A True Gentleman
Title: A True Gentleman (16/?)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-NC17
Warnings: AU, angst, art geekery
Summary: Uni fic.
It was warm when Billy's alarm went off in the morning. Far warmer than it ever was in the basement flat in April. It took snaking an arm from underneath all that wonderful perfect warmth and slapping the alarm off to realize why-Dom was wrapped around him. His arm tightened around Billy's ribs, pushing his round nose deeper into Billy's neck with a sleepy hum. The naked thigh nestled between Billy's legs drew slowly up and then back down as he shifted, fighting wakefulness, and things became invariably warmer beneath the sheets.
Billy tipped his chin down a bit, catching a glimpse of the thick dark feather of Dom's eyelashes, and the slope of the back of his neck disappearing under the quilt. He could feel the brush of his soft hair against his cheek, smell the sleepy clean scent of him. He took a deep breath and murmured, "I've got to leave for work in a half hour."
"Hm-mmm," was the answer, mumbled into his neck, before warm lips parted and kissed there. Billy swallowed, and Dom's arm slid down to his hip and back up as his lips trailed along his jaw and up to his lips.
The kissing was enough to wake him up entirely. Billy'd rarely had too much trouble getting out of bed early every morning; whether it was school or work, he always had somewhere to be. But Dom's mouth and skin and his sexy, sleepy little noises were making that very difficult. "Dom, I've got to go," he whinged as Dom straddled fully over him, morning hard-on brushing his own, tracing kisses along his collarbones and then down to suck over the pink of a nipple. Billy brought his hand to Dom's hair, meaning to push him away, but quickly found that was a mistake, getting distracted by the silky soft strands, the way his fringe tickled his chest as Dom traced his ribs with his tongue. "Dominic..."
"Call in."
Billy snorted, "I don't... I've never called in."
"First time for everything, isn't there?" Dom shot a pointed grin up at him.
"I... I don't think Janeane would..."
"Tell her there's a man in your bed who's about to suck you off."
Blurting an incredulous laugh, Billy looked down, catching the wicked, astonishingly sapphire blue of those eyes flashing back up at him, as Dom swiped his tongue over the rim of his navel, dragging the covers down with his shoulders, and then ducked his head beneath them. Moments later there was breath, dragon hot over his prick beneath the sheets.
"Fuck," Billy breathed with a shiver.
A few seconds of that passed before the sheets lifted open over Dom's head, cold air assaulting his skin as Dom propped his chin on one hand and gave him a waiting on you, mate look. Scrubbing at his face, Billy grabbed for his mobile from the nightstand.
"Janeane, it's Bill. Yeah, I'm, ah, not feeling good." He lied when his boss answered. Dom's grinned became invariably more naughty as he stroked just the tip of one finger up the length of him, making him hold his breath and squirm. The sheets dropped back over Dom's head and the lava breath was back.
"Yeah, I think... ah. I think I've got a fever. Feeling really, really warm." He swallowed, biting back on a moan as he felt the first damp tease of tongue.
"Uh-huh," Janeane dropped sarcastically. "That's convenient, since you're already down for a half shift today so you can study," she reminded him.
He'd completely forgotten he'd made that arrangement in light of this coming week. "I... you're right, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it, just do what you've got to do. You'll feel much better once it's all over."
"I will. Thanks, Janeane, I really appreciate it." He rung off quick and smacked the lump of Dom's head under the covers. "Bastard. That was your plan all along, wasn't it?"
A gravelly laugh came from beneath, before Dom's staticky head emerged again, "Maybe."
"I don't get paid sick days, you know," he complained, even as Dom mouthed and then nipped at the inside of his thigh. "You're making me poor."
Dom sent a smile back up at him, taking his cock in hand and giving it a decadent stroke, rumbling as he hovered intently over the head, "Then I guess I'll have to make it worth your while."
The remainder of the morning saw them settling into a booth at the diner across from the laundromat Billy frequented. Dom had insisted not only on helping him cart both his bed linens and the rest of his washing, but had also pushed a twenty into the coin machine to pay for it. Billy'd never been to the diner for more than a cup of coffee; it was hard enough to afford to do the laundry, never mind have a meal out, but Dom was still riding last night's coattails and citing Paris whenever possible.
The waitress appeared with their drinks and took their order. As she left, Billy reached for the sugar, doctoring his coffee to his taste and inhaling the blessed aroma. Dom, on the other hand, followed her retreat to the kitchen before he brought the abused looking moleskine he'd grabbed from beneath the seat of his car up to the table. He plucked a thin plastic card from its pages, flipped to a clean page near the end and bent the spine, then put the plastic between the page he'd selected and the others. Billy watched this, perplexed until Dom dabbed his fingers into his teacup and dripped it onto the paper, smearing it around into a random pattern like fingerpaints.
Billy cracked a smile, remembering. "Your own version of expression, eh?"
Dom grinned widely, shrugging his shoulders. He then picked up the salt shaker, darting a look around for the waitress again as if he was doing something naughty, sprinkled a bit in his palm and sifted the crystals carefully onto the wet brownish blotches on the paper. At Billy's confusion, he tossed the remainder of salt over his shoulder and pushed the notebook across for him to see.
"The salt reacts with the pigment as it dries. Leaves kind of a neat texture. You'll see." He pulled the book out of their way, propping its edge flat with with the napkin dispenser so the splatters would dry. Dom quirked his mouth, "I'm surprised you don't know that already."
"Know what?"
"The salt thing. It's a common watercolor technique."
BIlly shrugged, rubbing at his unshaven chin. "I guess I haven't studied watercolorists so much. Most of my favorites worked in-"
"In oils, yeah," Dom laughed, waving a hand over the book to dry it.
Billy watched his hand, with its long, elegant fingers and strings round his wrist, "Do you ever paint? Besides with tea."
Dom lifted his shoulders, "I have, yeah, mostly for school. But I'm not so good at it. Especially oils, you know, they take so long for each layer to dry. I don't have that kind of patience." Billy smirked at that, and Dom went on, "I like my markers and pens the most. You make a mark and it's permanent, you can't erase it. So if you make a mistake, you either have to make it work or start all over."
"I'd rather erase it," Billy chuckled.
"That's what my dad says. Typical architect, everything on the paper better damn well be perfect." Dom's fingers unconsciously went to the sketchbook again, thumbing the corner of the pages. "He hates my work, especially my drafting. Says it's messy. Like my life."
Billy pondered that, watching the way Dom fidgeted across from him, wearing one of Billy's own white undershirts with his jeans and looking somehow changed, transformed by the sunlight and the tentative promise of spring outside, clean and soft and remarkably different from his brand-name clothes and slick, cool swagger on campus. From what he'd heard of Dom's father, he was a strict man who expected much from his son, and Billy could understand where he was coming from to a degree-wanting an heir to take over the business, feeling as if he was solidifying both his family's future and its fortune by it. Certainly a concept that hadn't existed in Billy's family. Any variety of work was good for his sort, and a white collar career would be commendable step up and out. Even so, Billy's own gran had worried about his aspirations. She knew the arts were a career choice in which competition was high and pay was typically low. But she'd encouraged him nonetheless, because it was something, and it was better than factory work like the futures of so many other East End Glasgow kids.
Glancing down at his own undershirt, he felt the sting of what Gran might say if she'd seen him wearing nothing but a t-shirt out in public. He still felt the guilty itch to put his jumper back on over it, though the diner had the heat properly cranked. She'd been a strict old bird about many things herself. She'd never known he fancied the lads though, at least that he'd been aware of, and might well have been scandalized by Dom, who lived everything he was right out in the open. It wasn't that Billy had ever really been hiding this side of himself, he just hadn't ever had the guts to explore it, not properly, beyond the few quiet, one-sided crushes he'd indulged throughout his time at school and uni.
Dom glanced at his watch, scooting out of the booth with the chink of quarters in his pockets, and pointed out the windows, "Gonna go change those loads over."
Billy watched him go, studying his every move through the world now, from the jingle of the bell over the diner's door, to the way he hunched up his shoulders and hopped in place in the chilly sunshine, missing the jacket he'd left draped over the back of the booth while he waited for a car to pass, then trotted across the street and into the laundromat.
He recalled the morning, full of warmth and skin, filthy jokes and laughing. His cheeks ached from it, and went hot at the joke his mind formed about which set, even without Dom here to share it with. He laughed to himself, tilting his head to look closer at the moleskine sketchbook. Like Dom had said, the grains of salt were doing something odd to the streaks of brown as they dried, making a strange snowflake field of texture.
He considered last night, and this date he'd so foolishly agreed to. But it had been fun. Of course, Dom had taken him to a place where he was practically guaranteed to enjoy himself, but the fact that Dom knew it spoke to his intuition. Not that it wasn't obvious, but they just as well have gone to a movie, where they wouldn't speak at all. Instead Dom had had Billy relaxed and unloading perhaps more than he normally would to someone he'd previously regarded with caution, this lad who had teased and tormented and had gone out of his way to irritate for the last year. It wasn't long ago that having Dom anywhere nearby would put his hackles up, ready for the inevitable attack. Come to think of it, his body's reactions ever since the day Dom had kissed him on his sofa felt rather the same, the way his heart plummeted in his gut and the hair on his arms went on end. He began to wonder when it had shifted from being a bad feeling to a good one, or whether he had misinterpreted Dom's intentions all along.
And then there was the sex, which was unbelievably, mind-numbingly good. Not that he had any base for comparison, but his typical quick fierce wanks before the shower went cold had nothing on the real thing. He wanted more of this morning, and last night, a lot more. Even now he felt more relaxed, less stressed than he had in possibly years, which, considering his upcoming week, was strange and a bit frightening.
His proposal, shite. The manuscript itself was done and submitted to the committee, there was little more he could change or improve on now, beyond any points he may have to argue in his presentation. As for the exams, he doubted he wasn't ready there either, he knew the material inside and out. Still, he didn't-or shouldn't-feel safe if he wasn't studying, reviewing, or otherwise transfusing the last few years worth of knowledge into his bloodstream every second until then. Plus he had preparations to make afterwards. There were research fellowships to investigate, and he'd picked up an internship flyer from the museum that might be promising. Not to mention the additional work Viggo had asked of him. What happened in this next week would dictate the direction of his life for the the next year, possibly two, and all of it factored in on how soon he would be able to go home, when he could finally stop being a student and start having something resembling a career.
The waitress arrived with their food, breaking his daze as his plate of eggs and sausages was set before him and a frittata and bowl of fruit in the empty seat opposite. Shortly after, Dom was back with a jingle, palming Billy's head on the way to flopping back on his side of the booth and tucking happily in. They ate in amiable silence, a breakfast that Billy very rarely had the time or inclination for, but it was welcome nonetheless.
"So," Dom said, pushing his plate aside and pulling the moleskine toward him, testing the brown tea stains on the paper with his fingertips. "What do you want to do today? Aside from from the laundry?" He pulled a pen from the elastic holder on the book, and started sketching something over the dried tea.
"I dunno," Billy murmured, distracted both by his food and watching Dom, struck for the first time by the rather unusual way he held his pen. He set his fork down and picked up his coffee, watching as Dom paused, squinted at him and then drew a new line across what he'd been doing.
He was again reminded how he'd skivved off work, on a day when he'd fully intended to be using the afternoon to throw himself to his books, looking out the windows and away from Dom. What a bad time to be losing his work ethic to a befuddling, persistent little arse who annoyed him at the best of times. In an endearing sort of way. He felt the smile coming to his face already at that, looking back to Dom and arching a brow. "Don't you have exams to study for as well?"
Dom shrugged, smiling himself as his pen kept on, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he now made quick, loose hash marks across parts of the picture.
Billy set his elbows on the table, blowing out a breath that made his fringe fluff up from his forehead. "I really should go to the library. I meant to be studying anyway, this afternoon."
"Always at the library," Dom muttered with a shade of amusement. He scrawled something across the bottom corner of the page, and then turned the book and lifted it so Billy could see the drawing.
Billy inhaled sharply as he registered what it was, reaching for it to have a closer look. It was him, sat in this very booth, his coffee cup in hand and his gaze out the window. The lines were loose, relaxed, some might even say messy given that it was done in mere minutes, but each stroke had its place. The hashmarks made shadows, the tea midtones, and even points where the salt had lightened the staining looked like touches of sunlight across the planes of his own face and shoulder. It looked planned, even when it couldn't have been.
He flipped back a page, finding a view of a city street much like this one, and another, a squirrel and a pigeon beside a sidewalk trash can. There was Orlando sleeping on a sofa in rumpled clothes, then another of himself, at the podium of Mort's classroom, and one of Viggo at the desk in his office with his boots propped on its edge. All with the same spontaneous nature, the random tea stains and a date on the bottom, and a rare sense of moments and emotions captured in time.
He raised his eyes, find Dom's regarding him with soft candor, pulling his fruit bowl toward him and popped the remaining wedges of melon into his mouth.
"Christ, your da really has no idea," he shook his head in awe, looking through the rest of the moleskine book. Something in his chest gave a funny wriggle each time he came across a drawing of himself, remembering what Dom had said last night in his bed. "If you can do this kind of thing in five minutes, you could do so many things with it, Dom."
Dom bit his lip, rising from his side of the table and plucking the check from edge of it. He ruffled Billy's hair again, leaning down to kiss his temple before he went to the cash register to pay.
Billy glanced around briefly, though he recognized no one from school in the diner. The waitress came by to clear their empty plates, eyes flicking from Dom to him with a smile. Billy squeezed his eyes shut, laughing to himself. So often public displays of affection annoyed him, especially from Dom, who was the most unnecessarily tactile person he'd ever seen, planting kisses on everyone, but suddenly being on the receiving end made him feel decidedly different, and ridiculously giddy.
Back at his flat, Billy busied himself putting his clothes away and making up his bed. He really ought to pull out the fucking ironing board and press his work clothes for the week, but nothing about that was appealing, and he'd arranged to have the next three days off from Morton's anyhow. The sounds of Dom shuffling around in his flat were a far more welcome distraction. He followed them, finding Dom pulling his dress shirt from last night back on, but leaving it unbuttoned with the t-shirt beneath. He had folded his waistcoat, jacket and tie in a neat pile over the arm of the sofa. Even with the clear sense that it was time to leave Billy to his studies, he lingered, setting down his sketchbook on the coffee table to pick up a letter there announcing the upcoming commencement location, rehearsal and ceremony dates, a copy of which he probably had received as well.
"My parents are flying out for this," he waved the letter idly, his expression a bit pinched. "Booked their hotel and everything already."
Billy nodded acknowledgement, watching him, "Your mates' as well?"
"I think Elijah's will," Dom replied. "Orli never really sees his parents. They're always off somewhere-business trips and such."
Humming vague interest, Billy picked up Dom's moleskine, itching to see those drawings again, to study every line and detail of them.
Dom set down the letter and turned about the tiny room, stopping at the photographs on the bookshelf. “Will your sister come out?”
“Nah. ‘S not a cheap flight, you know, and anyway, she’s got James. Lad’s hard enough to keep track of at home.”
“What about your parents?” Dom asked.
Billy’s eyes came around shortly before going back to the drawing of himself. “They’re, ehm... gone. So, no.”
He studied it until, realizing how silent Dom was, he looked back up and found him still staring at the photos, looking rather stunned. Setting the sketchbook aside, he came up behind him, hesitating for a moment before he put his hands on Dom's shoulders, looking over the right one at the photo of his parents with him. They were sat on a picnic blanket in a park beneath an old oak, a place they'd frequently taken he and his sister so many years ago in the city, alive and happy in the freeze-frame of a photograph. He couldn't remember when it had been taken, or by whom, or where he had been at the time.
Still, he could see Dom worrying his bottom lip in the telling silence, and gave him a little squeeze. “It’s alright, ya daftie. You didn’t hurt my feelings, bringing them up. It was a long time ago.” He pushed his nose into the warm hair behind his ear, inhaling the clean scent there. “Da was sick. Cancer, product of factory work, you know. Mum went about five months after he did. I was thirteen.” He surprised himself at being so forthcoming.
Dom's voice was uncharacteristically quiet and tentative, “I didn't realize, when you said they were back in Glasgow, you meant..." He swallowed between his cautious words, "And then... your gran, just this Christmas?”
“Mid-November, but yeah," Billy corrected gently. "Gran lived to be a hundred. She’d a good go of it, too, taking care of me and Mags when we were teenagers. It wasn’t unexpected. Just... badly timed." He gave that a guilty laugh and pressed his face into Dom shoulder.
Turning, Dom's hands smoothed over his arms, his eyes bright and sad, obviously affected by all this. "I'm really sorry I've been such an arse to you. You know that, yeah?"
Billy shook his head, muttering, "It's alright." His own hands slid up along Dom's lithe frame, down his sides and around, a smile teasing at his mouth as he brought them down over the back of Dom's jeans. "Turns out I like your arse a bit."
Grinning, Dom kissed him, sweet and light at first, then deeper, bringing all that heat right up to the surface again. Billy took a deep breath as Dom's mouth went for his neck. He needed to put a stop to this if he was going to get anything useful done today. "Dom, wait." He pushed against him, but Dom didn't relent, "Slow down."
"What is it with you and slowing things like this down?" Dom chuckled low and sexy, pulling a bubble of mirth from him as they gently wrestled, Billy trying to get those dangerous hands off and Dom to keep them moving and caressing.
He finally broke away, physically taking a few steps back and pushing his hands deeply in his pockets. "I need you to leave me alone," he said, harder than he'd meant. Dom's expression went wide, as stunned and hurt as if Billy had hit him across the face, twisting Billy's insides as he amended quickly. "Just... just for a while."
Dom wiped his mouth and stepped backward, those eyes still searching for explanation. Billy shook his head, casting about the room for one. "I just... I've got quals, Dom. One tomorrow and another on Tuesday. And then Wednesday is my proposal. I shouldn't have even agreed to this with all that coming up, to you..." He broke off and touched Dom's silky tie on the sofa arm, smiling and trying to make him understand. "Fuck, but you distract me, you know? I can't bloody concentrate with you around me anymore."
A smile gradually reappeared on Dom's lips as his body relaxed a little. "Okay," he murmured, nodding, "So... you need me to back off for a bit." He contradicted that by stepping closer.
"Just for a while. Till after Wednesday, at least," Billy reiterated, "Maybe a little longer, to the weekend. I've got some other things I've got to take care of before the end of classes."
Dom was closer still, grabbing Billy's hands and his eyes sparking, "Because I make you so randy, you can't think of anything else."
Billy laughed, feeling his face heat up yet again. "Pretty much."
"Because you think I'm gorgeous," Dom teased, sidling in.
"Christ, you're a pain in my arse," Billy pulled his hand from Dom's grasp to scrub at his face with it.
"I could be," Dom shot back, joking and hopeful, and Billy's eyes went wide and curious. "I really could just bend you over right now," Dom insinuated himself right up against him again, pushing him against the arm of the sofa and whispered, "Right here."
Billy breathed a laugh, momentarily closing his eyes and shaking his head at Dom's teasing. The kind that just weeks ago used to grate his nerves raw. The kind he really, really wanted to go right along with, fuck his proposal and his exams. "Just... give me time to sort myself out, and then..."
"Then..." Dom parroted, nibbling at his chin and jaw.
"Then we'll see." Billy didn't know what he meant by that. It was all a bit too much when he had so much other shit to think about. Dom's mouth was doing fantastic things to his earlobe, and the rational part brain was very quickly being shorted out.
"Dom, you need to go," Billy murmured, eventually planting a hand on his chest and pushing him firmly away again. He smiled stupidly, keenly aware of the feel of Dom's warmth beneath the fabric of the shirt, his own shirt , ferchrissakes. Dom merely pressed back in. Billy pushed harder against him. "I need you to go. Please."
"Okay, just..." Dom murmured with a sigh, pulled his hands from his chest and held them, closing the distance to bring their foreheads together. "If I give you the week, I just want to know that... this isn't all there is."
"What do you mean?" Billy muttered, trying to resist the pull of Dom's lips so close.
"That you... that we aren't just having a one-off."
"Huh?" Billy pulled back to look at him fully.
Dom sighed in frustration, his words quiet and uncharacteristically wary. "You said before, the first time, 'it doesn't mean anything'. 'It doesn't have to mean anything'. That's what you said."
Billy sighed, "Does it have to?"
Dom blinked at him, the look on his face possibly the most open and honest he'd ever given him. His meaning was painfully clear.
"Dom," Billy shook his head, "I need... I don't have room in my head for this right now. I have to think. Maybe it does, but I can't promise-"
His words were smashed by Dom's mouth, his warm, amazing lips and tongue, pulling a whimper from somewhere deep in Billy's stomach and making his knees weak. When Dom pulled back, he looked both pleased and somehow uncertain. "Remember that, if you get to thinking too much," he whispered. Letting go, he tugged on his jacket and grabbed his waistcoat and tie, pausing at Billy's door to look back, eyes wide and sincere. "Good luck with your proposal."
Billy nodded hazely, then grabbed the moleskine from the coffee table and held it out. "Keep it," Dom said, gesturing with the clothes in his hand and a smile. "I'll start another one." And then he was gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-NC17
Warnings: AU, angst, art geekery
Summary: Uni fic.
It was warm when Billy's alarm went off in the morning. Far warmer than it ever was in the basement flat in April. It took snaking an arm from underneath all that wonderful perfect warmth and slapping the alarm off to realize why-Dom was wrapped around him. His arm tightened around Billy's ribs, pushing his round nose deeper into Billy's neck with a sleepy hum. The naked thigh nestled between Billy's legs drew slowly up and then back down as he shifted, fighting wakefulness, and things became invariably warmer beneath the sheets.
Billy tipped his chin down a bit, catching a glimpse of the thick dark feather of Dom's eyelashes, and the slope of the back of his neck disappearing under the quilt. He could feel the brush of his soft hair against his cheek, smell the sleepy clean scent of him. He took a deep breath and murmured, "I've got to leave for work in a half hour."
"Hm-mmm," was the answer, mumbled into his neck, before warm lips parted and kissed there. Billy swallowed, and Dom's arm slid down to his hip and back up as his lips trailed along his jaw and up to his lips.
The kissing was enough to wake him up entirely. Billy'd rarely had too much trouble getting out of bed early every morning; whether it was school or work, he always had somewhere to be. But Dom's mouth and skin and his sexy, sleepy little noises were making that very difficult. "Dom, I've got to go," he whinged as Dom straddled fully over him, morning hard-on brushing his own, tracing kisses along his collarbones and then down to suck over the pink of a nipple. Billy brought his hand to Dom's hair, meaning to push him away, but quickly found that was a mistake, getting distracted by the silky soft strands, the way his fringe tickled his chest as Dom traced his ribs with his tongue. "Dominic..."
"Call in."
Billy snorted, "I don't... I've never called in."
"First time for everything, isn't there?" Dom shot a pointed grin up at him.
"I... I don't think Janeane would..."
"Tell her there's a man in your bed who's about to suck you off."
Blurting an incredulous laugh, Billy looked down, catching the wicked, astonishingly sapphire blue of those eyes flashing back up at him, as Dom swiped his tongue over the rim of his navel, dragging the covers down with his shoulders, and then ducked his head beneath them. Moments later there was breath, dragon hot over his prick beneath the sheets.
"Fuck," Billy breathed with a shiver.
A few seconds of that passed before the sheets lifted open over Dom's head, cold air assaulting his skin as Dom propped his chin on one hand and gave him a waiting on you, mate look. Scrubbing at his face, Billy grabbed for his mobile from the nightstand.
"Janeane, it's Bill. Yeah, I'm, ah, not feeling good." He lied when his boss answered. Dom's grinned became invariably more naughty as he stroked just the tip of one finger up the length of him, making him hold his breath and squirm. The sheets dropped back over Dom's head and the lava breath was back.
"Yeah, I think... ah. I think I've got a fever. Feeling really, really warm." He swallowed, biting back on a moan as he felt the first damp tease of tongue.
"Uh-huh," Janeane dropped sarcastically. "That's convenient, since you're already down for a half shift today so you can study," she reminded him.
He'd completely forgotten he'd made that arrangement in light of this coming week. "I... you're right, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it, just do what you've got to do. You'll feel much better once it's all over."
"I will. Thanks, Janeane, I really appreciate it." He rung off quick and smacked the lump of Dom's head under the covers. "Bastard. That was your plan all along, wasn't it?"
A gravelly laugh came from beneath, before Dom's staticky head emerged again, "Maybe."
"I don't get paid sick days, you know," he complained, even as Dom mouthed and then nipped at the inside of his thigh. "You're making me poor."
Dom sent a smile back up at him, taking his cock in hand and giving it a decadent stroke, rumbling as he hovered intently over the head, "Then I guess I'll have to make it worth your while."
The remainder of the morning saw them settling into a booth at the diner across from the laundromat Billy frequented. Dom had insisted not only on helping him cart both his bed linens and the rest of his washing, but had also pushed a twenty into the coin machine to pay for it. Billy'd never been to the diner for more than a cup of coffee; it was hard enough to afford to do the laundry, never mind have a meal out, but Dom was still riding last night's coattails and citing Paris whenever possible.
The waitress appeared with their drinks and took their order. As she left, Billy reached for the sugar, doctoring his coffee to his taste and inhaling the blessed aroma. Dom, on the other hand, followed her retreat to the kitchen before he brought the abused looking moleskine he'd grabbed from beneath the seat of his car up to the table. He plucked a thin plastic card from its pages, flipped to a clean page near the end and bent the spine, then put the plastic between the page he'd selected and the others. Billy watched this, perplexed until Dom dabbed his fingers into his teacup and dripped it onto the paper, smearing it around into a random pattern like fingerpaints.
Billy cracked a smile, remembering. "Your own version of expression, eh?"
Dom grinned widely, shrugging his shoulders. He then picked up the salt shaker, darting a look around for the waitress again as if he was doing something naughty, sprinkled a bit in his palm and sifted the crystals carefully onto the wet brownish blotches on the paper. At Billy's confusion, he tossed the remainder of salt over his shoulder and pushed the notebook across for him to see.
"The salt reacts with the pigment as it dries. Leaves kind of a neat texture. You'll see." He pulled the book out of their way, propping its edge flat with with the napkin dispenser so the splatters would dry. Dom quirked his mouth, "I'm surprised you don't know that already."
"Know what?"
"The salt thing. It's a common watercolor technique."
BIlly shrugged, rubbing at his unshaven chin. "I guess I haven't studied watercolorists so much. Most of my favorites worked in-"
"In oils, yeah," Dom laughed, waving a hand over the book to dry it.
Billy watched his hand, with its long, elegant fingers and strings round his wrist, "Do you ever paint? Besides with tea."
Dom lifted his shoulders, "I have, yeah, mostly for school. But I'm not so good at it. Especially oils, you know, they take so long for each layer to dry. I don't have that kind of patience." Billy smirked at that, and Dom went on, "I like my markers and pens the most. You make a mark and it's permanent, you can't erase it. So if you make a mistake, you either have to make it work or start all over."
"I'd rather erase it," Billy chuckled.
"That's what my dad says. Typical architect, everything on the paper better damn well be perfect." Dom's fingers unconsciously went to the sketchbook again, thumbing the corner of the pages. "He hates my work, especially my drafting. Says it's messy. Like my life."
Billy pondered that, watching the way Dom fidgeted across from him, wearing one of Billy's own white undershirts with his jeans and looking somehow changed, transformed by the sunlight and the tentative promise of spring outside, clean and soft and remarkably different from his brand-name clothes and slick, cool swagger on campus. From what he'd heard of Dom's father, he was a strict man who expected much from his son, and Billy could understand where he was coming from to a degree-wanting an heir to take over the business, feeling as if he was solidifying both his family's future and its fortune by it. Certainly a concept that hadn't existed in Billy's family. Any variety of work was good for his sort, and a white collar career would be commendable step up and out. Even so, Billy's own gran had worried about his aspirations. She knew the arts were a career choice in which competition was high and pay was typically low. But she'd encouraged him nonetheless, because it was something, and it was better than factory work like the futures of so many other East End Glasgow kids.
Glancing down at his own undershirt, he felt the sting of what Gran might say if she'd seen him wearing nothing but a t-shirt out in public. He still felt the guilty itch to put his jumper back on over it, though the diner had the heat properly cranked. She'd been a strict old bird about many things herself. She'd never known he fancied the lads though, at least that he'd been aware of, and might well have been scandalized by Dom, who lived everything he was right out in the open. It wasn't that Billy had ever really been hiding this side of himself, he just hadn't ever had the guts to explore it, not properly, beyond the few quiet, one-sided crushes he'd indulged throughout his time at school and uni.
Dom glanced at his watch, scooting out of the booth with the chink of quarters in his pockets, and pointed out the windows, "Gonna go change those loads over."
Billy watched him go, studying his every move through the world now, from the jingle of the bell over the diner's door, to the way he hunched up his shoulders and hopped in place in the chilly sunshine, missing the jacket he'd left draped over the back of the booth while he waited for a car to pass, then trotted across the street and into the laundromat.
He recalled the morning, full of warmth and skin, filthy jokes and laughing. His cheeks ached from it, and went hot at the joke his mind formed about which set, even without Dom here to share it with. He laughed to himself, tilting his head to look closer at the moleskine sketchbook. Like Dom had said, the grains of salt were doing something odd to the streaks of brown as they dried, making a strange snowflake field of texture.
He considered last night, and this date he'd so foolishly agreed to. But it had been fun. Of course, Dom had taken him to a place where he was practically guaranteed to enjoy himself, but the fact that Dom knew it spoke to his intuition. Not that it wasn't obvious, but they just as well have gone to a movie, where they wouldn't speak at all. Instead Dom had had Billy relaxed and unloading perhaps more than he normally would to someone he'd previously regarded with caution, this lad who had teased and tormented and had gone out of his way to irritate for the last year. It wasn't long ago that having Dom anywhere nearby would put his hackles up, ready for the inevitable attack. Come to think of it, his body's reactions ever since the day Dom had kissed him on his sofa felt rather the same, the way his heart plummeted in his gut and the hair on his arms went on end. He began to wonder when it had shifted from being a bad feeling to a good one, or whether he had misinterpreted Dom's intentions all along.
And then there was the sex, which was unbelievably, mind-numbingly good. Not that he had any base for comparison, but his typical quick fierce wanks before the shower went cold had nothing on the real thing. He wanted more of this morning, and last night, a lot more. Even now he felt more relaxed, less stressed than he had in possibly years, which, considering his upcoming week, was strange and a bit frightening.
His proposal, shite. The manuscript itself was done and submitted to the committee, there was little more he could change or improve on now, beyond any points he may have to argue in his presentation. As for the exams, he doubted he wasn't ready there either, he knew the material inside and out. Still, he didn't-or shouldn't-feel safe if he wasn't studying, reviewing, or otherwise transfusing the last few years worth of knowledge into his bloodstream every second until then. Plus he had preparations to make afterwards. There were research fellowships to investigate, and he'd picked up an internship flyer from the museum that might be promising. Not to mention the additional work Viggo had asked of him. What happened in this next week would dictate the direction of his life for the the next year, possibly two, and all of it factored in on how soon he would be able to go home, when he could finally stop being a student and start having something resembling a career.
The waitress arrived with their food, breaking his daze as his plate of eggs and sausages was set before him and a frittata and bowl of fruit in the empty seat opposite. Shortly after, Dom was back with a jingle, palming Billy's head on the way to flopping back on his side of the booth and tucking happily in. They ate in amiable silence, a breakfast that Billy very rarely had the time or inclination for, but it was welcome nonetheless.
"So," Dom said, pushing his plate aside and pulling the moleskine toward him, testing the brown tea stains on the paper with his fingertips. "What do you want to do today? Aside from from the laundry?" He pulled a pen from the elastic holder on the book, and started sketching something over the dried tea.
"I dunno," Billy murmured, distracted both by his food and watching Dom, struck for the first time by the rather unusual way he held his pen. He set his fork down and picked up his coffee, watching as Dom paused, squinted at him and then drew a new line across what he'd been doing.
He was again reminded how he'd skivved off work, on a day when he'd fully intended to be using the afternoon to throw himself to his books, looking out the windows and away from Dom. What a bad time to be losing his work ethic to a befuddling, persistent little arse who annoyed him at the best of times. In an endearing sort of way. He felt the smile coming to his face already at that, looking back to Dom and arching a brow. "Don't you have exams to study for as well?"
Dom shrugged, smiling himself as his pen kept on, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he now made quick, loose hash marks across parts of the picture.
Billy set his elbows on the table, blowing out a breath that made his fringe fluff up from his forehead. "I really should go to the library. I meant to be studying anyway, this afternoon."
"Always at the library," Dom muttered with a shade of amusement. He scrawled something across the bottom corner of the page, and then turned the book and lifted it so Billy could see the drawing.
Billy inhaled sharply as he registered what it was, reaching for it to have a closer look. It was him, sat in this very booth, his coffee cup in hand and his gaze out the window. The lines were loose, relaxed, some might even say messy given that it was done in mere minutes, but each stroke had its place. The hashmarks made shadows, the tea midtones, and even points where the salt had lightened the staining looked like touches of sunlight across the planes of his own face and shoulder. It looked planned, even when it couldn't have been.
He flipped back a page, finding a view of a city street much like this one, and another, a squirrel and a pigeon beside a sidewalk trash can. There was Orlando sleeping on a sofa in rumpled clothes, then another of himself, at the podium of Mort's classroom, and one of Viggo at the desk in his office with his boots propped on its edge. All with the same spontaneous nature, the random tea stains and a date on the bottom, and a rare sense of moments and emotions captured in time.
He raised his eyes, find Dom's regarding him with soft candor, pulling his fruit bowl toward him and popped the remaining wedges of melon into his mouth.
"Christ, your da really has no idea," he shook his head in awe, looking through the rest of the moleskine book. Something in his chest gave a funny wriggle each time he came across a drawing of himself, remembering what Dom had said last night in his bed. "If you can do this kind of thing in five minutes, you could do so many things with it, Dom."
Dom bit his lip, rising from his side of the table and plucking the check from edge of it. He ruffled Billy's hair again, leaning down to kiss his temple before he went to the cash register to pay.
Billy glanced around briefly, though he recognized no one from school in the diner. The waitress came by to clear their empty plates, eyes flicking from Dom to him with a smile. Billy squeezed his eyes shut, laughing to himself. So often public displays of affection annoyed him, especially from Dom, who was the most unnecessarily tactile person he'd ever seen, planting kisses on everyone, but suddenly being on the receiving end made him feel decidedly different, and ridiculously giddy.
Back at his flat, Billy busied himself putting his clothes away and making up his bed. He really ought to pull out the fucking ironing board and press his work clothes for the week, but nothing about that was appealing, and he'd arranged to have the next three days off from Morton's anyhow. The sounds of Dom shuffling around in his flat were a far more welcome distraction. He followed them, finding Dom pulling his dress shirt from last night back on, but leaving it unbuttoned with the t-shirt beneath. He had folded his waistcoat, jacket and tie in a neat pile over the arm of the sofa. Even with the clear sense that it was time to leave Billy to his studies, he lingered, setting down his sketchbook on the coffee table to pick up a letter there announcing the upcoming commencement location, rehearsal and ceremony dates, a copy of which he probably had received as well.
"My parents are flying out for this," he waved the letter idly, his expression a bit pinched. "Booked their hotel and everything already."
Billy nodded acknowledgement, watching him, "Your mates' as well?"
"I think Elijah's will," Dom replied. "Orli never really sees his parents. They're always off somewhere-business trips and such."
Humming vague interest, Billy picked up Dom's moleskine, itching to see those drawings again, to study every line and detail of them.
Dom set down the letter and turned about the tiny room, stopping at the photographs on the bookshelf. “Will your sister come out?”
“Nah. ‘S not a cheap flight, you know, and anyway, she’s got James. Lad’s hard enough to keep track of at home.”
“What about your parents?” Dom asked.
Billy’s eyes came around shortly before going back to the drawing of himself. “They’re, ehm... gone. So, no.”
He studied it until, realizing how silent Dom was, he looked back up and found him still staring at the photos, looking rather stunned. Setting the sketchbook aside, he came up behind him, hesitating for a moment before he put his hands on Dom's shoulders, looking over the right one at the photo of his parents with him. They were sat on a picnic blanket in a park beneath an old oak, a place they'd frequently taken he and his sister so many years ago in the city, alive and happy in the freeze-frame of a photograph. He couldn't remember when it had been taken, or by whom, or where he had been at the time.
Still, he could see Dom worrying his bottom lip in the telling silence, and gave him a little squeeze. “It’s alright, ya daftie. You didn’t hurt my feelings, bringing them up. It was a long time ago.” He pushed his nose into the warm hair behind his ear, inhaling the clean scent there. “Da was sick. Cancer, product of factory work, you know. Mum went about five months after he did. I was thirteen.” He surprised himself at being so forthcoming.
Dom's voice was uncharacteristically quiet and tentative, “I didn't realize, when you said they were back in Glasgow, you meant..." He swallowed between his cautious words, "And then... your gran, just this Christmas?”
“Mid-November, but yeah," Billy corrected gently. "Gran lived to be a hundred. She’d a good go of it, too, taking care of me and Mags when we were teenagers. It wasn’t unexpected. Just... badly timed." He gave that a guilty laugh and pressed his face into Dom shoulder.
Turning, Dom's hands smoothed over his arms, his eyes bright and sad, obviously affected by all this. "I'm really sorry I've been such an arse to you. You know that, yeah?"
Billy shook his head, muttering, "It's alright." His own hands slid up along Dom's lithe frame, down his sides and around, a smile teasing at his mouth as he brought them down over the back of Dom's jeans. "Turns out I like your arse a bit."
Grinning, Dom kissed him, sweet and light at first, then deeper, bringing all that heat right up to the surface again. Billy took a deep breath as Dom's mouth went for his neck. He needed to put a stop to this if he was going to get anything useful done today. "Dom, wait." He pushed against him, but Dom didn't relent, "Slow down."
"What is it with you and slowing things like this down?" Dom chuckled low and sexy, pulling a bubble of mirth from him as they gently wrestled, Billy trying to get those dangerous hands off and Dom to keep them moving and caressing.
He finally broke away, physically taking a few steps back and pushing his hands deeply in his pockets. "I need you to leave me alone," he said, harder than he'd meant. Dom's expression went wide, as stunned and hurt as if Billy had hit him across the face, twisting Billy's insides as he amended quickly. "Just... just for a while."
Dom wiped his mouth and stepped backward, those eyes still searching for explanation. Billy shook his head, casting about the room for one. "I just... I've got quals, Dom. One tomorrow and another on Tuesday. And then Wednesday is my proposal. I shouldn't have even agreed to this with all that coming up, to you..." He broke off and touched Dom's silky tie on the sofa arm, smiling and trying to make him understand. "Fuck, but you distract me, you know? I can't bloody concentrate with you around me anymore."
A smile gradually reappeared on Dom's lips as his body relaxed a little. "Okay," he murmured, nodding, "So... you need me to back off for a bit." He contradicted that by stepping closer.
"Just for a while. Till after Wednesday, at least," Billy reiterated, "Maybe a little longer, to the weekend. I've got some other things I've got to take care of before the end of classes."
Dom was closer still, grabbing Billy's hands and his eyes sparking, "Because I make you so randy, you can't think of anything else."
Billy laughed, feeling his face heat up yet again. "Pretty much."
"Because you think I'm gorgeous," Dom teased, sidling in.
"Christ, you're a pain in my arse," Billy pulled his hand from Dom's grasp to scrub at his face with it.
"I could be," Dom shot back, joking and hopeful, and Billy's eyes went wide and curious. "I really could just bend you over right now," Dom insinuated himself right up against him again, pushing him against the arm of the sofa and whispered, "Right here."
Billy breathed a laugh, momentarily closing his eyes and shaking his head at Dom's teasing. The kind that just weeks ago used to grate his nerves raw. The kind he really, really wanted to go right along with, fuck his proposal and his exams. "Just... give me time to sort myself out, and then..."
"Then..." Dom parroted, nibbling at his chin and jaw.
"Then we'll see." Billy didn't know what he meant by that. It was all a bit too much when he had so much other shit to think about. Dom's mouth was doing fantastic things to his earlobe, and the rational part brain was very quickly being shorted out.
"Dom, you need to go," Billy murmured, eventually planting a hand on his chest and pushing him firmly away again. He smiled stupidly, keenly aware of the feel of Dom's warmth beneath the fabric of the shirt, his own shirt , ferchrissakes. Dom merely pressed back in. Billy pushed harder against him. "I need you to go. Please."
"Okay, just..." Dom murmured with a sigh, pulled his hands from his chest and held them, closing the distance to bring their foreheads together. "If I give you the week, I just want to know that... this isn't all there is."
"What do you mean?" Billy muttered, trying to resist the pull of Dom's lips so close.
"That you... that we aren't just having a one-off."
"Huh?" Billy pulled back to look at him fully.
Dom sighed in frustration, his words quiet and uncharacteristically wary. "You said before, the first time, 'it doesn't mean anything'. 'It doesn't have to mean anything'. That's what you said."
Billy sighed, "Does it have to?"
Dom blinked at him, the look on his face possibly the most open and honest he'd ever given him. His meaning was painfully clear.
"Dom," Billy shook his head, "I need... I don't have room in my head for this right now. I have to think. Maybe it does, but I can't promise-"
His words were smashed by Dom's mouth, his warm, amazing lips and tongue, pulling a whimper from somewhere deep in Billy's stomach and making his knees weak. When Dom pulled back, he looked both pleased and somehow uncertain. "Remember that, if you get to thinking too much," he whispered. Letting go, he tugged on his jacket and grabbed his waistcoat and tie, pausing at Billy's door to look back, eyes wide and sincere. "Good luck with your proposal."
Billy nodded hazely, then grabbed the moleskine from the coffee table and held it out. "Keep it," Dom said, gesturing with the clothes in his hand and a smile. "I'll start another one." And then he was gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN