Book One, Chapter 16: Torrential
Title: Torrential
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4500
Summary: In which rain falls and a meal and something more are shared.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Theories of evolution do not generally interest Billy that much. He's content enough that he's managed to live this life as a human and not, for instance, as an insect, no matter how much time nature took getting him there. Still, there are days in which Billy absently wishes like some character in his beloved trashy novels for things like eyes in the back of his head, wings, gills with which to breathe underwater, and extra pairs of hands and arms. Those last two would come in handy on such an ugly afternoon as this one.
Billy stands underneath the wide awning of Harrison's, a small music store about ten miles from the Baskerville campus--none of that HMV rubbish for him, thank you, not when there's a perfectly good record shop whose staff treat Billy like a minor deity when he drops far too much cash there--frowning at the raging downpour preventing him from getting to his car safely and dry. And though he's not burdened anymore by a wallet as full as it had been this morning, he's still loaded down with two small bags of CDs, two larger boxes of Chinese takeaway, and an enormous styrofoam cup of coffee. What Billy does not carry at the moment is an umbrella, and his car is parked a little more than one block down.
Billy takes a deep breath and dashes between puddles, his burdens shifting in his arms, until he reaches the old, dark blue BMW. He curses as he searches for his keys, finally unlocking the door and tossing everything but the coffee to the passenger seat. He's deeply, unpleasantly soaked, and he grits his teeth as he accelerates out of the town square, bound for home and his fire.
The road is quiet, everyone else in the Baskerville environs seemingly having received the weather-related memo Billy never saw. He drives along, and is only distracted by the sight of a dark blue, huddled form under a tree about five miles outside campus. Billy peers into the rearview mirror after he passes, frowning again, and swings around the next curve to backtrack. Even through the rain, Billy thinks he recognizes that shivering figure clad in a tracksuit, and he slows down on to the shoulder of the road before he throws the car in park and reaches across to unlock and nudge open the passenger side door before he begins to throw his purchases to the back seat.
"Get in, Dominic," Billy shouts, loud and clear above the rain.
“Professor?” Dominic calls out, pushing his hair from his eyes to look through the rain at the car that’s pulled up beside him. Dominic’s accustomed to running in foul weather, but he's gone farther than he'd meant to this morning, running without a destination in mind but with the idea of outrunning his frustrations. His ankle’s mostly recovered from a slip in the wet grass several minutes ago, but it still feels as though it might turn for the worse if he goes any farther on it, and so Dominic had decided to stop and wait out a storm that doesn’t look as if it’s going to let up anytime soon.
His surprise is no small thing when he confirms just who is driving the idling car waiting for him. While he was running, Dominic's thoughts had finally settled on his philosophy professor, and he had let them stay there. His interest in Billy as more than just his professor and advisor has begun to interfere with his ability to keep up. His thoughts wander so often now--in class, in the modeling sessions, on walks and runs around the campus--to what it would be like to be in bed with Billy, and more than that, to be in a real relationship with him, one that involved more than just sex. Dominic doesn’t hesitate at Billy’s invitation now, but dives inside the car and slams the door shut.
“Thank you,” Dominic says, a little breathless. Rain pours from his hair and drips off the end of his nose and he brushes it away. He turns to offer Billy a smile, meaning to apologize for the puddle he's likely creating, but the sight of Billy clad in jeans and a casual button-down black shirt--the open v-neck revealing more than usual--does strange things to the pit of Dominic's stomach. He mentally shakes himself, forces himself to meet Billy's eyes. "I didn't expect the rain."
Billy laughs and waits for Dominic to fasten his seatbelt, still breathing hard from his dash into the car, and then Billy shifts the car back into gear. "Good to know I wasn't the only one. You alright though, Dom? I mean besides the rain?" Billy's eyes flit from the road to his passenger. He turns up the heat in the car and suppresses the urge to brush the sweep of wet hair from Dominic's forehead. The thought of doing such a thing makes Billy tighten his grip on the steering wheel. "This is a long way out for a run, isn't it? Mind you, the weather was good this morning, for a winter change ..."
“It’s not that far out, really,” Dominic says, but Billy continues to rant about the weather and Dominic settles into his seat, still swiping at his face and hair and looking around at the state of Billy's car--for signs that he's sharing his life with someone else. There's a lone receipt crumpled on the floor, the tall coffee in the drink holder, a map and what looks like a letter in the visor--but nothing that indicates a partner. Dominic knows with uncomfortable certainty that if he were alone in the car, he'd be tempted to look beneath the seats and inspect the glove box.
"I'm sorry, Dom, I can't drive in this." The change in Billy's voice makes Dominic look up to where Billy's squinting into the torrent, concentrating. "I'm sure it'll pass in a bit, but for now I'm going to just pull over in that breakaway." Billy angles the car into a safe position off the road and turns off everything but his safety lights. "Luckily," he smiles at Dominic before he reaches into the backseat and produces the takeaway containers and a bottle of water. "We have provisions. You'll join me," he says, determined, and then hands Dominic a pair of chopsticks.
Dominic doesn't turn down the offer; instead he waits to see what the boxes will reveal. Breakfast had been a long time ago, and the sight and smell of the gingered vegetables make his mouth water. He lets Billy take the first bite before he dips his sticks in and pulls out a spear of asparagus. "This is excellent. Thank you." Another bite, then he balances his chopsticks on his thigh to take one of the napkins in an attempt to sop up some of the rainwater still dripping down his neck. "I'm making a mess. Would you mind if I took my shirt off?"
Dominic repeats the sentence in his mind, and winces at what probably sounds like a bad pickup line. Laughing it off seems like the best remedy. "Sorry. Just feeling rather clammy with it on." Plucking at the material, Dominic gives Billy a bit of a helpless look.
"Suit y'self," Billy murmurs absently, waving his chopsticks in the air before diving back into the container between them. Inside, every brain cell Billy has is screaming at him to not really let a student disrobe in his car. To be caught like this would be the last thing Billy needs. Then again, he's probably making more of this than he should; were he in Dominic's position--soaked to the skin and trapped in a humid car--he might want to do the same. That he is in Dominic's position, if a little less uncomfortably so, is something Billy finds convenient to ignore when he's occupied stuffing himself with tiger prawns and snow peas.
Not that he can ignore anything else. Dominic's shirt comes off slowly, sticking to his chest in places Billy's not really looking at, not at all. "There might be a towel ..." he begins, reaching again into the backseat and producing a folded up grey hand towel. "Well. Not much of one, but every little bit helps, right?"
Billy's still not staring as Dominic towels off his hair, leaving it sticking up here and there. Billy shifts in his seat, facing Dominic completely now and tucking one leg underneath him like a much younger man as he attempts to direct his focus and thoughts elsewhere. "So. I was in town earlier," Billy nods his head in the direction of the motorway. "In Harrison's, you know, the record store? Have you ever been?"
"A time or two. Nice place. They have a lot of really hard to find music. Found a great Beatles compilation there once. Some of their best stuff and a few things I hadn't heard." Dominic's drops his shirt in a wet puddle at his feet and busies himself rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach. Once he's reasonably dry, he exhales and picks up his chopsticks again to try some of what Billy's attacking. "This is really good. Is it from that place next to Harrison's?"
Billy nods absently again at the food, trying to erase from his mind the motion of Dominic's hands all over his chest and arms. "Yeah, the same. Not the very best-there's this dive near my house that's even better, and they make everything hotter, you know Szechuan as opposed to Hunan and all that. Beatles, though--was it, was it this one?"
Billy reaches back one more time and then rises to his knees to lean into the backseat and rifle through one of the bags until he produces a double-CD, The Beatles: 1963-1970,, waving it merrily as he inches back into his seat. He's almost there when his wet shoe slides dangerously across the seat, making him topple slightly forward and to the side, his hand catching Dominic by his very warm, very strong bare shoulder. There's an absurd squeaking noise as Billy scuttles backward, desperate to really not be touching a half-naked student and to not look as if he might die from embarassment and shock.
The few seconds it takes Billy to recover seem to go on for much longer. Neither he nor Dominic breaks the stare between them, and Billy's hand moves slowly away from Dominic's arm, one finger at a time it almost feels, as he sits back and waits for the blood to stop pounding so hard and loud in his ears. Once his back hits the driver's side door, Billy blinks and raises the CD case in his other hand. "It was, wasn't it. Because I've been waiting for about six months for them to get another one in after someone purchased their last copy. I'm assuming that someone was you, Dom." Billy throws Dominic a mock-stern frown as he leaves the case on the dashboard and takes up his chopsticks again, stabbing at the last unbroken snow pea in the container. "I should assign you five hundred words on the ethics of unpremeditated theft and resulting disappointment."
Dominic laughs and shakes his head, raises his hand as if to fend off the essay. "Yeah, that's the one." As Billy laughs, Dominic struggles to find the thread of the conversation again, and tries to forget the feeling of Billy's hand on his bare shoulder. "Six months, really? I'm sorry."
Dominic knows he doesn't sound anything close to sorry. Stuck in a car with Billy with the windows steamed up, regardless of how those windows came to be steamed up, is definitely one fantasy fulfilled. And now with the knowledge of what Billy's hand feels like on his body, regardless of how that hand had come to be there, Dominic is suddenly aware of how confined the space is and how very thin his soaking wet track pants are. He forces another laugh and feels his cheeks and ears burn as he attempts to nonchalantly angle his body away from Billy's view.
"It's good, isn't it?" Billy says nodding at the CD case. "I had it on vinyl--well, my sister had it on vinyl and I stole it, repeatedly, until she bought me my own copy." Billy smiles and takes another napkin from the pile beside his knee. "You've got some plum sauce on your chin there, Dom, sorry. Anyway, yes, six months, because I think I'm too old to go into the HMV near campus. There's always such a racket in there--when it's not the music, it's the clerks, all laughing too loud and pierced in interesting places. I'd rather not bother, even if it means I have to be more patient. Go on, Dom, the prawns are fantastic."
Dominic gathers one of the tiger prawns between his chopsticks while Billy holds the tray steady between them. Swallowing a bite, Dominic nods with pleasure and Billy nods, too. "I'm never wrong about these things. Other things, yes, but not good Chinese."
"You know," Dominic starts, then swipes at his chin again, just in case. "You could just--order the CDs you want. On the internet."
"Well, yes," Bllly laughs. "I'm not a complete Luddite. I know how t'use a computer. I've even got one, if you can imagine. But I don't know, Dom; I like to talk to the clerks, and they--I suppose they like to pretend to listen to me. I've convinced a few of them to give Deacon Blue a go, and some of them aren't even old enough to remember when they played Deacon Blue on the radio. D'you even listen to the radio anymore, you and your friends?"
"I do, mostly. I don't have an iPod or anything like that. Just an old portable cd player and a bunch of mixed cds from my brother or our friends."
"The best kind. I have--cassettes, mostly, for the car, but a few of these as well. And at home, well." Billy looks up from his food with a wider grin. "You've seen the mess of my collection."
There's a pause during which their smiles match but neither can think of what next to say. Billy coughs, then, and closes up the now-empty containers between them "Did you want another bottle of water, Dom? Where is it you were running, exactly? I know a few quiet spaces near where I found--where I saw you, but. Well, did you need to be anywhere? I can try and get us back moving again if you think you'll be missed."
"There's no one to miss me," Dominic says, his voice turned low and gravely. It's struck Dominic suddenly that Billy sounds nervous, and for a moment Dominic couldn't reason why. It was fascinating to watch, though, as nervousness isn’t an emotion Billy often allows himself to show. As Dominic considers the matter, his thumb seeks out another errant drop of sauce then slides between his lips. He sucks on the tip of his thumb as he watches Billy's eyes settle on his hand and mouth. After a moment Dominic takes his thumb from his mouth and moves his hand down his chest, watching to see if Billy's eyes follow and feeling a rush of heat and excitement when they do. The question in Dominic’s mind now is whether Billy’s watching him because there is nothing else to look at, or because he likes what he sees. The thought that it might be the latter makes Dominic remember the issue of his wet track pants, but instead of trying to hide, he sits back against the door and spreads his legs a bit, just enough to make it seem natural and not as though he’s posing. He's seen the look in Billy's eyes before--not from Billy, of course, but from enough other men--and knows it's not something easily hidden. Dominic rests his hand still holding his chopsticks on his thigh and turns away from Billy to look out the window as if gauging how much longer the storm might last. "It might still be dangerous, yeah? Perhaps if we wait a bit longer?"
Billy nods, and when it comes to him, his voice is quiet. "Right, of course." The car is warm, where it seems that only minutes ago it was still cold, and Billy inhales, looking for breath like he does his keys and watch every morning. He knows he's staring, but he can't make himself look away. There's a small part--if he's honest, a large part--of Billy that knows exactly what's going on here, but for all of the things he knows about Dominic, Billy's still not sure if this is Dominic just being himself, all loose limbs and dark eyes, or he's being intentionally-well, Billy doesn't have the word for it.
With Dominic's focus still outside the car, Billy's eyes move slowly again over Dominic's chest, down his stomach and to the waistband of the track pants. It's only his grip on good sense and the chopsticks in his right hand that keeps Billy from reaching to touch Dominic, to touch and feel someone who from all evidence is not likely to protest. Billy can still feel the warmth of Dominic's shoulder on his palm, a heat Billy hadn't expected to spark him as it had, and he'd be lying if he told himself that he never wanted to feel that heat again. Billy hasn't touched anyone in a more than cursory or friendly manner since Andrew's departure, but he can't change that now; he's not about to break even an unwelcomed hiatus by touching a student, Billy reminds himself. Your student, a student who trusts you. A student who has turned to catch him staring, whose eyes hold the same challenge they've done so many times before.
There's a splintering, awful sound, and Billy doesn't have time to keep down the shocked noise of pain that flies from him. One chopstick lies split open between his fingers, the other on the floor at Billy's feet, and a thin trickle of blood begins to slide over the knuckle of Billy's index finger.
"Fuck," Billy breathes, bringing his finger reflexively to his mouth. The bitter, metallic taste of his own blood is nothing compared to that of the heady, almost farcical need he feels running through the rest of his body, the prickle of nerves and desire thawing from frozen quiet.
The rush of sudden knowledge hits Dominic full force, and he can't quite take his eyes off the broken chopstick. He's winded as if he's just run a great distance, and the surge of adrenaline leaves him jumpy, the confines of the car suddenly too much and not enough. In one move he grabs the towel to press against Billy's hand, holding it against his warm, bare chest. Words don’t seem to want to come though his thoughts race. Why not here, why not now competes with the No, not like this in his heart. Just like in St. Andrews, he wants more than just a quick fuck. He wants everything from Billy, and instinctively knows that Billy's not ready to give it.
Billy's teeth click together as Dominic grabs his hand, and he inhales sharply when he feels Dominic's skin against his palm. This is so incredibly, thoroughly wrong, and he should pull his hand away immediately, and he will, in just another second, as soon as he can do so without it seeming to have recoiled, without appearing rude or angered. Just as soon as he can tear his eyes away from Dominic's throat and neck and open lips.
"It’s … I think it's letting up," Dominic says. The rain continues to beat unabated on the car, and Dominic hasn't even actually looked up, too afraid that he'll meet Billy's eyes. Just kiss him, Dominic thinks, but he senses that Billy's already pulling away. That the professor is taking place of the man, and that neither professor nor man would take advantage of a student like this, even if the student wouldn't consider it taking advantage.
"It's alright," Billy hears himself say, and has no idea to whom he's actually speaking. Dominic's looking everywhere but at him, squeezing Billy's hand a bit too hard and saying something about the rain, which seems so irrelevant at the moment, and yet neither of them seems to be breathing, really.
It takes a monumental effort for Dominic to let go of everything, let go of Billy’s hand and of his chance-this chance-in the hope that there will be other and better chances. Forcing his breaths to steady, Dominic sits up in his seat, waiting for Billy to do something, anything to make this right between them, and trusting that he will.
Billy lets his hand fall to the seat as soon as Dominic releases it, and winces at the pain-more annoying than bad, but he hates the sight of blood and the sting as it hits the air. He warns himself against shaking out his hand or staring at it and murmurs this time very much to himself, "It'll be alright."
It takes a long moment before their eyes meet again, and Billy knows he's supposed to be speaking platitudes and scolding words: This was a mistake, you should know better, what were you thinking? But again, those words could be turned on both Dominic and himself, and so Billy ignores the voice in his head and stutters out what he can. "Y'should-I wish I had another shirt for you. You'll catch cold if you don't-" Another deep inhale, and Billy holds out Dominic's shirt to him, finally meeting his eyes. "We should go."
Dominic reaches for the shirt and holds it dumbly in his hand, not able to fathom what Billy wants him to do with it. It's like he's moving in slow motion while Billy has suddenly become all action. By the time he figures out the words that would take him out of this car and back into the rain, back to a long, cool, and much needed run back to campus, Billy is shifting the car hard back onto the motorway. Dominic's slide against the leather seat brings him back into the present and he has to brace himself against the dashboard. The car fishtails once before Billy regains control and drives a bit too fast back towards campus. It's several moments before Dominic has the sense to pull on his seat belt, then he sits mesmerized by the rain hitting the windshield as Billy speeds along.
The only sound in the car is of the windshield wipers as they squeak back and forth at the ineffectual swipe at the heavy rain. Dominic doesn't mind-barely even notices-and though it does feel vaguely uncomfortable, he can't quite figure out why. He can't get over the fact that Billy wants him, and there is so much that Dominic wants to say but senses none of the words would be welcomed at the moment in any case. Or maybe they would--maybe Billy wants him to fight for what's in his heart. A conversation from one of their last meetings comes back to him. At the time he had tried not to dwell on Billy's words; Billy had been talking about the destruction of green spaces, after all, not considering a relationship with Dominic. Still.
Dominic steals a look at Billy, at his jaw set in anger. No, not anger. Apprehension or uneasiness at being caught--at finding he wants Dominic, and Dominic is at least sure of that. Billy's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the smear of blood rusty on his fist. Dominic feels a sudden rush of power and wonders what he should do with it and when. Not here, and not now when Billy is so rattled--the time has passed. But soon, Dominic believes, and can't help the self-satisfied smile that replaces his frown. Soon.
At the sight of the gates leading to the campus, Dominic puts a hand on Billy's arm, surprised that it feels so natural and proprietary already, and feels the tremor beneath Billy's skin. Every muscle in Billy's body clenches for half a second at the touch and he inhales, again too sharply, too wildly at the warmth that permeates through his shirt, half-warning and half-welcome.
"You can let me off here,” Dominic smiles. “I can run back to my room."
"You're sure?" Billy asks, turning into the campus. "It's not too far, is it? I mean, not that I can get close to the halls anyway, there's not a lot of parking up there, but the rain--" Billy exhales and throws the car in park, plainly ignoring everything he's just said. "Well. You should make a run for it, then, and I'll see you in class, yes? Or maybe in town." He turns to face Dominic again, grateful that Dominic's hand is back in his lap. Billy chances a smile, then, a small one that eventually creases into a more genuine grin as Dominic takes his time collecting himself to leave. Dominic's eyes are dancing, and Billy can hardly fight against it. He ducks his head to hide what he can until Dominic is ready to leave the car, knowing that something has turned around this afternoon, something just as strange as the weather, and like the momentary pause in the wind and storms outside, it's something that might turn again, something Billy will have to confront soon enough. His hands curl tight around the steering wheel once more, until his fingers begin to ache and the staunched trickle of blood begins to flow again. Billy brushes at the smear with his thumb and blinks at the pain, grateful for the attention it demands, attention that keeps Billy from turning to catch Dominic's eyes again. "Be careful, Dom. And get indoors quickly."
"Don't worry, Billy." In the past, Dominic has let that name slip by accident and had always hoped that Billy would ignore it. This time it's quite intentional, and he hopes Billy notes it. The sound of it feels illicit because now Dominic knows that he means it as a way of staking his claim, of asserting his desire and right to call Billy something other than a professor, something more than a mentor. Finally mine. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
Long after the taillights of Billy’s car have disappeared, Dominic stands in the rain, shirtless and drenched. This, at least, is familiar to Dominic, this giddy rush of nerves and need reflected back onto him, and he’s thankful that at last he's gotten something right with Billy, something he knows is returned. Finally, when he makes his decision--this week, or maybe next, during advising--the tension leaves his shoulders and he tips his head back and laughs, the rain cool on his face.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4500
Summary: In which rain falls and a meal and something more are shared.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Theories of evolution do not generally interest Billy that much. He's content enough that he's managed to live this life as a human and not, for instance, as an insect, no matter how much time nature took getting him there. Still, there are days in which Billy absently wishes like some character in his beloved trashy novels for things like eyes in the back of his head, wings, gills with which to breathe underwater, and extra pairs of hands and arms. Those last two would come in handy on such an ugly afternoon as this one.
Billy stands underneath the wide awning of Harrison's, a small music store about ten miles from the Baskerville campus--none of that HMV rubbish for him, thank you, not when there's a perfectly good record shop whose staff treat Billy like a minor deity when he drops far too much cash there--frowning at the raging downpour preventing him from getting to his car safely and dry. And though he's not burdened anymore by a wallet as full as it had been this morning, he's still loaded down with two small bags of CDs, two larger boxes of Chinese takeaway, and an enormous styrofoam cup of coffee. What Billy does not carry at the moment is an umbrella, and his car is parked a little more than one block down.
Billy takes a deep breath and dashes between puddles, his burdens shifting in his arms, until he reaches the old, dark blue BMW. He curses as he searches for his keys, finally unlocking the door and tossing everything but the coffee to the passenger seat. He's deeply, unpleasantly soaked, and he grits his teeth as he accelerates out of the town square, bound for home and his fire.
The road is quiet, everyone else in the Baskerville environs seemingly having received the weather-related memo Billy never saw. He drives along, and is only distracted by the sight of a dark blue, huddled form under a tree about five miles outside campus. Billy peers into the rearview mirror after he passes, frowning again, and swings around the next curve to backtrack. Even through the rain, Billy thinks he recognizes that shivering figure clad in a tracksuit, and he slows down on to the shoulder of the road before he throws the car in park and reaches across to unlock and nudge open the passenger side door before he begins to throw his purchases to the back seat.
"Get in, Dominic," Billy shouts, loud and clear above the rain.
“Professor?” Dominic calls out, pushing his hair from his eyes to look through the rain at the car that’s pulled up beside him. Dominic’s accustomed to running in foul weather, but he's gone farther than he'd meant to this morning, running without a destination in mind but with the idea of outrunning his frustrations. His ankle’s mostly recovered from a slip in the wet grass several minutes ago, but it still feels as though it might turn for the worse if he goes any farther on it, and so Dominic had decided to stop and wait out a storm that doesn’t look as if it’s going to let up anytime soon.
His surprise is no small thing when he confirms just who is driving the idling car waiting for him. While he was running, Dominic's thoughts had finally settled on his philosophy professor, and he had let them stay there. His interest in Billy as more than just his professor and advisor has begun to interfere with his ability to keep up. His thoughts wander so often now--in class, in the modeling sessions, on walks and runs around the campus--to what it would be like to be in bed with Billy, and more than that, to be in a real relationship with him, one that involved more than just sex. Dominic doesn’t hesitate at Billy’s invitation now, but dives inside the car and slams the door shut.
“Thank you,” Dominic says, a little breathless. Rain pours from his hair and drips off the end of his nose and he brushes it away. He turns to offer Billy a smile, meaning to apologize for the puddle he's likely creating, but the sight of Billy clad in jeans and a casual button-down black shirt--the open v-neck revealing more than usual--does strange things to the pit of Dominic's stomach. He mentally shakes himself, forces himself to meet Billy's eyes. "I didn't expect the rain."
Billy laughs and waits for Dominic to fasten his seatbelt, still breathing hard from his dash into the car, and then Billy shifts the car back into gear. "Good to know I wasn't the only one. You alright though, Dom? I mean besides the rain?" Billy's eyes flit from the road to his passenger. He turns up the heat in the car and suppresses the urge to brush the sweep of wet hair from Dominic's forehead. The thought of doing such a thing makes Billy tighten his grip on the steering wheel. "This is a long way out for a run, isn't it? Mind you, the weather was good this morning, for a winter change ..."
“It’s not that far out, really,” Dominic says, but Billy continues to rant about the weather and Dominic settles into his seat, still swiping at his face and hair and looking around at the state of Billy's car--for signs that he's sharing his life with someone else. There's a lone receipt crumpled on the floor, the tall coffee in the drink holder, a map and what looks like a letter in the visor--but nothing that indicates a partner. Dominic knows with uncomfortable certainty that if he were alone in the car, he'd be tempted to look beneath the seats and inspect the glove box.
"I'm sorry, Dom, I can't drive in this." The change in Billy's voice makes Dominic look up to where Billy's squinting into the torrent, concentrating. "I'm sure it'll pass in a bit, but for now I'm going to just pull over in that breakaway." Billy angles the car into a safe position off the road and turns off everything but his safety lights. "Luckily," he smiles at Dominic before he reaches into the backseat and produces the takeaway containers and a bottle of water. "We have provisions. You'll join me," he says, determined, and then hands Dominic a pair of chopsticks.
Dominic doesn't turn down the offer; instead he waits to see what the boxes will reveal. Breakfast had been a long time ago, and the sight and smell of the gingered vegetables make his mouth water. He lets Billy take the first bite before he dips his sticks in and pulls out a spear of asparagus. "This is excellent. Thank you." Another bite, then he balances his chopsticks on his thigh to take one of the napkins in an attempt to sop up some of the rainwater still dripping down his neck. "I'm making a mess. Would you mind if I took my shirt off?"
Dominic repeats the sentence in his mind, and winces at what probably sounds like a bad pickup line. Laughing it off seems like the best remedy. "Sorry. Just feeling rather clammy with it on." Plucking at the material, Dominic gives Billy a bit of a helpless look.
"Suit y'self," Billy murmurs absently, waving his chopsticks in the air before diving back into the container between them. Inside, every brain cell Billy has is screaming at him to not really let a student disrobe in his car. To be caught like this would be the last thing Billy needs. Then again, he's probably making more of this than he should; were he in Dominic's position--soaked to the skin and trapped in a humid car--he might want to do the same. That he is in Dominic's position, if a little less uncomfortably so, is something Billy finds convenient to ignore when he's occupied stuffing himself with tiger prawns and snow peas.
Not that he can ignore anything else. Dominic's shirt comes off slowly, sticking to his chest in places Billy's not really looking at, not at all. "There might be a towel ..." he begins, reaching again into the backseat and producing a folded up grey hand towel. "Well. Not much of one, but every little bit helps, right?"
Billy's still not staring as Dominic towels off his hair, leaving it sticking up here and there. Billy shifts in his seat, facing Dominic completely now and tucking one leg underneath him like a much younger man as he attempts to direct his focus and thoughts elsewhere. "So. I was in town earlier," Billy nods his head in the direction of the motorway. "In Harrison's, you know, the record store? Have you ever been?"
"A time or two. Nice place. They have a lot of really hard to find music. Found a great Beatles compilation there once. Some of their best stuff and a few things I hadn't heard." Dominic's drops his shirt in a wet puddle at his feet and busies himself rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach. Once he's reasonably dry, he exhales and picks up his chopsticks again to try some of what Billy's attacking. "This is really good. Is it from that place next to Harrison's?"
Billy nods absently again at the food, trying to erase from his mind the motion of Dominic's hands all over his chest and arms. "Yeah, the same. Not the very best-there's this dive near my house that's even better, and they make everything hotter, you know Szechuan as opposed to Hunan and all that. Beatles, though--was it, was it this one?"
Billy reaches back one more time and then rises to his knees to lean into the backseat and rifle through one of the bags until he produces a double-CD, The Beatles: 1963-1970,, waving it merrily as he inches back into his seat. He's almost there when his wet shoe slides dangerously across the seat, making him topple slightly forward and to the side, his hand catching Dominic by his very warm, very strong bare shoulder. There's an absurd squeaking noise as Billy scuttles backward, desperate to really not be touching a half-naked student and to not look as if he might die from embarassment and shock.
The few seconds it takes Billy to recover seem to go on for much longer. Neither he nor Dominic breaks the stare between them, and Billy's hand moves slowly away from Dominic's arm, one finger at a time it almost feels, as he sits back and waits for the blood to stop pounding so hard and loud in his ears. Once his back hits the driver's side door, Billy blinks and raises the CD case in his other hand. "It was, wasn't it. Because I've been waiting for about six months for them to get another one in after someone purchased their last copy. I'm assuming that someone was you, Dom." Billy throws Dominic a mock-stern frown as he leaves the case on the dashboard and takes up his chopsticks again, stabbing at the last unbroken snow pea in the container. "I should assign you five hundred words on the ethics of unpremeditated theft and resulting disappointment."
Dominic laughs and shakes his head, raises his hand as if to fend off the essay. "Yeah, that's the one." As Billy laughs, Dominic struggles to find the thread of the conversation again, and tries to forget the feeling of Billy's hand on his bare shoulder. "Six months, really? I'm sorry."
Dominic knows he doesn't sound anything close to sorry. Stuck in a car with Billy with the windows steamed up, regardless of how those windows came to be steamed up, is definitely one fantasy fulfilled. And now with the knowledge of what Billy's hand feels like on his body, regardless of how that hand had come to be there, Dominic is suddenly aware of how confined the space is and how very thin his soaking wet track pants are. He forces another laugh and feels his cheeks and ears burn as he attempts to nonchalantly angle his body away from Billy's view.
"It's good, isn't it?" Billy says nodding at the CD case. "I had it on vinyl--well, my sister had it on vinyl and I stole it, repeatedly, until she bought me my own copy." Billy smiles and takes another napkin from the pile beside his knee. "You've got some plum sauce on your chin there, Dom, sorry. Anyway, yes, six months, because I think I'm too old to go into the HMV near campus. There's always such a racket in there--when it's not the music, it's the clerks, all laughing too loud and pierced in interesting places. I'd rather not bother, even if it means I have to be more patient. Go on, Dom, the prawns are fantastic."
Dominic gathers one of the tiger prawns between his chopsticks while Billy holds the tray steady between them. Swallowing a bite, Dominic nods with pleasure and Billy nods, too. "I'm never wrong about these things. Other things, yes, but not good Chinese."
"You know," Dominic starts, then swipes at his chin again, just in case. "You could just--order the CDs you want. On the internet."
"Well, yes," Bllly laughs. "I'm not a complete Luddite. I know how t'use a computer. I've even got one, if you can imagine. But I don't know, Dom; I like to talk to the clerks, and they--I suppose they like to pretend to listen to me. I've convinced a few of them to give Deacon Blue a go, and some of them aren't even old enough to remember when they played Deacon Blue on the radio. D'you even listen to the radio anymore, you and your friends?"
"I do, mostly. I don't have an iPod or anything like that. Just an old portable cd player and a bunch of mixed cds from my brother or our friends."
"The best kind. I have--cassettes, mostly, for the car, but a few of these as well. And at home, well." Billy looks up from his food with a wider grin. "You've seen the mess of my collection."
There's a pause during which their smiles match but neither can think of what next to say. Billy coughs, then, and closes up the now-empty containers between them "Did you want another bottle of water, Dom? Where is it you were running, exactly? I know a few quiet spaces near where I found--where I saw you, but. Well, did you need to be anywhere? I can try and get us back moving again if you think you'll be missed."
"There's no one to miss me," Dominic says, his voice turned low and gravely. It's struck Dominic suddenly that Billy sounds nervous, and for a moment Dominic couldn't reason why. It was fascinating to watch, though, as nervousness isn’t an emotion Billy often allows himself to show. As Dominic considers the matter, his thumb seeks out another errant drop of sauce then slides between his lips. He sucks on the tip of his thumb as he watches Billy's eyes settle on his hand and mouth. After a moment Dominic takes his thumb from his mouth and moves his hand down his chest, watching to see if Billy's eyes follow and feeling a rush of heat and excitement when they do. The question in Dominic’s mind now is whether Billy’s watching him because there is nothing else to look at, or because he likes what he sees. The thought that it might be the latter makes Dominic remember the issue of his wet track pants, but instead of trying to hide, he sits back against the door and spreads his legs a bit, just enough to make it seem natural and not as though he’s posing. He's seen the look in Billy's eyes before--not from Billy, of course, but from enough other men--and knows it's not something easily hidden. Dominic rests his hand still holding his chopsticks on his thigh and turns away from Billy to look out the window as if gauging how much longer the storm might last. "It might still be dangerous, yeah? Perhaps if we wait a bit longer?"
Billy nods, and when it comes to him, his voice is quiet. "Right, of course." The car is warm, where it seems that only minutes ago it was still cold, and Billy inhales, looking for breath like he does his keys and watch every morning. He knows he's staring, but he can't make himself look away. There's a small part--if he's honest, a large part--of Billy that knows exactly what's going on here, but for all of the things he knows about Dominic, Billy's still not sure if this is Dominic just being himself, all loose limbs and dark eyes, or he's being intentionally-well, Billy doesn't have the word for it.
With Dominic's focus still outside the car, Billy's eyes move slowly again over Dominic's chest, down his stomach and to the waistband of the track pants. It's only his grip on good sense and the chopsticks in his right hand that keeps Billy from reaching to touch Dominic, to touch and feel someone who from all evidence is not likely to protest. Billy can still feel the warmth of Dominic's shoulder on his palm, a heat Billy hadn't expected to spark him as it had, and he'd be lying if he told himself that he never wanted to feel that heat again. Billy hasn't touched anyone in a more than cursory or friendly manner since Andrew's departure, but he can't change that now; he's not about to break even an unwelcomed hiatus by touching a student, Billy reminds himself. Your student, a student who trusts you. A student who has turned to catch him staring, whose eyes hold the same challenge they've done so many times before.
There's a splintering, awful sound, and Billy doesn't have time to keep down the shocked noise of pain that flies from him. One chopstick lies split open between his fingers, the other on the floor at Billy's feet, and a thin trickle of blood begins to slide over the knuckle of Billy's index finger.
"Fuck," Billy breathes, bringing his finger reflexively to his mouth. The bitter, metallic taste of his own blood is nothing compared to that of the heady, almost farcical need he feels running through the rest of his body, the prickle of nerves and desire thawing from frozen quiet.
The rush of sudden knowledge hits Dominic full force, and he can't quite take his eyes off the broken chopstick. He's winded as if he's just run a great distance, and the surge of adrenaline leaves him jumpy, the confines of the car suddenly too much and not enough. In one move he grabs the towel to press against Billy's hand, holding it against his warm, bare chest. Words don’t seem to want to come though his thoughts race. Why not here, why not now competes with the No, not like this in his heart. Just like in St. Andrews, he wants more than just a quick fuck. He wants everything from Billy, and instinctively knows that Billy's not ready to give it.
Billy's teeth click together as Dominic grabs his hand, and he inhales sharply when he feels Dominic's skin against his palm. This is so incredibly, thoroughly wrong, and he should pull his hand away immediately, and he will, in just another second, as soon as he can do so without it seeming to have recoiled, without appearing rude or angered. Just as soon as he can tear his eyes away from Dominic's throat and neck and open lips.
"It’s … I think it's letting up," Dominic says. The rain continues to beat unabated on the car, and Dominic hasn't even actually looked up, too afraid that he'll meet Billy's eyes. Just kiss him, Dominic thinks, but he senses that Billy's already pulling away. That the professor is taking place of the man, and that neither professor nor man would take advantage of a student like this, even if the student wouldn't consider it taking advantage.
"It's alright," Billy hears himself say, and has no idea to whom he's actually speaking. Dominic's looking everywhere but at him, squeezing Billy's hand a bit too hard and saying something about the rain, which seems so irrelevant at the moment, and yet neither of them seems to be breathing, really.
It takes a monumental effort for Dominic to let go of everything, let go of Billy’s hand and of his chance-this chance-in the hope that there will be other and better chances. Forcing his breaths to steady, Dominic sits up in his seat, waiting for Billy to do something, anything to make this right between them, and trusting that he will.
Billy lets his hand fall to the seat as soon as Dominic releases it, and winces at the pain-more annoying than bad, but he hates the sight of blood and the sting as it hits the air. He warns himself against shaking out his hand or staring at it and murmurs this time very much to himself, "It'll be alright."
It takes a long moment before their eyes meet again, and Billy knows he's supposed to be speaking platitudes and scolding words: This was a mistake, you should know better, what were you thinking? But again, those words could be turned on both Dominic and himself, and so Billy ignores the voice in his head and stutters out what he can. "Y'should-I wish I had another shirt for you. You'll catch cold if you don't-" Another deep inhale, and Billy holds out Dominic's shirt to him, finally meeting his eyes. "We should go."
Dominic reaches for the shirt and holds it dumbly in his hand, not able to fathom what Billy wants him to do with it. It's like he's moving in slow motion while Billy has suddenly become all action. By the time he figures out the words that would take him out of this car and back into the rain, back to a long, cool, and much needed run back to campus, Billy is shifting the car hard back onto the motorway. Dominic's slide against the leather seat brings him back into the present and he has to brace himself against the dashboard. The car fishtails once before Billy regains control and drives a bit too fast back towards campus. It's several moments before Dominic has the sense to pull on his seat belt, then he sits mesmerized by the rain hitting the windshield as Billy speeds along.
The only sound in the car is of the windshield wipers as they squeak back and forth at the ineffectual swipe at the heavy rain. Dominic doesn't mind-barely even notices-and though it does feel vaguely uncomfortable, he can't quite figure out why. He can't get over the fact that Billy wants him, and there is so much that Dominic wants to say but senses none of the words would be welcomed at the moment in any case. Or maybe they would--maybe Billy wants him to fight for what's in his heart. A conversation from one of their last meetings comes back to him. At the time he had tried not to dwell on Billy's words; Billy had been talking about the destruction of green spaces, after all, not considering a relationship with Dominic. Still.
Dominic steals a look at Billy, at his jaw set in anger. No, not anger. Apprehension or uneasiness at being caught--at finding he wants Dominic, and Dominic is at least sure of that. Billy's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the smear of blood rusty on his fist. Dominic feels a sudden rush of power and wonders what he should do with it and when. Not here, and not now when Billy is so rattled--the time has passed. But soon, Dominic believes, and can't help the self-satisfied smile that replaces his frown. Soon.
At the sight of the gates leading to the campus, Dominic puts a hand on Billy's arm, surprised that it feels so natural and proprietary already, and feels the tremor beneath Billy's skin. Every muscle in Billy's body clenches for half a second at the touch and he inhales, again too sharply, too wildly at the warmth that permeates through his shirt, half-warning and half-welcome.
"You can let me off here,” Dominic smiles. “I can run back to my room."
"You're sure?" Billy asks, turning into the campus. "It's not too far, is it? I mean, not that I can get close to the halls anyway, there's not a lot of parking up there, but the rain--" Billy exhales and throws the car in park, plainly ignoring everything he's just said. "Well. You should make a run for it, then, and I'll see you in class, yes? Or maybe in town." He turns to face Dominic again, grateful that Dominic's hand is back in his lap. Billy chances a smile, then, a small one that eventually creases into a more genuine grin as Dominic takes his time collecting himself to leave. Dominic's eyes are dancing, and Billy can hardly fight against it. He ducks his head to hide what he can until Dominic is ready to leave the car, knowing that something has turned around this afternoon, something just as strange as the weather, and like the momentary pause in the wind and storms outside, it's something that might turn again, something Billy will have to confront soon enough. His hands curl tight around the steering wheel once more, until his fingers begin to ache and the staunched trickle of blood begins to flow again. Billy brushes at the smear with his thumb and blinks at the pain, grateful for the attention it demands, attention that keeps Billy from turning to catch Dominic's eyes again. "Be careful, Dom. And get indoors quickly."
"Don't worry, Billy." In the past, Dominic has let that name slip by accident and had always hoped that Billy would ignore it. This time it's quite intentional, and he hopes Billy notes it. The sound of it feels illicit because now Dominic knows that he means it as a way of staking his claim, of asserting his desire and right to call Billy something other than a professor, something more than a mentor. Finally mine. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
Long after the taillights of Billy’s car have disappeared, Dominic stands in the rain, shirtless and drenched. This, at least, is familiar to Dominic, this giddy rush of nerves and need reflected back onto him, and he’s thankful that at last he's gotten something right with Billy, something he knows is returned. Finally, when he makes his decision--this week, or maybe next, during advising--the tension leaves his shoulders and he tips his head back and laughs, the rain cool on his face.