monaboyd | Mistake Number Three

Title: Mistake Number Three - 8/19
Author:

dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: R, maybe.
Summary: A shopping trip has an unexpected result, and Dom struggles to find a way to leave the past behind.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Comments make me squee like a fangirl. Hee.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality.
A/N: Warning of angst. I know, you’re shocked by that. As always, lovingly beta'd by my dear

frojane. Thanks so much sweetie.
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Over the next few days, Dom begins to slowly improve, thanks to Billy’s very strict enforcement of rest, and short walks with Billy in a nearby park each morning and afternoon. With each passing day, Dom’s back hurts a bit less, and he smiles just a wee bit more often. Five days later, however, Dom is beginning to get antsy, and finally he begs that he be able to do something else. Billy’s response is to hand him a pad of paper and a pen, instructing Dom to write down everything from his favorite foods to favorite movies and nearly everything in-between. Confused, Dom grumbles under his breath, but doesn’t refuse. At least it’s something, he thinks. Whatever Billy has in mind, Dom hopes that it means he’ll get to do something besides lay on the couch and watch television or read books.

After dinner that evening, Billy reads the very detailed list that Dom wrote, rather amused that Dom had quickly discarded the pen in favor of a black sharpie. When Billy’s finished reading, he makes an excuse to Dom about having paperwork to do in the shop, but instead makes a quick trip to the chemist’s around the corner. He offers no explanation to Dom when he returns with carrier bags, claiming that he’s very tired and is going to bed. Disappointed, Dom finishes reading the chapter of a book that Billy loaned him and then turns off the lights, deciding to go to bed as well. When he steps into the loo to brush his teeth, he gasps in surprise.

A new blue toothbrush is resting on the edge of the basin, next to his favorite brand of toothpaste. The small shelves next to the shower now contain a new bottle of hair gel, deodorant, shaving creme, aftershave, and razor blades, and like the toothpaste, they’re all Dom’s favorites. The cheap, generic products he’d barely been able to afford are gone. There’s even a bottle of black nail polish with cotton pads and polish remover. Through the clear, plastic shower curtain, Dom can see new bottles of shampoo and conditioner resting on the ledge.

Stunned beyond words, Dom finally notices a small piece of paper laying in the basin.

Just a housewarming gift to
help you settle in. Get some
sleep. We go shopping for your
work clothes first thing in the
morning.

-Billy

Stepping out into the hall, Dom walks over to Billy’s bedroom door, hovering, wanting to knock to say thank you, but he can tell that the room is dark. There is no light at the base of the door, nor is there any sound. Billy is already asleep. Dom suddenly regrets not following Billy when he said goodnight, but promises himself that he’ll make it up to Billy tomorrow. Sliding into his own bed, Dom hugs a pillow to his chest and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

* * * * *

The electric kettle is just starting to boil when Billy walks into the kitchen the next morning, where Dom has already set the table for breakfast.

“Somebody is up early,” Billy comments with a bemused grin as he reaches for a cup of tea.

Ducking his head, Dom blushes.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “You really didn-”

“You’re welcome,” Billy interrupts. “Did you remember your pills?” he asks, gesturing to the long row of bottles lined up on the counter next to the fridge.

True to his promise, Viggo had sent them home with a very detailed list of what Dom was going to need, handing over a bag with as many supplies as he could provide, and flatly refusing to take a penny for them. Most of the test results had come back in about an hour, but there were some that would take longer. The more intimate ones had to be sent to an outside lab. To doubly ensure Dom’s privacy it was sent to a lab that specializes in confidential testing, with the results coming via the post. The only request Viggo had was that he be made aware of any way he could be of help. Although he doesn’t say it out loud, Billy understands his meaning. If the results are not good.

Unable to deny Viggo anything after providing such tender care for Dom, Billy had submitted to a blood test as well, after making Viggo promise not to mention a word of it to Dom. The last thing Dom needs is to add guilt to his list of troubles, in the unlikely case the news isn’t good. Billy is grateful that Dom was too worn out to fully grasp what Viggo was talking about when discussing this part of the testing. The cold, hard truth will be here soon enough. Results in seven to ten days is what Viggo said. Until then, they wait.

“Already taken. Promise,” Dom vows. “Every last one of the buggers. Even that disgusting orange one.”

“Okay,” Billy says with a smile. “Good.”

Breakfast is eaten quickly, Dom wrinkling his nose at the porridge as he does every single morning before eating it without complaint, once he’s surreptitiously added sugar, of course. After rinsing the dishes and ensuring that Dom is sufficiently bundled up in the jacket that Billy insisted he keep, they are off.

It’s only when Dom is following Billy through the men's department of a rather nice shop that Dom realizes he forgot to ask for his envelope from the safe downstairs. Without it, he has no way of paying for anything. He tries to tell Billy, to warn him, but Billy mildly waves Dom off, saying they’ll deal with it later. Not to worry about it. Before Dom can protest, they are stopping in the undergarments section.

“Now, I know you don’t wear pants,” Billy says in a low voice, glancing around to ensure that he won’t be overheard. “Is that because you don’t like them or-”

“I prefer my bits to breathe, actually,” Dom interrupts, cheeks pinking a little, surprised at himself to how casually they are discussing his choice of underclothes.

Nodding, Billy insists on some undershirts, as they’ll help keep Dom warm during the winter, especially when he’s still so terribly thin. Dark socks are chosen for work, and white athletics for casual. Passing off the packages to a helpful salesclerk, they are off to another section of the shop, Dom’s mind racing to keep up with the money Billy is spending. How he’s going to manage to pay Billy back for everything.

Eyeing Dom closely, Billy selects several collared shirts in a variety of sizes, beckoning Dom to remove his jacket and turn around. Frowning in confusion, Dom obeys and then stays completely still as Billy carefully and very gently measures them across his shoulders, confirming the correct size he’ll need.

Sensing that Dom needs a moment to himself, Billy suggests he take a look at the casual section, and see if there are a few things Dom would like as the threadbare clothes he is wearing are in desperate need of replacement. After perusing the wide selection for nearly twenty minutes, Dom carefully selects three t-shirts and two pairs of denims, his hands shaking when he returns to the spot where he left Billy. When Billy sees what Dom has picked out, he quietly sighs and shakes his head. Before Dom can ask why, he is then directed into a dressing room, where a small mountain of collared shirts and crisply pressed trousers are waiting to be tried on.

Billy insists that Dom try on the denims as well, and Dom is quite surprised when he finds that they are far too big. Gazing sadly at his reflection in the full-length mirror, Dom is forced to face what Billy has seen all along. What Viggo had seen. How skeletal he looks. Remembering how strong and firm his body used to be fills Dom with sadness, and he wonders if he’ll ever look that way again. He cracks open the door to call Billy, but he’s already there, holding a smaller pair of denims, an understanding smile gracing his bow shaped lips.

Once Dom’s correct size has been established, Billy then presses him to move on to the work clothes, inspecting each outfit and giving his opinion when Dom requests it. On every occasion, Billy watches Dom’s eyes closely to see what he really likes, knowing that Dom is clearly worried about the cost involved with this excursion. Finally, the dressing room is empty and Dom sinks limply into the chair, completely exhausted, physically and emotionally. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Dom stands, pulls on his old clothes, and then walks out to where he’s sure Billy is waiting for him.

Dom had hoped to keep an eye on Billy, convince him not to spend too much, but when he finds Billy, Dom realizes that he’s far too late. The transaction has already been completed and the clothes packaged up. What Billy decided on and how much the total was, Dom has no idea. Leaning against the wall, hands weighed down with the numerous carrier bags, Billy looks closely at Dom’s face as he approaches, brow furrowing in concern.

“Are you up for shoes, or would you rather save it for another day?” he asks, shifting all the bags to one hand and taking Dom’s arm at the elbow. “We can go home now if you want.”

“Can we sit for a bit first?” Dom requests. “Then decide?”

“Sure. It’s almost lunch. Are you hungry?” Billy asks. “There’s a Thai place just around the corner.”

“What did you do, memorize that bloody list?” Dom asks teasingly, deeply touched that Billy remembered what he’d written as one of his favorite types of food.

Merely smiling in response, Billy gently leads Dom out of the shop, keeping a very close eye all through lunch and when Dom agrees to try on shoes. Dom tries to protest when Billy brings out some sleek trainers as well as a pair of black leather shoes, but Billy shushes him with a look, and Dom is far too exhausted to argue with him. How worn out Dom is becomes very clear when he falls asleep in the car on the way home.

Insisting that Dom rest for a while, Billy sits in his bedroom with the door locked as he meticulously removes all the price tags from each purchase so that Dom doesn’t know how much money was spent. One thing is for sure, Dom is going to be surprised. Once all the evidence is hidden away, the bags are then placed outside of Dom’s bedroom, with a note attached, telling him to unpack, and that Billy is downstairs in the book shop.

A couple of hours later, Dom awakens and when he begins unloading the carrier bags, he makes a startling discovery. Where he’d picked out two pairs of denims, there are now six, in several different colors, and instead of three t-shirts, there are eight. There is even a deep blue, heavy knit sweater and two jumpers, one with a small Man U logo embroidered on the chest. Every bag Dom opens holds new surprises, all proving that Billy must have indeed studied that list, and been watching him closer in the shop than Dom realized. There are nearly double the number of work outfits that he expected to be able to afford or even hoped to have, and every single one of them is what he would’ve chosen for himself.

It’s overwhelming for Dom, and he finds himself tearing up at how effortlessly Billy gives of himself, wanting Dom to feel welcome, and help to put the past behind him. Scrubbing at his eyes, Dom puts everything away in the closet and bureau, not ready to wear them just yet. Now, more than ever, Dom wants to get to work in the shop, to earn money so he can pay Billy back as soon as possible.

Because it’s a Saturday, the shop is especially busy in the afternoon, and Billy is very tired when he finally comes upstairs that evening, just before seven. To his surprise, Dom has made dinner for them. It’s nothing fancy, just chicken, vegetables and baked potato, but Billy is grateful for Dom’s efforts. Insisting that he’ll do the dishes as well, Dom waves Billy off to the living room to relax, a tumbler of scotch pressed into his hand. By the time Dom joins him twenty minutes later, the scotch is gone, and Billy is dozing on the couch, head lolled to one side.

Moving soundlessly across the room, Dom sinks to his knees at Billy’s sock-clad feet, long fingers sliding over the fly of his trousers and carefully opening the button. Glancing up, Dom watches Billy’s face for signs that he’s awake, but so far so good. Keeping his touch as light as possible, Dom carefully lowers Billy’s fly and slips his hand inside his cotton boxers. Breath catches in Billy’s throat as he shifts, his arousal swelling under Dom’s delicate caress. Slowly, Dom’s fingers tighten around Billy’s erection and he is beginning to stroke him off when suddenly Billy’s strong fingers wrap around Dom’s slender wrist, firmly pulling his hand out of his trousers and away from his arousal.

Guiltily, Dom looks up to meet Billy’s eyes.

“No, Dom.”

There is no anger in Billy’s tone, just disappointment, his eyes unable to hide the sadness.

“Billy-”

“No,” he repeats, softly yet firmly.

Wrenching free of Billy’s grasp, Dom swallows a ragged sob as he scrambles to his feet and runs from the room in embarrassment and shame, slamming his bedroom door. Cursing vehemently under his breath, Billy zips his trousers over his throbbing erection, aching for release and wishing more than anything that he hadn’t been so careless. Of course Dom would want to thank him for the clothing, falling back on old, familiar habits. Thanks to the time they’d spent together, Dom knows Billy’s body intimately, and would feel comfortable expressing his appreciation this way.

Pushing himself up off the couch, Billy hurries down the hall to Dom’s room, ignoring the hardness pressing insistently against his zipper. At the door, Billy pauses to listen, the unmistakable sounds of Dom’s muffled sobs reaching his ears, and causing his stomach to twist into tight knots. He knocks gently, but Dom doesn’t answer. Testing the door knob, Billy finds it locked and he curses again. He knocks a second time, but the action is pointless. Dom isn’t going to let him in or talk about what just happened. Perhaps with some luck and after getting some sleep, Dom will be more in the mood to discuss it in the morning.

Finally, Billy gives up and goes to his own room, needing some privacy to deal with the rather pressing issue in his now tight fitting trousers. Closing the bedroom door, Billy moves into the loo, locking that door before stripping off his clothes and stepping into a hot shower. Being around Dom, day after day, is intoxicating and arousing.

When Dom smiled and blushed so sweetly this morning, Billy wanted nothing more than to gather Dom into his arms, nibble on his pouty lower lip and kiss him breathless. In the shop, when Dom was trying on clothes, so nervous and unsure, Billy was overwhelmed with the same urge. Seeing Dom’s slim body wrapped in clothing that actually fit and wearing colors that bought out his gorgeous, blue-grey eyes nearly drove Billy to his knees.

Even though he’s too thin and weak, Dom is very lovely to look at. There is an innocence, an aching vulnerability and sweetness in Dom that Billy finds himself fiercely wanting to protect. Gasping, Billy braces one hand against the wet tiles, rocking his hips into his other hand as the steamy water sluices down his trim body and over his tight fist. One word is repeated, over and over, in a hoarse whisper as he thrusts, drowned out by the pounding water. Dom.

Hearing Billy’s shower running in the distance, Dom sobs even harder, his whole body shaking violently. Not only has he broken one of only two rules in less than a week, now Billy’s in the shower, scrubbing Dom’s touch off of his skin. He’s obviously disgusted with what Dom did. That Dom touched him that way. Pressing his face into his pillow, Dom brokenly cries himself to sleep, telling himself to enjoy it because tomorrow he’ll be back on the street. Where he belongs.

Hours later, at nearly half two, Billy wakes up when he hears a faint noise. Rolling out of bed, he walks down the hall, surprised when he finds Dom’s bedroom door open, the navy blue coverlet rumpled and pushed back. Moving towards the kitchen, Billy searches for signs of Dom, hoping that he hasn’t left under the cover of darkness. He breathes a soft sigh of relief when he spots Dom by the living room window, staring aimlessly out at the street below. The street that he used to call home. Still dressed in his old denims and a thin white t-shirt, Dom’s arms are folded tightly over his chest. Silently closing the distance between them, Billy lays a hand on Dom’s shoulder, flinching at the chill on Dom’s skin.

“Hey.”

Eyes red rimmed and swollen from crying, Dom glances over at Billy, biting down on his lower lip for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, breath hitching. “Billy, I’m so-”

“Shhh,” Billy soothes, his hand moving from Dom’s shoulder to slide through the tousled, dark blonde hair at the base of his skull. “It’s okay.”

“Please don’t make me leave,” Dom begs quietly, fresh tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Please.”

“Dom, you’re not going anywhere, except back to bed,” Billy replies gently, taking his arm and tugging him away from the window. “C’mon, it’s cold out here.”

“But Billy-”

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

After tucking Dom into bed and drawing the coverlet up to his shoulders, Billy returns to his own room, leaving the door cracked open so he can hear if Dom needs him.

* * * * *

It’s during an awkwardly silent breakfast the next morning that Billy comes up with a way to ease Dom’s concern that he’s going to be kicked out for what happened last night.

“Remind me to call for a haircut tomorrow, yeah?” he says over the rim of his cup of tea.

Arching an eyebrow, Dom gives Billy a critical look.

“Your hair looks fine.”

“Not for me, Dom. An appointment for you.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Dom asks, self consciously running his fingers through it.

“Nothing, but if it gets any longer I’m going have to start calling you Goldilocks,” Billy teases lightly, giving Dom a warm smile.

For a second Dom gives him a dirty look, but then returns his smile, and just like that, things are alright between them again. Apology accepted and now it’s time to move on.

“I actually don’t like strange people touching my hair,” Dom says finally, nervously brushing a few stray strands out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says softly, remember just how often he’s run his fingers through the chaotic tangle. “I wouldn’t have if-”

“You’re not a stranger, Billy,” Dom interrupts. “It’s okay. Just get me a pair of scissors and a mirror, and I’ll cut it myself.”

“Would you let me do it?” Billy asks suddenly, surprising himself with the question.

“What?”

“I’ll cut it for you, if you want.”

“Uh-”

“It’s just a haircut, Dom.” Billy smiles as takes another sip of his tea. “I promise I won’t do anything weird or mess it up. Just a trim.”

“You don’t have to,” Dom says, apprehensively gnawing on his lower lip.

“I know. I’m offering.”

Looking up to meet Billy’s reassuring gaze, Dom slowly nods. “Okay.”

“I’ll get the scissors.”

“Wait, now?” Dom says in surprise as Billy rises.

Billy shrugs as he starts to walk over to the sink. “Why not?”

“Um, can we do a two-for-one?” Dom asks.

Frowning, Billy walks back over to the table. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been sponging off in the basin all week, but I’d really like to take a shower,” Dom explains, glancing up at Billy through a curtain of dark blonde hair. “Since my bandages need to be changed today, I thought-”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Billy interrupts, moving his chair over to Dom’s. “Turn around for me?”

Carefully shrugging out of his t-shirt, Dom obediently presents his back to Billy, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as the gauze and tape are gently removed. Each time it hurts less, a fact for which both Dom and Billy are very grateful.

“It’s looking better,” Billy says softly, examining the healing skin closely. “Just be careful with the soap. It might sting a bit. And the skin is too delicate, so don’t use a towel. Let your back air-dry.”

“Okay.”

Nearly twenty minutes later, Dom is walking back into the kitchen, damp, bare shoulders glistening in the late morning sunlight and his faded jeans riding low on his narrow hips. Noticing a tiny smile turning up the corners of Dom’s crooked mouth, Billy gives him a quizzical look.

“What?”

“Hot shower,” Dom replies, a bit distracted as he’s still lost in the decadent feeling of it. “Water in my flat was never warm enough.”

“Oh.” Billy turns away, fearing that Dom will catch the look in his eyes. Knowing that Dom was denied something as basic as hot water saddens him. All the things he’s gone without, and now relishes in the simple pleasure of something Billy takes for granted on a daily basis.

Glancing over his shoulder, Billy watches Dom slide onto the stool that he set up and cautiously wriggle, settling into a comfortable position. Wondering just what he’s volunteered to do, Billy takes a deep breath, steps away from the counter, and gets to work. Running a comb through Dom’s tousled wet hair, Billy leans in and sniffs.

“Is that papaya?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re starting to use your house warming presents,” Billy comments. “That’s good.”

Billy smiles when he sees a blush redden the back of Dom’s neck, and he can’t help it when his eyes wander lower, along Dom’s shoulder blades and spine, all the way down to his low slung jeans and the shadow between his cheeks. Smothering the urge to nuzzle his nose into the curve of Dom’s smooth neck, Billy shakes his head and refocuses on the task at hand.

“So why aren’t you wearing your new clothes?” he asks, holding a section of Dom’s hair between his fingers, measuring and then snipping it off, letting the cut pieces fall to the linoleum floor.

“It’s harder than I thought it would be,” Dom admits, wanting to squirm, but forcing himself to stay perfectly still. “I’ve gotten used to having less and now-”

“I’m not going to take it all away from you, Dom. It’s not mine to take,” Billy continues, making several more cuts and then blowing softly to dislodge the a few stray strands of hair clinging to Dom’s slight shoulders. “Everything belongs to you.”

Dom exhales heavily. “I’m trying.”

“I know. I just wish you’d trust me a little.”

Billy can’t help the wistfulness in his tone, wanting Dom to relax and just embrace his new life. Looking over his shoulder, Dom looks up at Billy with the strangest expression on his face.

“Billy, you’re the first person I’ve trusted in four years,” he says in a soft voice. “You have no idea how difficult it is for-”

Breaking off, Dom looks away, purposely hiding his bright eyes with his wet hair.

“I’m sorry,” Billy whispers, laying a hand on Dom’s shoulder, thumb sweeping up and down the nape of his neck. When Dom trembles under his touch, Billy tucks the scissors and comb in his back pocket before walking around Dom until they’re face to face. Nudging up Dom’s chin, Billy adds, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I really am trying, Billy,” Dom replies, his soulful, blue-grey eyes imploring Billy to understand. “But the last few days have been a lot to take in, and sometimes I feel safer, not letting myself get too attached to anything.”

Immediately, Billy realizes his mistake. He’s been making all the decisions, taking complete control. While Dom needs help and some guidance, he doesn’t need someone telling him what to do every minute of every single day. Dom needs to make his own decisions. Trust his ability to make the right choices.

“Okay, we’ll slow down a bit,” Billy promises. “I’ll back off.”

“Thank you.”

“I really am sorry, Dom. I never meant-”

“I know,” Dom interrupts softly, trying to smile. “It’s okay. We’re both learning as we go, yeah?”

“Would you rather cut your hair, or can I keep going?” Billy asks. “I promise I won’t be offended if you want to do it.”

“No, it’s okay. You can finish.”

“Close your eyes while I cut your bangs?” Billy requests.

Nodding, Dom lets his eyes drop closed and stays that way as Billy skillfully trims and shapes Dom’s wild mop of hair into a flattering and still very Dom-like style. Neither man say a word during that time, but the quiet isn’t awkward. A shiver ripples through Dom’s body when Billy sets down the scissors and comb, and then runs his small fingers through the newly shorn strands to guide them into place. Blowing the hair off of Dom’s neck and shoulders, Billy then reaches over to the kitchen counter for a small mirror that normally hangs in his bedroom.

“Okay. Open your eyes,” Billy says softly. “Tell me if I’m fired.”

When Dom looks up and gazes at his reflection, his eyes widen with surprise at the sight before him. Billy left his bangs a little longer than he expected, just enough to hang enticingly over his eyebrows, but not in his line of vision. Somehow the sharp contours of his face have been softened a bit, his eyes seem bigger, and he looks younger.

“Dom?” Billy prompts nervously.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Dom asks, turning his chin to look one way and then the other. “Did you take a class or something?”

“No, I run a book shop,” Billy replies with a smile. “I read about it once.”

“Thank you, Billy,” Dom says softly, looking away from the mirror to meet his gaze. “I love it.”

“Good.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Billy begins sweeping up the cut hair off the floor as Dom stands up. “Give me a minute and then I’ll do your back.”

“Okay. I just need to run to the loo.”

When Dom returns a few minutes later, Billy’s lips curl up into a sweet smile. The faded, worn denims Dom had been wearing are gone, and he’s now wearing one of the new pairs that Billy picked out for him and a pair of crisp, white socks. He’s also holding a new t-shirt to put on after Billy applies the fresh bandages to his back.

“Can I start in the shop tomorrow?” Dom requests, unable to hide his nervousness.

Touched by Dom’s efforts especially since he’s clearly struggling, Billy slowly nods. “Sounds good.”

* * * * *

Chapter 9

Current Mood: determined

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