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monaboyd May. 10th, 2006 07:30 am)
dylan-dufresne.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd May. 10th, 2006 07:30 am)Title: Fatherhood, Football, and Other Contact Sports - 8/16
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-14, or in that neighborhood.
Summary: Dom’s actions cause an unexpected reaction in Billy, both personally and professionally.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks tofrojane, for the beta. Credit for the banner goes to the very talented loki_girl. Thank you so much.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Thanks so much for the response. It’s greatly appreciated and fills me with warm fuzzies. Honest. Here's another one. Enjoy.
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
Chapter 8 - Disagreements, Compromises & Clandestine Moments
When Billy reenters the kitchen just over fifteen minutes later with damp hair, Cameron is sitting at the kitchen table reading a book while Dom spreads a thick layer of smooth peanut butter onto a piece of whole wheat bread.
“What are you doing?” Billy demands, standing the doorway, his back tense as he stares at the unfamiliar scene.
A guilty expression flashes across Cameron’s small face as he looks up, and then he buries his nose back in his book. Dom, on the other had, gives Billy a devastatingly cheerful grin.
“I told Cam I’d make his lunch,” Dom volunteers.
Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, causing his tie to pull at his neck, Billy arches an eyebrow. “Why?”
Tearing a long sheet of plastic off the roll, Dom presses the two slices of bread together into a thick sandwich and deftly wraps up it up. Moving to the refrigerator, Dom ignores Billy’s question and asks, “Where are the apples?”
“In the vegetable crisper,” Billy answers absently. “I’d like an answer, Dom.”
Locating the polished, red apple, Dom tosses it into Cameron’s Rangers lunch box, yet another gift from Dom, along with the sandwich, seemingly oblivious to Billy’s growing irritation.
“Are the cookies in here?” Dom asks, reaching for a round ceramic container on the counter that’s emblazoned in a cheerful, tartan pattern.
“No. They’re in the cupboard to the left of the cooker,” Billy snaps.
Glancing over his shoulder, Dom eyes Billy curiously. “Hey, you don’t have to bite my bloody head off. That is a cookie jar, Billy. The logical assumption would have been-”
“Don’t assume anything, Dom,” Billy shoots back, his tone letting Dom know that this conversation goes far beyond apples and chocolate chip cookies.
There is a long, uncomfortable silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy catches Cameron peek over the top of his book, eyebrows raised.
“Come on, Cameron. I’ll walk you to school,” Billy says briskly, not wanting to have a confrontation in front of his impressionable son.
The young boy’s green eyes widen. “But Dad, I can walk by myself. I’ve been doing it all month.” Biting down on his lower lip, Cameron looks back and forth between the two of them. “See? I told you he wouldn’t like it,” he says to Dom, the corners of his small mouth turning down.
“So I’ve discovered,” Dom agrees with a nod. “Now what’ll I do to get back into his good graces?”
Cameron’s young brow furrows thoughtfully. “Whenever he gets mad at me, I usually clean my room and then draw him a picture. When he puts it on the fridge, I know everything’s okay again.”
Casting a wary eye at Billy, Dom frowns. “I’m not certain crayons will cut this one, mate. I think we need something a wee bit stronger.”
“When I was five, I painted Merry blue to match my room,” Cameron volunteers. “Dad was looking at me a lot like he’s looking at you right now.”
“Terrific. What happened to get you and your dad back on speaking terms?”
“Actually, that was the only time he ever spanked me,” Cameron recalls, gnawing his lower lip as he thinks back. “Then, afterward he cried and said he was sorry.”
Dom’s blue-grey eyes are bright with insinuation as they turn from the boy to Billy. “Spanking. Now that’s a very interesting idea,” he murmurs in a low, suggestive voice.
One would have to be blind, Billy decides, to miss the blatantly sexual invitation in Dom’s teasing gaze. “That’s more than enough you two. Cameron, you’re right. You can walk yourself to school. Go on now. I need to talk to Dom.”
“Are you going to fight?” Cameron asks with interest, taking his lunch box from Billy’s outstretched hand.
“Of course not,” Billy reassures Cameron as he smoothes down his son’s tousled hair. “We’re just going to discuss a few important matters.”
“Oh.” Cameron’s small face seems to fall at the response and he turns toward the door. Even Billy’s farewell hug and kiss doesn’t bring a smile to his face.
“Hey Cam?” Dom says, finally entering the conversation again, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.
Pausing in the doorway, Cameron looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, Dom?”
“I think there’s definitely going to be a fight. A big one,” Dom reports with a twinkle in his eye and a naughty smirk.
Suddenly, Cameron’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “See ya, Dad. See ya later, Dom.” Waving goodbye, Cameron escapes out the door, almost slamming it behind him.
As soon as Cameron is gone, Billy turns to face Dom, his deep green eyes flashing angrily. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, telling my son that we’re going to have a fight?”
Leaning against the counter, Dom takes a long sip of his coffee, crosses his legs at the ankles, and shrugs noncommittally. “Aren’t we?”
“Of course we are, dammit! But I don’t want to worry Cameron with things that are none of his business,” Billy fires back. “He’s only seven.”
Dom give Billy a long, level glance. “Closer to eight, actually, and since I’ve got the distinct impression that all this began because I was making Cam a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, I’d say that it very much concerns him. Also, if you think he didn’t realize that himself, then you’re not giving your very intelligent son nearly enough credit, Billy.”
Running a hand through his ginger hair and then smoothing down his tie in a furious and unsettled gesture, Billy’s green eyes are blazing. “Forgive me if I’m not all that enthusiastic about taking parenting advice from rank amateurs,” Billy forces out between clenched teeth. “Unless you’re applying for a permanent position, I suggest you stay out of my son’s life!”
“And what if I am?” Dom roars back, suddenly slamming his mug down on the kitchen table, splashing coffee all over the flat surface.
The question catches them both by surprise, the silence swirling about them like a living, breathing thing, making the room feel much smaller. It’s Billy who breaks first, sinking down into a chair at the table and looking up at Dom.
“What did that mean?” he finally asks, his voice tense and shaky.
Rubbing one hand over his face, Dom shakes his head from side to side as he wipes the droplets of coffee clinging to his other hand on his jeans. “I don’t know,” he admits. “You just pissed me right off and I said the first thing that popped into my mind.”
“I wasn’t proposing, Dom,” Billy says sternly, his back stiffening.
A slanted smile spreads across Dom’s face, quirking up one corner of his crooked mouth. “I never thought you were, Billy.” Straddling a chair, Dom sinks down, crosses his forearms along the top of the back rest and sets his chin on them. “I think this is a really good time for us to have a talk. What do you think?”
Glancing at his watch, Billy sighs heavily. “I can’t. I’ve got to get to the clinic.”
“So call in and say you’ll be a little late,” Dom requests gently, yet firmly. “I think this is a bit more important, Billy. I really do.”
Billy can’t escape Dom’s somber gaze and even though he knows that Dr. McKellan will suspect the worst, Billy finally nods.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” Billy says, not wanting to use the phone in the kitchen. He needs a few moments to gather his scattered thoughts and regain his composure, and Billy certainly can’t do it in the same room as Dom.
“Fine,” Dom agrees. “I’ll make us some fresh coffee, unless you’d prefer some tea. I saw some in the cupboard.”
“Coffee’s fine. Actually, better than fine.” Despite his best efforts, Billy cracks a small smile. “And I’ll say this for you, Dom, you sure are handy to have around the kitchen.”
Returning the smile, Dom nods, and Billy leaves the room feeling a wee bit more optimistic. When he returns, not only has Dom made a pot of coffee, but a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast sits at Billy’s place at the freshly wiped table.
“You really should eat something,” Dom explains at Billy’s questioning gaze. “A piece of bacon and a bite of toast doesn’t qualify as breakfast.”
“I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you,” Billy reminds Dom softly with a sigh. “After all, I am your doctor.”
“And I’m your friend,” Dom counters easily, gesturing in a silent request for Billy to get comfortable. “I’ve always thought that’s what friends do. Watch out for one another. Make each other feel good.”
Sitting down across from Dom and leaning back in his chair, Billy takes a sip of coffee as he eyes Dom thoughtfully. They’re adults, Billy tells himself firmly. Surely they can discuss sex without things getting out of hand. Can’t they?
“Is that what you call what we were doing on Saturday night?” Billy asks after swallowing the hot liquid.
Gazing over Billy, Dom’s expression is an inscrutable mask, his eyes shielded, making it impossible for Billy to discern what he’s thinking.
“What do you call it?” Dom inquires, answering the question with one of his own.
Billy shrugs with feigned casualness. “Lunacy, I suppose,” he says, his hands trembling lightly as lowers his cup to the table, the rattling sound unnaturally loud in the morning stillness of the kitchen. The intense, erotic memory of Dom’s hard, aroused body beneath him, long fingers stroking his warm, bare back has Billy’s breath catching in his throat.
Reaching out, Dom takes Billy’s small hands in his, linking their fingers together, his expression soft and gentle. “There was nothing wrong in what we were doing, Billy. It was perfectly natural and it felt very right, which is why we’re going to end up in bed sooner or later, so you may as well get used to the idea. C’mon Billy, you can’t deny that there’s something between us.”
Dom can’t stop himself from staring at Billy’s mouth, remembering the press of the soft bow of Billy’s lips against his own, and the passionate, sweet taste of Billy’s pointy tongue as it thrust hungrily into his hot mouth. Suppressing a groan, Dom can feel his body filling with a familiar ache, heat pooling in his belly.
At the same time, Billy is finding it impossible to think with Dom’s gleaming eyes focused intently on his lips. “You really do take too much for granted, Dom,” Billy protests softly.
Arching a challenging brow, Dom leans forward. “Kiss me like you did on Saturday night and tell me that.”
“Not on your bloody life,” Billy manages to refuse with a wry smile. “I may very well have been reckless, Dom, but I’m not a complete fool.”
Even as Billy’s continued resistance makes Dom want to ring Billy’s pale, attractive neck, Dom finds his valiant efforts admirable. Frankly, he’s not used to such strength in a potential lover. It frustrates him, admittedly, but at the same time, it also intrigues him. Dom knows that the game of two steps forward, one step back can add spice to the chase, but Billy is taking things to the extreme. If this is how Billy usually responds to a man’s pursuit, Dom’s willing to bet that not many have managed to catch him.
Dom’s expression turns momentarily stormy at the idea of Billy laying in bed with anyone else, male or female, even his ex-wife. Sighing, Dom draws his fingers through his mussed hair with obvious frustration. This isn’t going well, not well at all. Keep it loose, Dominic,” he counsels himself. You’re not in the market for anything other than fun and games.
“Billy, how many men have you been to bed with?” Dom asks suddenly.
Eyes wide, Billy stares at Dom, his mouth dropping open. “That’s an extremely personal question, Dom.”
Dom shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m willing to bet not a whole Hell of a lot, like I’m also willing to bet you had yourself a virgin bride. At the very least, I’m guessing that she was a virgin when you met.”
Rising abruptly from the table, Billy turns his back on Dom as he pours himself another cup of coffee, watching the swirl of steam rise, knowing that the caffeine going to make him jittery later. “I wouldn’t bet your life, Dom,” Billy replies grimly. “That remark proves just how little you know about me. My bride was just over four months pregnant, actually.”
Cup halfway to his mouth, Dom pauses to listen as Billy forces out the circumstances of his marriage in a short, gritty tone. Lowering his cup to the table, Dom studies Billy intently, the lines in his forehead deepening.
“You were in medical school when she got pregnant?”
Turning around, Billy gives Dom a crooked, self-deprecating smile. “You know, your shocked expression is the same one all of our friends gave us when they heard the news. It is, I’ll admit, a wee bit of irony. Abby later threw it in my face, using it as an example of one more thing I did to fuck up her life.”
“You know, Billy, that woman is sounding more and more like a bitch.” Dom dismisses Billy’s ex-wife with a careless wave of his hand before becoming serious again. “So why didn’t you just do something about it?” he wonders aloud.
Sitting down again, Billy sips his coffee thoughtfully, remembering Abby’s plans along those very lines. “You mean an abortion. You can say the word in front of me, Dom. After all, I’m a doctor. Trust me, we don’t embarrass very easily.”
And you don’t love lightly, Dom thinks to himself. Vaguely disturbed, Dom dismisses the idea to return to the subject of Billy’s young son.
“Alright then, as terrific a kid as Cam is, I’m guessing that the news must not have come as a welcome surprise,” Dom replies, head tilted to one side. “Most people wouldn’t have wanted the inconvenience, especially considering that you were both in medical school. Abortion would be a logical choice, yeah?”
Lowering his gingery head, Billy frowns into the depths of his coffee. “Love isn’t always logical,” he says after a pause. “Besides, it’s not that I don’t accept that it’s a woman’s choice, or the idea of abortion in theory, under the right circumstances. All I know is that I wanted to keep the baby from the very first second I knew about the pregnancy. I held that little pink stick in my hand and I wanted what we had made together. Our child.”
Reaching across the table, Dom takes both of Billy’s hands in his, and Billy tries not to be affected by the warmth Dom’s thumbs are creating as they rub tiny circles on Billy’s small palms.
“You can be a very nice man, Dr. Billy Boyd, when you’re not trying to destroy a bloke’s delicate ego,” Dom murmurs softly, his tone gentle.
“Delicate?” Billy counters with a faint smile. “Your ego, Dominic Monaghan, is anything but delicate. As a matter of fact, if you ever figure out how to bottle it, I want to buy in before you go public. We’ll rule the bloody world.”
Shoulders shaking with amusement, Dom throws back his head and laughs, relaxing as he decides Billy’s reason for resisting is probably due to a desire to avoid any entanglements right now. Billy’s life is clearly filled with enough complications as it is. A new city, a new job, a new home. And there’s something else that Dom just can’t put his finger on, but he knows it’s there.
“May I ask one question?” Dom inquires, after his laughter subsides and a long, quiet moment passes.
Nodding, Billy tugs his hands free and puts his elbows on the table before lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. Finally, Billy lifts his deep green eyes, meets Dom’s curious gaze.
“I suppose that’s safe enough,” Billy allows cautiously.
“What started all this?” Dom asks, pursing his lips in thought. “Why did you get so angry just because I was making Cam a peanut butter sandwich for his school lunch?”
Averting his eyes, Billy rubs his forehead wearily with his fingertips. “It’s a little complicated, Dom,” he admits. “Lets just say that I’m more than a wee bit touchy these days about my parenting techniques. I’ve always felt that having Cameron help out with things around the house taught him some independence. When I saw you fixing his lunch, I thought you were criticizing me for not taking better care of him.”
Dom’s blue-grey eyes widen, displaying genuine surprise at Billy’s words. “What? You can’t be serious. I’d never, ever do that. Anyone with half a brain can see you’re a good father, Billy. Cam’s a great kid; you’ve obviously done a terrific job.”
Managing a weak smile, Billy has no idea how to explain Abby and Michael’s theory that a child deserves two full-time parents, not one. He’s been hearing the argument at least once a week from them for months now. They’d even gone so far as to hint that Billy’s medical career would benefit, as if Billy would willingly sacrifice his son for his work, like Abby had so callously done during Cameron’s infancy. Billy shrugs inwardly. Why wouldn’t his ex-wife think that way? Frankly, Abby hadn’t shown the remotest amount of interest in her son whatsoever until well after Michael came into the picture. And the tense, ugly divorce.
It’s then that Billy realizes Dom is watching him with unnerving intensity and forces his mind back to the conversation. “Thank you,” Billy murmurs softly. “Then there’s the fact that I’m still worried that you and Cameron are getting too close. If we were to have, something, happen between us, then you disappeared from his life, he’d be badly hurt. He’s still adjusting to the idea of being away from his mum, although he certainly never saw that much of her when we lived in London. Her surgical schedule at the hospital was and still is, very demanding.”
“Cam said you’ve been divorced a few years now.”
“Almost four, but honestly, our marriage never really took.” Billy laughs, surprising himself when he realizes that he no longer finds the memories painful, at least in this moment. “Morning sickness and labor pains pretty much finished it off.”
Dom can’t imagine not loving someone when sharing the amazing gift of creating a child and bringing it into the world. Abby is not only a bitch of epic proportions, Dom decides, the woman is clearly a bloody fool.
“But why-”
“Why did we stay married for those four years?” Billy shakes his head, remembering all the times he’s asked himself that very question. “I don’t know, exactly. I suppose I was too busy to worry about whether or not I was happy. I had Cameron, school, the hospital. Considering the juggling act I was doing with my life, I probably could’ve signed up with the circus and done just fine.”
“And Abby?” Even as Dom says the name aloud for the first time, Dom hates the woman who’d lived with Billy. Loved with him. Made love with him. Made a baby with him. Cameron. A beautiful little boy who steals more and more of Dom’s heart every single day.
Billy releases a small, yet heavy sigh of regret. “She had her work at the hospital. That was her focus. You have to understand that no Taylor, in the history of a very illustrious family tree had ever gotten a divorce. Abby’s mother threatened to disinherit her if she made it messy and public, but quite honestly, I didn’t really care at that point. It was over and I wanted out, no matter what it cost. She was no longer my concern. Cameron, as always, was my focus, what was best for him. That’s all that mattered.”
“What made you finally decide to end it?”
Dom immediately regrets the question when Billy’s eyes shadow with pain to a lusterless shade. The woman had hurt Billy very badly, that much is very clear. Busy framing his answer to Dom’s question, Billy misses the frown darkening Dom’s eyes at the thought.
“Abby got involved with someone else, someone more, appropriate to her life agenda. Michael is from an excellent family, a regular attendee at all the right places. Not really the type to carry on an affair for very long,” Billy explains staring aimlessly at the table. “Besides, Michael’s father coincidentally happens to be a cardiologist himself, who’s built his heart institute to worldwide prominence. He’s very well known and respected in the medical community.”
“And just happens to be near retirement?” Dom asks dryly, arching an eyebrow knowingly.
Billy gives Dom a faint, rewarding smile. “Well I must admit, you are pretty smart for a football player.”
“I like to think so,” Dom replies cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. “Is this fight over now?
“Why?” Billy shoots back. “Are you suggesting we kiss and make up?” As soon as he issues the challenge, Billy winces, knowing he’s made a mistake.
Sparks dance in Dom’s blue-grey eyes as he observes Billy with unmistakable desire. “I’m game if you are,” he agrees in a low, intimate voice. “Just a friendly kiss, of course. Nothing the slightest bit passionate.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Billy decides, not trusting himself any more than he does Dom. He’s an adult and can certainly control his body’s rebellious urges, Billy reminds himself firmly. It’s just going to be a wee bit more difficult than he ever thought possible. Okay, a lot more difficult.
“Now I really do have to go to work,” Billy says, picking up his briefcase and heading for the kitchen door. “I think Dr. McKellan would love an excuse to send me packing back to London.”
“Fair enough,” Dom says, rising to follow him out the door. “Thanks for the talk.”
“No, thank you,” Billy replies, looking over his shoulder at Dom as he pulls the door shut and turns his key in the lock. “There were things that needed to be discussed.”
Although he doesn’t say it aloud, Billy enjoys the light touch of Dom’s elegant fingers at the small of his back immensely as he silently walks Billy to his car.
“Will you let Cam spend this afternoon with me?” Dom asks as he opens the car door for Billy, resting his lean, tanned arm on the top edge of the window. “He’s got some crazy idea we should sign Griffin up for obedience training at some place near the park.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Cameron,” Billy replies with a rueful smile.
“Do you know, sometimes I feel like that kid’s the real adult around here?” Dom says, his grin boyishly attractive. “He definitely seems to be the one with all the answers.”
For a moment, Billy is afraid that Cameron has discussed moving in with Dom, but his friendly, open gaze seems to discount that fear. “He’s seven-and-a-half, going on thirty-five,” Billy agrees. “Believe it or not, he was actually born that way.”
“Then you’ll let us try to turn Griffin into a responsible member of society?” Dom prompts, dropping his head to one side and gazing deeply into Billy’s eyes.
“If it’ll protect my furniture, I’m all for it,” Billy says with a firm nod. “It seems that lately you and Griffin are spending more time with Cameron than I am. Mr. Monaghan, I’m beginning to suspect that you’re only putting up with me to get to my son.”
His accusation is directed at Dom in a light tone, but Dom’s answering expression is unnervingly grave. “You know better than that, Billy. If I’d met you two years ago. . . Oh, shite,” Dom mutters, shaking his head and averting his eyes. “Forget it.”
Reminding himself that neither of them are looking for a relationship with any strings, Dom swallows hard. Both of their lives are far too unsettled for muddying the waters with any type of commitment. Billy has his work at the clinic, and he has a career to salvage. Even as he repeats the facts to himself, Dom’s need to touch Billy becomes unbearable. Having Billy pressed against him on Saturday night was wonderful, and Dom desperately wants to feel that again. Shifting, Dom shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans in an effort to control himself.
Billy manages a slight, agreeing smile, but finds the effort more difficult than it should be. “It’s forgotten,” Billy says with a careless shrug. Then he remembers something that’s been tugging at his mind ever since Cameron left the house.
“Hey, do you know why Cameron looked like he’d just gotten his Christmas present early, when you told him we were going to have a fight?” Billy asks, brow furrowed in thought and confusion.
To Billy’s amazement, Dom appears chagrined and somewhat embarrassed. “I might,” he admits.
Arching an inquisitive eyebrow, Billy invites elaboration.
One hand leaves Dom’s pocket to slide through his hair, tousling it even further, into an appealing, chaotic mess. “Okay. He asked me why you and I argue so much and I told him if people really care about each other, little spats don’t really mean anything. That if we always saw eye to eye, we’d bore each other silly.”
Resisting the urge to capture Billy’s lips in a long, hot, wet kiss, Dom isn’t strong enough to avoid the silken pull of Billy’s deep, gorgeous green eyes. Reaching out, Dom strokes his palm down Billy’s ginger hair instead, fingers coming to rest against Billy’s smooth neck, thumb sweeping across his freshly shaved cheek. Taking a deep breath to gather strength, Dom feels Billy tremble at his touch.
“The one thing you’ll never do, Dr. Boyd, is bore me,” Dom promises in a low voice, his eyes dark with undisguised desire.
“I know the feeling,” Billy admits as he escapes the heat of Dom’s hand and slides into the driver’s seat of his car. Pausing with his keys in hand, Billy looks up at Dom, the concern in his eyes perfectly clear.
“What?” Dom asks.
“I want you to stop by the clinic today so I can examine that knee before tomorrow’s practice,” Billy instructs.
“But I’ve got a busy day planned,” Dom protests with a sexy pout. “Why don’t you just make it a house call tonight?”
“Because I don’t do house calls, Dom. That’s one reason why I chose this specialty,” Billy explains firmly. “So I wouldn’t have to race off and leave Cameron at all hours of the night.”
“You made one on Saturday, after the match,” Dom reminds Billy with a wicked, teasing grin.
“Don’t look so smug, Dom,” Billy threatens lightly before starting the car and shifting it into gear. “Just wait until you see my bill. I’ll see you later. At the clinic.”
Nodding in agreement, Dom says nothing, releasing the car door so Billy can close it before backing out onto the street.
As he drives away, Billy catches a glimpse of Dom in his rearview mirror, his hands thrust into the back pockets of his low slung jeans, a thoughtful expression on his face.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
“Dammit, Dom. You’ve lost nearly eight percent of your strength in that knee,” Billy scolds, reviewing the test results of Dom’s leg strength on the clinic’s Cybex machine.
“I prefer to think of it as still having ninety-two percent of my strength,” Dom counters calmly, leaning back in the chair across from Billy’s desk.
Fighting down the unprofessional display of anger and irritation Dom’s stubborn words provoke, Billy knows that as Dom’s doctor he has every right to be concerned about Dom’s cavalier attitude. The problem is, the level of Billy’s caring goes far beyond that. It almost frightens Billy how much further his caring goes, how much he feels for the British football player.
Reclining in his chair and crossing his arms over the chest of his lab coat, Billy replies, “Terrific. Using that theory, by the end of the season you’ll be crawling off the pitch.”
“Don’t push it, Billy,” Dom warns in a low tone, eyes narrowing. “You’ve got no proof I’m going to continue losing strength at that rate. Hell, the way I’ve been working out, I’ll probably be stronger than ever by the end of the season.”
“And don’t you bloody well talk to me that way, Dominic Monaghan,” Billy snaps in reply. “I’m your doctor and I think I know more about your body than you do!”
“Possibly, but not nearly as much as I’d like you to,” Dom shoots back in retort. Then, as they glare at each other, a slow, seductive smile chases away Dom’s aggravated glower. “If you want me to think of you as a physician, Dr. Boyd, you should stop looking so bloody enticing.”
Billy doesn’t answer as he meets Dom’s unmistakably appreciative, smoldering gaze. He has met and overcome a great many challenges in his life, personally and professionally, but this is proving to be his toughest yet.
“I really think I should transfer you to Dr. Bloom’s care,” Billy murmurs as he taps his pen thoughtfully on Dom’s thick medical file. “I don’t believe I can be properly objective in your treatment.”
“Absolutely not. You’re my doctor, Billy,” Dom says, shaking his head. “I won’t accept any other.”
“But Dom . . .”
Sighing, Dom rises, slowly and gingerly, Billy notes with concern, from the chair. Placing his hands on the glossy surface of Billy’s desk, Dom leans toward Billy, forcing him to look up so their eyes can meet.
“Speaking as my physician now, just tell me one thing,” Dom instructs.
“I’ll try,” Billy agrees, swallowing the wave of nervousness that rises in his throat.
“Do you have any concrete proof that if I continue to play, I’ll end up permanently disabled?” Dom asks, dark, penetrating eyes never leaving Billy’s.
“Of course not,” Billy says sharply. “I don’t own a crystal ball.”
Nodding, Dom’s eyes gleam with a victorious light. “There, you see? There isn’t any reason for me not to play.”
Billy knows all too well the athletic mind, thanks to nearly a decade of experience. The average patient is a consummate expert at hearing exactly what he or she wants to hear and no more, but Billy is determined not to allow Dom to twist his answer that way.
“As I said, I don’t have a crystal ball, Dom, but I do have a file filled with examinations, x-rays, and test results that show you’re taking a risk every time you walk out on that pitch.”
Swearing violently under his breath, Dom gives Billy a dark glare. “I’m taking a risk every time I walk across the street, Billy. That’s the way life is. You can’t cower behind the damn curtains in your house and hide from it.”
Half-rising out of his chair, Billy’s green eyes flash dangerously. “You’re far too intelligent to use that old argument! When are you going to quit acting like a spoiled child!”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Dom’s tone is razor sharp and electricity sparks between them as he holds Billy’s gaze with the sheer strength of his will.
Back stiff and muscles tense, Billy refuses to back down. “You’re behaving like a four year old who’s afraid someone’s going to take away his favorite toy. You’re a grown man, Dom, so why don’t you just hang up your football shoes and allow yourself the satisfaction of having been one of the best players in the game?”
Belatedly, Billy realizes he’s gone too far as a muscle jumps dangerously along Dom’s rigid jaw line. Reaching across the desk, Billy places a hand on Dom’s arm, his expression earnest.
“I know you don’t want to give it up, Dom, just like I know how much you love to play the game. I understand. It’s the rare athlete who knows exactly when to quit. Most of you have a tendency to let your minds set dates your bodies can’t possibly keep.” Taking a deep breath, Billy gathers strength. “C’mon Dom, when are you going to admit that your playing days are over?” he asks softly. “Stop now. Please, before it’s too late.”
When Dom violently jerks his arm away like Billy’s just burned it, Billy recognizes the look in his eyes as they harden to granite.
“When I retire,” Dom grates through clenched teeth, “It’ll be because I want to, because I no longer enjoy the sport, or because I can’t win matches any more. Now get one thing through your head, Billy; no sportswriter, coach or even a doctor, no matter how incredibly sexy he may be, is going to make that decision for me.” Dom’s harsh expression could’ve been carved onto the side of Mount Rushmore, and his eyes give Billy an unmistakable warning. “Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Billy replies, forcing himself to exhale slowly.
“Good.” Nodding, Dom turns toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says as he leaves. Before Billy can object, Dom is gone.
“Burning the candle at both ends, Dr. Boyd?”
Dr. McKellan is standing in the open doorway, his blue eyed gaze inscrutable.
Sighing, Billy decides that it’s time to get this out into the open. He has far too many problem males in his life right now, and something has to give.
“Dr. McKellan, may we speak frankly?”
Entering the room, Dr. McKellan take a seat in the chair that Dom has just vacated. “By all means, Dr. Boyd.”
“Do you object to the way that I conduct my practice?” Billy asks as he sinks back down into his chair, small hands folded in his lap.
“If I had any objections, you wouldn’t be here,” Dr. McKellan replies with the air of a man perfectly used to getting his own way. “It’s as simple as that, Dr. Boyd.”
Billy admits to himself that much is probably true. “If you’re so worried about my professional behavior, you should know that while I consider him a friend, I won’t allow anything to happen between Dominic Monaghan and myself.”
“That sounds like quite a challenge, since the man is obviously very taken with you, not to mention the fact that you’re next door neighbors,” Dr. McKellan adds smoothly.
“How in the world did you know that?” Billy asks, his eyes wide with surprise.
An expression suspiciously like a smile passes over the older man’s face as his eyes almost twinkle with amusement. “Never discount the clinic grapevine, Dr. Boyd.” Then he surprises Billy by appearing almost sympathetic. “I know this must be a very difficult time for you. Men like Dominic Monaghan are hard to deal with, even discounting a personal involvement.”
Shoulders sagging a little, Billy leans back in his chair, his brow furrowing in concern. “You know what I’m up against, then?”
“The fact that he refuses to accept that his athlete’s body may be more fragile than his determination?” Dr. McKellan asks and then slowly nods.
”He refuses to think about retiring. I’ve repeatedly tried to point out to him that he’s taking a risk every time he walks out onto that pitch,” Billy reports, his hands trembling as he fidgets with a pen he picks up from on top of Dom’s thick medical chart, displaying all too well his dismay with Dom’s attitude.
Ian McKellan’s steady gaze holds Billy’s attention, but there is a warmth in his eyes that Billy has never before witnessed. “It’s always upsetting when a patient won’t listen to reason, but aren’t you taking too much of this onto your own shoulders? Dominic Monaghan is not your only patient.”
Of course, Dr. McKellan is right. Billy knows several of his patients will continue the same behavior that has earned them their injuries, yet Billy doesn’t spend all his waking hours and far too many sleepless nights worrying about them. Only Dom has this effect on Billy.
“I think you should assign another physician to him,” Billy says finally, glancing down at his hands, remembering how Dom had held them so gently earlier today, how much of Dom’s bare skin they have caressed when overwhelmed with lust and desire. “Dr. Bloom is familiar with his case.”
Shaking his head, Dr. McKellan rises to leave. “I’m not going to do that for a number of reasons, Dr. Boyd. In the first place, if anyone can get that stubborn man to listen to reason, it’s probably you. He may not agree with what you have to say right now, but he does respect you. Secondly, you’re unquestionably the most qualified doctor on staff to treat an injury of this magnitude. Dr. Bloom is a surprisingly good doctor, I must admit, but he pales in comparison to you. In the third place, as a runner yourself, you can at least empathize with an athlete who doesn’t want to suddenly find himself inactive.”
“But he’s going to end up permanently inactive if he doesn’t stop,” Billy points out, his dark eyes mirroring his distress.
Billy’s superior shrugs to his grey-suited shoulders. “Then I suggest that you accept the possibility and be prepared to deal with it when the time comes.”
“Right.”
This time Billy knows Dr. McKellan’s expression is honestly sympathetic. “I don’t envy you in the coming months,” he adds, long fingers lacing together briefly. “However, if you were in another specialty, you’d have already dealt with the reality of losing a patient. While our losses aren’t as life threatening as say, cardiology, if you want a medical practice with no risk involved, Dr. Boyd, I’d suggest you consider dermatology. To my knowledge, no one has ever succumbed to acne.”
Then he gives Billy a wry smile that actually reaches his eyes. “If it’s any consolation at all, Billy, I feel quite privileged to have you on staff here at the clinic. London’s loss has definitely been Glasgow’s gain.”
The smile grows warmer as Dr. McKellan’s gaze sweeps over Billy in a far from professional manner. “And I’d still say that, even if I wasn’t particularly fond of green-eyed Scottish men.” With that surprising remark, Dr. McKellan rises from the chair, turns on his heel and leaves the room, leaving Billy to stare after him.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Although it’s never spoke of directly, a silent truce is forged between Billy and Dom. In the autumn weeks that follow, Billy finds himself looking forward to to sharing his evenings with Dom and Cameron. Practices remain as intense as ever, and although Billy can see that they’re having an increasingly detrimental effect on the tendons in Dom’s knee, he forces himself to remain silent. Dom knows the risks. He’s been informed. It is his life, it is his choice.
A realization has sunk in for Billy, that Dom can’t conceive of a life without playing this game, even as everything and everyone seems against him making it through the season. Fervently, Billy wishes he could help Dom come to terms with his dilemma, but for the time being, all Billy can do is bandage Dom up and try to keep him healthy enough to play, while hoping Dom comes to view things more realistically in the very near future. Also, Billy doesn’t want to mar their time together with fruitless arguments. What good would it do?
Practice after practice, match after match, Billy gives Dom daily massages at home, thankful when Dom purchases a professional massage table so Billy doesn’t have to crouch over Dom on his couch and risk injuring his own back in the process. Day after day after day passes, Billy treating Dom’s various aches, strained muscles and throbbing joints, silently waiting for the inevitable. As the weeks pass, the Rangers continue to win, due in large part to Dom’s impressive performances in the matches, and the team climbs into first place in the league.
Despite Billy’s hopes that the sexual tension would ease up and the intense attraction between them begin to fade, Billy is not so fortunate, even though there isn’t so much as a kiss between them. Not once does Dom force the issue, but neither does he retreat. At every opportunity that he can find, Dom’s long, elegant fingers stroke the back of Billy’s neck, down his arm, across his knee, against the palm of his hand. No matter what Billy does, Dom is there, close by, watching and waiting, eyes dark and smoldering, his lips glistening when he runs his tongue over them. Somehow, Billy manages to resist the temptation to wipe the knowing smirk off of Dom’s sexy mouth with a mind blowing, body ravaging kiss, though on a frequent number of occasions, he’s not quite sure how.
In late November, Billy amazes himself by cooking a superb dinner to celebrate St. Andrews day, putting forth a serious effort to expose Cameron to more of his Scottish heritage. The turkey, Billy thinks proudly, looks like something out of a cookbook or a magazine. Golden and perfect. When they lived in London, it was more difficult, especially with Abby, but Billy was determined that Cameron know where he came from. To know why his father loves Scotland so much.
“Wow, Dad,” Cameron exclaims with wide eyes as he sits down at dining room table to eat. “This looks really good.”
“I had some help,” Billy admits, smiling over the top of his son’s ginger head at Dom, who is busily carving the huge bird.
Returning the smile, Dom shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “It’s not that I’m particularly talented, Cam. It’s just that everyone in my family was assigned various jobs. Mum liked to keep an eye on me, as I often got into trouble, so I usually got kitchen duty with her.”
“Was it neat having a brother?” Cameron asks, watching Dom layer thin slices of turkey meat on a platter.
Eyes widening, Billy shoots Cameron a warning look, but the boy only smiles innocently in return, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Apparently Cameron’s been taking lessons in cheekiness from Dom, Billy decides. It’s one of many traits that Cameron has picked up from Dom in the last few months, soaking them up like a greedy sponge.
“Most of the time,” Dom replies, glancing at Cameron and then refocusing on his task. “Being the youngest helps, but I still ended up with a lot of responsibility. Especially when my Mum was at work.”
“Your mother worked?” Billy asks in surprise, remembering what Dom had said in the past, during the first time that he examined Dom at the clinic, if he recalls correctly.
Laughing, Dom places some slices of turkey breast onto Billy’s plate. “Yes, of course she worked, Billy. Do you think my Dad kept her at home, barefoot and pregnant?”
“You know what I mean,” Billy protests with a frown. “You said that she stayed home and did all the mum stuff.”
“She did both, how, I don’t know,” Dom explains with more than a touch of reverence. “I think some women are born with that special gift. She’s nothing short of amazing.”
“What did she do?” Billy inquires, ignoring Cameron’s expression of protest when he passes the bowl of green peas. Billy’s firm nod indicates that Cameron is expected to take some, and with a grimace of distaste, the boy reluctantly complies.
“She’s a nurse in Manchester,” Dom states, pacifying Cameron by handing him an enormous drumstick that makes his green eyes widen and his small mouth fall open. “With a wicked sense of humor.”
“A nurse?” Billy repeats incredulously.
The urge to ask what Dom’s mum thinks of his behavior, in regards to his knee injury, is on the tip of Billy’s tongue, but he swallows it instead, not wanting to ruin a pleasant day. This is not the time or the place.
“And your father?”
“A teacher,” Dom replies with a fond smile. “Science, but they both believed that education begins at home, from an early age.”
“Well, that explains why quotations come so easily to you,” Billy comments thoughtfully. “Aristotle to Psalms.”
Taking a warm roll from the basket that Billy offers him, Dom smiles his thanks and then refills Billy’s wine glass with crisp Chablis from a chilled bottle.
“Exactly,” Dom agrees with a grin. “Between the two of them, I can probably come up with something to fit almost every occasion.”
“Amazing,” Billy murmurs.
“What’s the matter, Dr. Boyd, are you surprised a football player can read something besides the scoreboard?” There is a teasing challenge in Dom’s playful tone as he arches an eyebrow at Billy.
“No, I’m just moderately impressed,” Billy retorts with a smile. “What did you do, spend your infancy teething on copies of Shakespeare’s plays?”
Throwing back his head, Dom laughs, trying to recall the last time he’d felt this relaxed away from his beloved parents. “Almost. I honestly can’t remember our house not being filled with books.” Thinking back, Dom smiles warmly into the golden depths of his wine. “My brother and I used to play a game to see if we could find a saying that would stump our parents. We kept a pool going for years, the winner taking all the coins. I must admit, it wasn’t that often that anyone was paid off, and I guess the hours spent looking up obscure quotations obviously stuck.”
“What did they think about you wanting to be a football player?” Billy asks curiously. “Didn’t they expect you to go to uni?”
Watching Cameron hide the hated peas in his mashed potatoes, Dom has to stifle a grin of remembrance of his own stubborn youth. Billy follows his gaze and as Dom’s eyes meet his, they share a companionable smile and silent laugh. Then Dom answers Billy’s question.
“They were really great, actually. All they ever wanted for me was to do whatever would make me happy. They were so proud when I was in uni and got signed to a professional league. Dad arranged for all the relatives to attend my first match.” Expression softening, Dom cups his chin in his hand and stares off into space, as if looking back in time. “He asked everyone to come, no matter whether they were down the street or in another country. I still think about how much everyone sacrificed to be there.”
Then Dom’s gaze returns to Billy. “I’ve got a great family. I’m sure you’ll like them.”
Billy smiles, wondering if Dom meant to put it that way. There’s a formality about meeting a man or woman’s parents that signifies a certain commitment, and the one thing they’d agreed on is that this is a friendship without ties. It was a casual statement, nothing more, Billy decides, not wanting to look for hidden meanings in Dom’s words and warm gaze.
“Well, I hope you won,” Billy says. “Since everyone was there to watch.”
Cameron stops gnawing on his gargantuan drumstick long enough to protest. “Dad! Of course he did. Didn’t you, Dom?” he asks, looking over at Dom questioningly.
“We sure did,” Dom replies with a wink and a grin. “You know, even with all the matches I’ve been in, I sometimes think that was the best one I ever played.”
“Your parents must have been very proud,” Billy murmurs, feeling an adolescent thrill at Dom’s dazzling smile.
Torn, Billy loves the way Dom’s face lights up when he talks about playing football, and hates it, too, all at the same time. How is Dom ever going to give it up? The game obviously flows in his veins, right along with his blood. It’s as much a part of Dominic Monaghan as his tousled, sun streaked, blonde hair, intense blue-grey eyes and gorgeous, tanned body.
Catching the look of sadness momentarily taking possession of Billy’s face, Dom thinks hard, seeking a way to banish it.
“There’s actually a funny story with that,” Dom says, smiling as Billy. “I’d scored my first goal just before half-time, and we were on the sidelines, making substitutions and talking strategy, when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. It was my dad.”
Taking a sip of his wine, Dom’s expression remains reminiscent. “I asked him what he was doing down there and he said that I’d made Mum and him real proud. They were pleased I was so happy.”
“That’s a great memory to have,” Billy murmurs.
Dom’s grin widens. “That’s not the funny part,” he protests. “All of a sudden I looked around and there I was, standing on the sidelines, with the coaches wondering why I wasn’t on the pitch. The rest of the substitutions had run out onto the field and everyone was out there, waiting for me.”
“Oh no!” Billy cries with surprise.
“What did you do then, Dom?” Cameron asks, his green eyes wide with wonder. “Did you get into trouble?”
The gaze Dom’s directs at Cameron is undeniably fond. “Well, I didn’t exactly get the medal for brilliance that day, but I didn’t get into trouble either. Which is amazing, because as I started running back out onto the field, I realized that someone was running right along beside me.”
“Your father,” Billy guesses, smiling widely and eyes sparkling with amusement as he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine.
Dom nods. “Picture it: My first match on a professional football team, standing in the middle of the pitch, with my dad standing right there beside me. I told him he wasn’t allowed on the pitch, that we were supposed to be playing the rest of the match.”
Focused on Dom’s face, Cameron’s turkey drumstick sinks to his plate, long forgotten. “What happened next?”
“Well, when you meet my dad, Cam, you’ll discover that one of his most amazing traits is his ability to handle any surprise,” Dom explains. “He simply glanced around at my teammates, looked up at the clock, and said, ‘Oh. I thought the match was over and just wanted to come out here and shake hands with all you talented blokes.’ ”
Sharing in Dom’s enjoyment of the story, Billy can’t remember a more wonderful day, and how natural it feels to have Dom be a part of their lives. The rest of the meal passes comfortably, with laughter and warm smiles. Too much food is eaten, but seeing the joyful expression on Cameron’s face is more than worth it.
“Thank you for all your help today,” Billy says, walking over to where Dom is standing in front of the sink, steam rising as he rinses their plates before loading them in the dishwasher. “Because of you, Dom, dinner was amazing. Much better than Chinese takeaway or frozen dinners.”
“You’re very welcome,” Dom replies with a shy nod. “And thank you for inviting me to join you. I had a really good time.”
Over the running water in the sink, Dom and Billy gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then Dom leans in, bringing their mouths closer together. The voice of reason in the back of Billy’s mind screams a warning, but he ignores it, sighing ever so softly when their lips meet in a warm, wet kiss. Tilting his head to one side, Billy tenderly draws Dom’s pouty lower lip into his mouth, sucking it gently before sliding his tongue between Dom’s parted lips for a brief taste.
“Cameron,” Billy whispers hoarsely as their lips part, turning his head to avoid the expected second kiss, knowing that it’ll most definitely be longer and more intense. “He’s in the next room. We can’t.”
“Okay,” Dom agrees, starting to pull back and returning his attention to the dirty plate in his hand.
Danger averted, Billy exhales and looks down at the leftovers, trying to decide what to do with them all, when suddenly Dom’s soft lips are pressing against the sensitive skin just below his earlobe. Gasping at the erotic sensation, Billy shivers as Dom’s tongue darts out for a quick, teasing touch, and then watches in shock as Dom resumes rinsing dishes, a satisfied smile quirking up the corners of his mouth.
Needing a moment to compose himself, Billy escapes back to the dining room, wondering just what Dom is thinking. Honestly, the only thing that would make the day even more perfect, Billy considers as he wipes the table with a cloth, is if Dom was sharing his bed tonight. The attraction that had sparked between them from the beginning is steadily increasing by the day, instead of diminishing as he expected, and Billy is admittedly surprised that Dom has not made a renewed effort to seduce him until now.
Of course, Billy has no way of knowing that Dom is as confused as he by his inexplicable hesitation. More than once in the past few weeks, Dom has picked up the phone to call a woman. Any woman. Just to prove that this yearning he feels for Billy is merely a simply, biological attraction, easily satiated by any warm and willing woman. Each time, however, Dom replaces the receiver to its cradle without dialing. There’s only one person he wants to kiss, touch and hold. One sexy, stubborn sports physician.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
This evening is proving no different, and struggling against an almost overwhelming torrent of lust and need, Dom reaches out and dials the number indelibly etched on his memory.
“Hello?”
Billy’s voice sounds hesitant, almost afraid.
“Billy, are you alright?” Dom asks, suddenly afraid that something has happened to Cameron.
Dom can hear the expelled sigh of relief as it escapes Billy’s mouth and flows over the phone line. “Oh, Dom. Hi. I’m fine.” Warm and inviting, Billy’s Scottish brogue curls over him.
“You sounded rather upset a second ago,” Dom probes. “What’s going on?”
“I thought it might be Abby,” Billy replies with a sigh. “She promised to call Cameron today.”
Glancing at the clock beside the phone on the night stand, Dom frowns. “Billy, it’s almost midnight.”
“I know. She and Michael probably got stuck at a function or a party, which is just as well. I honestly hoped she wouldn’t call.” Even as Billy says his wish aloud, he feels a stab of guilt. He’d watched Cameron disappointedly eyeing the silent telephone all afternoon and evening. The hurt had been obvious in his small face as he’d brushed his teeth, changed into his Rangers pajamas and crawled into bed. In an attempt to help him feel better, Billy had perched on the edge of Cameron’s bed, stroking his hair and singing to him until he fell asleep.
“She hurt you that badly?” Dom asks softly, breaking into Billy’s thoughts.
Billy shakes his head, forgetting that the gesture will be ineffectual over the telephone lines. How can he explain the pressure Abby and Michael have been exerting, how cold and unfeeling she is towards Cameron, without giving Dom a far too intimate picture of his life?
“Billy?” Dom says, needing to end the awkward silence.
“No,” Billy finally replies. “I just didn’t want any clouds hanging over a perfect day, you know?”
“It was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Lovely. The weather, the dinner and especially the company,” Billy agrees, holding the receiver nearer to his ear, as if he can bring Dom closer with the effort. After a great day, Billy doesn’t want it to end on a sad note. Once again, Abby’s thoughtlessness has hurt an innocent boy.
The truth is, Dom doesn’t want to be alone tonight. Although he’s grown accustomed to spending some holidays by himself, today has reminded him of the pleasures a family holds on these special days. Whenever he’s with Cameron or Billy, he doesn’t feel lonely.
“Want to help me build a couple of turkey sandwiches?” Dom asks, his husky tone inviting far more than the ingestion of cold poultry.
Closing his eyes, Billy fights off a rebellious wave of desire, knowing that mind blowing, body shattering sex is not the answer. Right now it would be empty and hollow, and Dom deserves better than that. “I don’t think so,” he says, turning Dom down gently. “I have to get up early tomorrow morning.” Casting a glance at the clock on his bedside table, Billy grimaces. “This morning,” he corrects with a sigh.
“Hey,” Dom says quickly, casually. “It’s okay. It was just an idea.”
“It was a very nice idea,” Billy adds, his voice holding a soft regret. “It really was, Dom. Honestly.”
“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Dom replies. “Good night, Billy.”
“Good night,” Billy whispers, his lips pressed against the cold, dark plastic.
Hanging up, Dom walks over to the window, looking up for a long, frustrating time at Billy’s bedroom. Cursing Billy heatedly and wanting him outrageously, Dom strides into the living room and flings open the liquor cabinet, seeking the numbing effects of the alcohol inside.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Chapter 9
Author:
dylan_dufresne Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-14, or in that neighborhood.
Summary: Dom’s actions cause an unexpected reaction in Billy, both personally and professionally.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Many thanks to
frojane, for the beta. Credit for the banner goes to the very talented loki_girl. Thank you so much.Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Thanks so much for the response. It’s greatly appreciated and fills me with warm fuzzies. Honest. Here's another one. Enjoy.
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7
Chapter 8 - Disagreements, Compromises & Clandestine Moments
When Billy reenters the kitchen just over fifteen minutes later with damp hair, Cameron is sitting at the kitchen table reading a book while Dom spreads a thick layer of smooth peanut butter onto a piece of whole wheat bread.
“What are you doing?” Billy demands, standing the doorway, his back tense as he stares at the unfamiliar scene.
A guilty expression flashes across Cameron’s small face as he looks up, and then he buries his nose back in his book. Dom, on the other had, gives Billy a devastatingly cheerful grin.
“I told Cam I’d make his lunch,” Dom volunteers.
Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, causing his tie to pull at his neck, Billy arches an eyebrow. “Why?”
Tearing a long sheet of plastic off the roll, Dom presses the two slices of bread together into a thick sandwich and deftly wraps up it up. Moving to the refrigerator, Dom ignores Billy’s question and asks, “Where are the apples?”
“In the vegetable crisper,” Billy answers absently. “I’d like an answer, Dom.”
Locating the polished, red apple, Dom tosses it into Cameron’s Rangers lunch box, yet another gift from Dom, along with the sandwich, seemingly oblivious to Billy’s growing irritation.
“Are the cookies in here?” Dom asks, reaching for a round ceramic container on the counter that’s emblazoned in a cheerful, tartan pattern.
“No. They’re in the cupboard to the left of the cooker,” Billy snaps.
Glancing over his shoulder, Dom eyes Billy curiously. “Hey, you don’t have to bite my bloody head off. That is a cookie jar, Billy. The logical assumption would have been-”
“Don’t assume anything, Dom,” Billy shoots back, his tone letting Dom know that this conversation goes far beyond apples and chocolate chip cookies.
There is a long, uncomfortable silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Billy catches Cameron peek over the top of his book, eyebrows raised.
“Come on, Cameron. I’ll walk you to school,” Billy says briskly, not wanting to have a confrontation in front of his impressionable son.
The young boy’s green eyes widen. “But Dad, I can walk by myself. I’ve been doing it all month.” Biting down on his lower lip, Cameron looks back and forth between the two of them. “See? I told you he wouldn’t like it,” he says to Dom, the corners of his small mouth turning down.
“So I’ve discovered,” Dom agrees with a nod. “Now what’ll I do to get back into his good graces?”
Cameron’s young brow furrows thoughtfully. “Whenever he gets mad at me, I usually clean my room and then draw him a picture. When he puts it on the fridge, I know everything’s okay again.”
Casting a wary eye at Billy, Dom frowns. “I’m not certain crayons will cut this one, mate. I think we need something a wee bit stronger.”
“When I was five, I painted Merry blue to match my room,” Cameron volunteers. “Dad was looking at me a lot like he’s looking at you right now.”
“Terrific. What happened to get you and your dad back on speaking terms?”
“Actually, that was the only time he ever spanked me,” Cameron recalls, gnawing his lower lip as he thinks back. “Then, afterward he cried and said he was sorry.”
Dom’s blue-grey eyes are bright with insinuation as they turn from the boy to Billy. “Spanking. Now that’s a very interesting idea,” he murmurs in a low, suggestive voice.
One would have to be blind, Billy decides, to miss the blatantly sexual invitation in Dom’s teasing gaze. “That’s more than enough you two. Cameron, you’re right. You can walk yourself to school. Go on now. I need to talk to Dom.”
“Are you going to fight?” Cameron asks with interest, taking his lunch box from Billy’s outstretched hand.
“Of course not,” Billy reassures Cameron as he smoothes down his son’s tousled hair. “We’re just going to discuss a few important matters.”
“Oh.” Cameron’s small face seems to fall at the response and he turns toward the door. Even Billy’s farewell hug and kiss doesn’t bring a smile to his face.
“Hey Cam?” Dom says, finally entering the conversation again, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands.
Pausing in the doorway, Cameron looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, Dom?”
“I think there’s definitely going to be a fight. A big one,” Dom reports with a twinkle in his eye and a naughty smirk.
Suddenly, Cameron’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “See ya, Dad. See ya later, Dom.” Waving goodbye, Cameron escapes out the door, almost slamming it behind him.
As soon as Cameron is gone, Billy turns to face Dom, his deep green eyes flashing angrily. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, telling my son that we’re going to have a fight?”
Leaning against the counter, Dom takes a long sip of his coffee, crosses his legs at the ankles, and shrugs noncommittally. “Aren’t we?”
“Of course we are, dammit! But I don’t want to worry Cameron with things that are none of his business,” Billy fires back. “He’s only seven.”
Dom give Billy a long, level glance. “Closer to eight, actually, and since I’ve got the distinct impression that all this began because I was making Cam a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, I’d say that it very much concerns him. Also, if you think he didn’t realize that himself, then you’re not giving your very intelligent son nearly enough credit, Billy.”
Running a hand through his ginger hair and then smoothing down his tie in a furious and unsettled gesture, Billy’s green eyes are blazing. “Forgive me if I’m not all that enthusiastic about taking parenting advice from rank amateurs,” Billy forces out between clenched teeth. “Unless you’re applying for a permanent position, I suggest you stay out of my son’s life!”
“And what if I am?” Dom roars back, suddenly slamming his mug down on the kitchen table, splashing coffee all over the flat surface.
The question catches them both by surprise, the silence swirling about them like a living, breathing thing, making the room feel much smaller. It’s Billy who breaks first, sinking down into a chair at the table and looking up at Dom.
“What did that mean?” he finally asks, his voice tense and shaky.
Rubbing one hand over his face, Dom shakes his head from side to side as he wipes the droplets of coffee clinging to his other hand on his jeans. “I don’t know,” he admits. “You just pissed me right off and I said the first thing that popped into my mind.”
“I wasn’t proposing, Dom,” Billy says sternly, his back stiffening.
A slanted smile spreads across Dom’s face, quirking up one corner of his crooked mouth. “I never thought you were, Billy.” Straddling a chair, Dom sinks down, crosses his forearms along the top of the back rest and sets his chin on them. “I think this is a really good time for us to have a talk. What do you think?”
Glancing at his watch, Billy sighs heavily. “I can’t. I’ve got to get to the clinic.”
“So call in and say you’ll be a little late,” Dom requests gently, yet firmly. “I think this is a bit more important, Billy. I really do.”
Billy can’t escape Dom’s somber gaze and even though he knows that Dr. McKellan will suspect the worst, Billy finally nods.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” Billy says, not wanting to use the phone in the kitchen. He needs a few moments to gather his scattered thoughts and regain his composure, and Billy certainly can’t do it in the same room as Dom.
“Fine,” Dom agrees. “I’ll make us some fresh coffee, unless you’d prefer some tea. I saw some in the cupboard.”
“Coffee’s fine. Actually, better than fine.” Despite his best efforts, Billy cracks a small smile. “And I’ll say this for you, Dom, you sure are handy to have around the kitchen.”
Returning the smile, Dom nods, and Billy leaves the room feeling a wee bit more optimistic. When he returns, not only has Dom made a pot of coffee, but a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast sits at Billy’s place at the freshly wiped table.
“You really should eat something,” Dom explains at Billy’s questioning gaze. “A piece of bacon and a bite of toast doesn’t qualify as breakfast.”
“I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you,” Billy reminds Dom softly with a sigh. “After all, I am your doctor.”
“And I’m your friend,” Dom counters easily, gesturing in a silent request for Billy to get comfortable. “I’ve always thought that’s what friends do. Watch out for one another. Make each other feel good.”
Sitting down across from Dom and leaning back in his chair, Billy takes a sip of coffee as he eyes Dom thoughtfully. They’re adults, Billy tells himself firmly. Surely they can discuss sex without things getting out of hand. Can’t they?
“Is that what you call what we were doing on Saturday night?” Billy asks after swallowing the hot liquid.
Gazing over Billy, Dom’s expression is an inscrutable mask, his eyes shielded, making it impossible for Billy to discern what he’s thinking.
“What do you call it?” Dom inquires, answering the question with one of his own.
Billy shrugs with feigned casualness. “Lunacy, I suppose,” he says, his hands trembling lightly as lowers his cup to the table, the rattling sound unnaturally loud in the morning stillness of the kitchen. The intense, erotic memory of Dom’s hard, aroused body beneath him, long fingers stroking his warm, bare back has Billy’s breath catching in his throat.
Reaching out, Dom takes Billy’s small hands in his, linking their fingers together, his expression soft and gentle. “There was nothing wrong in what we were doing, Billy. It was perfectly natural and it felt very right, which is why we’re going to end up in bed sooner or later, so you may as well get used to the idea. C’mon Billy, you can’t deny that there’s something between us.”
Dom can’t stop himself from staring at Billy’s mouth, remembering the press of the soft bow of Billy’s lips against his own, and the passionate, sweet taste of Billy’s pointy tongue as it thrust hungrily into his hot mouth. Suppressing a groan, Dom can feel his body filling with a familiar ache, heat pooling in his belly.
At the same time, Billy is finding it impossible to think with Dom’s gleaming eyes focused intently on his lips. “You really do take too much for granted, Dom,” Billy protests softly.
Arching a challenging brow, Dom leans forward. “Kiss me like you did on Saturday night and tell me that.”
“Not on your bloody life,” Billy manages to refuse with a wry smile. “I may very well have been reckless, Dom, but I’m not a complete fool.”
Even as Billy’s continued resistance makes Dom want to ring Billy’s pale, attractive neck, Dom finds his valiant efforts admirable. Frankly, he’s not used to such strength in a potential lover. It frustrates him, admittedly, but at the same time, it also intrigues him. Dom knows that the game of two steps forward, one step back can add spice to the chase, but Billy is taking things to the extreme. If this is how Billy usually responds to a man’s pursuit, Dom’s willing to bet that not many have managed to catch him.
Dom’s expression turns momentarily stormy at the idea of Billy laying in bed with anyone else, male or female, even his ex-wife. Sighing, Dom draws his fingers through his mussed hair with obvious frustration. This isn’t going well, not well at all. Keep it loose, Dominic,” he counsels himself. You’re not in the market for anything other than fun and games.
“Billy, how many men have you been to bed with?” Dom asks suddenly.
Eyes wide, Billy stares at Dom, his mouth dropping open. “That’s an extremely personal question, Dom.”
Dom shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter. I’m willing to bet not a whole Hell of a lot, like I’m also willing to bet you had yourself a virgin bride. At the very least, I’m guessing that she was a virgin when you met.”
Rising abruptly from the table, Billy turns his back on Dom as he pours himself another cup of coffee, watching the swirl of steam rise, knowing that the caffeine going to make him jittery later. “I wouldn’t bet your life, Dom,” Billy replies grimly. “That remark proves just how little you know about me. My bride was just over four months pregnant, actually.”
Cup halfway to his mouth, Dom pauses to listen as Billy forces out the circumstances of his marriage in a short, gritty tone. Lowering his cup to the table, Dom studies Billy intently, the lines in his forehead deepening.
“You were in medical school when she got pregnant?”
Turning around, Billy gives Dom a crooked, self-deprecating smile. “You know, your shocked expression is the same one all of our friends gave us when they heard the news. It is, I’ll admit, a wee bit of irony. Abby later threw it in my face, using it as an example of one more thing I did to fuck up her life.”
“You know, Billy, that woman is sounding more and more like a bitch.” Dom dismisses Billy’s ex-wife with a careless wave of his hand before becoming serious again. “So why didn’t you just do something about it?” he wonders aloud.
Sitting down again, Billy sips his coffee thoughtfully, remembering Abby’s plans along those very lines. “You mean an abortion. You can say the word in front of me, Dom. After all, I’m a doctor. Trust me, we don’t embarrass very easily.”
And you don’t love lightly, Dom thinks to himself. Vaguely disturbed, Dom dismisses the idea to return to the subject of Billy’s young son.
“Alright then, as terrific a kid as Cam is, I’m guessing that the news must not have come as a welcome surprise,” Dom replies, head tilted to one side. “Most people wouldn’t have wanted the inconvenience, especially considering that you were both in medical school. Abortion would be a logical choice, yeah?”
Lowering his gingery head, Billy frowns into the depths of his coffee. “Love isn’t always logical,” he says after a pause. “Besides, it’s not that I don’t accept that it’s a woman’s choice, or the idea of abortion in theory, under the right circumstances. All I know is that I wanted to keep the baby from the very first second I knew about the pregnancy. I held that little pink stick in my hand and I wanted what we had made together. Our child.”
Reaching across the table, Dom takes both of Billy’s hands in his, and Billy tries not to be affected by the warmth Dom’s thumbs are creating as they rub tiny circles on Billy’s small palms.
“You can be a very nice man, Dr. Billy Boyd, when you’re not trying to destroy a bloke’s delicate ego,” Dom murmurs softly, his tone gentle.
“Delicate?” Billy counters with a faint smile. “Your ego, Dominic Monaghan, is anything but delicate. As a matter of fact, if you ever figure out how to bottle it, I want to buy in before you go public. We’ll rule the bloody world.”
Shoulders shaking with amusement, Dom throws back his head and laughs, relaxing as he decides Billy’s reason for resisting is probably due to a desire to avoid any entanglements right now. Billy’s life is clearly filled with enough complications as it is. A new city, a new job, a new home. And there’s something else that Dom just can’t put his finger on, but he knows it’s there.
“May I ask one question?” Dom inquires, after his laughter subsides and a long, quiet moment passes.
Nodding, Billy tugs his hands free and puts his elbows on the table before lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. Finally, Billy lifts his deep green eyes, meets Dom’s curious gaze.
“I suppose that’s safe enough,” Billy allows cautiously.
“What started all this?” Dom asks, pursing his lips in thought. “Why did you get so angry just because I was making Cam a peanut butter sandwich for his school lunch?”
Averting his eyes, Billy rubs his forehead wearily with his fingertips. “It’s a little complicated, Dom,” he admits. “Lets just say that I’m more than a wee bit touchy these days about my parenting techniques. I’ve always felt that having Cameron help out with things around the house taught him some independence. When I saw you fixing his lunch, I thought you were criticizing me for not taking better care of him.”
Dom’s blue-grey eyes widen, displaying genuine surprise at Billy’s words. “What? You can’t be serious. I’d never, ever do that. Anyone with half a brain can see you’re a good father, Billy. Cam’s a great kid; you’ve obviously done a terrific job.”
Managing a weak smile, Billy has no idea how to explain Abby and Michael’s theory that a child deserves two full-time parents, not one. He’s been hearing the argument at least once a week from them for months now. They’d even gone so far as to hint that Billy’s medical career would benefit, as if Billy would willingly sacrifice his son for his work, like Abby had so callously done during Cameron’s infancy. Billy shrugs inwardly. Why wouldn’t his ex-wife think that way? Frankly, Abby hadn’t shown the remotest amount of interest in her son whatsoever until well after Michael came into the picture. And the tense, ugly divorce.
It’s then that Billy realizes Dom is watching him with unnerving intensity and forces his mind back to the conversation. “Thank you,” Billy murmurs softly. “Then there’s the fact that I’m still worried that you and Cameron are getting too close. If we were to have, something, happen between us, then you disappeared from his life, he’d be badly hurt. He’s still adjusting to the idea of being away from his mum, although he certainly never saw that much of her when we lived in London. Her surgical schedule at the hospital was and still is, very demanding.”
“Cam said you’ve been divorced a few years now.”
“Almost four, but honestly, our marriage never really took.” Billy laughs, surprising himself when he realizes that he no longer finds the memories painful, at least in this moment. “Morning sickness and labor pains pretty much finished it off.”
Dom can’t imagine not loving someone when sharing the amazing gift of creating a child and bringing it into the world. Abby is not only a bitch of epic proportions, Dom decides, the woman is clearly a bloody fool.
“But why-”
“Why did we stay married for those four years?” Billy shakes his head, remembering all the times he’s asked himself that very question. “I don’t know, exactly. I suppose I was too busy to worry about whether or not I was happy. I had Cameron, school, the hospital. Considering the juggling act I was doing with my life, I probably could’ve signed up with the circus and done just fine.”
“And Abby?” Even as Dom says the name aloud for the first time, Dom hates the woman who’d lived with Billy. Loved with him. Made love with him. Made a baby with him. Cameron. A beautiful little boy who steals more and more of Dom’s heart every single day.
Billy releases a small, yet heavy sigh of regret. “She had her work at the hospital. That was her focus. You have to understand that no Taylor, in the history of a very illustrious family tree had ever gotten a divorce. Abby’s mother threatened to disinherit her if she made it messy and public, but quite honestly, I didn’t really care at that point. It was over and I wanted out, no matter what it cost. She was no longer my concern. Cameron, as always, was my focus, what was best for him. That’s all that mattered.”
“What made you finally decide to end it?”
Dom immediately regrets the question when Billy’s eyes shadow with pain to a lusterless shade. The woman had hurt Billy very badly, that much is very clear. Busy framing his answer to Dom’s question, Billy misses the frown darkening Dom’s eyes at the thought.
“Abby got involved with someone else, someone more, appropriate to her life agenda. Michael is from an excellent family, a regular attendee at all the right places. Not really the type to carry on an affair for very long,” Billy explains staring aimlessly at the table. “Besides, Michael’s father coincidentally happens to be a cardiologist himself, who’s built his heart institute to worldwide prominence. He’s very well known and respected in the medical community.”
“And just happens to be near retirement?” Dom asks dryly, arching an eyebrow knowingly.
Billy gives Dom a faint, rewarding smile. “Well I must admit, you are pretty smart for a football player.”
“I like to think so,” Dom replies cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. “Is this fight over now?
“Why?” Billy shoots back. “Are you suggesting we kiss and make up?” As soon as he issues the challenge, Billy winces, knowing he’s made a mistake.
Sparks dance in Dom’s blue-grey eyes as he observes Billy with unmistakable desire. “I’m game if you are,” he agrees in a low, intimate voice. “Just a friendly kiss, of course. Nothing the slightest bit passionate.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Billy decides, not trusting himself any more than he does Dom. He’s an adult and can certainly control his body’s rebellious urges, Billy reminds himself firmly. It’s just going to be a wee bit more difficult than he ever thought possible. Okay, a lot more difficult.
“Now I really do have to go to work,” Billy says, picking up his briefcase and heading for the kitchen door. “I think Dr. McKellan would love an excuse to send me packing back to London.”
“Fair enough,” Dom says, rising to follow him out the door. “Thanks for the talk.”
“No, thank you,” Billy replies, looking over his shoulder at Dom as he pulls the door shut and turns his key in the lock. “There were things that needed to be discussed.”
Although he doesn’t say it aloud, Billy enjoys the light touch of Dom’s elegant fingers at the small of his back immensely as he silently walks Billy to his car.
“Will you let Cam spend this afternoon with me?” Dom asks as he opens the car door for Billy, resting his lean, tanned arm on the top edge of the window. “He’s got some crazy idea we should sign Griffin up for obedience training at some place near the park.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Cameron,” Billy replies with a rueful smile.
“Do you know, sometimes I feel like that kid’s the real adult around here?” Dom says, his grin boyishly attractive. “He definitely seems to be the one with all the answers.”
For a moment, Billy is afraid that Cameron has discussed moving in with Dom, but his friendly, open gaze seems to discount that fear. “He’s seven-and-a-half, going on thirty-five,” Billy agrees. “Believe it or not, he was actually born that way.”
“Then you’ll let us try to turn Griffin into a responsible member of society?” Dom prompts, dropping his head to one side and gazing deeply into Billy’s eyes.
“If it’ll protect my furniture, I’m all for it,” Billy says with a firm nod. “It seems that lately you and Griffin are spending more time with Cameron than I am. Mr. Monaghan, I’m beginning to suspect that you’re only putting up with me to get to my son.”
His accusation is directed at Dom in a light tone, but Dom’s answering expression is unnervingly grave. “You know better than that, Billy. If I’d met you two years ago. . . Oh, shite,” Dom mutters, shaking his head and averting his eyes. “Forget it.”
Reminding himself that neither of them are looking for a relationship with any strings, Dom swallows hard. Both of their lives are far too unsettled for muddying the waters with any type of commitment. Billy has his work at the clinic, and he has a career to salvage. Even as he repeats the facts to himself, Dom’s need to touch Billy becomes unbearable. Having Billy pressed against him on Saturday night was wonderful, and Dom desperately wants to feel that again. Shifting, Dom shoves his hands in the front pockets of his jeans in an effort to control himself.
Billy manages a slight, agreeing smile, but finds the effort more difficult than it should be. “It’s forgotten,” Billy says with a careless shrug. Then he remembers something that’s been tugging at his mind ever since Cameron left the house.
“Hey, do you know why Cameron looked like he’d just gotten his Christmas present early, when you told him we were going to have a fight?” Billy asks, brow furrowed in thought and confusion.
To Billy’s amazement, Dom appears chagrined and somewhat embarrassed. “I might,” he admits.
Arching an inquisitive eyebrow, Billy invites elaboration.
One hand leaves Dom’s pocket to slide through his hair, tousling it even further, into an appealing, chaotic mess. “Okay. He asked me why you and I argue so much and I told him if people really care about each other, little spats don’t really mean anything. That if we always saw eye to eye, we’d bore each other silly.”
Resisting the urge to capture Billy’s lips in a long, hot, wet kiss, Dom isn’t strong enough to avoid the silken pull of Billy’s deep, gorgeous green eyes. Reaching out, Dom strokes his palm down Billy’s ginger hair instead, fingers coming to rest against Billy’s smooth neck, thumb sweeping across his freshly shaved cheek. Taking a deep breath to gather strength, Dom feels Billy tremble at his touch.
“The one thing you’ll never do, Dr. Boyd, is bore me,” Dom promises in a low voice, his eyes dark with undisguised desire.
“I know the feeling,” Billy admits as he escapes the heat of Dom’s hand and slides into the driver’s seat of his car. Pausing with his keys in hand, Billy looks up at Dom, the concern in his eyes perfectly clear.
“What?” Dom asks.
“I want you to stop by the clinic today so I can examine that knee before tomorrow’s practice,” Billy instructs.
“But I’ve got a busy day planned,” Dom protests with a sexy pout. “Why don’t you just make it a house call tonight?”
“Because I don’t do house calls, Dom. That’s one reason why I chose this specialty,” Billy explains firmly. “So I wouldn’t have to race off and leave Cameron at all hours of the night.”
“You made one on Saturday, after the match,” Dom reminds Billy with a wicked, teasing grin.
“Don’t look so smug, Dom,” Billy threatens lightly before starting the car and shifting it into gear. “Just wait until you see my bill. I’ll see you later. At the clinic.”
Nodding in agreement, Dom says nothing, releasing the car door so Billy can close it before backing out onto the street.
As he drives away, Billy catches a glimpse of Dom in his rearview mirror, his hands thrust into the back pockets of his low slung jeans, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Dammit, Dom. You’ve lost nearly eight percent of your strength in that knee,” Billy scolds, reviewing the test results of Dom’s leg strength on the clinic’s Cybex machine.
“I prefer to think of it as still having ninety-two percent of my strength,” Dom counters calmly, leaning back in the chair across from Billy’s desk.
Fighting down the unprofessional display of anger and irritation Dom’s stubborn words provoke, Billy knows that as Dom’s doctor he has every right to be concerned about Dom’s cavalier attitude. The problem is, the level of Billy’s caring goes far beyond that. It almost frightens Billy how much further his caring goes, how much he feels for the British football player.
Reclining in his chair and crossing his arms over the chest of his lab coat, Billy replies, “Terrific. Using that theory, by the end of the season you’ll be crawling off the pitch.”
“Don’t push it, Billy,” Dom warns in a low tone, eyes narrowing. “You’ve got no proof I’m going to continue losing strength at that rate. Hell, the way I’ve been working out, I’ll probably be stronger than ever by the end of the season.”
“And don’t you bloody well talk to me that way, Dominic Monaghan,” Billy snaps in reply. “I’m your doctor and I think I know more about your body than you do!”
“Possibly, but not nearly as much as I’d like you to,” Dom shoots back in retort. Then, as they glare at each other, a slow, seductive smile chases away Dom’s aggravated glower. “If you want me to think of you as a physician, Dr. Boyd, you should stop looking so bloody enticing.”
Billy doesn’t answer as he meets Dom’s unmistakably appreciative, smoldering gaze. He has met and overcome a great many challenges in his life, personally and professionally, but this is proving to be his toughest yet.
“I really think I should transfer you to Dr. Bloom’s care,” Billy murmurs as he taps his pen thoughtfully on Dom’s thick medical file. “I don’t believe I can be properly objective in your treatment.”
“Absolutely not. You’re my doctor, Billy,” Dom says, shaking his head. “I won’t accept any other.”
“But Dom . . .”
Sighing, Dom rises, slowly and gingerly, Billy notes with concern, from the chair. Placing his hands on the glossy surface of Billy’s desk, Dom leans toward Billy, forcing him to look up so their eyes can meet.
“Speaking as my physician now, just tell me one thing,” Dom instructs.
“I’ll try,” Billy agrees, swallowing the wave of nervousness that rises in his throat.
“Do you have any concrete proof that if I continue to play, I’ll end up permanently disabled?” Dom asks, dark, penetrating eyes never leaving Billy’s.
“Of course not,” Billy says sharply. “I don’t own a crystal ball.”
Nodding, Dom’s eyes gleam with a victorious light. “There, you see? There isn’t any reason for me not to play.”
Billy knows all too well the athletic mind, thanks to nearly a decade of experience. The average patient is a consummate expert at hearing exactly what he or she wants to hear and no more, but Billy is determined not to allow Dom to twist his answer that way.
“As I said, I don’t have a crystal ball, Dom, but I do have a file filled with examinations, x-rays, and test results that show you’re taking a risk every time you walk out on that pitch.”
Swearing violently under his breath, Dom gives Billy a dark glare. “I’m taking a risk every time I walk across the street, Billy. That’s the way life is. You can’t cower behind the damn curtains in your house and hide from it.”
Half-rising out of his chair, Billy’s green eyes flash dangerously. “You’re far too intelligent to use that old argument! When are you going to quit acting like a spoiled child!”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Dom’s tone is razor sharp and electricity sparks between them as he holds Billy’s gaze with the sheer strength of his will.
Back stiff and muscles tense, Billy refuses to back down. “You’re behaving like a four year old who’s afraid someone’s going to take away his favorite toy. You’re a grown man, Dom, so why don’t you just hang up your football shoes and allow yourself the satisfaction of having been one of the best players in the game?”
Belatedly, Billy realizes he’s gone too far as a muscle jumps dangerously along Dom’s rigid jaw line. Reaching across the desk, Billy places a hand on Dom’s arm, his expression earnest.
“I know you don’t want to give it up, Dom, just like I know how much you love to play the game. I understand. It’s the rare athlete who knows exactly when to quit. Most of you have a tendency to let your minds set dates your bodies can’t possibly keep.” Taking a deep breath, Billy gathers strength. “C’mon Dom, when are you going to admit that your playing days are over?” he asks softly. “Stop now. Please, before it’s too late.”
When Dom violently jerks his arm away like Billy’s just burned it, Billy recognizes the look in his eyes as they harden to granite.
“When I retire,” Dom grates through clenched teeth, “It’ll be because I want to, because I no longer enjoy the sport, or because I can’t win matches any more. Now get one thing through your head, Billy; no sportswriter, coach or even a doctor, no matter how incredibly sexy he may be, is going to make that decision for me.” Dom’s harsh expression could’ve been carved onto the side of Mount Rushmore, and his eyes give Billy an unmistakable warning. “Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” Billy replies, forcing himself to exhale slowly.
“Good.” Nodding, Dom turns toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says as he leaves. Before Billy can object, Dom is gone.
“Burning the candle at both ends, Dr. Boyd?”
Dr. McKellan is standing in the open doorway, his blue eyed gaze inscrutable.
Sighing, Billy decides that it’s time to get this out into the open. He has far too many problem males in his life right now, and something has to give.
“Dr. McKellan, may we speak frankly?”
Entering the room, Dr. McKellan take a seat in the chair that Dom has just vacated. “By all means, Dr. Boyd.”
“Do you object to the way that I conduct my practice?” Billy asks as he sinks back down into his chair, small hands folded in his lap.
“If I had any objections, you wouldn’t be here,” Dr. McKellan replies with the air of a man perfectly used to getting his own way. “It’s as simple as that, Dr. Boyd.”
Billy admits to himself that much is probably true. “If you’re so worried about my professional behavior, you should know that while I consider him a friend, I won’t allow anything to happen between Dominic Monaghan and myself.”
“That sounds like quite a challenge, since the man is obviously very taken with you, not to mention the fact that you’re next door neighbors,” Dr. McKellan adds smoothly.
“How in the world did you know that?” Billy asks, his eyes wide with surprise.
An expression suspiciously like a smile passes over the older man’s face as his eyes almost twinkle with amusement. “Never discount the clinic grapevine, Dr. Boyd.” Then he surprises Billy by appearing almost sympathetic. “I know this must be a very difficult time for you. Men like Dominic Monaghan are hard to deal with, even discounting a personal involvement.”
Shoulders sagging a little, Billy leans back in his chair, his brow furrowing in concern. “You know what I’m up against, then?”
“The fact that he refuses to accept that his athlete’s body may be more fragile than his determination?” Dr. McKellan asks and then slowly nods.
”He refuses to think about retiring. I’ve repeatedly tried to point out to him that he’s taking a risk every time he walks out onto that pitch,” Billy reports, his hands trembling as he fidgets with a pen he picks up from on top of Dom’s thick medical chart, displaying all too well his dismay with Dom’s attitude.
Ian McKellan’s steady gaze holds Billy’s attention, but there is a warmth in his eyes that Billy has never before witnessed. “It’s always upsetting when a patient won’t listen to reason, but aren’t you taking too much of this onto your own shoulders? Dominic Monaghan is not your only patient.”
Of course, Dr. McKellan is right. Billy knows several of his patients will continue the same behavior that has earned them their injuries, yet Billy doesn’t spend all his waking hours and far too many sleepless nights worrying about them. Only Dom has this effect on Billy.
“I think you should assign another physician to him,” Billy says finally, glancing down at his hands, remembering how Dom had held them so gently earlier today, how much of Dom’s bare skin they have caressed when overwhelmed with lust and desire. “Dr. Bloom is familiar with his case.”
Shaking his head, Dr. McKellan rises to leave. “I’m not going to do that for a number of reasons, Dr. Boyd. In the first place, if anyone can get that stubborn man to listen to reason, it’s probably you. He may not agree with what you have to say right now, but he does respect you. Secondly, you’re unquestionably the most qualified doctor on staff to treat an injury of this magnitude. Dr. Bloom is a surprisingly good doctor, I must admit, but he pales in comparison to you. In the third place, as a runner yourself, you can at least empathize with an athlete who doesn’t want to suddenly find himself inactive.”
“But he’s going to end up permanently inactive if he doesn’t stop,” Billy points out, his dark eyes mirroring his distress.
Billy’s superior shrugs to his grey-suited shoulders. “Then I suggest that you accept the possibility and be prepared to deal with it when the time comes.”
“Right.”
This time Billy knows Dr. McKellan’s expression is honestly sympathetic. “I don’t envy you in the coming months,” he adds, long fingers lacing together briefly. “However, if you were in another specialty, you’d have already dealt with the reality of losing a patient. While our losses aren’t as life threatening as say, cardiology, if you want a medical practice with no risk involved, Dr. Boyd, I’d suggest you consider dermatology. To my knowledge, no one has ever succumbed to acne.”
Then he gives Billy a wry smile that actually reaches his eyes. “If it’s any consolation at all, Billy, I feel quite privileged to have you on staff here at the clinic. London’s loss has definitely been Glasgow’s gain.”
The smile grows warmer as Dr. McKellan’s gaze sweeps over Billy in a far from professional manner. “And I’d still say that, even if I wasn’t particularly fond of green-eyed Scottish men.” With that surprising remark, Dr. McKellan rises from the chair, turns on his heel and leaves the room, leaving Billy to stare after him.
Although it’s never spoke of directly, a silent truce is forged between Billy and Dom. In the autumn weeks that follow, Billy finds himself looking forward to to sharing his evenings with Dom and Cameron. Practices remain as intense as ever, and although Billy can see that they’re having an increasingly detrimental effect on the tendons in Dom’s knee, he forces himself to remain silent. Dom knows the risks. He’s been informed. It is his life, it is his choice.
A realization has sunk in for Billy, that Dom can’t conceive of a life without playing this game, even as everything and everyone seems against him making it through the season. Fervently, Billy wishes he could help Dom come to terms with his dilemma, but for the time being, all Billy can do is bandage Dom up and try to keep him healthy enough to play, while hoping Dom comes to view things more realistically in the very near future. Also, Billy doesn’t want to mar their time together with fruitless arguments. What good would it do?
Practice after practice, match after match, Billy gives Dom daily massages at home, thankful when Dom purchases a professional massage table so Billy doesn’t have to crouch over Dom on his couch and risk injuring his own back in the process. Day after day after day passes, Billy treating Dom’s various aches, strained muscles and throbbing joints, silently waiting for the inevitable. As the weeks pass, the Rangers continue to win, due in large part to Dom’s impressive performances in the matches, and the team climbs into first place in the league.
Despite Billy’s hopes that the sexual tension would ease up and the intense attraction between them begin to fade, Billy is not so fortunate, even though there isn’t so much as a kiss between them. Not once does Dom force the issue, but neither does he retreat. At every opportunity that he can find, Dom’s long, elegant fingers stroke the back of Billy’s neck, down his arm, across his knee, against the palm of his hand. No matter what Billy does, Dom is there, close by, watching and waiting, eyes dark and smoldering, his lips glistening when he runs his tongue over them. Somehow, Billy manages to resist the temptation to wipe the knowing smirk off of Dom’s sexy mouth with a mind blowing, body ravaging kiss, though on a frequent number of occasions, he’s not quite sure how.
In late November, Billy amazes himself by cooking a superb dinner to celebrate St. Andrews day, putting forth a serious effort to expose Cameron to more of his Scottish heritage. The turkey, Billy thinks proudly, looks like something out of a cookbook or a magazine. Golden and perfect. When they lived in London, it was more difficult, especially with Abby, but Billy was determined that Cameron know where he came from. To know why his father loves Scotland so much.
“Wow, Dad,” Cameron exclaims with wide eyes as he sits down at dining room table to eat. “This looks really good.”
“I had some help,” Billy admits, smiling over the top of his son’s ginger head at Dom, who is busily carving the huge bird.
Returning the smile, Dom shrugs his shoulders noncommittally. “It’s not that I’m particularly talented, Cam. It’s just that everyone in my family was assigned various jobs. Mum liked to keep an eye on me, as I often got into trouble, so I usually got kitchen duty with her.”
“Was it neat having a brother?” Cameron asks, watching Dom layer thin slices of turkey meat on a platter.
Eyes widening, Billy shoots Cameron a warning look, but the boy only smiles innocently in return, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Apparently Cameron’s been taking lessons in cheekiness from Dom, Billy decides. It’s one of many traits that Cameron has picked up from Dom in the last few months, soaking them up like a greedy sponge.
“Most of the time,” Dom replies, glancing at Cameron and then refocusing on his task. “Being the youngest helps, but I still ended up with a lot of responsibility. Especially when my Mum was at work.”
“Your mother worked?” Billy asks in surprise, remembering what Dom had said in the past, during the first time that he examined Dom at the clinic, if he recalls correctly.
Laughing, Dom places some slices of turkey breast onto Billy’s plate. “Yes, of course she worked, Billy. Do you think my Dad kept her at home, barefoot and pregnant?”
“You know what I mean,” Billy protests with a frown. “You said that she stayed home and did all the mum stuff.”
“She did both, how, I don’t know,” Dom explains with more than a touch of reverence. “I think some women are born with that special gift. She’s nothing short of amazing.”
“What did she do?” Billy inquires, ignoring Cameron’s expression of protest when he passes the bowl of green peas. Billy’s firm nod indicates that Cameron is expected to take some, and with a grimace of distaste, the boy reluctantly complies.
“She’s a nurse in Manchester,” Dom states, pacifying Cameron by handing him an enormous drumstick that makes his green eyes widen and his small mouth fall open. “With a wicked sense of humor.”
“A nurse?” Billy repeats incredulously.
The urge to ask what Dom’s mum thinks of his behavior, in regards to his knee injury, is on the tip of Billy’s tongue, but he swallows it instead, not wanting to ruin a pleasant day. This is not the time or the place.
“And your father?”
“A teacher,” Dom replies with a fond smile. “Science, but they both believed that education begins at home, from an early age.”
“Well, that explains why quotations come so easily to you,” Billy comments thoughtfully. “Aristotle to Psalms.”
Taking a warm roll from the basket that Billy offers him, Dom smiles his thanks and then refills Billy’s wine glass with crisp Chablis from a chilled bottle.
“Exactly,” Dom agrees with a grin. “Between the two of them, I can probably come up with something to fit almost every occasion.”
“Amazing,” Billy murmurs.
“What’s the matter, Dr. Boyd, are you surprised a football player can read something besides the scoreboard?” There is a teasing challenge in Dom’s playful tone as he arches an eyebrow at Billy.
“No, I’m just moderately impressed,” Billy retorts with a smile. “What did you do, spend your infancy teething on copies of Shakespeare’s plays?”
Throwing back his head, Dom laughs, trying to recall the last time he’d felt this relaxed away from his beloved parents. “Almost. I honestly can’t remember our house not being filled with books.” Thinking back, Dom smiles warmly into the golden depths of his wine. “My brother and I used to play a game to see if we could find a saying that would stump our parents. We kept a pool going for years, the winner taking all the coins. I must admit, it wasn’t that often that anyone was paid off, and I guess the hours spent looking up obscure quotations obviously stuck.”
“What did they think about you wanting to be a football player?” Billy asks curiously. “Didn’t they expect you to go to uni?”
Watching Cameron hide the hated peas in his mashed potatoes, Dom has to stifle a grin of remembrance of his own stubborn youth. Billy follows his gaze and as Dom’s eyes meet his, they share a companionable smile and silent laugh. Then Dom answers Billy’s question.
“They were really great, actually. All they ever wanted for me was to do whatever would make me happy. They were so proud when I was in uni and got signed to a professional league. Dad arranged for all the relatives to attend my first match.” Expression softening, Dom cups his chin in his hand and stares off into space, as if looking back in time. “He asked everyone to come, no matter whether they were down the street or in another country. I still think about how much everyone sacrificed to be there.”
Then Dom’s gaze returns to Billy. “I’ve got a great family. I’m sure you’ll like them.”
Billy smiles, wondering if Dom meant to put it that way. There’s a formality about meeting a man or woman’s parents that signifies a certain commitment, and the one thing they’d agreed on is that this is a friendship without ties. It was a casual statement, nothing more, Billy decides, not wanting to look for hidden meanings in Dom’s words and warm gaze.
“Well, I hope you won,” Billy says. “Since everyone was there to watch.”
Cameron stops gnawing on his gargantuan drumstick long enough to protest. “Dad! Of course he did. Didn’t you, Dom?” he asks, looking over at Dom questioningly.
“We sure did,” Dom replies with a wink and a grin. “You know, even with all the matches I’ve been in, I sometimes think that was the best one I ever played.”
“Your parents must have been very proud,” Billy murmurs, feeling an adolescent thrill at Dom’s dazzling smile.
Torn, Billy loves the way Dom’s face lights up when he talks about playing football, and hates it, too, all at the same time. How is Dom ever going to give it up? The game obviously flows in his veins, right along with his blood. It’s as much a part of Dominic Monaghan as his tousled, sun streaked, blonde hair, intense blue-grey eyes and gorgeous, tanned body.
Catching the look of sadness momentarily taking possession of Billy’s face, Dom thinks hard, seeking a way to banish it.
“There’s actually a funny story with that,” Dom says, smiling as Billy. “I’d scored my first goal just before half-time, and we were on the sidelines, making substitutions and talking strategy, when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. It was my dad.”
Taking a sip of his wine, Dom’s expression remains reminiscent. “I asked him what he was doing down there and he said that I’d made Mum and him real proud. They were pleased I was so happy.”
“That’s a great memory to have,” Billy murmurs.
Dom’s grin widens. “That’s not the funny part,” he protests. “All of a sudden I looked around and there I was, standing on the sidelines, with the coaches wondering why I wasn’t on the pitch. The rest of the substitutions had run out onto the field and everyone was out there, waiting for me.”
“Oh no!” Billy cries with surprise.
“What did you do then, Dom?” Cameron asks, his green eyes wide with wonder. “Did you get into trouble?”
The gaze Dom’s directs at Cameron is undeniably fond. “Well, I didn’t exactly get the medal for brilliance that day, but I didn’t get into trouble either. Which is amazing, because as I started running back out onto the field, I realized that someone was running right along beside me.”
“Your father,” Billy guesses, smiling widely and eyes sparkling with amusement as he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine.
Dom nods. “Picture it: My first match on a professional football team, standing in the middle of the pitch, with my dad standing right there beside me. I told him he wasn’t allowed on the pitch, that we were supposed to be playing the rest of the match.”
Focused on Dom’s face, Cameron’s turkey drumstick sinks to his plate, long forgotten. “What happened next?”
“Well, when you meet my dad, Cam, you’ll discover that one of his most amazing traits is his ability to handle any surprise,” Dom explains. “He simply glanced around at my teammates, looked up at the clock, and said, ‘Oh. I thought the match was over and just wanted to come out here and shake hands with all you talented blokes.’ ”
Sharing in Dom’s enjoyment of the story, Billy can’t remember a more wonderful day, and how natural it feels to have Dom be a part of their lives. The rest of the meal passes comfortably, with laughter and warm smiles. Too much food is eaten, but seeing the joyful expression on Cameron’s face is more than worth it.
“Thank you for all your help today,” Billy says, walking over to where Dom is standing in front of the sink, steam rising as he rinses their plates before loading them in the dishwasher. “Because of you, Dom, dinner was amazing. Much better than Chinese takeaway or frozen dinners.”
“You’re very welcome,” Dom replies with a shy nod. “And thank you for inviting me to join you. I had a really good time.”
Over the running water in the sink, Dom and Billy gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then Dom leans in, bringing their mouths closer together. The voice of reason in the back of Billy’s mind screams a warning, but he ignores it, sighing ever so softly when their lips meet in a warm, wet kiss. Tilting his head to one side, Billy tenderly draws Dom’s pouty lower lip into his mouth, sucking it gently before sliding his tongue between Dom’s parted lips for a brief taste.
“Cameron,” Billy whispers hoarsely as their lips part, turning his head to avoid the expected second kiss, knowing that it’ll most definitely be longer and more intense. “He’s in the next room. We can’t.”
“Okay,” Dom agrees, starting to pull back and returning his attention to the dirty plate in his hand.
Danger averted, Billy exhales and looks down at the leftovers, trying to decide what to do with them all, when suddenly Dom’s soft lips are pressing against the sensitive skin just below his earlobe. Gasping at the erotic sensation, Billy shivers as Dom’s tongue darts out for a quick, teasing touch, and then watches in shock as Dom resumes rinsing dishes, a satisfied smile quirking up the corners of his mouth.
Needing a moment to compose himself, Billy escapes back to the dining room, wondering just what Dom is thinking. Honestly, the only thing that would make the day even more perfect, Billy considers as he wipes the table with a cloth, is if Dom was sharing his bed tonight. The attraction that had sparked between them from the beginning is steadily increasing by the day, instead of diminishing as he expected, and Billy is admittedly surprised that Dom has not made a renewed effort to seduce him until now.
Of course, Billy has no way of knowing that Dom is as confused as he by his inexplicable hesitation. More than once in the past few weeks, Dom has picked up the phone to call a woman. Any woman. Just to prove that this yearning he feels for Billy is merely a simply, biological attraction, easily satiated by any warm and willing woman. Each time, however, Dom replaces the receiver to its cradle without dialing. There’s only one person he wants to kiss, touch and hold. One sexy, stubborn sports physician.
This evening is proving no different, and struggling against an almost overwhelming torrent of lust and need, Dom reaches out and dials the number indelibly etched on his memory.
“Hello?”
Billy’s voice sounds hesitant, almost afraid.
“Billy, are you alright?” Dom asks, suddenly afraid that something has happened to Cameron.
Dom can hear the expelled sigh of relief as it escapes Billy’s mouth and flows over the phone line. “Oh, Dom. Hi. I’m fine.” Warm and inviting, Billy’s Scottish brogue curls over him.
“You sounded rather upset a second ago,” Dom probes. “What’s going on?”
“I thought it might be Abby,” Billy replies with a sigh. “She promised to call Cameron today.”
Glancing at the clock beside the phone on the night stand, Dom frowns. “Billy, it’s almost midnight.”
“I know. She and Michael probably got stuck at a function or a party, which is just as well. I honestly hoped she wouldn’t call.” Even as Billy says his wish aloud, he feels a stab of guilt. He’d watched Cameron disappointedly eyeing the silent telephone all afternoon and evening. The hurt had been obvious in his small face as he’d brushed his teeth, changed into his Rangers pajamas and crawled into bed. In an attempt to help him feel better, Billy had perched on the edge of Cameron’s bed, stroking his hair and singing to him until he fell asleep.
“She hurt you that badly?” Dom asks softly, breaking into Billy’s thoughts.
Billy shakes his head, forgetting that the gesture will be ineffectual over the telephone lines. How can he explain the pressure Abby and Michael have been exerting, how cold and unfeeling she is towards Cameron, without giving Dom a far too intimate picture of his life?
“Billy?” Dom says, needing to end the awkward silence.
“No,” Billy finally replies. “I just didn’t want any clouds hanging over a perfect day, you know?”
“It was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Lovely. The weather, the dinner and especially the company,” Billy agrees, holding the receiver nearer to his ear, as if he can bring Dom closer with the effort. After a great day, Billy doesn’t want it to end on a sad note. Once again, Abby’s thoughtlessness has hurt an innocent boy.
The truth is, Dom doesn’t want to be alone tonight. Although he’s grown accustomed to spending some holidays by himself, today has reminded him of the pleasures a family holds on these special days. Whenever he’s with Cameron or Billy, he doesn’t feel lonely.
“Want to help me build a couple of turkey sandwiches?” Dom asks, his husky tone inviting far more than the ingestion of cold poultry.
Closing his eyes, Billy fights off a rebellious wave of desire, knowing that mind blowing, body shattering sex is not the answer. Right now it would be empty and hollow, and Dom deserves better than that. “I don’t think so,” he says, turning Dom down gently. “I have to get up early tomorrow morning.” Casting a glance at the clock on his bedside table, Billy grimaces. “This morning,” he corrects with a sigh.
“Hey,” Dom says quickly, casually. “It’s okay. It was just an idea.”
“It was a very nice idea,” Billy adds, his voice holding a soft regret. “It really was, Dom. Honestly.”
“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Dom replies. “Good night, Billy.”
“Good night,” Billy whispers, his lips pressed against the cold, dark plastic.
Hanging up, Dom walks over to the window, looking up for a long, frustrating time at Billy’s bedroom. Cursing Billy heatedly and wanting him outrageously, Dom strides into the living room and flings open the liquor cabinet, seeking the numbing effects of the alcohol inside.
Chapter 9
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From:
no subject
And Dom's father made me smile. And Dr. McKellan made my eyebrow go all the way up. And my greed makes me click the "Chapter 9" link :)
From:
no subject
Your descriptions of your facial expressions made me smile. I'm so tickled that you're getting caught up with this fic. Thank you, hon.