(no subject)
inusitado
or seven ways to set green eyes alight
PG (billy/dom)
remix of ella_minnow's "almost".
notes: with many, many thanks to msilverstar and andrealyn for the amazing, thorough beta work. <3
xxx
1.
The first time Dom talks to Margaret it's through the phone, and she's so sweet and kind and warm that he hasn't the heart to tell her that Billy is already asleep. Sodding time zones, anyway.
Dom asks her to wait, and crouches by the sofa, gently stirring Billy's shoulder. "Billy. Bills."
Billy's lashes flutter open, grazing gently against his sleep-flushed cheeks. His mouth is pink and lax, and heat radiates from him. It makes Dom sleepy. It makes Dom-
Billy's eyes finally focus on him, and Dom smiles. "Hey, Billy, mate. Phone's for you."
2.
Midmorning sunlight filters through the kitchen windows, cutting across counter surfaces and pooling on Dom's bare feet. His toes curl in time with the pounding in his skull.
Half the pitcher of orange juice he is trying to squeeze ends up all over his hands and fingers and forearms, and he knows, with the ephemeral clarity of the hung-over, that he is very probably still drunk. And now sticky.
Dom is suddenly reminded that Billy had actually slept at his place when Billy silently pads in, disheveled, sleep clinging to his eyes. Wordlessly, he shoulders Dom out of the way and proceeds to prepare this ridiculously sensible breakfast lacking anything even remotely resembling tea or pop-tarts. Rather - that disgusting muesli stuff he keeps for Orlando and Sean, toast, eggs, an actually successful pitcher of orange juice. Hangover food. Billy is foregoing his beloved porridge for hangover food. Because of Dom.
Billy’s lips form a flat, quiet line, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners, absurdly green. Dom exhales through his nose, smiles slowly after a beat. “Hand over the salt, would you?”
3.
Pippin's ruddy cheeks and sweet mouth are distorted with Billy's helpless laughter all the way back to the costume trailer. He and the other Hobbits make sure everyone in Feet and Make Up knows about Dom's predicament, but Billy's hands never leave him - squeezing his arm through the pain, poking his sides, ruffling his wig, resting on his shoulder.
The laughter is all around him, intensely teasing and vaguely sympathetic, and if you can't beat 'em, well.
"It was a big splinter. Shut up."
4.
Billy should have known it would happen. You just don't prance around all day on a beach under the New Zealand skies without a drop of sunscreen on and not pay for it.
And it's their weekend off, too, and Dom would feel sorrier, really, but Billy doesn't let him. Billy laughs and wrinkles his sunburnt nose and makes a show of reading the paper. He pretends his shoulders aren't stinging despite the aggressive flush spread over them; manages even to flinch only very slightly when Dom brushes against them accidentally (and still very lightly) on his way out.
Dom is hovering, he knows. Billy just wants to be left alone for a bit. He should just go. He should just.
"Have you seen my sunglasses?" he blurts, and colors furiously when Billy points bemusedly at his head. "I just, um. Uh."
"Bye, Dom."
"Uh. 'Kay. Okay. Just call if you need-"
"Will do. Have fun."
"Yeah," Dom chuckles. "Yeah. Thanks, mate."
5.
"It was brilliant!" Dom bursts in, dropping his bags all over Billy's feet and trapping him in an enormous, lasting hug. Really, as if they hadn't just seen each other five days ago. Dom tries to let go, but his arms won't obey. "You should have come, stupid wanker."
Billy's chest quivers against Dom's in laughter, his hands soothing up and down Dom's back. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
Dom loosens his grip, steps back a bit. His jaw works for a moment, pauses. Eventually, he chuckles. "I didn't expect to miss you this much, you bloody old sod."
It starts to rain, then, a sudden burst that makes Billy abruptly pull Dom fully inside, but beneath the sound of the front door slamming shut, Dom thinks he hears Billy saying, "Neither did I."
6.
Dom prances through the parking lot, trainers pitter-patting against the pavement. He makes an effort not to actually start skipping. Wonderful day of shooting, an early wrap-up, a full night out with the boys later on, and a whole day of surfing ahead tomorrow. He starts whistling, for Life is Good.
His happy feel-good thoughts careen violently to a halt when somebody thwaps him upside the head with what feels distinctly like a rolled up newspaper. When Dom whips around to look, Billy is almost on his knees and wheezing. "Mate, your face-!" he manages to gasp out.
Dom's mouth just hangs stupidly open for five point three seconds, but Billy's cackling has always been irresistibly contagious.
When they manage to calm down, breathing rate steadying back to moderately normal, the sun is setting behind Billy. It turns his hopelessly mussed-up hair into a golden halo, casts shadows upon his face, his bright eyes and his easy smile. Dom exhales, looking away. "We still on for tomorrow?"
Billy pats his back, ruffles his hair. "Sure thing, Dommie."
Dom nods. Looks away.
7.
Billy sings Dom a lullaby once when he has trouble sleeping. At first Dom just chortles and snorts, but Billy's voice penetrates his flesh and his bones, settles in his bloodstream. Stills him.
But then Billy has to go, right, and Dom's just saying thank you and good night.
The answering silence is thick and tense and thrumming, however, and Dom's eyes snap open and wide when he realizes what he just said.
'Night, Billy, he meant to say. Not I love you.
The silence stretches.
A horrible void grows inside Dom's chest, pulses, settles under his ribcage. He opens his mouth, No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-
But Billy's lips are soft, and his tongue is hot, and his fingers wrap around Dom's neck and lift his head closer, and Dom's chest unlocks because Billy, Billy is smiling. Billy is smiling.
xxx
or seven ways to set green eyes alight
PG (billy/dom)
remix of ella_minnow's "almost".
notes: with many, many thanks to msilverstar and andrealyn for the amazing, thorough beta work. <3
xxx
1.
The first time Dom talks to Margaret it's through the phone, and she's so sweet and kind and warm that he hasn't the heart to tell her that Billy is already asleep. Sodding time zones, anyway.
Dom asks her to wait, and crouches by the sofa, gently stirring Billy's shoulder. "Billy. Bills."
Billy's lashes flutter open, grazing gently against his sleep-flushed cheeks. His mouth is pink and lax, and heat radiates from him. It makes Dom sleepy. It makes Dom-
Billy's eyes finally focus on him, and Dom smiles. "Hey, Billy, mate. Phone's for you."
2.
Midmorning sunlight filters through the kitchen windows, cutting across counter surfaces and pooling on Dom's bare feet. His toes curl in time with the pounding in his skull.
Half the pitcher of orange juice he is trying to squeeze ends up all over his hands and fingers and forearms, and he knows, with the ephemeral clarity of the hung-over, that he is very probably still drunk. And now sticky.
Dom is suddenly reminded that Billy had actually slept at his place when Billy silently pads in, disheveled, sleep clinging to his eyes. Wordlessly, he shoulders Dom out of the way and proceeds to prepare this ridiculously sensible breakfast lacking anything even remotely resembling tea or pop-tarts. Rather - that disgusting muesli stuff he keeps for Orlando and Sean, toast, eggs, an actually successful pitcher of orange juice. Hangover food. Billy is foregoing his beloved porridge for hangover food. Because of Dom.
Billy’s lips form a flat, quiet line, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners, absurdly green. Dom exhales through his nose, smiles slowly after a beat. “Hand over the salt, would you?”
3.
Pippin's ruddy cheeks and sweet mouth are distorted with Billy's helpless laughter all the way back to the costume trailer. He and the other Hobbits make sure everyone in Feet and Make Up knows about Dom's predicament, but Billy's hands never leave him - squeezing his arm through the pain, poking his sides, ruffling his wig, resting on his shoulder.
The laughter is all around him, intensely teasing and vaguely sympathetic, and if you can't beat 'em, well.
"It was a big splinter. Shut up."
4.
Billy should have known it would happen. You just don't prance around all day on a beach under the New Zealand skies without a drop of sunscreen on and not pay for it.
And it's their weekend off, too, and Dom would feel sorrier, really, but Billy doesn't let him. Billy laughs and wrinkles his sunburnt nose and makes a show of reading the paper. He pretends his shoulders aren't stinging despite the aggressive flush spread over them; manages even to flinch only very slightly when Dom brushes against them accidentally (and still very lightly) on his way out.
Dom is hovering, he knows. Billy just wants to be left alone for a bit. He should just go. He should just.
"Have you seen my sunglasses?" he blurts, and colors furiously when Billy points bemusedly at his head. "I just, um. Uh."
"Bye, Dom."
"Uh. 'Kay. Okay. Just call if you need-"
"Will do. Have fun."
"Yeah," Dom chuckles. "Yeah. Thanks, mate."
5.
"It was brilliant!" Dom bursts in, dropping his bags all over Billy's feet and trapping him in an enormous, lasting hug. Really, as if they hadn't just seen each other five days ago. Dom tries to let go, but his arms won't obey. "You should have come, stupid wanker."
Billy's chest quivers against Dom's in laughter, his hands soothing up and down Dom's back. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
Dom loosens his grip, steps back a bit. His jaw works for a moment, pauses. Eventually, he chuckles. "I didn't expect to miss you this much, you bloody old sod."
It starts to rain, then, a sudden burst that makes Billy abruptly pull Dom fully inside, but beneath the sound of the front door slamming shut, Dom thinks he hears Billy saying, "Neither did I."
6.
Dom prances through the parking lot, trainers pitter-patting against the pavement. He makes an effort not to actually start skipping. Wonderful day of shooting, an early wrap-up, a full night out with the boys later on, and a whole day of surfing ahead tomorrow. He starts whistling, for Life is Good.
His happy feel-good thoughts careen violently to a halt when somebody thwaps him upside the head with what feels distinctly like a rolled up newspaper. When Dom whips around to look, Billy is almost on his knees and wheezing. "Mate, your face-!" he manages to gasp out.
Dom's mouth just hangs stupidly open for five point three seconds, but Billy's cackling has always been irresistibly contagious.
When they manage to calm down, breathing rate steadying back to moderately normal, the sun is setting behind Billy. It turns his hopelessly mussed-up hair into a golden halo, casts shadows upon his face, his bright eyes and his easy smile. Dom exhales, looking away. "We still on for tomorrow?"
Billy pats his back, ruffles his hair. "Sure thing, Dommie."
Dom nods. Looks away.
7.
Billy sings Dom a lullaby once when he has trouble sleeping. At first Dom just chortles and snorts, but Billy's voice penetrates his flesh and his bones, settles in his bloodstream. Stills him.
But then Billy has to go, right, and Dom's just saying thank you and good night.
The answering silence is thick and tense and thrumming, however, and Dom's eyes snap open and wide when he realizes what he just said.
'Night, Billy, he meant to say. Not I love you.
The silence stretches.
A horrible void grows inside Dom's chest, pulses, settles under his ribcage. He opens his mouth, No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-
But Billy's lips are soft, and his tongue is hot, and his fingers wrap around Dom's neck and lift his head closer, and Dom's chest unlocks because Billy, Billy is smiling. Billy is smiling.
xxx