Book 2, Chapter 15: Watch It Come Clearer (1/2)
Title: Watch It Come Clearer (1/2)
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 4656
Summary: In which Dominic makes an effort and Billy makes a mess.
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.
Billy's heard it before, in the hallways of the humanities building, usually from the mouths of English majors carrying satchels more weatherbeaten than his own briefcase. The phrase "deleting this entire day" has always made him smile in its contemporary ennui, its world-weary resignation of impossibility. But today Billy feels it-would say it aloud himself if the words didn't sound ridiculous falling from his lips.
The combined forces of no coffee in the department's breakroom, no parking in the staff lot, no rest between three frustrated students during his afternoon office hours, and no proper discussion in his last class have almost sent Billy straight to the pub tonight. Only the stack of unfinished first years' essays sitting on his desk and staring at him as petulantly as the first years themselves had earlier in the day has brought him home instead. And now he finds himself staring back at the pages just as petulantly, filled with rare loathing for what he needs to do. What he's paid to do.
Still, he has all the other ingredients for the night: good whiskey, three fingers of it in a short glass, Barber's "Adagio" on loop in the player, bare feet, and low light at his desk. Billy's forcing two more hours' work from himself, and then there will be sleep, blessed sleep-something he is not getting nearly enough of lately, for reasons Billy would rather not consider just now. Billy pulls on his glasses and sweeps his bangs from his forehead as he leans over his desk, flipping to the next essay in the pile while the Adagio plays on. The advantage of the classical music is that one is not tempted to sing along, as it were, thereby risking penning lyrics down the margins of half-graded essays. It's happened before to Billy, to his complete mortification, and so he takes great care to only play these instrumentals-especially the dirgiest of pieces-while at work.
And there is of course another bonus of such music-few awkward pauses between movements, during which Billy can hear his own heart beating, or lose himself in thoughts he doesn't want to think. It's in one of these few moments of rest in the music that Billy hears it-the rapping on his back door. Billy's entire face twists in an expression of annoyance, one no one ever sees from him outside these walls, and he slams his pen down, suddenly roiling with a strange irritation that borders on anger-anger he cannot show to the one person who could be in his garden asking for entrance.
Billy's careful to shift his features into something calm but not quite friendly. Truth be told, he was neither expecting nor in need of company tonight, and he's rarely one for surprises. Dominic's presence is something Billy isn't sure he wants. He opens the door slowly, his vision filled with Dominic's smile, the pizza and bottle of wine in Dominic's hands, and Billy takes a deep breath, not quite managing a smile in return.
"Dominic," he says lightly. "To what do I owe this?"
"I thought you might like some company." My company, Dominic wants to add but doesn't. It had taken only a few minutes for Dominic's plans for the night to come together but hours for him to get up the courage to actually go through with it. He couldn't decide whether Billy would be delighted or irritated. The last week had gone a long way toward convincing Dominic that Billy wanted Dominic in his life and not just his bed, and not just by special invitation. It only takes seconds for Dominic to realize how wrong he was. Dominic swallows, unsure of how to back out of this now that he's standing in front of Billy. The silence between them quickly turns awkward, and Dominic rushes to fill the void. "You looked a little stressed in class today and I thought ..."
Run out of words, Dominic repositions the pizza box in his hand, the bottle of wine balanced on top, and steadies the bag of DVDs he's borrowed, all foreign films, except one particularly bad American flick he put in as a joke. Still Billy stares at him and Dominic self-consciously tugs down his t-shirt, wishing he had thought to go back to his room and change into something a bit nicer to wear or to grab a jumper as the night is growing cool. Or better, had just stuck with his original plan of a night out with friends.
"Stressed." Billy smiles tightly and leans against his back door, arms crossed over his chest, watching Dominic as he begins to fidget. Billy knows the power of his own stare, especially on Dominic, and he takes another breath to keep from abusing that power and intimidating Dominic straight into a run from his house. Instead he gestures Dominic inside the house.
"I looked stressed. Never at a loss for words to describe me, are you, Dom? Never miss a chance to tell me what I already know." Billy pivots on one heel back to the door, locking it, and the sound is deafening in the quiet of Billy's kitchen. When he turns around again, Dominic is looking at the floor, and Billy releases another irritated sigh.
Dominic ignores the sound, ignores the burn between his shoulder blades as he holds himself tight against the words Billy throws at him. In his mind, he can hear his mum's old refrain of he's not really mad at you, and instead of reacting, he carefully sets the pizza, wine, and DVDs onto the table. Picking the bottle back up when he catches sight of the sticker still on the neck, Dominic scratches at it with his thumb before setting it back onto the table. That done, his fingers flutter against his thighs for a moment before he's again tugging at his shirt. Still Billy says nothing, and Dominic kneels down now in another effort to conceal his unease, untying and retying the laces on his trainers. As he stands up, he shrugs his shoulders, wishing he had never thought this would be a good idea--cursing himself for believing he and Billy had a relationship where he could ask and not just receive.
"Why d'you never wear a coat?" Billy says suddenly, sharper than he means to. "It's no wonder you're always cold, Dominic, look at you. You're cold now, I can see it." Billy moves closer to Dominic, hands raised to touch, then stops himself, again folding those arms over his chest. "Look at me, Dominic," he murmurs, and waits for Dominic to do so. There are things Billy suddenly feels the need to say, but the moment Dominic meets his eyes, Billy tamps down the urge to continue this here in the kitchen. He's caught somewhere between anger and compassion-an odd place to be. "Go and get y'self something from my closet," Billy says firmly, moving to his cabinets and pulling down plates. "Go and get y'self warm."
Dominic stands still for a moment, staring at the back of Billy's head--his brows furrowed. Again the thought occurs to him that he should leave before he gets hurt. "I could go if ..." he starts, but the slam of a cabinet door stops his words and he skitters from the room, headed quickly to Billy's room to do as he was told.
Switching on the lamp next to Billy's bed, Dominic sits on the edge of the bed. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him to leave--flee, really--before this gets any worse. He looks at his hands, rubs at the ink there, written in his last lecture: wine, pizza, movies, Billy. He's furious with himself, and several long minutes pass before he forces himself off the bed and to the closet to get a jumper from the shelf. He pulls it over his head as he makes his way back to Billy, getting his arms caught in the sleeves and walking blindly into the front room. Dominic's hip hits an end table, and the movement sends something crashing to the floor. The sound of glass breaking makes Dominic freeze, his breath catching, and he pulls the sweater down roughly and stares at the shattered glass frame lying on the floor, the picture of Billy's parents. Dominic's face is one of devastation--he already fears this strange mood Billy is in--and he feels the immediate guilt of destroying something that he knew was important to Billy. Kneeling down, he grabs at the glass carelessly, simply trying to get it up.
"Fucking Christ," Billy hisses as he comes around the corner from the kitchen, shifting down next to Dominic with a towel in his hand and moving Dominic to one side. "Dominic, what is going on--" Billy swallows his words, scooping up the glass with the towel. He's earned the right to be frustrated, at least as much as Dominic must think he's earned the right to just come over with no warning and think he can just try to fix Billy like this, but Billy can feel his face reddening with regained fury, and it's only when he raises his eyes again that he really looks at Dominic and feels something in his chest burn hard. Dominic is terrified, and that terror hangs in the air between them. After a long moment Billy breaks their stare, swallowing again as his eyes focus on something only slightly easier to bear.
"You're bleeding," he says quietly, reaching for Dominic's hand.
"It's nothing. I'm okay," Dominic spits out, scuttling away from Billy. He knows that look, has seen it enough times in his father's eyes to fear it. That it's coming from Billy sucks the very breath from his lungs. "Everything's okay," he repeats. "It's alright. I'll just leave. Okay? I'm sorry."
Billy's mouth falls open in shock. "Leave--what are you thinking?"
"I just thought that I could make you feel better. I'm sorry, Billy." Standing up and keeping his back against the wall, Dominic desperately tries to think of something that will make this better. His mind is blank, though, intent only on getting him out of the situation, out of Billy's house and reach, and he continues to stumble over his apologies as he carefully makes his way toward the back door. "I'm really sorry. It was a stupid idea."
"Make me feel-" Billy rises from his crouch to follow Dominic and then stops when Dominic does, too, and runs one hand through his hair. "Dominic, you're not responsible for me. And I'm entitled to ..." Billy's running out of energy, and Dominic is moving away from him now, a wildness in his eyes that hurts to look at for too long. "Look, I'm sorry," Billy says, taking a step forward when Dominic begins to inch his way back to the kitchen again. "You're hurt, Dom; don't try to hide it from me. Let me help you." When Dominic doesn't respond, Billy moves again, faster this time, to block Dominic's way. "Chiontach," he says quickly, the note of desperation in his voice startling them both. "Don't run from me, Dom. I didn't--I don't want to give you reason to. You feel like you have to run, then do, but not until I've had a look at your hand, yeah? Not until I've taken care of you."
Trapped, Dominic holds his hand against his chest, squeezing it into a fist. A thin streak of blood runs down his wrist and through his fingers and he hisses, sliding down the wall and resting there, his legs tight against his chest as Billy crouches down again and nears him. "I just wanted to make you happy. I wanted you to ..." need me as much as I need you. Dominic curls in on himself as much as he can, and Billy tries to find the right thing to say now, to reach again for Dominic's hand, but Dominic's apologies continue, quiet and soft. "I'm really sorry. I'll replace the frame somehow. I'm just ... I'll leave you alone. Wait for you to tell me to come. I wasn't thinking--"
"And which of us was." Billy rests his hand on Dominic's knee and edges closer, slowly. "You're not going anywhere." Dominic won't meet his eyes, but Billy can work around that. He has no choice. Billy moves his hand from Dominic's knee to his shoulder, then to his now rusty-smeared wrist. Billy's touch is as gentle as he's capable of showing, but he expects Dominic's flinch now, and Dominic doesn't disappoint.
"You're going to have to trust me," Billy murmurs. "We can sit here like this for the rest of the night, or you can let me help you. We'll get this cleaned up and then I'll take care of you." Billy turns Dominic's chin with his other hand and moves even closer until they're breathing the same nervous air. "You can trust me, or you can run away, and nothing gets fixed. What do you say, Dom?"
It should be such an easy thing to do, that trusting, and Dominic wishes he had the nerve to ask for the same trust. In the end, however, he knows he can't deny Billy. He nods, relaxing his hand into Billy's, and lets himself be pulled to his feet and led across the small house to the bathroom. He doesn't speak. Doesn't dare, as Billy holds his hand beneath the water in the sink. Looking down, Dominic can see the glass has cut through the list he had inked on his hand. The sight makes him inexplicably sad--more defeated than anything else that's happened so far on this ill- fated night. He turns his face away and closes his eyes, easily falling into an old habit from when he was a boy for distancing himself from bad situations.
"S'alright," Billy says softly when Dominic winces. "Just another moment." He feels the strain in Dominic's forearm as he twists away from the cut, and compensates for it by rubbing that forearm lightly as the water pours over the wound. Billy needs Dominic's palm as clean as possible before he can remove the little shards of glass, but he doesn't plan to make it any more painful than he has to. And then Billy sees it: his own name written on Dominic's palm, at the end of a list ending with wine, and it comes back to him how Dominic must have truly thought this out, must have planned for only the best of evenings with the best intentions. And now Billy has thoroughly fucked it up, as he does more often than not.
"Sit, Dom," he sighs, pressing Dominic gently down on the edge of the bath before he crouches between Dominic's legs, still holding the now-clean hand. The light is perfect here, and Billy peers at Dominic's skin carefully before he reaches for a pair of tweezers beneath the sink. "You might want to close your eyes again. Or hold on to something-I'll be as quick as I can."
Billy leans down again and works the tweezers in delicate movements, keeping Dominic's hand still in his own palm. "Just another bit there," he nods, but this last piece of glass is stubborn, and Billy cannot help tugging more than he'd intended. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he says quickly, raising Dominic's palm to his lips.
"It's alright. It's okay." Dominic's voice is tight--thick with emotion. He doesn't open his eyes, even when he's sure that Billy's finished. I love you, he wants to say but doesn't. "I'm sorry I made you mad, Billy. That I showed up uninvited. It was stupid. I won't do it again." Dominic slides from where he sits on the edge of the tub to the floor in front of Billy. He experimentally moves his good hand to Billy's waist and rests his head against Billy's shoulder. "It's okay. I'll leave if you want me to. It's alright. I understand."
"Stop it," Billy says sharply, then swallows again. "Look, Dominic, you-you surprised me, 's all, and I've just had such a day. I'm not angry with you, and it wasn't stupid." Billy leans back and holds Dominic's face in his hands. "Come on, up with you. You'll stay with me, yeah? Show me what you brought; we'll tuck in and this'll-it'll be better. You'll stay with me?"
Dominic thoughts are jumbled between wanting so much to stay and make things right, and worrying that Billy only wants him to stay because Dominic's forced his hand, made him feel guilty. He doesn't know what to say and so says nothing, letting Billy help him to his feet and bandage his hand.
Following Billy back into the front room, Dominic keeps his eyes downcast and walks close to Billy--stopping when Billy does and sitting when he's pressed into the couch, waiting for Billy to leave the room again before he lets his guard down, cradling his head in his hands.
Pain radiates through his hand now, and his shoulders and neck ache from being so rigidly held. Dominic's thoughts flash back through the whole evening as he marks where he's gone wrong--what he should have done different. He's fairly if uncomfortably certain how he could make things better now. If he could get Billy into the bedroom, if he could kiss and touch him, Billy might forget his irritation and anger. Dominic hears the bland assurance of his last partner before Greg in his ears--You're a good fuck--good for a fuck--and, his mind set, Dominic rises from the couch and stands in the kitchen doorway for several seconds watching as Billy pours wine with slightly shaking hands. When Billy puts the bottle down, Dominic slides up behind him, pressing his body against Billy's back and sliding his arms around Billy's waist. Billy jumps at Dominic's touch, holding on to the edge of the counter to steady himself, but Dominic moves his hand from to the zipper of Billy's jeans, working to pull it down.
"Let me make it up to you first, Billy," Dominic says softly. "Let me touch you, yeah?"
It takes everything Billy has not to wrench Dominic's hand away from his body, but he recovers, covering Dominic's hand with his own gently but firmly before he turns around in Dominic's arms. "You have nothing to make up for, Dom. We've got plenty of time. Let's just ... you brought this to share, now come share it with me."
Billy squeezes Dominic's arms gently before turning again to the counter, balancing plates in one hand and two almost full wineglasses in between the fingers of his other. He shakes his head at Dominic's attempt to help. "Go on, get comfortable. I'll take care of this and you."
Dominic wants to protest, but he keeps quiet, following Billy back into the front room. He tucks his feet beneath him on the couch, trying to take up as little space as possible and fight his desire to slide nearly into Billy's lap--to pretend this night has not happened the way it has. He's still wary, though, still too willing to believe he's overstepped the boundaries Billy's placed between them and that he's not welcome here.
Billy's most comfortable like this with Dominic: settling them both down onto Billy's well-loved couch, sharing food and drink with him, just enjoying the quiet. But that quiet is not usually so weighed down with concern, and right now Billy feels that weight on his shoulders and back. Billy doesn't like being feared, at least not in this fashion, and even as a teacher, he's never felt such intimidated tension as he feels from Dominic, curled up tight on one cushion, as far away from Billy as he can possibly get and still remain on the same piece of furniture.
Billy tries not to react to this, choosing instead to pass the pizza and wine to Dominic and rest himself at the opposite end of the couch, looser-limbed than Dominic and body relaxed, ready to receive Dominic when he feels it's safe to give himself back into Billy's arms. Dominic accepts the glass of wine when it's offered to him, taking a large sip when Billy nods for him to do so. He lets the liquid rest in his mouth before he closes his eyes and swallows. The plate he takes and then sets on the low coffee table, finding he has no appetite though this is meant to serve as both today's lunch and dinner as well as tomorrow's breakfast, the last of his money for the week gone to it.
"Billy?" Dominic keeps his voice quiet, taking another long drink of the wine before setting it alongside his plate and then reaching for and stroking at Billy's sleeve. His movements are tentative as he moves closer to Billy, ready to jump up and move should Billy's mood change again. "I know you don't want me to say it, but I am sorry. That I came over without warning and that you've had such a bad day."
Billy shakes his head, abandoning his barely half-finished meal too to instead let his hand fall into Dominic's hair, bringing him closer.
"S'alright," he sighs. "None of it's your fault. I might've needed you here tonight and just didn't know it. You've sussed me out Dom, and I don't--" Billy takes a breath, and continues, turning Dominic chin again to face him, tracing his hand along Dominic's cheekbone, his jaw and finally his lips. "I'm not interested in frightening you. I don't ever want to see you look at me like that again. Tell me the truth, Dom. What did you think I would do?"
Dominic doesn't answer immediately, but closes his eyes as Billy strokes his hair and face. He relaxes a bit, his thoughts calming. When he finally does talk, his voice is quiet and steadier. "When I came out to my family ... I think I didn't really do it the right way, but I didn't know how, you know? My dad ..." Dominic pauses, and Billy holds his breath, waiting. "He didn't hurt me, but he would've. If. He'd never done that before. But I pushed him."
Sitting up and a little more out of Billy's reach, Dominic moves his hand up and down Billy's shirt, focusing intently on the line of buttons. "That's what I saw. I pushed you tonight. I would have deserved it."
"No one deserves--" Billy starts, but then closes his eyes, looking for words that don't come until he's taken several deep breaths. "I don't know that there really is a right way to tell people, Dom. I never had to--" Billy stiffens a bit next to Dominic, and lets his eyes fall to the floor. "To tell my parents. Never had the chance either way. I'd like to think they would have understood. Let me be."
Billy stares up at the ceiling rather than meet Dominic's eyes as he gathers the rest of his thoughts. "You should never have faced that, Dom. When I think of what it must have taken you to tell me--" Billy pulls Dominic a little closer, careful not to brush against Dominic's bandaged hand. Billy's hand traces back up Dominic's face and into his hair again, tangling in the streaks of blond and brown. "You did want to stay here tonight, yeah?"
Dominic nods and moves closer again to Billy, resting his head in the crook of Billy's shoulder, and tries to let everything go--to just trust Billy and how it feels to be beside him.
"Will you tell me what happened, Bill?" Dominic's voice is still quiet, unsure. Platitudes rush through Billy's mind-it's not important, it doesn't matter, it's nothing to concern yourself about-and he only just keeps from saying them aloud as Dominic reaches to stroke his fingers down Billy's throat--turning his hand over to rub the back against the stubble on Billy's cheek. "You wouldn't, before. In the classroom, when we went--" Dominic stops again, reforming his thoughts. "You never just--talk, like. And I want to know. I want to hear you. I want to help."
"It wasn't any one thing, Dom," Billy tells him. "You know how poorly your own class went, and you know I don't usually brook that kind of disruption. But my first years had stopped just short of a tantrum earlier, and I couldn't take much more after that. And I'm--" Billy frowns, hating to admit it out loud. "I'm exhausted. You caught me after I'd had some, too, Dom; I'm a miserable fuck of a drunk, they tell me, and I'm halfway there, feels like. It's not like I can argue the point. So I'm not at m'best. Clearly."
Billy quiets as Dominic continues to stroke his face and throat, the gentle touch making the last vestiges of Billy's frustration slowly disappear. "And you, Dom?"
"It wasn't bad today. Just class and then a run afterwards." Dominic doesn't mention the time or money he'd spent planning this evening. He hasn't told Billy he's quit his job to keep up his grades and to be free whenever Billy says they can be together. All that seems inconsequential now, and might provoke a different discussion, one Dominic doesn't want to have. "Nothing important or exciting happened. Being with you always makes things better," Dominic says, choosing not to remember what had happened only moments ago. Sitting up, he turns and tugs Billy into his arms, laying back on the couch and bringing Billy down with him. "If you're tired, then maybe you should just rest, yeah? Whatever you were doing before I interrupted you can wait, can't it?"
Of course it can wait, Billy thinks. Those papers have waited almost a week already. Billy's let things slide in many areas of his life, from getting to the dry cleaners to going through the less pressing mail to--suddenly, with a feeling of rolling displeasure in his stomach--remembering that he has another meeting with Noble in two days, where they're likely to discuss whether Billy's made any of the suggested adjustments to his paper. Billy lets out a harsh breath at the thought and his hand fists a corner of Dominic's shirt, his fingers moving over Dominic's thin chest.
Dominic's body, already wiry and toned with long, perfect muscles, seems to growing lighter in Billy's hands every time he has the pleasure to feel it, and Dominic's eyes appear shadowed now sometimes with the same exhaustion Billy feels, though Dominic has yet to admit it. Billy knows he should be more careful with Dominic, should be watching to make sure the pressure of their relationship is not hurting Dominic in other ways. Billy can't bear the weight of the thought if Dominic were to begin to fail his classes or lose friends because of Billy's own desires, including that of privacy.
Dominic can feel the tension ratcheting back up in Billy's body, and he wraps his arms around Billy gently, remembering his earlier plan and beginning to hope that he can salvage a bit of it. "D'you want to go back to your room, Billy? We don't have to do anything, like. I'll give you a massage. Get rid of all this, and then we can just ... sleep. Whatever you want."
"I want your hands on me, however you're willing to give them to me," Billy sighs, the words tumbling out before he can think of a prettier way to say them. "You're getting thinner, Dom, and you're exhausted, too. I can feel it. I wonder-" Another pause, and Billy swallows another wave of fear before he takes a deep breath and raises himself over Dominic on one hand. "If you're not hungry, then yeah, bed. Come on, then. For both of us."
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Billy/Dominic
Word count: 4656
Summary: In which Dominic makes an effort and Billy makes a mess.
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.
Billy's heard it before, in the hallways of the humanities building, usually from the mouths of English majors carrying satchels more weatherbeaten than his own briefcase. The phrase "deleting this entire day" has always made him smile in its contemporary ennui, its world-weary resignation of impossibility. But today Billy feels it-would say it aloud himself if the words didn't sound ridiculous falling from his lips.
The combined forces of no coffee in the department's breakroom, no parking in the staff lot, no rest between three frustrated students during his afternoon office hours, and no proper discussion in his last class have almost sent Billy straight to the pub tonight. Only the stack of unfinished first years' essays sitting on his desk and staring at him as petulantly as the first years themselves had earlier in the day has brought him home instead. And now he finds himself staring back at the pages just as petulantly, filled with rare loathing for what he needs to do. What he's paid to do.
Still, he has all the other ingredients for the night: good whiskey, three fingers of it in a short glass, Barber's "Adagio" on loop in the player, bare feet, and low light at his desk. Billy's forcing two more hours' work from himself, and then there will be sleep, blessed sleep-something he is not getting nearly enough of lately, for reasons Billy would rather not consider just now. Billy pulls on his glasses and sweeps his bangs from his forehead as he leans over his desk, flipping to the next essay in the pile while the Adagio plays on. The advantage of the classical music is that one is not tempted to sing along, as it were, thereby risking penning lyrics down the margins of half-graded essays. It's happened before to Billy, to his complete mortification, and so he takes great care to only play these instrumentals-especially the dirgiest of pieces-while at work.
And there is of course another bonus of such music-few awkward pauses between movements, during which Billy can hear his own heart beating, or lose himself in thoughts he doesn't want to think. It's in one of these few moments of rest in the music that Billy hears it-the rapping on his back door. Billy's entire face twists in an expression of annoyance, one no one ever sees from him outside these walls, and he slams his pen down, suddenly roiling with a strange irritation that borders on anger-anger he cannot show to the one person who could be in his garden asking for entrance.
Billy's careful to shift his features into something calm but not quite friendly. Truth be told, he was neither expecting nor in need of company tonight, and he's rarely one for surprises. Dominic's presence is something Billy isn't sure he wants. He opens the door slowly, his vision filled with Dominic's smile, the pizza and bottle of wine in Dominic's hands, and Billy takes a deep breath, not quite managing a smile in return.
"Dominic," he says lightly. "To what do I owe this?"
"I thought you might like some company." My company, Dominic wants to add but doesn't. It had taken only a few minutes for Dominic's plans for the night to come together but hours for him to get up the courage to actually go through with it. He couldn't decide whether Billy would be delighted or irritated. The last week had gone a long way toward convincing Dominic that Billy wanted Dominic in his life and not just his bed, and not just by special invitation. It only takes seconds for Dominic to realize how wrong he was. Dominic swallows, unsure of how to back out of this now that he's standing in front of Billy. The silence between them quickly turns awkward, and Dominic rushes to fill the void. "You looked a little stressed in class today and I thought ..."
Run out of words, Dominic repositions the pizza box in his hand, the bottle of wine balanced on top, and steadies the bag of DVDs he's borrowed, all foreign films, except one particularly bad American flick he put in as a joke. Still Billy stares at him and Dominic self-consciously tugs down his t-shirt, wishing he had thought to go back to his room and change into something a bit nicer to wear or to grab a jumper as the night is growing cool. Or better, had just stuck with his original plan of a night out with friends.
"Stressed." Billy smiles tightly and leans against his back door, arms crossed over his chest, watching Dominic as he begins to fidget. Billy knows the power of his own stare, especially on Dominic, and he takes another breath to keep from abusing that power and intimidating Dominic straight into a run from his house. Instead he gestures Dominic inside the house.
"I looked stressed. Never at a loss for words to describe me, are you, Dom? Never miss a chance to tell me what I already know." Billy pivots on one heel back to the door, locking it, and the sound is deafening in the quiet of Billy's kitchen. When he turns around again, Dominic is looking at the floor, and Billy releases another irritated sigh.
Dominic ignores the sound, ignores the burn between his shoulder blades as he holds himself tight against the words Billy throws at him. In his mind, he can hear his mum's old refrain of he's not really mad at you, and instead of reacting, he carefully sets the pizza, wine, and DVDs onto the table. Picking the bottle back up when he catches sight of the sticker still on the neck, Dominic scratches at it with his thumb before setting it back onto the table. That done, his fingers flutter against his thighs for a moment before he's again tugging at his shirt. Still Billy says nothing, and Dominic kneels down now in another effort to conceal his unease, untying and retying the laces on his trainers. As he stands up, he shrugs his shoulders, wishing he had never thought this would be a good idea--cursing himself for believing he and Billy had a relationship where he could ask and not just receive.
"Why d'you never wear a coat?" Billy says suddenly, sharper than he means to. "It's no wonder you're always cold, Dominic, look at you. You're cold now, I can see it." Billy moves closer to Dominic, hands raised to touch, then stops himself, again folding those arms over his chest. "Look at me, Dominic," he murmurs, and waits for Dominic to do so. There are things Billy suddenly feels the need to say, but the moment Dominic meets his eyes, Billy tamps down the urge to continue this here in the kitchen. He's caught somewhere between anger and compassion-an odd place to be. "Go and get y'self something from my closet," Billy says firmly, moving to his cabinets and pulling down plates. "Go and get y'self warm."
Dominic stands still for a moment, staring at the back of Billy's head--his brows furrowed. Again the thought occurs to him that he should leave before he gets hurt. "I could go if ..." he starts, but the slam of a cabinet door stops his words and he skitters from the room, headed quickly to Billy's room to do as he was told.
Switching on the lamp next to Billy's bed, Dominic sits on the edge of the bed. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him to leave--flee, really--before this gets any worse. He looks at his hands, rubs at the ink there, written in his last lecture: wine, pizza, movies, Billy. He's furious with himself, and several long minutes pass before he forces himself off the bed and to the closet to get a jumper from the shelf. He pulls it over his head as he makes his way back to Billy, getting his arms caught in the sleeves and walking blindly into the front room. Dominic's hip hits an end table, and the movement sends something crashing to the floor. The sound of glass breaking makes Dominic freeze, his breath catching, and he pulls the sweater down roughly and stares at the shattered glass frame lying on the floor, the picture of Billy's parents. Dominic's face is one of devastation--he already fears this strange mood Billy is in--and he feels the immediate guilt of destroying something that he knew was important to Billy. Kneeling down, he grabs at the glass carelessly, simply trying to get it up.
"Fucking Christ," Billy hisses as he comes around the corner from the kitchen, shifting down next to Dominic with a towel in his hand and moving Dominic to one side. "Dominic, what is going on--" Billy swallows his words, scooping up the glass with the towel. He's earned the right to be frustrated, at least as much as Dominic must think he's earned the right to just come over with no warning and think he can just try to fix Billy like this, but Billy can feel his face reddening with regained fury, and it's only when he raises his eyes again that he really looks at Dominic and feels something in his chest burn hard. Dominic is terrified, and that terror hangs in the air between them. After a long moment Billy breaks their stare, swallowing again as his eyes focus on something only slightly easier to bear.
"You're bleeding," he says quietly, reaching for Dominic's hand.
"It's nothing. I'm okay," Dominic spits out, scuttling away from Billy. He knows that look, has seen it enough times in his father's eyes to fear it. That it's coming from Billy sucks the very breath from his lungs. "Everything's okay," he repeats. "It's alright. I'll just leave. Okay? I'm sorry."
Billy's mouth falls open in shock. "Leave--what are you thinking?"
"I just thought that I could make you feel better. I'm sorry, Billy." Standing up and keeping his back against the wall, Dominic desperately tries to think of something that will make this better. His mind is blank, though, intent only on getting him out of the situation, out of Billy's house and reach, and he continues to stumble over his apologies as he carefully makes his way toward the back door. "I'm really sorry. It was a stupid idea."
"Make me feel-" Billy rises from his crouch to follow Dominic and then stops when Dominic does, too, and runs one hand through his hair. "Dominic, you're not responsible for me. And I'm entitled to ..." Billy's running out of energy, and Dominic is moving away from him now, a wildness in his eyes that hurts to look at for too long. "Look, I'm sorry," Billy says, taking a step forward when Dominic begins to inch his way back to the kitchen again. "You're hurt, Dom; don't try to hide it from me. Let me help you." When Dominic doesn't respond, Billy moves again, faster this time, to block Dominic's way. "Chiontach," he says quickly, the note of desperation in his voice startling them both. "Don't run from me, Dom. I didn't--I don't want to give you reason to. You feel like you have to run, then do, but not until I've had a look at your hand, yeah? Not until I've taken care of you."
Trapped, Dominic holds his hand against his chest, squeezing it into a fist. A thin streak of blood runs down his wrist and through his fingers and he hisses, sliding down the wall and resting there, his legs tight against his chest as Billy crouches down again and nears him. "I just wanted to make you happy. I wanted you to ..." need me as much as I need you. Dominic curls in on himself as much as he can, and Billy tries to find the right thing to say now, to reach again for Dominic's hand, but Dominic's apologies continue, quiet and soft. "I'm really sorry. I'll replace the frame somehow. I'm just ... I'll leave you alone. Wait for you to tell me to come. I wasn't thinking--"
"And which of us was." Billy rests his hand on Dominic's knee and edges closer, slowly. "You're not going anywhere." Dominic won't meet his eyes, but Billy can work around that. He has no choice. Billy moves his hand from Dominic's knee to his shoulder, then to his now rusty-smeared wrist. Billy's touch is as gentle as he's capable of showing, but he expects Dominic's flinch now, and Dominic doesn't disappoint.
"You're going to have to trust me," Billy murmurs. "We can sit here like this for the rest of the night, or you can let me help you. We'll get this cleaned up and then I'll take care of you." Billy turns Dominic's chin with his other hand and moves even closer until they're breathing the same nervous air. "You can trust me, or you can run away, and nothing gets fixed. What do you say, Dom?"
It should be such an easy thing to do, that trusting, and Dominic wishes he had the nerve to ask for the same trust. In the end, however, he knows he can't deny Billy. He nods, relaxing his hand into Billy's, and lets himself be pulled to his feet and led across the small house to the bathroom. He doesn't speak. Doesn't dare, as Billy holds his hand beneath the water in the sink. Looking down, Dominic can see the glass has cut through the list he had inked on his hand. The sight makes him inexplicably sad--more defeated than anything else that's happened so far on this ill- fated night. He turns his face away and closes his eyes, easily falling into an old habit from when he was a boy for distancing himself from bad situations.
"S'alright," Billy says softly when Dominic winces. "Just another moment." He feels the strain in Dominic's forearm as he twists away from the cut, and compensates for it by rubbing that forearm lightly as the water pours over the wound. Billy needs Dominic's palm as clean as possible before he can remove the little shards of glass, but he doesn't plan to make it any more painful than he has to. And then Billy sees it: his own name written on Dominic's palm, at the end of a list ending with wine, and it comes back to him how Dominic must have truly thought this out, must have planned for only the best of evenings with the best intentions. And now Billy has thoroughly fucked it up, as he does more often than not.
"Sit, Dom," he sighs, pressing Dominic gently down on the edge of the bath before he crouches between Dominic's legs, still holding the now-clean hand. The light is perfect here, and Billy peers at Dominic's skin carefully before he reaches for a pair of tweezers beneath the sink. "You might want to close your eyes again. Or hold on to something-I'll be as quick as I can."
Billy leans down again and works the tweezers in delicate movements, keeping Dominic's hand still in his own palm. "Just another bit there," he nods, but this last piece of glass is stubborn, and Billy cannot help tugging more than he'd intended. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he says quickly, raising Dominic's palm to his lips.
"It's alright. It's okay." Dominic's voice is tight--thick with emotion. He doesn't open his eyes, even when he's sure that Billy's finished. I love you, he wants to say but doesn't. "I'm sorry I made you mad, Billy. That I showed up uninvited. It was stupid. I won't do it again." Dominic slides from where he sits on the edge of the tub to the floor in front of Billy. He experimentally moves his good hand to Billy's waist and rests his head against Billy's shoulder. "It's okay. I'll leave if you want me to. It's alright. I understand."
"Stop it," Billy says sharply, then swallows again. "Look, Dominic, you-you surprised me, 's all, and I've just had such a day. I'm not angry with you, and it wasn't stupid." Billy leans back and holds Dominic's face in his hands. "Come on, up with you. You'll stay with me, yeah? Show me what you brought; we'll tuck in and this'll-it'll be better. You'll stay with me?"
Dominic thoughts are jumbled between wanting so much to stay and make things right, and worrying that Billy only wants him to stay because Dominic's forced his hand, made him feel guilty. He doesn't know what to say and so says nothing, letting Billy help him to his feet and bandage his hand.
Following Billy back into the front room, Dominic keeps his eyes downcast and walks close to Billy--stopping when Billy does and sitting when he's pressed into the couch, waiting for Billy to leave the room again before he lets his guard down, cradling his head in his hands.
Pain radiates through his hand now, and his shoulders and neck ache from being so rigidly held. Dominic's thoughts flash back through the whole evening as he marks where he's gone wrong--what he should have done different. He's fairly if uncomfortably certain how he could make things better now. If he could get Billy into the bedroom, if he could kiss and touch him, Billy might forget his irritation and anger. Dominic hears the bland assurance of his last partner before Greg in his ears--You're a good fuck--good for a fuck--and, his mind set, Dominic rises from the couch and stands in the kitchen doorway for several seconds watching as Billy pours wine with slightly shaking hands. When Billy puts the bottle down, Dominic slides up behind him, pressing his body against Billy's back and sliding his arms around Billy's waist. Billy jumps at Dominic's touch, holding on to the edge of the counter to steady himself, but Dominic moves his hand from to the zipper of Billy's jeans, working to pull it down.
"Let me make it up to you first, Billy," Dominic says softly. "Let me touch you, yeah?"
It takes everything Billy has not to wrench Dominic's hand away from his body, but he recovers, covering Dominic's hand with his own gently but firmly before he turns around in Dominic's arms. "You have nothing to make up for, Dom. We've got plenty of time. Let's just ... you brought this to share, now come share it with me."
Billy squeezes Dominic's arms gently before turning again to the counter, balancing plates in one hand and two almost full wineglasses in between the fingers of his other. He shakes his head at Dominic's attempt to help. "Go on, get comfortable. I'll take care of this and you."
Dominic wants to protest, but he keeps quiet, following Billy back into the front room. He tucks his feet beneath him on the couch, trying to take up as little space as possible and fight his desire to slide nearly into Billy's lap--to pretend this night has not happened the way it has. He's still wary, though, still too willing to believe he's overstepped the boundaries Billy's placed between them and that he's not welcome here.
Billy's most comfortable like this with Dominic: settling them both down onto Billy's well-loved couch, sharing food and drink with him, just enjoying the quiet. But that quiet is not usually so weighed down with concern, and right now Billy feels that weight on his shoulders and back. Billy doesn't like being feared, at least not in this fashion, and even as a teacher, he's never felt such intimidated tension as he feels from Dominic, curled up tight on one cushion, as far away from Billy as he can possibly get and still remain on the same piece of furniture.
Billy tries not to react to this, choosing instead to pass the pizza and wine to Dominic and rest himself at the opposite end of the couch, looser-limbed than Dominic and body relaxed, ready to receive Dominic when he feels it's safe to give himself back into Billy's arms. Dominic accepts the glass of wine when it's offered to him, taking a large sip when Billy nods for him to do so. He lets the liquid rest in his mouth before he closes his eyes and swallows. The plate he takes and then sets on the low coffee table, finding he has no appetite though this is meant to serve as both today's lunch and dinner as well as tomorrow's breakfast, the last of his money for the week gone to it.
"Billy?" Dominic keeps his voice quiet, taking another long drink of the wine before setting it alongside his plate and then reaching for and stroking at Billy's sleeve. His movements are tentative as he moves closer to Billy, ready to jump up and move should Billy's mood change again. "I know you don't want me to say it, but I am sorry. That I came over without warning and that you've had such a bad day."
Billy shakes his head, abandoning his barely half-finished meal too to instead let his hand fall into Dominic's hair, bringing him closer.
"S'alright," he sighs. "None of it's your fault. I might've needed you here tonight and just didn't know it. You've sussed me out Dom, and I don't--" Billy takes a breath, and continues, turning Dominic chin again to face him, tracing his hand along Dominic's cheekbone, his jaw and finally his lips. "I'm not interested in frightening you. I don't ever want to see you look at me like that again. Tell me the truth, Dom. What did you think I would do?"
Dominic doesn't answer immediately, but closes his eyes as Billy strokes his hair and face. He relaxes a bit, his thoughts calming. When he finally does talk, his voice is quiet and steadier. "When I came out to my family ... I think I didn't really do it the right way, but I didn't know how, you know? My dad ..." Dominic pauses, and Billy holds his breath, waiting. "He didn't hurt me, but he would've. If. He'd never done that before. But I pushed him."
Sitting up and a little more out of Billy's reach, Dominic moves his hand up and down Billy's shirt, focusing intently on the line of buttons. "That's what I saw. I pushed you tonight. I would have deserved it."
"No one deserves--" Billy starts, but then closes his eyes, looking for words that don't come until he's taken several deep breaths. "I don't know that there really is a right way to tell people, Dom. I never had to--" Billy stiffens a bit next to Dominic, and lets his eyes fall to the floor. "To tell my parents. Never had the chance either way. I'd like to think they would have understood. Let me be."
Billy stares up at the ceiling rather than meet Dominic's eyes as he gathers the rest of his thoughts. "You should never have faced that, Dom. When I think of what it must have taken you to tell me--" Billy pulls Dominic a little closer, careful not to brush against Dominic's bandaged hand. Billy's hand traces back up Dominic's face and into his hair again, tangling in the streaks of blond and brown. "You did want to stay here tonight, yeah?"
Dominic nods and moves closer again to Billy, resting his head in the crook of Billy's shoulder, and tries to let everything go--to just trust Billy and how it feels to be beside him.
"Will you tell me what happened, Bill?" Dominic's voice is still quiet, unsure. Platitudes rush through Billy's mind-it's not important, it doesn't matter, it's nothing to concern yourself about-and he only just keeps from saying them aloud as Dominic reaches to stroke his fingers down Billy's throat--turning his hand over to rub the back against the stubble on Billy's cheek. "You wouldn't, before. In the classroom, when we went--" Dominic stops again, reforming his thoughts. "You never just--talk, like. And I want to know. I want to hear you. I want to help."
"It wasn't any one thing, Dom," Billy tells him. "You know how poorly your own class went, and you know I don't usually brook that kind of disruption. But my first years had stopped just short of a tantrum earlier, and I couldn't take much more after that. And I'm--" Billy frowns, hating to admit it out loud. "I'm exhausted. You caught me after I'd had some, too, Dom; I'm a miserable fuck of a drunk, they tell me, and I'm halfway there, feels like. It's not like I can argue the point. So I'm not at m'best. Clearly."
Billy quiets as Dominic continues to stroke his face and throat, the gentle touch making the last vestiges of Billy's frustration slowly disappear. "And you, Dom?"
"It wasn't bad today. Just class and then a run afterwards." Dominic doesn't mention the time or money he'd spent planning this evening. He hasn't told Billy he's quit his job to keep up his grades and to be free whenever Billy says they can be together. All that seems inconsequential now, and might provoke a different discussion, one Dominic doesn't want to have. "Nothing important or exciting happened. Being with you always makes things better," Dominic says, choosing not to remember what had happened only moments ago. Sitting up, he turns and tugs Billy into his arms, laying back on the couch and bringing Billy down with him. "If you're tired, then maybe you should just rest, yeah? Whatever you were doing before I interrupted you can wait, can't it?"
Of course it can wait, Billy thinks. Those papers have waited almost a week already. Billy's let things slide in many areas of his life, from getting to the dry cleaners to going through the less pressing mail to--suddenly, with a feeling of rolling displeasure in his stomach--remembering that he has another meeting with Noble in two days, where they're likely to discuss whether Billy's made any of the suggested adjustments to his paper. Billy lets out a harsh breath at the thought and his hand fists a corner of Dominic's shirt, his fingers moving over Dominic's thin chest.
Dominic's body, already wiry and toned with long, perfect muscles, seems to growing lighter in Billy's hands every time he has the pleasure to feel it, and Dominic's eyes appear shadowed now sometimes with the same exhaustion Billy feels, though Dominic has yet to admit it. Billy knows he should be more careful with Dominic, should be watching to make sure the pressure of their relationship is not hurting Dominic in other ways. Billy can't bear the weight of the thought if Dominic were to begin to fail his classes or lose friends because of Billy's own desires, including that of privacy.
Dominic can feel the tension ratcheting back up in Billy's body, and he wraps his arms around Billy gently, remembering his earlier plan and beginning to hope that he can salvage a bit of it. "D'you want to go back to your room, Billy? We don't have to do anything, like. I'll give you a massage. Get rid of all this, and then we can just ... sleep. Whatever you want."
"I want your hands on me, however you're willing to give them to me," Billy sighs, the words tumbling out before he can think of a prettier way to say them. "You're getting thinner, Dom, and you're exhausted, too. I can feel it. I wonder-" Another pause, and Billy swallows another wave of fear before he takes a deep breath and raises himself over Dominic on one hand. "If you're not hungry, then yeah, bed. Come on, then. For both of us."