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monaboyd Apr. 5th, 2006 12:23 am)
sassywitch.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Apr. 5th, 2006 12:23 am)Title: Western Lovers: Cowboys and Archeaologists 2/30
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sassywitch
Pairing: BB/DM with a smattering of VM/LT and DW/OB
Rating: NC-17, to be on the safe side.
Summary: Billy is a man to be reckoned with. Can Dom heal his wounded soul and his own into the bargain. Could Billy make him forget the bitter lessons of the past?
Feedback: Feedback is my writers crack, which is not to be confused at all with plumbers crack.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. These men whilst adorable and perfectly happy to slash themselves, their actual relationship is something that they only know. This story is adapted from a series of books that I adored when I was younger written by Elizabeth Lowell.
Word Count: 2,666
A/N: A huge thank you todylan_dufresne for the inspiration, the prodding and the beta. My grammar sucks so she had to suffer it so nobody else would. It's grown a couple of chapters, but I didn't think y'all would mind.
The alarm on Dom's digital watch cheeped annoyingly, breaking his concentration. He set aside the stack of numbered site photos, reset his watch for a short time later, stretched and heard his stomach rumble in anticipation of dinner. Despite his hunger, he was reluctant to leave the hushed solitude of the old house and the silent companionship of the ancient artifacts lining the shelves of the workroom.
Slanting yellow light came through the north window, deepening the textures of stone and sandal fragments, potshards and glue pots, making everything appear to be infused with a mystic glow. Dom couldn't wait until tomorrow, when he would drive to Arwen Canyon. Photos, artifacts and essays, no matter how precise and scholarly, couldn't convey the complexity of the interlocking mystery of the Anasazi, the land and time.
His mind more on the past than the present, Dom walked slowly into the bathroom. The slanting light coming through the small, high window made the gold in his hair incandescent, and gave the darker strands a rich, satin luster. His eyes became indigo in shadow, vivid sapphire in direct light. The natural pink in his stubbled cheeks and lips contrasted with the dark brown of his light beard and the dense fringe of his eyelashes.
Once, Dom would have noticed his own, understated looks and heightened it. Once, but no longer. Never again would he be accused by a man of using snares and lures to attract a partner, then teasing and maddening them with what he had no intention of giving. Never again would he put himself in a position where a bigger, stronger man felt entitled to take what he wanted in the belief that it had been offered - and if it hadn't, it should've been.
Soap, water, unscented lotion and a few strokes with a hairbrush, and Dom was ready for dinner. He thought longingly of eating alone in his solitary house. Wearing a cotton pullover big enough for a man twice, maybe three times his size, over loose fitting denim jeans and hiking boots, he turned to leave his new home.
He was going to need every inch of confidence he could get.
"Mmmmmreeeoooww."
Dom's head snapped toward the window at the unexpected sound. A lean tiger striped cat with one chewed ear was standing outside on the tree limb that brushed against the bathroom window. The cat's forepaw was batting hopefully at the bottom of the window, which was open a crack.
"Hello," Dom said smiling "Do you live here?"
The paw, claws politely sheathed, patted again beneath the length of the opening.
"I get the message."
Dom pushed up the window enough for the cat to come in. It leaped from the windowsill to the edge of the sink with an effortless grace that reminded him of the Double L's Ramrod vaulting the corral fence and landed running.
The cat sniffed Dom's meager toiletries, nosed the peppermint toothpaste, sneezed, yowled softly and stropped itself against his midriff. Dom smiled as he ran his palm down the cat's spine, enjoying the supple arch of the animal's body as it rubbed against him in turn. Soon the vibrations of an uninhibited purr were rippling from the cat.
"You're a sweetheart." Dom said. "Would you let me hold you?"
The cat would. In fact, it insisted.
"Goodness, you're heavy! Not fat, though. You must be all muscle."
The purring redoubled.
Laughing softly, Dom smoothed his cheeks and chin against the vibrant bundle of fur. The cat moved sinuously in return, twisting against him in slow motion, relishing the physical contact. And shedding, of course.
Dom looked at the gray and black hairs sticking to the navy cotton sweater he was wearing and shrugged. Maybe some of the men would be allergic to cats. The thought had definite appeal.
"C'mon cat. Let's see if they allow felines in the dining room."
The cat burrowed more tightly into Dom's arms, clinging with just a hint of claws while he closed the bathroom window. Cradling the purring animal, Dom made a quick circuit of the old house, making sure that everything was buttoned up in case the thunderstorm that had been threatening for the past hour actually got down to work. The bedroom was in order: windows shut, clothes put away, sheet turned down on the double bed with its antique headboard and blessedly new mattress set. The window over the kitchen sink was closed. The workroom with its two long tables and countless bins and cubbyholes and shelves was as orderly as it was ever likely to be.
Absently, Dom ran his fingertips over the smooth surface of a cabinet, wondering if Viggo had made this furniture as well as the cradle. He suspected that Viggo had. There was a quality of craftsmanship and care that was rare in modern furniture.
As his stomach growled, Dom eased his wrist out from under the cat and looked at his watch. Twenty minutes to six. His alarm would be going off soon, telling him he had to be where he very much didn't want to be – in a room full of strange men.
Maybe if I get there early, I can grab a plate of food and a seat at the corner of the table. That way I won't be completely surrounded by savages.
Men, not savages, Dom reminded himself automatically, trying to be fair.
The part of himself that didn't care about fair shot back: Men or savages. Same difference.
Dom remembered the fine-grained, carefully wrought cradle, and mentally placed a question mark beside Viggo's name. It was just possible that he wasn't a savage or an outlaw beyond the pale of gentle society. For Liv's sake, Dom hoped so. Liv had been one of his favorite students – bright, quick, eager, fascinated by the subject and had quickly become one of the few, real friends that Dom had.
The watch alarm cheeped again, and the cat's tail whipped in annoyance.
"I agree, cat, but it's the only way I remember to be anywhere. Once I start working over potshards or sketchbooks, everything else just goes away."
The cat made a disgruntled sound and resettled itself more comfortably in Dom's arms.
After shutting the front door, Dom looked down the narrow path that led from the old ranch house to the bigger, more modern one. Reluctant to confront the Double L's over-size men, he lingered for a moment on the front step of the old house. The grove of dark evergreens that surrounded the original ranch house was alive with rain scented wind. Clouds were seething overhead, their billows set off by spears of brassy gold light that made the wild bowl of the sky appear to be supported by shafts of pure light. Distant thunder rumbled, telling tales of invisible lightning.
Dom took a deep breath and felt excitement uncurl his nerves as the taste of the storm wind swept through him. He'd been cooped up in classrooms too long, earning money so that he could explore the Anasazi homeland during the long, summer break. The boundless, ancient land of the Anasazi called to him, singing of people and cultures long vanished, mysteries whispering among shadow, shattered artifacts waiting to be made whole. That was what he had come to the Double L for – the undiscovered past.
Caressing the cat absently with his chin, Dom walked the short distance to the big house. When the wind shifted, the smell of food beckoned to him, making him aware of the fact that he had missed lunch.
The outside door to the dining room was open. Dom looked in but nobody was inside yet. From the bunkhouse beyond the corral came the sound of men calling to one another, talking about the days work, of the pending storm, or the savory smell of dinner on the wind. Quietly, Dom walked the length of the dining room toward the door leading into the kitchen. He had just begun to hope that he would be able to grab a plate and eat alone when he stepped into the kitchen and stopped as thought his feet had been nailed to the floor.
There was a man standing with his back to him, a stranger with wide shoulders stretching against the deep green fabric of his shirt. The suggestion of male power was emphasized by the line of his back, tapering down to lean hips, the muscular ease of his stance and the utter confidence of his posture as he stood motionless in black jeans and black boots, polished by use.
My God. He doesn't need to be huge. As he is, he's as tall and straight and hard and imposing as a stone cliff. No wonder he's confident. All he has to do is stand there and he dominates everything.
Reflexively, Dom backed up, but succeeded only in giving away his presence by bumping into a counter.
"Livvie?" the man said, turning around slowly. His voice was a lilting, Scottish brogue, slightly rough, a ragged kind of velvet that was as dark as his clothes. Head bent over something he was holding, his hair was subtly ginger, in a blonde sort of way, curling thickly about his collar. "Can you give me a hand?"
Dom opened his mouth to say that he wasn't Liv but was so surprised by what he saw that no words came out.
A tiger striped kitten lay cupped in the man's lean, calloused hands. The contrast between the man's strength and the kitten's soft body was as shocking as the clarity of the man's green eyes looking at him. Abruptly, Dom realized that he had seen him once before, under very different circumstances.
"You're the Ramrod," Dom said without thinking.
"Most people call me Billy."
"You-Serkis-the horse."
Billy looked more closely at the men who stood before him, his unease as badly concealed as the tightly muscled body he was hiding under a loose, cotton sweater.
"Don't worry," Billy said. "He won't be back. Have you seen Liv?"
Dom shook his head, making light twist through his short, silky hair. Billy's nostrils flared slightly as he smelled the freshness of soap and sunshine, and freshly showered skin.
"Think you could put Pounce down long enough to help me with Nosy?"
"Pounce?" Dom asked, wondering if he had lost his mind.
"That sly renegade who's grinning and purring in your arms."
"Oh….the cat." Dom looked down. "Pounce, huh?"
Billy made a sound of agreement that was suspiciously like a purr. "Best mouser on the Double L. Usually he's standoffish, but he can sense a particular kind of soft touch three miles away. From the smug look on his face, he was right about you."
The kitten stirred as though it wanted to be free, and short fingers closed gently, restraining the tiny animal without hurting or frightening it.
"Easy there, Nosy. That wound has to be cleaned up or you're going to be dead or three legged, which amounts to the same thing out here. And that would be a shame. You're the best looking kitten that ugly old mouser has sired."
Bemused by the picture man and kitten made, Dom opened his arms. Pounce took the hint, leapt gracefully to the floor and vanished into another room of the house. Drawn against his will by the kitten's need, Dom bent over Billy's hands.
"What's wrong with it?" he asked.
"She was just living up to her name. Either one of the chickens pecked her, or a hawk made a pass at her and she got free, or one of the bunkhouse dogs bit her, or…." Billy shrugged. "Lots of things can happen to a newly weaned kitten on a ranch."
"Poor little thing," Dom murmured, stroking the kitten with a fingertip, noticing for the first time that the fur on the animal's left haunch was rucked up over a knot of swollen flesh. "What do you want me to do?"
"Hold her while I clean her up. Normally her mother would take care of it, but she went hunting a week ago and never came home."
Dom looked up for an instant and received an impression of emerald clear eyes framed by thick lashes, and faint echo's of freckles dotted his skin. The soft look in his eyes as he crooned to the kitten reassured Dom in an odd way.
"Show me what to do."
The left corner of Billy's mouth tipped upward approvingly. "Hold your hands out. That's it. Now hold Nosy here, and here, so I can get to the haunch. Hold on a little harder. You won't hurt her. She's still at the age where she's all rubber bands and curiosity."
The description made Dom smile at the same instant that warm, calloused fingers pressed over his own, showing his how much restraint to use on the kitten.
"That's good. Now hold tight."
In the silence that came while Billy gently examined the kitten, Dom could hear his own heartbeat and feel the subtle warmth of Billy's breath as he bent over the furry scrap of life he held in his hands.
"Damn. I was afraid of that."
"What?" Dom asked.
"I'll have to open it up."
Billy reached toward the counter with one arm, and for the first time, Dom noticed the open first aid kit. The sound of the wrapper being removed from the sterile, disposable scalpel seemed as loud to Dom as thunder.
Green eyes assessed Dom, missing nothing of his distress.
"I'll get Livvie," Billy said.
"No," Dom replied quickly. "I'm not squeamish. Well, not horribly. Everyone who works at remote sites has to go through first aid training. It's just….the kitten is so small."
"Close your eyes. It will make it easier on all of us."
Dom closed his eyes and held his breath, expecting to hear a cry of distress from the kitten when Billy went to work. Other than a slight twitch, the animal showed no reaction. Dom was equally still, so still that he sensed the tiny currents of air made when Billy's hands moved over the small patient. The words he spoke to Nosy were like the purring of a mama cat, sound without meaning, except the most basic meaning of all – reassurance.
There was the sharp smell of disinfectant, the thin rasp of paper wrapping being torn away, and a sense of light pressure as Billy swabbed the wound clean.
"Okay. You can open your eyes now."
Dom looked down. The kitten's haunch was wet, marred only by a tiny cut. Most of the swelling was gone, removed when Billy lanced the boil that had formed over the wound.
"Thorn," Billy said holding up a wicked, vaguely curved fragment. "Wild rose from the looks of it."
"Will Nosy be alright now?"
"Should be."
Calloused fingers slid beneath the kitten, moving over Dom's skin almost caressingly as Billy lifted the animal from his hands. His breath froze, but Billy never so much as glanced at Dom.
"C'mon Nosy," he said, cradling the kitten against his neck with his left hand. "You've taken up enough of your new friend's time. What you need now is a little sleep and TLC."
"TLC? Is that a medicine?"
The corner of Billy's mouth curved up again. "Best one in the world. Tender Loving Care."
As he spoke, Billy stroked Nosy's face with a fingertip that was as gentle as a whisper. After a few strokes, the kitten looked bemused and altogether content. Within moments, Nosy's eyelids lowered over round, amber eyes. There was a little yawn, the delicate curl of a tiny pink tongue, and the kitten was asleep.
With a feeling of unreality, Dom looked at the Ramrod's hand curled protectively around the sleeping kitten, and remembered that same hand breaking a man's wrist, and then slamming him into unconsciousness before he could even cry out in pain.
Ramrod. The name suits him.
But so did the sleeping kitten.
Chapter 3
Author:
sassywitch Pairing: BB/DM with a smattering of VM/LT and DW/OB
Rating: NC-17, to be on the safe side.
Summary: Billy is a man to be reckoned with. Can Dom heal his wounded soul and his own into the bargain. Could Billy make him forget the bitter lessons of the past?
Feedback: Feedback is my writers crack, which is not to be confused at all with plumbers crack.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. These men whilst adorable and perfectly happy to slash themselves, their actual relationship is something that they only know. This story is adapted from a series of books that I adored when I was younger written by Elizabeth Lowell.
Word Count: 2,666
A/N: A huge thank you to
dylan_dufresne for the inspiration, the prodding and the beta. My grammar sucks so she had to suffer it so nobody else would. It's grown a couple of chapters, but I didn't think y'all would mind.The alarm on Dom's digital watch cheeped annoyingly, breaking his concentration. He set aside the stack of numbered site photos, reset his watch for a short time later, stretched and heard his stomach rumble in anticipation of dinner. Despite his hunger, he was reluctant to leave the hushed solitude of the old house and the silent companionship of the ancient artifacts lining the shelves of the workroom.
Slanting yellow light came through the north window, deepening the textures of stone and sandal fragments, potshards and glue pots, making everything appear to be infused with a mystic glow. Dom couldn't wait until tomorrow, when he would drive to Arwen Canyon. Photos, artifacts and essays, no matter how precise and scholarly, couldn't convey the complexity of the interlocking mystery of the Anasazi, the land and time.
His mind more on the past than the present, Dom walked slowly into the bathroom. The slanting light coming through the small, high window made the gold in his hair incandescent, and gave the darker strands a rich, satin luster. His eyes became indigo in shadow, vivid sapphire in direct light. The natural pink in his stubbled cheeks and lips contrasted with the dark brown of his light beard and the dense fringe of his eyelashes.
Once, Dom would have noticed his own, understated looks and heightened it. Once, but no longer. Never again would he be accused by a man of using snares and lures to attract a partner, then teasing and maddening them with what he had no intention of giving. Never again would he put himself in a position where a bigger, stronger man felt entitled to take what he wanted in the belief that it had been offered - and if it hadn't, it should've been.
Soap, water, unscented lotion and a few strokes with a hairbrush, and Dom was ready for dinner. He thought longingly of eating alone in his solitary house. Wearing a cotton pullover big enough for a man twice, maybe three times his size, over loose fitting denim jeans and hiking boots, he turned to leave his new home.
He was going to need every inch of confidence he could get.
"Mmmmmreeeoooww."
Dom's head snapped toward the window at the unexpected sound. A lean tiger striped cat with one chewed ear was standing outside on the tree limb that brushed against the bathroom window. The cat's forepaw was batting hopefully at the bottom of the window, which was open a crack.
"Hello," Dom said smiling "Do you live here?"
The paw, claws politely sheathed, patted again beneath the length of the opening.
"I get the message."
Dom pushed up the window enough for the cat to come in. It leaped from the windowsill to the edge of the sink with an effortless grace that reminded him of the Double L's Ramrod vaulting the corral fence and landed running.
The cat sniffed Dom's meager toiletries, nosed the peppermint toothpaste, sneezed, yowled softly and stropped itself against his midriff. Dom smiled as he ran his palm down the cat's spine, enjoying the supple arch of the animal's body as it rubbed against him in turn. Soon the vibrations of an uninhibited purr were rippling from the cat.
"You're a sweetheart." Dom said. "Would you let me hold you?"
The cat would. In fact, it insisted.
"Goodness, you're heavy! Not fat, though. You must be all muscle."
The purring redoubled.
Laughing softly, Dom smoothed his cheeks and chin against the vibrant bundle of fur. The cat moved sinuously in return, twisting against him in slow motion, relishing the physical contact. And shedding, of course.
Dom looked at the gray and black hairs sticking to the navy cotton sweater he was wearing and shrugged. Maybe some of the men would be allergic to cats. The thought had definite appeal.
"C'mon cat. Let's see if they allow felines in the dining room."
The cat burrowed more tightly into Dom's arms, clinging with just a hint of claws while he closed the bathroom window. Cradling the purring animal, Dom made a quick circuit of the old house, making sure that everything was buttoned up in case the thunderstorm that had been threatening for the past hour actually got down to work. The bedroom was in order: windows shut, clothes put away, sheet turned down on the double bed with its antique headboard and blessedly new mattress set. The window over the kitchen sink was closed. The workroom with its two long tables and countless bins and cubbyholes and shelves was as orderly as it was ever likely to be.
Absently, Dom ran his fingertips over the smooth surface of a cabinet, wondering if Viggo had made this furniture as well as the cradle. He suspected that Viggo had. There was a quality of craftsmanship and care that was rare in modern furniture.
As his stomach growled, Dom eased his wrist out from under the cat and looked at his watch. Twenty minutes to six. His alarm would be going off soon, telling him he had to be where he very much didn't want to be – in a room full of strange men.
Maybe if I get there early, I can grab a plate of food and a seat at the corner of the table. That way I won't be completely surrounded by savages.
Men, not savages, Dom reminded himself automatically, trying to be fair.
The part of himself that didn't care about fair shot back: Men or savages. Same difference.
Dom remembered the fine-grained, carefully wrought cradle, and mentally placed a question mark beside Viggo's name. It was just possible that he wasn't a savage or an outlaw beyond the pale of gentle society. For Liv's sake, Dom hoped so. Liv had been one of his favorite students – bright, quick, eager, fascinated by the subject and had quickly become one of the few, real friends that Dom had.
The watch alarm cheeped again, and the cat's tail whipped in annoyance.
"I agree, cat, but it's the only way I remember to be anywhere. Once I start working over potshards or sketchbooks, everything else just goes away."
The cat made a disgruntled sound and resettled itself more comfortably in Dom's arms.
After shutting the front door, Dom looked down the narrow path that led from the old ranch house to the bigger, more modern one. Reluctant to confront the Double L's over-size men, he lingered for a moment on the front step of the old house. The grove of dark evergreens that surrounded the original ranch house was alive with rain scented wind. Clouds were seething overhead, their billows set off by spears of brassy gold light that made the wild bowl of the sky appear to be supported by shafts of pure light. Distant thunder rumbled, telling tales of invisible lightning.
Dom took a deep breath and felt excitement uncurl his nerves as the taste of the storm wind swept through him. He'd been cooped up in classrooms too long, earning money so that he could explore the Anasazi homeland during the long, summer break. The boundless, ancient land of the Anasazi called to him, singing of people and cultures long vanished, mysteries whispering among shadow, shattered artifacts waiting to be made whole. That was what he had come to the Double L for – the undiscovered past.
Caressing the cat absently with his chin, Dom walked the short distance to the big house. When the wind shifted, the smell of food beckoned to him, making him aware of the fact that he had missed lunch.
The outside door to the dining room was open. Dom looked in but nobody was inside yet. From the bunkhouse beyond the corral came the sound of men calling to one another, talking about the days work, of the pending storm, or the savory smell of dinner on the wind. Quietly, Dom walked the length of the dining room toward the door leading into the kitchen. He had just begun to hope that he would be able to grab a plate and eat alone when he stepped into the kitchen and stopped as thought his feet had been nailed to the floor.
There was a man standing with his back to him, a stranger with wide shoulders stretching against the deep green fabric of his shirt. The suggestion of male power was emphasized by the line of his back, tapering down to lean hips, the muscular ease of his stance and the utter confidence of his posture as he stood motionless in black jeans and black boots, polished by use.
My God. He doesn't need to be huge. As he is, he's as tall and straight and hard and imposing as a stone cliff. No wonder he's confident. All he has to do is stand there and he dominates everything.
Reflexively, Dom backed up, but succeeded only in giving away his presence by bumping into a counter.
"Livvie?" the man said, turning around slowly. His voice was a lilting, Scottish brogue, slightly rough, a ragged kind of velvet that was as dark as his clothes. Head bent over something he was holding, his hair was subtly ginger, in a blonde sort of way, curling thickly about his collar. "Can you give me a hand?"
Dom opened his mouth to say that he wasn't Liv but was so surprised by what he saw that no words came out.
A tiger striped kitten lay cupped in the man's lean, calloused hands. The contrast between the man's strength and the kitten's soft body was as shocking as the clarity of the man's green eyes looking at him. Abruptly, Dom realized that he had seen him once before, under very different circumstances.
"You're the Ramrod," Dom said without thinking.
"Most people call me Billy."
"You-Serkis-the horse."
Billy looked more closely at the men who stood before him, his unease as badly concealed as the tightly muscled body he was hiding under a loose, cotton sweater.
"Don't worry," Billy said. "He won't be back. Have you seen Liv?"
Dom shook his head, making light twist through his short, silky hair. Billy's nostrils flared slightly as he smelled the freshness of soap and sunshine, and freshly showered skin.
"Think you could put Pounce down long enough to help me with Nosy?"
"Pounce?" Dom asked, wondering if he had lost his mind.
"That sly renegade who's grinning and purring in your arms."
"Oh….the cat." Dom looked down. "Pounce, huh?"
Billy made a sound of agreement that was suspiciously like a purr. "Best mouser on the Double L. Usually he's standoffish, but he can sense a particular kind of soft touch three miles away. From the smug look on his face, he was right about you."
The kitten stirred as though it wanted to be free, and short fingers closed gently, restraining the tiny animal without hurting or frightening it.
"Easy there, Nosy. That wound has to be cleaned up or you're going to be dead or three legged, which amounts to the same thing out here. And that would be a shame. You're the best looking kitten that ugly old mouser has sired."
Bemused by the picture man and kitten made, Dom opened his arms. Pounce took the hint, leapt gracefully to the floor and vanished into another room of the house. Drawn against his will by the kitten's need, Dom bent over Billy's hands.
"What's wrong with it?" he asked.
"She was just living up to her name. Either one of the chickens pecked her, or a hawk made a pass at her and she got free, or one of the bunkhouse dogs bit her, or…." Billy shrugged. "Lots of things can happen to a newly weaned kitten on a ranch."
"Poor little thing," Dom murmured, stroking the kitten with a fingertip, noticing for the first time that the fur on the animal's left haunch was rucked up over a knot of swollen flesh. "What do you want me to do?"
"Hold her while I clean her up. Normally her mother would take care of it, but she went hunting a week ago and never came home."
Dom looked up for an instant and received an impression of emerald clear eyes framed by thick lashes, and faint echo's of freckles dotted his skin. The soft look in his eyes as he crooned to the kitten reassured Dom in an odd way.
"Show me what to do."
The left corner of Billy's mouth tipped upward approvingly. "Hold your hands out. That's it. Now hold Nosy here, and here, so I can get to the haunch. Hold on a little harder. You won't hurt her. She's still at the age where she's all rubber bands and curiosity."
The description made Dom smile at the same instant that warm, calloused fingers pressed over his own, showing his how much restraint to use on the kitten.
"That's good. Now hold tight."
In the silence that came while Billy gently examined the kitten, Dom could hear his own heartbeat and feel the subtle warmth of Billy's breath as he bent over the furry scrap of life he held in his hands.
"Damn. I was afraid of that."
"What?" Dom asked.
"I'll have to open it up."
Billy reached toward the counter with one arm, and for the first time, Dom noticed the open first aid kit. The sound of the wrapper being removed from the sterile, disposable scalpel seemed as loud to Dom as thunder.
Green eyes assessed Dom, missing nothing of his distress.
"I'll get Livvie," Billy said.
"No," Dom replied quickly. "I'm not squeamish. Well, not horribly. Everyone who works at remote sites has to go through first aid training. It's just….the kitten is so small."
"Close your eyes. It will make it easier on all of us."
Dom closed his eyes and held his breath, expecting to hear a cry of distress from the kitten when Billy went to work. Other than a slight twitch, the animal showed no reaction. Dom was equally still, so still that he sensed the tiny currents of air made when Billy's hands moved over the small patient. The words he spoke to Nosy were like the purring of a mama cat, sound without meaning, except the most basic meaning of all – reassurance.
There was the sharp smell of disinfectant, the thin rasp of paper wrapping being torn away, and a sense of light pressure as Billy swabbed the wound clean.
"Okay. You can open your eyes now."
Dom looked down. The kitten's haunch was wet, marred only by a tiny cut. Most of the swelling was gone, removed when Billy lanced the boil that had formed over the wound.
"Thorn," Billy said holding up a wicked, vaguely curved fragment. "Wild rose from the looks of it."
"Will Nosy be alright now?"
"Should be."
Calloused fingers slid beneath the kitten, moving over Dom's skin almost caressingly as Billy lifted the animal from his hands. His breath froze, but Billy never so much as glanced at Dom.
"C'mon Nosy," he said, cradling the kitten against his neck with his left hand. "You've taken up enough of your new friend's time. What you need now is a little sleep and TLC."
"TLC? Is that a medicine?"
The corner of Billy's mouth curved up again. "Best one in the world. Tender Loving Care."
As he spoke, Billy stroked Nosy's face with a fingertip that was as gentle as a whisper. After a few strokes, the kitten looked bemused and altogether content. Within moments, Nosy's eyelids lowered over round, amber eyes. There was a little yawn, the delicate curl of a tiny pink tongue, and the kitten was asleep.
With a feeling of unreality, Dom looked at the Ramrod's hand curled protectively around the sleeping kitten, and remembered that same hand breaking a man's wrist, and then slamming him into unconsciousness before he could even cry out in pain.
Ramrod. The name suits him.
But so did the sleeping kitten.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
i'm glad Dom got to see Billy being tender with the kitten. He needs to see he can use his hands in a gentle way, as well as with brute strength.
nice update!
kerry =)
From:
no subject
Loved this chapter, and especially the interaction between Dom and Billy... And Dom's behaviour points toward the classical sexual assault- victim... Not that we didn't know that already from the 1st chapter, but this just made it all the more clearer... Heh... Wonder how he's going to behave around the other men... *I just did Sexual Assault in Psychology, so I am all for it :P*
Can't wait for more :)
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No, really, though. This is already shaping up to be quite wonderful, and you have me really intrigued as to Billy's past and Dom's, and how things will play out with the two of them. I love the depiction of Billy as strong, but gentle. It's so appealing; the capability to do damage, but the *choice* to help and heal. Lovely.
Very intrigued, very eager for the next, and very much hoping you decide to post them closer together. :)
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I think I'm in love. Whether with Billy/Dom or with you for writing them so well, I can't decide. Maybe both :)
Cowboy!Billeh and Archaeologist!Dom. How much better can you get?
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Loved them with Nosey the kitten.
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