making circles in the opposite direction and keeping his eyes on Elijah’s. When Elijah finally stops after a moment, Viggo smiles and turns him one last time, broad hands warm on Elijah’s shoulders, and points him toward one window.

They walk together, until Elijah can see what seems like the whole of Wellington beneath him. He splays his hands on the glass, and Viggo waits a beat before he moves Elijah’s fingers to the window latch, guiding him to open it. The air rushes down and in, and Elijah bends forward and out to meet it, closing his eyes and smiling for the first time in days. Viggo pulls a bag from one of Aragorn’s many pockets and guides Elijah’s free hand now, inside, into the nest of paper cranes Dominic recovered from Elijah’s trailer only two hours before this little excursion.

“Every window opens,” Viggo says calmly as Elijah stares, still smiling, at a half-crumpled pale blue crane. “Sometimes you’ve gotta break it, sure. But sometimes it’s as simple as finding the lock.”

Elijah nods, putting the crane back and opening the bag wider. Viggo steps behind him, hands on Elijah’s shoulders again, and watches Elijah release the cranes in one motion. The wind holds several up high and lets the rest fall, looking like the world’s smallest kites flying over Wellington.

They stay until the rain comes, allowing it to hit their faces before they back away from the window. Elijah seems hesitant to close the latch at first, then takes a breath and just does it, knowing he can always come back and open it again.

On the way back to the studio, Elijah still does not speak. But he does stay awake, and Viggo thinks that’s a start. Elijah’s notes will still come, to both Viggo and Dominic, but less often. And they’ll mean something different now. They’ll mean it’s getting better.

-------

For magickalmolly; billy/dominic, tight, writhe

It’s the third time that Elijah’s flicked ash in Dominic’s direction, and the second time that ash has landed on Dominic’s precious orange tie. He rounds on Elijah, smacking at his shoulder and launching into half a minute’s worth of thick, slangy vitriol before Elijah interrupts him with a smile and a very calm “Take a breath, man.”

Billy steps in before things get worse, laughing and pulling Dominic gently away by the singed orange tie and into the hallway.

“That little fuck,” Dominic’s still howling. “Told him twice to stop it, and it’s like he didn’t even hear me, he never fucking listens, and he’s drinking besides, so everything just fucking amusing to him—“

“True.” Billy nods, shifting his grip from the tie to Dominic’s sleeve as they enter a small room at the end of the hall. “He’s young, Dom. The young are very easily amused.”

“The old, too, apparently,” Dominic spits, yanking himself from Billy’s grasp and ignoring the high rise of Billy’s eyebrows in favour of holding out his tie and sighing at the tiny scorch marks. “’s ruined. Bastard.”

“Well, then you won’t be needing it, will you?” Billy asks, very softly. He turns and locks the door before moving back to Dominic. “Give us the tie, Dom.”

Dominic’s face scrunches up into itself. “What? Why?”

“You,” Billy sighs, reaching for the tie’s knot. “Are not yourself at the moment, which leads me to believe you’ve had as much to drink as Elijah. Because if you were stone sober, Dom, you’d have just walked away from Elijah’s reach, or nicked his cigarettes and run. It’s not like you to just stand there and get burnt.” Dominic’s mouth falls open, and Billy smiles, leaning in to kiss Dominic’s full bottom lip. “So what was so fascinating about Elijah that kept you there, hmm?”

Dominic actually thinks about it, to Billy’s surprise and (suppressed) amusement. “He was—right, yeah, he was talking about surfing.”

“And?”

“And saying how he picked it up right away, and—“

“Well now, that’s a lie, isn’t it?” Billy slides the tie from around Dominic’s neck and weighs it in his hands carefully.

“Right.” Dominic nods wildly. “But I’m not going to embarrass him, like, so I didn’t say anything, and then it was like the fucking floodgates opened, and he had to start telling all these stories about that week in Thailand—“

“Ah,” Billy nods again. “Including the one about the—“

“Yes.” Dominic sneers. “In absolutely unnecessary detail. You’ll recall that I did not wet myself. I only thought I was going to.”

“Mmm.” Billy leans forward and kisses Dominic again, lightly. “So while you’re just standing there trying not to embarrass Elijah, he’s gone and humiliated you.”

Dominic reddens a bit. “Yes.”

“How impolite of him.”

“Yes.”

“Well, then,” Billy murmurs, tossing the tie over his shoulder and moving to unbutton Dominic shocking blue jacket. “Anything I can do to help? To take your mind off it?”

“There, ah,” Dominic breathes, pretends to think again. “There might be, yeah.”

“Then by all means I should.” Billy pulls the jacket off Dominic’s shoulders and back and throws it to the floor behind him. “Turn around, hmm?”

Dominic does so immediately, a smile creasing his face. He moves his hands to the wall, but Billy takes one and then the other, bring them back behind Dominic as Dominic breathes low and soft in surprise.

“This thing’s got to still be good for something,” Billy says as he knots the tie around Dominic’s wrists. The giggle in his voice is hard to keep down. “Been waiting a long time t’do this.”

Dominic laughs himself now, strangely comfortable again. “T’fuck me? Pull the other one, Billy.”

“So I might,” Billy snaps, and the knot goes much tighter. “And I’m not going t’fuck you, Dom. Least not now.” He turns Dominic around again, pushing him against the wall hard before his hands and voices both go soft. “I am going to take care of you, though … try and take the sting out of the blow and all that. And then,” Billy murmurs, kissing Dominic one more time before he begins to slide to his knees. “I’m going to make sure Elijah gets his stories straight.”

Just a moment later, Dominic swallows hard when the heat of Billy’s mouth surrounds his cock. He’s writhing, his hands scratching at the wall in lieu of tangling Billy’s hair, and Dominic can hear his beloved tie straining to hold him. The fabric feels like it’s going to tear, sounds like it, too, and even Billy lifts his eyes just enough to make Dominic stop moving and just pant, waiting, waiting for Billy’s ferocious little teeth and slick little tongue to finish their work. Which they do, efficiently and well, until Dominic’s biting back a scream and falling to his knees, too, where Billy catches him and pulls the knot around Dominic’s wrists free.

“He wants that,” Dominic laughs breathlessly. “Elijah. He wants you. He’d fucking die if you knew it.”

“Mmm,” Billy says again. “I’m going to get us something to drink, Dom. Get yourself cleaned up a bit; I’ll be right back.”

Dominic’s still laughing when Billy closes the door and walk back down the hall to the party. Elijah’s leaning against the bar, a new group of friends around him listening to a new crop of stories. Billy folds Dominic’s torn, scorched orange tie as neatly as he can as he approaches, and Elijah smiles broadly as Billy comes to his side.

“Billy! I was just talking about you—“

“Telling the truth, I hope,” Billy smiles gently. “Speaking of which.”

Elijah’s eyes widen in curiosity, and Billy doesn’t even try for discretion as he pulls Elijah away from his crowd to the other end of the bar. Once they’re hidden from the rest of the party, Billy moves Dominic’s tie from one hand to the other in front of Elijah, then pockets it. Elijah licks his lips, not sure what to say, and Billy’s smile goes very thin.

“We all love each other, right?”

“Like brothers,” Elijah nods, and his voice is very soft. “Never above—“

“Shut it.” Billy cuts him off. “I just learned a few things, Elijah, one of which was that you don’t hesitate at a chance to make Dominic look like an idiot. The other I think I’ll keep to myself for a bit. My point, Elijah, is that you should think about what you’re saying before you say it.”

“I don’t—“

“No, you certainly don’t.” Billy smiles again, this time for the benefit of the bartender bringing him his and Dominic’s drinks. “See you later, Elijah. Assuming you can tear yourself away.”

Billy strides back to the little room where he left Dominic, and he’s pleased to find Dominic with his knees tucked up his chest, eyes closed and smiling peacefully.

“Everything alright?” he asks as he takes his drink from Billy.

“Wonderful,” Billy smiles back. “Absolutely wonderful.”

-------

For queenofalostart; viggo/dominic, let go

Viggo decides to bring Dominic up to what he’s taken to calling the Half–Glass House after a long day’s shooting that’s yielded almost nothing usable for Peter. The entire cast is in a funk, and Viggo’s no exception, but Dominic’s the worst, muttering darkly and tearing at his costume in exhausted frustration the moment Peter finally lets them go. Viggo gets out of his Aragorn rags quickly and showers, racing to get to the hobbits’ trailer before they’re released to the Wellington night, and smirks with glee when he sees that Dominic’s only just finished getting his Feet tended to. The other three hobbits are long gone, obviously having been unwilling to spend an extra minute with Dominic when he’s being an ass, and so Viggo throws himself into Billy’s chair, watching as Dominic pulls on his street clothes and sticks his hair up in high, messy peaks.

“Any plans tonight?” he asks simply, and Dominic shakes his head.

“Safest thing for me is bed,” he sighs. “And a week without people. Or Feet. Or fucking catering food. Or cellphones. Or—“

“Okay,” Viggo nods. “Let me drive you home?”

Dominic thinks about it then shrugs, grabbing his bag. It’s a quick walk to Viggo’s Jeep, and as soon as they’re settled inside, Viggo tries to get Dominic to talk again, about anything, just to keep his mind from wandering too far. Dominic hardly needs the encouragement to vent, however, and Viggo listens intently.

“It’s fucking Sean, man. Everything has to be so perfect, on the first go, every time. He doesn’t—he’s not comfortable with improvisation, like, and that’s the best part of acting sometimes, and he just doesn’t get it. Not like Billy, Billy knows it and he’s good with it, he’ll just go with whatever I give him, and it’s fantastic. And Elijah, Christ. I don’t get enough lines with him. He’s so damn good. They’re all good. I mean, I know I’m not bad, but they’re really good, Vig, and days like today I just want to walk away, don’t you? I mean—“

“Let it go, Dom.”

Dominic’s shoulders drop, and it takes a second before he can speak again. “Sorry.”

“What I mean is that you need to let it go. Today was over an hour ago. They’ve all forgotten it. Hell, they’re probably all asleep, especially Billy. It’s your turn now. Let it go.”

Dominic nods and looks out the window of the Jeep, watching the night fall. After a few minutes, Viggo turns the music up loud as they drive, allowing Dominic to sing along in his cracked, raw voice until they make a turn that’s conspicuously not in the direction of Dominic’s flat.

“Oi, I thought we were going to my place.”

“I had an idea,” Viggo says calmly, and lets him voice slip into Merry’s fruity, lush accent. “A deeetour. A shorrrrrtcut.”

“Ah, fuck you,” Dominic snorts. “Seriously.”

“Well, no,” Viggo smiles. “After today, I don’t think you’ve got it into you, frankly, and therefore I’d rather not have it in me. Look, you trust me, alright? When have I steered you wrong?”

“Let’s start with the fish, Viggo—“

Viggo raises a finger in the air. “Not my fault. I didn’t catch that one.”

“I was up all fucking night—“

“Like you aren’t anyway,” Viggo sighs. “’kay, we’re here.”

“And where is here?” Dominic peers out the window and then inhales. “You brought me to an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere at night. Jesus, Viggo, just make it quick, alright; whatever I did, just, like, can you make it clean—“

“As much as this idea appeals right now, I’m not gonna kill you, Monaghan. Come on.”

Dominic follows grudgingly, bitching the entire way up the hill. It’s only when Viggo opens the door and leads Dominic through the darkness to the back room of windows that Dominic shuts up and spins around, just like Elijah had, gasping at the view of Welllington by night. Viggo lets him rush from one end of the room to another before Viggo himself ambles to the center, and the room is lit up by three camping lanterns set to medium-high.

There’s an easel in the center of the camping lanterns, and a table with brushes and paint. Viggo beckons Dominic over and puts a brush in his hand, then backs away to the window that opens. His hands are on the latch when Dominic speaks.

“What—what do I do? What am I supposed to paint?”

“Anything you want,” Viggo shrugs. “If you want to keep it, you take it with you. And if you don’t it stays here, or we torch it and let it go.”

“Is this safe?” Dominic asks, frowning as he looks at the lanterns on the floor. Viggo laughs and opens the window.

“Not particularly, not with the paint and paper and the fact that this place is crumbling. What do you care about safety, Dom? Doesn’t seem like that’s your department?”

“It is when I’m personally involved,” Dominic huffs. “I’ve had a shit day, Viggo, but it doesn’t need to end in vibrant death, if you know what I mean.”

“Just paint, Dom; I promise I’ll manage your estate when you’re gone, okay?”

“Elijah gets nothing, do you hear me, nothing? Except maybe my CDs.”

“Noted.”

“Seriously.”

“Cross my heart. Paint, Dom.”

Dominic bitches some more for a few minutes, growling about therapy and regression and this has to be Billy’s idea. Viggo ignores him, staring out at the Wellington skyline, and eventually it gets very quiet in the room. After what feels like hours—and indeed must be, because the lanterns are dimming now—Viggo finally turns around and finds that Dominic has finished his painting and slipped to the tarp beneath the easel to sleep, his body curled around itself and his breathing slow.

Viggo stares at the painting for a moment, reading underneath the wild streaks of colours and the odd little circles of bright blue, glassy green and foresty, mossy brown—two of each colour, set in a precise column—the words let go.

For a few minutes, Dominic apparently had.

------

For dutch_eowyn; dominic/elijah, hurried departure

There’s no time. There is never any time.

Elijah used to just accept it as the way things were, but it’s so much worse now that Dominic’s working constantly. Even on hiatus in Hawaii, where he should be at his most relaxed, Dominic’s nervous that he’ll be called back to the location at anytime for some ten–second reshoot that lasts ten hours or more. He loves the job, and Elijah’s rarely seen him happier, but at the same time Elijah would be lying if he said he didn’t miss having Dominic to himself—to having Dominic’s heart, mind and body focused on all one thing at once, if only for a few hours. That one thing being Elijah himself, preferably.

Last night had been good, though. Long and slow and easy and everything it’s supposed to be. He’d fucked Dominic in bed after hours of teasing everywhere else, and when Dominic had collapsed to the pillows with bright eyes and an exhausted, shaken smile, Elijah had felt like falling himself, into a deep sleep where they never had to wake up, and he never had to get back on the plane to Los Angeles.

He’s going to remember last night. But he’s also going to remember right now, on his stomach on a wide towel on the beach, with Dominic straddling his waist and kneading the muscles of his back and shoulders. Elijah looks lazily at his watch, tossed to his side in the sand, and groans.

“What?” Dominic asks softly, his fingers trailing down Elijah’s spine.”

“An hour,” Elijah whispers back. “I have an hour. Before the cab.”

“I told you I can drive you.”

“It’s better if you don’t. Really. Because I’ll be a dick at the airport, you know it.”

This is, after all, the truth. Elijah hates leaving Hawaii now, and has picked fights with Dominic on the way to the airport and in the terminal because of it, just to feel like he wasn’t leaving everything behind. If they fought, they would have to make up, and that meant he’d hear Dominic’s voice on his answering machine as soon as he walked back in the door of his house.

“Fair enough,” Dominic sighs. “So, an hour, then.”

“Yeah.”

“How, ah—“

“Here,” Elijah says suddenly. “Just, right here.”

Dominic takes a breath, clearly meaning to say something like let’s not forget this is still public land, but the fact is that they’ve seen no one for hours, and Elijah’s shoulders are shaking a little, making Dominic feel like he’s going to break apart underneath him.

“Okay,” Dominic murmurs. “Alright. Just relax.”

And Elijah does, because Dominic does, too. The massage doesn’t stop instantly; instead it becomes deeper, heavier, and Dominic stretches out above Elijah, letting him feel the weight he so loves on him before Dominic moves further back. His hands move into the curve behind Elijah’s knees, and that’s all Elijah needs to feel before he’s rising up a little and tucking those knees in, arching his back and turning to make sure Dominic’s still there. Which he is, and which he will be, he’s promised, for a long, long time.

Elijah hardly needs the preparation, and he thinks about telling Dominic so, considering the scant time they have left, but Dominic loves this, loves tending to Elijah before he fucks him, always so carefully. Elijah grinds down on Dominic’s lotion–slick fingers and exhales low and deep, telling Dominic enough, come on, please.

And then he’s there, and it’s so good that Elijah shuts his eyes tight and enjoys every tremor that runs through his body, cataloguing each one for memory for the next four weeks until he sees Dominic again. So good, so good, Dominic’s whispering, and then he’s pushing, thrusting slowly as if he can tear hours from minutes. But there’s no time. There is never any time.

Elijah braces himself in the sand and pushes back, surprising Dominic, who barely swallows his growl in time. But he gets the message, and then suddenly Elijah’s gasping for breath at Dominic’s pace, at the force from a body that seems stronger, harder every time Elijah sees and feels it. Elijah’s moaning, knowing that if he gets much louder Dominic will reach to cover his mouth and not wanting that, not this time.

When he comes, Elijah feels his arms and legs buckling, feels Dominic’s hand faltering on his cock, and then Dominic’s coming too, pushing them both so hard that Elijah’s left hand skids off the towel and into the sand. The brittle scrape of it makes him gasp again, and as soon as Dominic finds breath he’s using it to apologize. Elijah laughs and falls, tired and boneless, and loves feeling so weighted down with Dominic, by Dominic, that he doesn’t ever want him to leave where he rests right now, warm and heavy on Elijah’s back.

“Twenty minutes,” Dominic whispers. “You’re still not packed—“

“No,” Elijah says softly. “I’m not.”

“You’ll have to hurry.”

“No. No, I won’t.”

Dominic looks up, twisting to see Elijah’s face. “Something you want to tell me?”

“There’s another flight.”

Dominic nods. “True, but—not tonight, Elijah, and I thought—“

“There will always be another flight.” Elijah smiles. “I’m in no hurry.”

---------

For thuribrandybuck; billy/dominic character study

Dominic supposes he expected more from Billy.

The man’s read the books, after all, and he knows his character inside out. So why then does Billy try to distract Dominic from discussion about Merry and Pippin late at night in the pub or late in the afternoon at the beach? It drives Dominic mad sometimes, because he feels like out of the four hobbits, he knows the books best, and there’s certainly enough to talk about.

“Go and talk to Elijah,” Billy says, closing his eyes and relaxing in the sand. “He’s not read the books at all.”

“Which is fucking blasphemous,” Dominic sighs. “How d’you get cast as Frodo when you haven’t even read the books?”

“How can y’have a pudding if you don’t eat your meat?” Billy parrots Dominic’s Manc drawl. “Apparently reading the books isn’t mandatory, or you’d have got Frodo, wouldn’t you?”

It’s a measure of their short but already powerful friendship that Dominic doesn’t throttle Billy right then and there. Instead he flops to the sand next to Billy and reaches for his hand, playing with Billy’s long fingers. “ Why don’t you want to talk about the story, Billy? Or about Merry and Pippin?”

“Because it consumes everything else during the day and week, Dom,” Billy mutters. “Nights and weekends are mine, right. Not Peregrin Took’s.”

“I love how you say that.”

Billy looks over the top of his sunglasses. “Say what?”

“Peregrin Took.” Dominic laughs. “Your name.”

And now Billy sighs. “Dom, look. I give as much as I can when we’re working, alright? But when we’re done, I can’t … I need to not be someone else for a while. I don’t ever see you as Merry, Dom, not once you’re out of costume and Feet. Yes, you’re a mouthy git in and out of character, and I’ll happily talk Tolkien all day with you if you’d like. But for right now can we just be Billy and Dom? Is that so difficult for you?”

“I’m not obsessed with it, Billy. I’m just curious about what you think of—“

“I know you’re not. But really, I can’t do it, Dom. And I’m just waiting for the day when we’re fucking in your trailer and you call me Pippin and I’m forced to murder you.”

Dominic’s mouth hangs open. “Did you just say something about fucking in my trailer?”

“I did, yes.”

“This is …” Dominic blinks. “An option?”

Billy’s gaze turns back to the sun above him. “A possibility.”

“A possibility.”

“But not a very great one, not if you don’t shut it about Merry and Pippin when I’m trying to have a lie down.”

“You’ll burn out here if you fall asleep, you know.”

“You are not building a case for getting fucked, Dom.”

“What you’re saying, then, is that if just go and … talk to Sean or something about the books, there’s an actual chance there will be … fucking. Actual fucking.”

“Unlike you, I’m sure, I don’t involve myself much in virtual or metaphorical fucking, so yes, actual fucking, Dom.”

Dominic peers at Billy, a frown crossing his face. “I should make you sign off on that or something.”

Billy smirks. “I’d be happy to.”

Dominic laughs and produces his copy of The Two Towers from his back pocket, as well as a thick green highlighter pen. He drops both on Billy’s bare chest, and Billy bursts out laughing, too.

“There,” he says after signing the book with a flourish. “Now go … play or something, Dom. Give me an hour’s nap and if you’re lucky, we can go get some dinner and talk more.”

“About fucking.”

“Even perhaps about Merry and Pippin. Go.”

Dominic rises to his feet and trudges across the sand, remembering halfway to Astin to look at Billy’s signature, deep in the middle of a chapter. Scrawled across the page in Billy’s slanted handwriting are the words For my insatiable old fuck of a cousin, with love, Peregrin Took.

An hour later, Dominic wakes Billy by thumping the book across his head.

-------

For thuribrandybuck; Billy/Dominic; silent, character, study

It’s half past three when Billy wakes, an hour before he needs to in order to get to Feet on time. He doesn’t usually bother groaning at the alarm clock anymore, but this is different, and ridiculous besides. He’s alone in the bed, for one thing, and while Dominic often doesn’t fall asleep until the small hours, he was out like a light when Billy crawled in beside him at eleven–thirty last night. That he’s no longer beside Billy is cause for some concern.

Billy pads down the hall to find Dominic, surprised that’s stretched out on his stomach on the couch, a book leaning open against the arm of the furniture and his journal beside him. Dominic twirls a pen in between his fingers and then his lips as he reads in the silence, and Billy just stands there for a moment, watching.

The back of Dominic’s shorn head and neck curves nicely into his shoulders and spine, leading Billy’s eyes easily to the waistband of his boxers. Billy has to smile at the wrinkled, blue fabric; the boxers are certainly Billy’s own, though he doesn’t remember purchasing them—Dominic’s hardly ever clothed at all this late at night, or rather, this early in the morning.

If Dominic feels Billy’s stare, it doesn’t seem to concern him. Dominic’s one concession to this hour is a wide yawn, but it’s quickly followed by several lines’ worth of scribbling and a pleased sort of humming—a sound that makes Billy move closer. Dominic flips page after page in the book, stopping to write a few more words in his journal, and then his face splits into an enormous grin, and Billy can take no more.

“Learnt anything?” he asks softly, and Dominic swivels around, those strong muscles in his back and legs going taut.

“More than you’d think. He’s the smartest. I’d forgotten that.”

“Merry?” Billy raises his eyebrows and stands beside Dominic, peering over his shoulder at the open book—The Return of the King. “Ah, the appendices. Better you than me, Dom. How d’you figure smartest?”

“He wrote books,” Dominic laughs. “Herb lore, histories of the Shire …”

“All with a bum arm,” Billy smiles. “Well done, you.”

“Pippin does alright,” Dominic shrugs. “D’you know we live together for years before you bugger off and make babies?”

“Baby. Just one. Isn’t it?”

“My point is that Merry and Pippin stay together afterward, at least for a while.”

“And they go off and die together,” Billy sighs, sinking down and straddling Dominic’s back to tap a gentle rhythm on Dominic’s skin with his fingertips. “In Gondor, of all places. Why d’you think they did that?”

“So they could shag like wild animals in relative peace.” Dominic relaxes into the couch, pushing the books and journal to the floor. “That’s nice.”

“Shagging? Oh, I think so, yeah.”

“I meant what you’re doing. It’s nice. What time is it?”

“Almost four,” Billy says, a little mournfully. “I can’t believe you’re up, actually.”

“Couldn’t sleep anymore. But I’m falling, mate, I feel it.”

“Too bad,” Billy giggles. “We have Feet.”

“No we don’t. Didn’t you see the Call Sheet? We’ve got nothing till after lunch today. And no Feet.”

Billy stops the motion of his hands, narrowing his eyes down at the back of Dominic’s head. “That’s not funny, Dom.”

“As if I’d fucking joke about sleep at this point, Billy. The Sheet’s over there.” He points vaguely at the kitchen table. “See for yourself. After you finish my back.”

“You’re serious? We can go back to sleep?”

“Not if you keep talking, we can’t.”

Billy twists his features up in a childish confused pout, wondering, hoping. “D’you think we could just … go on back to bed, then? Instead of here?”

“I stand corrected. Pippin definitely the smartest.”

Billy stands them up carefully, pulling Dominic back down the hall, their fingers twined loosely. Once Dominic’s settled underneath the sheets and the alarm’s reset, Billy turns to face him.

“Seriously, Dom. Why were you up?”

“Bad dream,” Dominic sighs. Billy waits, and Dominic takes a heaving breath before he continues. “I’d forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”

“Everything that happens. To Merry and Pippin. I’ve read the book probably twenty times, and I’d forgotten.”

“So you had to see right then and there?”

“Well, I couldn’t wake you up and ask, now could I? ‘s not like you’ve read the books, and the script ends before the books do.”

Billy frowns and smacks Dominic lightly on his forehead. “Y’could have come back, though.”

“And I was going to. Another few minutes at best.” Dominic opens his eyes and stares at Billy’s slightly reddened face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Billy says after a moment, and then falls to his back. “You’re sure we don’t have Feet?”

Dominic nods. “Promise. Come here.” Billy doesn’t move, so Dominic moves to him instead, his chin propped on Billy’s chest. “D’you want to know more?”

“What do you mean?”

“About Pippin. I could tell you—I know what happens after—“

“No.” Billy’s face reddens again. “Dom, nothing happens after, not for me, not now, alright?”

“I just thought—“

“Look at me, Dom.” Dominic’s eyes widen a little, but he closes his mouth. “Have I got a wig on? Have I got hairy feet—and don’t you fucking start—hairier than usual? Have I got pointed ears?”

“You sort of do, Billy—“

“Dom.”

“No,” Dominic whispers. “No, you don’t.”

“Two hours after we wake up,” Billy says softly, “I’ll have all those things and whatever else they choose to give me. Right now this is it, Dom. We’ve talked about this.”

Dominic nods, but his expression is fierce. “So if I’d left to read the paper it’d be fine is what you’re saying.”

“Dom—“

“If I were making notes on the way you rode that wave two days ago, you’d be alright with that. If I’d gotten up to have a piss and been distracted by my own brilliance in the mirror, that’d be fucking ace. But making an effort to think about my own character outside of my costume is off-limits. Thanks for clearing that up, mate. God forbid I try and remember how it ends.” Dominic’s already crawling from the bed, shaking off Billy’s hand. “Because it does end, Billy, like everything else. It’s going to end, and maybe I’d like to know how before it does. Maybe I’d like to anticipate one fucking thing.”

“They stay together,” Billy whispers, and Dominic sags a bit, his shoulders rounding out, and his breath slowing.

“They do.”

“And Merry’s the smartest.”

Dominic looks up to find Billy near him again, his eyes bright. “He is.”

“So you know now. And it’s alright.” Dominic nods, and Billy does, too. “Can we sleep now? Please?”

“Yeah,” Dominic says, less in surrender than in truce. “We can.”

It takes longer to resettle this time, and it’s Billy who turns in to Dominic’s side.

“Tell me tomorrow,” Billy says. “About Pippin.”

“You already know the most important part,” Dominic smiles, too exhausted to fight anymore, and Billy relaxes.

“I suppose I do."

----------

For frisbyg; Billy/Dominic, New Zealand, alcohol

”I warned you,” Dominic snorts down the darkened hallway of the little house they’re sharing while they film location work together. “Told you it was going to make you see stars—“

“These are not stars,” Billy whispers from his crouch at the end of the hall, tucking his head between his knees. “These are … demons, like. Ugly little fuckers. Uglier than you.”

“Impossible!” Dominic shouts, waving the bottle. The noise makes Billy cringe, and Dominic falls to his knees, thump–thumping his way to Billy. “You always do that.”

“Do what? And get the fuck away from me.”

“Call me ugly. I don’t call you old—“

“Proof you’ve got a brain between those ears—“

“Or bald, or, or short like—“

“I’m the same fucking height as you,” Billy sighs, and Dominic snorts again.

“In three inch heels and a wig you might be. See, now you’re just delusional.”

Billy tips over to his side, listening for Dominic’s inevitable giggle. “Shut it. If I die tonight, Peter will kill you, too.”

Dominic clicks his tongue. “He has enough footage of you. I’ll fucking dub you, like. ADR. I can do you better than you can.”

“A brilliant plan,” Billy nods, one side of his nose rubbing against the carpet. “Then you just handle the rest of filming for me, yeah?”

“Not in those clothes, I won’t. You don’t even have a fucking waistcoat, Pip. Can’t be trusted with nice clothes, you.”

Billy’s eyes are closed. “I’ll remember that the next time you’re trying to get me out of them. Dom, what the fuck was in that bottle?”

“Dunno.” Dominic stares at the label. “It’s in … Japanese? Thai? Dunno.”

“Fantastic. We’ve been drinking floor cleaner.”

“That would explain the scent,” Dominic nods pleasantly. “Billy. Oi. Bill.”

“Stop shouting,” Billy sighs, curling up tight, elbows to his chest. “Christ. Who gave it to you?”

“What?”

“Your name, you fucking git. Your first car.” Dominic frowns, and Billy opens his eyes only to roll them. “The bottle.”

“Oh. Dun—oh no, wait. Elijah.” Dominic holds the bottle up high. “And it’s empty now. This is a loss.”

“We’ll mourn it tomorrow, along with him. A funeral pyre for it and him both.”

Dominic shakes his head. “I can’t dub him. And there’s not nearly enough footage of Elijah half–naked.”

It’s Billy turn to snort. “At least not in costume and makeup.”

“I concede you that point.” Dominic leans the bottle against the opened bedroom door and then falls to his side next to Billy. “Demons?”

“Ugly ones.”

“I’m not there yet, I don’t think. I’m still seeing stars.”

“In my eyes, right?” Billy smirks. “Go’way.” Dominic moves closer, pushing Billy’s knees down from his stomach to make more room for himself. “Oi, no. Fuck off, Dom.”

“Fuck off, Billy,” Dominic parrots. “Fuck right off into the sunset. Into my arms.”

“My hero,” Billy murmurs around a yawn. “You’re drunk.”

“And you.”

“And me.”

“So we’ve got demons and funeral pyres and Elijah. That’s hell, innit?”

“Crucial component missing.”

Dominic lifts his head. “Which is?”

“’nother bottle,” Billy giggles. “Sleep now.”

“And to think I was going to shag you,” Dominic sighs. “Fucking lightweight.”

“Who’s to say you can’t?” Billy rolls to his back. “Have at. Me, I mean. Have at me.”

“With that kind of line it’s no wonder you pull everything that moves, Boyd.”

“Offer is for a limited time only, Monaghan.”

“