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monaboyd May. 12th, 2006 07:30 am)
dylan-dufresne.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd May. 12th, 2006 07:30 am)Title: Fatherhood, Football, and Other Contact Sports - 10/16
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-13, maybe.
Summary: After a match, Dom gets caught in a lie, and Billy’s brave façade cracks.
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: We’re getting closer, I promise. Really. Trust me. *runs away*
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
Chapter 10 - Hurt & Comfort
Rangers play their final match before the Christmas holidays away from Glasgow, and as Billy and Cameron watch on television at home, Billy is distressed to see Dom’s game slowly and painfully deteriorate. Over and over again, his advancement down the pitch and passes are blocked, the ball lost to the opposing team, and Dom's given absolutely no room to move. To make matters worse, the rest of the team fares no better, barely managing to push their way into their opponents half of the pitch only a handful of times. In the end, the Rangers lose to Inverness, 3-0, but it may as well be 100-0 for all the chance they had.
For Billy, however, the match results in a victory of sorts, because as the weary and defeated players finally escape, Dom has been able to walk off the field, instead of being carried off on a stretcher. The camera passes over Dom’s face for an instant, and Billy’s hit hard with the urge to slide his hands over Dom’s fatigued body and ease his pain.
Watching the news later that night after Cameron has gone to bed, Billy is not surprised in the least to see Coach Holm less than pleased.
“I want to apologize to the fans,” he declares during an after-match interview. “That team fumbling around out there was not only an embarrassment to Glasgow and the entire country of Scotland, it was an embarrassment to the game of football.”
As he glowers into the camera, Billy glares back, flipping him a silent, two finger salute, thankful that his son isn’t awake to witness his behavior.
“But I’m going to change all that,” the coach continues. “We’re having a full practice tomorrow at eight o’clock sharp. No excuses.”
“In the morning?” the sportscaster asks incredulously. “But it’s going to be very late by the time the team gets back to Glasgow. Is that really fair?”
“Look,” Holm growls heatedly, “I’m the one who makes the decisions, and it’s fair to me.”
Pointing the remote control at the bulldog-like coach, Billy wishes it was something far more lethal as he presses the button, darkening the screen.
It’s well after midnight when a dozing Billy hears a car pull to a stop at the curb, then a passenger door opening and closing. Flipping back the blanket and rising from the couch, Billy hurries over to the window to catch sight of a taxi as it pulls away, and a flash of Dom’s blonde hair under a streetlight as he limps up the front walk.
Turning away from the window, Billy scoops up his black doctor’s bag and then walks over to the window facing Dom’s house. Waiting for a light to turn on inside, Billy’s eyes scan the darkness, searching for any sign of movement. Will Dom call or come over if he needs Billy’s help? If Dom turns on a light, he’ll go over and check on him, Billy decides.
Standing at the window, Billy waits for nearly thirty minutes, but no light is ever turned on, nor does he see a shadow. Sighing heavily, Billy finally sets his bag down on the floor before walking up the stairs to go to bed, thoughts of Dom weighing heavily on his mind.
In the morning, Billy is wrapping a towel around his body after stepping out of the shower when he hears Dom’s Porsche drive away.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
“Got some time for a battle-weary football player?” Dom asks with false enthusiasm as he limps over to the treatment table where Billy is completing the paperwork of the patient he’s just finished examining.
Forcing his face into a mask of professional composure, even though he’s been obsessively watching the clock move at a snail’s pace for nearly five hours now, Billy turns to face Dom. “I believe we can fit you in, Mr. Monaghan. How’s the knee?”
“Like all those buildings in Venice.” At Billy’s questioning gaze, Dom elaborates in a softer tone. “Ancient and crumbling steadily, day by day.”
Billy opens his mouth to answer and then promptly shuts it, knowing that after the match and another brutal practice this morning, Dom’s probably in no mood to rehash old arguments. What would be the point?
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Billy suggests instead, leading the way to a private treatment room. Biting down on his lower lip, he barely suppresses the urge to slide his arm around Dom’s narrow waist and help bear his weight.
Once Dom is settled on the table, clad only in socks and shorts, it takes every ounce of Billy’s inner strength not to gasp as he proceeds through the gentle, yet extensive examination.
“What happened to your eye?” Billy inquires, observing a spot just above Dom’s left eyelid that is scratched and swollen, appearing to limit his vision somewhat on that side.
“Near miss with a stud,” Dom mumbles. “Kept watering so much that I could barely see out of it during the second half of the match.”
So that explains part of the dismal performance in the match, Billy decides silently, eyes cloudy with concern.
“It’s going to take at least a week to heal properly, maybe closer to two,” Billy reports after examining the wound closely.
Dom shrugs noncommittally, albeit stiffly. “Cuts like that usually do,” he agrees.
Keeping his touch as gentle and light as possible, Billy runs his hand down Dom’s side, over his ribs, where his tanned skin is turning an unappealing shade of yellow and purple. “And this?” Billy asks softly.
“Unavoidable collision with a Defender.”
“Terrific, Dom,” Billy says with a heavy sigh, shaking his head.
“Isn’t it? It was an accident, Billy. The bloke actually apologized to me.”
Moving to Dom’s knee, Billy probes carefully, surprised when Dom doesn’t even flinch. Even he can’t be that much in control, Billy thinks suspiciously.
“Look over at the wall,” Billy instructs.
“Why?” Dom inquires.
Billy’s green eyes narrow, focused intently on Dom’s. “Because your doctor just told you to.”
A wary expression moves across Dom’s face, but for once he doesn’t argue, doing as he’s told. Pulling a long syringe from the tray beside him, Billy inserts it into the bruised flesh surrounding Dom’s knee. When there is no response, Billy has to restrain himself from screaming and cursing profusely.
“You fecking idiot,” he says to Dom in a furious whisper. “You bastard! You let them shoot you up with xylocaine, didn’t you?”
Still staring obediently at the wall, Dom’s answering expression is one of bland innocence. “Of course I didn’t.”
Trembling with rage, Billy silently curses at the coaches who encourage such behavior, the team physio’s who are all too willing to risk a player’s entire future, and mostly, at this moment, Billy feels like killing Dom. Slowly. Painfully.
“Is that so?” Billy tosses back angrily in exasperation. “Then would you care to explain to me why it is that you can’t feel that syringe?”
Glancing down, Dom frowns. “You cheated, Billy.”
“No,” Billy retorts firmly. “You cheated, Dom. You cheated yourself when you pulled that bloody, stupid stunt. Don’t you realize that with your knee deadened like that, you’d have no way of knowing if you’re placing too much stress on the tendons and ligaments until it’s too late?”
Shifting and grimacing, Dom drags a hand through his already tousled hair and curses under his breath.
“Look,” Dom argues, his blue-grey eyes flaring. “I sure as hell wasn’t wild about the idea myself, but I was in a lot of fucking pain during the last half of the match. I couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a couple of seconds, Billy. I had to do something, and it was that or throw the match away completely.” Finally, Dom’s shoulders slump in defeat. “So I agreed to shoot up, alright? It won’t happen again.”
Billy is tempted to send one sharp kick at Dom’s battered knee right then and end all this nerve-wracking waiting. Such an intelligent man, Dom is, and he’s been around the game too long not to realize how dangerous it is and how it could easily become a disabling habit. Damn him, Billy fumes, his hands shaking with barely controlled rage.
“I suppose it would be completely pointless of me to draw attention to the fact that you didn’t win the match,” Billy observes dryly, not bothering to even try to hide his annoyance.
“Not only pointless,” Dom agrees with an arched eyebrow, “But rather impolite as well.”
With a snort of impatience, Billy carefully withdraws the syringe and tosses it absently toward the tray. Skittering across the metal surface with a force born of Billy’s anger and fear, the syringe falls to the floor, but neither Dom nor Billy notice.
“You could’ve taken yourself out of the match, you know,” Billy adds, trying to move the conversation in a different direction.
In an instant, Dom’s gaze turns to one definitely challenging. “Sure, and let Morgan pull my arse out of the fire?”
For a long, tense moment they measure each other in silence, and then Billy finally speaks. “Are you honestly interested in the Rangers winning? Or are you more concerned about the great Dominic Monaghan regaining his fortune and fame?”
Sliding off the table with a small grimace, Dom pulls his t-shirt over his head and then glares at Billy. “That was a cheap shot, Dr. Boyd, even for you. You sound like those damn reporters. Are you actually implying that I’d risk the team losing rather than just take myself out of the match?”
“I don’t know what you’d do, Dom,” Billy replies honestly, taking a step closer. “Up until today, I thought you were an intelligent man. That little stunt with the painkiller makes me realize that I really don’t know you at all.”
“Do you think Morgan could’ve won that match?” Dom challenges, his eyes dark and unreadable as he pulls his blue jeans up over his hips, not fastening the button or raising the zipper.
Billy shrugs. “How should I know? I’m certainly no expert, and as you’ve probably figured out, I’ve never seen the man play.”
“He wouldn’t have,” Dom bites out. “So just get that idea out of your head.” An unmistakable grimace of pain crosses Dom’s weary face as he bends down and slips on his trainers, and Billy’s heart goes out to him.
“Dom,” Billy says softly, fingers sliding ever so lightly over Dom’s mussed hair and stroking the nape of his neck. “Let’s not fight like this. Please.”
Slowly, Dom straightens up, staring deep into Billy’s eyes for a long, silent moment. When he speaks, Dom’s voice is unusually husky. “You’re right. We’ve made it this far, let’s not toss it all away now. Give me a few weeks and I’ll have everything under control.”
“No more xylocaine?” Billy presses, arching an eyebrow, his fingers sliding over the tense muscles in Dom’s shoulder, gently kneading and soothing as Dom fastens his denims.
Dom raises his right hand in a solemn pledge. “I swear, Dr. Boyd, if I see anyone coming at me with a needle, I’ll take off running.”
“Considering your knee, that doesn’t give me a lot of hope,” Billy retorts dryly.
Quickly closing the small distance between them, Dom gives Billy a swift, hard kiss on the lips that sends a burning flash of lightening sparking through Billy’s entire body, stealing his breath. Knowing that it’s the first time they’ve kissed since that night on his couch, Dom feels it, too. Opening his eyes, Dom gazes at Billy in obvious wonder.
“Wow,” Dom murmurs, the tip of his finger tracing the sensual bow of Billy’s trembling upper lip.
“Wow,” Billy agrees breathlessly, his eyes dark with arousal.
“You know, for a doctor,” Dom observes in a voice that is far from steady, “You sure as Hell don’t know much about chemistry, Dr. Boyd. Haven’t you been assuring me for months that this attraction would pass?”
Having recently come to his own conclusions about that, and fully aware of Dom’s propensity for casual, intimate relationships, Billy’s thoughts have been anything but encouraging. Meeting Dom’s gaze, Billy shrugs, attempting to be casual, even though his heart is racing.
“I may have made a misdiagnosis,” he says coolly, holding Dom’s intense gaze. “Are you planning to sue?”
Eternally grateful that they’re in a private treatment room, Dom grins wickedly, relishing in the erotic fantasies running through his mind. “No, I’ve got a much better idea.”
Not even attempting to avoid Dom’s advances, Billy’s arms slide gently around Dom’s slender body as he moves closer, Billy’s soft mouth yielding deliciously as they share a slow, deep, wet kiss that seems to go on forever. Don’t think, Billy warns himself as Dom’s tongue moves against his. Don’t ruin this by analyzing. Just feel. Enjoy.
“Will you come away and celebrate with me when the Rangers win the Scottish Cup Final?” Dom murmurs against Billy’s rosy lips, the tip of his tongue sliding out to taste the sweetness.
“I’ll go anywhere to celebrate with you, Dom,” Billy replies softly, punctuating his words with brief, feathery kisses as his small fingers tangle in Dom’s hair.
“Good.”
“You know, you should’ve called last night,” Billy adds pointedly, yet his tone is gentle and soothing as his fingers move down to stroke the firm muscles of Dom’s lower back. “Or just come over when you got home. You’re all tense.”
“It was late,” Dom replies, nuzzling his nose against Billy’s cheek and then bringing their lips back together for a lazy, lingering kiss.
“I was awake,” Billy murmurs, almost whimpering when Dom’s long fingers slide under his starched, white lab coat and press gently at the small of his back, teasing him. “I was waiting up for you, in case you needed me.”
“You were awake?” Dom asks in surprise, pulling back just enough so their eyes can meet.
“I was worried about you. I waited for while, but you didn’t turn any lights on,” Billy says quietly. “Then I figured you’d gone right to sleep, especially considering you had practice so early this morning.”
“Yeah.” Dom nods slowly, his expression difficult to read. “Practice this morning.”
“I want you to rest this afternoon,” Billy instructs gently, stroking the muscles between Dom’s shoulder blades just hard enough for Dom to murmur his approval.
“Okay,” Dom agrees mildly, eyes fluttering closed as their lips come back together again.
“I mean it, Dom. A hot shower, a soak in the tub would be better, and then some careful stretching,” Billy adds between kisses, somehow managing to form words. “Until later.”
“Does this mean I’m getting a massage tonight?” Dom asks teasingly, smiling against Billy’s lips.
“Yes. As soon as I get home,” Billy replies softly. “But just a massage, nothing more.”
“Damn.”
“Dom-”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Dom interjects, cutting Billy off as his hands slide down to cup the round curve of Billy’s arse.
Threading the fingers of one hand through Dom’s hair, his other hand splaying across Dom’s back, Billy acquiesces, drawing Dom’s pouty lower lip into his mouth and sighing when Dom’s tongue slides along the seam of his upper lip.
“Oh, excuse me.” Orlando’s smooth apology interrupts them as he ducks his head into the room, before Dom can deepen the blissful kiss. “You’ve got an emergency, Dr. Boyd. An over-enthusiastic tennis player.”
Breaking the kiss and wiping his mouth surreptitiously, Billy watches Orlando escape before he can say a word, pull out of Dom’s embrace or explain why he and Dom are wrapped up in each others arms. Then again, he’s not exactly sure what he’d say to Orlando. He’s just been caught snogging a patient. What possible medical reason could Billy have for kissing Dom? It certainly wasn’t mouth to mouth resuscitation.
“I’ll see you later,” Dom says, releasing Billy slowly, regretfully. “Oh, hey, I wanted to go with you Wednesday morning when you took Cam to the airport, but Holm’s called a team meeting. I won’t be able to make it.”
“That’s fine. I understand.” No strings, Billy reminds himself. No obligations.
“Is it alright if I drop his Christmas present by the house today?” Dom inquires. “I know it’s early, but I don’t want him to have to wait until January.”
Billy nods. “He’d love it.” Then Billy frowns, looking at Dom suspiciously. “I never did ask you what you got for him. It isn’t anything that eats Puppy Chow, is it?”
In response, Dom laughs, a rich, happy sound that banishes the flicker of irritation in Billy’s eyes. “Of course not.” Then his grin grows absolutely devilish. “You do know a place around here where we can get some oats and hay, yeah?”
“Dominic Monaghan, you didn’t get him a pony, did you?” Billy demands, eyes widening. Sure, Cameron has been hinting for one for over a year, but Dom wouldn’t be so foolish, would he?
Shoulders shaking with laughter, Dom shakes his head. “You know, Boyd, you sure do get uptight about the little stuff.”
“I’m a parent. It’s in the job description.”
“Hey Billy?”
“What?”
“When’s your birthday?” Dom asks suggestively, eyes twinkling. “I don’t suppose it’s anytime soon, is it? Because I’ve got the perfect present, and I can’t wait to give it to you.”
The memory of Dom climaxing beneath him resurfaces in Billy’s mind, causing heat to rise up his neck and stain his cheeks pink.
“August,” he replies softly, uneven breath caressing Dom’s mouth.
“Really?” Dom inquires, visibly disappointed. “Damn. I don’t think the present will keep that long.”
“No?” Billy asks breathlessly, staring as Dom’s seductive, wet mouth moves closer yet again.
“No. So I guess I’ll just have to give it to you early,” Dom whispers hotly, his lips a breath from Billy’s. “When you’re least expecting it, of course.”
“Dom!”
“See you later,” Dom adds cheekily, giving Billy a fast kiss on the lips before before he pulls away and almost saunters out of the room.
All the aches and pain Dom had brought into the clinic with him seem to have been cured by Billy’s very special magic, Dom muses to himself. Every single day, Billy shows Dom what an extraordinary man he is, how very special he is, Dom realizes. They kissed today, several times, and it was wonderful. The physical connection was natural and comfortable, like it’s something they do every day. Piloting his Porsche almost automatically through the streets, crowded with holiday shoppers, Dom smiles, knowing that Christmas is only days away now. Dom is rather pleased with himself, knowing that he doesn’t have to rush, because his shopping is all done.
Of course, a man would have to be crazy not to be attracted to Billy. He’s gorgeous, strong, intelligent and independent, as well as gentle, loving and so damn sexy that the fantasies he inspires in Dom’s mind create serious havoc in his body. Grasping hold of the idea, Dom clings to it like a drowning man reaching for a length of rope. There have been too many times lately he’s experienced an unnamed twinge of emotion, a feeling towards Billy that defies description. Or maybe it’s that he can’t force himself to decide on a word.
It’s simply the way Billy’s forced Dom to wait, Dom assures himself as he pulls the sleek car into his driveway. Billy’s become an obsession and so long as Dom recognizes it for what it is, he can keep his feelings for Billy in perspective. Slowly, Billy is finally letting things happen between them. He didn’t fight the kiss, or the ones that followed. In fact, he’s the one who initiated the contact this time, soothing Dom with his gentle touch.
The problem solved, Dom begins to whistle ‘Jingle Bells’ as he crosses the back garden to Billy’s house, intending on giving Cameron his present before he leaves for London. However, the usually jaunty tune sounds hollow, even to his own ears.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
The house seems so incredibly empty as Billy wanders through the rooms, knowing that he’s being utterly ridiculous. Cameron’s only visiting his mum for the holidays, as previously arranged and agreed to, back in July. Yet, here Billy is, just hours after Cameron leaves, acting as if he’s died or something. Even though Billy knows that he’s overreacting, he can’t help the heavy weight of depression that is settling over him, in a black, suffocating cloud.
“Hey, anybody home?” Dom calls out, breaking into Billy’s thoughts.
Billy tries to open his mouth to answer, but the words won’t come. He’s frozen, unable to move.
“Billy? Did Cam’s plane land at Heathrow okay?”
Struck by the eerie silence and nearly total absence of light, a thought enters Dom’s mind that makes his blood run cold. It’s a good neighborhood, a safe place for children, low crime, but still. Billy’s gotten into the habit of securing the house when he’s in for the night, yet the kitchen door was open tonight. What if something terrible has happened to him? Ignoring the sharp twinge of pain in his knee that steals his breath, Dom takes the stairs two at a time, searching for any sign of the stubborn Scottish doctor. At Billy’s bedroom door, Dom holds his breath, pushing it open, only to be disappointed as it proves to be as quiet and dark as the rest of the house.
Cameron’s room is next, and Dom is grateful that his eyes have adjusted enough to see Billy sitting at the end of his son’s single bed, staring at the floor. Billy offers no indication that he’s noticed Dom standing in the doorway, apparently lost in his thoughts.
“Billy?” Dom says softly, walking further into the dimly lit room. “What are you doing, sitting all alone in the dark?”
The mattress sinks under Dom’s weight as he sits down beside Billy and lays his long, elegant fingers over Billy’s small, unusually ice-cold hands. A moment later, Billy surprises Dom by curling into his slender body and resting his head on Dom’s shoulder, pressing his nose firmly against Dom’s neck.
“Oh Dom,” he whispers unsteadily. “I’m scared. I’m so fecking scared.”
Feeling Billy tremble violently against him, Dom wraps his arms around the slightly smaller man and cuddles him close, knowing that he’d give up everything he’s ever worked for, if it will take away Billy’s pain. Rubbing his cheek against Billy’s ginger hair, Dom slides a hand down the length of Billy’s spine in an attempt at comfort.
“Hey,” Dom says, gently tipping up Billy’s chin with his other hand and smiling encouragingly. “Airplanes are safer than bathtubs, Billy. Cam’s going to be fine, believe me.”
Shaking his head, Billy draws in a deep, tortured breath. “That’s not it, Dom.”
Ever so slowly and tenderly, Dom draws his fingers through Billy’s hair, the gesture soothingly gentle. Looking into Billy’s dark and bleak green eyes, Dom feels his heart ripping in two. He’s utterly baffled by the sight before him and doesn’t understand what could have Billy so upset.
“Does it have something to do with Cam?” Dom probes delicately, rubbing the tense muscles at the nape of Billy’s neck.
Shoulders slumped in defeat, Billy nods. “He’s going to stay in London, Dom.” Tears spring to his eyes and Dom watches in admiration as Billy fights to control them. “They want him to stay.”
“Cam’s staying in London? With his mum?”
Billy nods again, slowly and painfully, his breath hitching.
“Wait just a second. When did this happen?” Dom asks in confusion. “I thought you have permanent custody of him.”
“I do,” Billy says flatly. “But Abby called after Cameron’s plane was in the air. She told me that they want him. Abby and Michael want him.”
Part of Dom wants to break in and ask what one has to do with the other, especially since the stories he’d heard about Dr. Abigail Taylor are anything but complimentary. It seems that now, after all this time, after years of not making Cameron a part of her life, Abby wants her son back. Nice. Biting down on his lower lip, Dom waits, allowing Billy to tell the story at his own pace.
“About eight months ago, Abby discovered that she can’t have any more children,” Billy says after a long pause, his tone devoid of emotion, eyes expressionless as he stares out into the dark room. “Apparently they’ve been trying to have a baby for the last two years and she finally saw a specialist who diagnosed her.”
“There’s always adoption,” Dom points out reasonably. “Lots of kids are without parents.”
“You’d think that would be the logical answer, wouldn’t you?” Billy replies, nodding in agreement. “But Michael feels that Abby deserves to have her own flesh and blood. That Cameron should have a normal family. I got the impression a couple of years ago that Abby may suspect I was gay, but this is the first time she’s actually come out and said something about it.”
Suddenly Dom catches the gist of the conversation, and resists the urge to put his fist through the nearest wall in lieu of Michael’s face. The bastard. How dare they insinuate that because of Billy’s sexual orientation, he is less capable, somehow less deserving of being a parent? He’s not the one who was unfaithful and essentially ignored Cameron for his entire life.
“They want Cam.”
Billy draws in a long, shaky breath. “Cameron,” he agrees in a whisper.
Dom’s still struggling to make sense of it all. Why should Billy be anything but annoyed by the entire suggestion? Billy’s been a wonderful and caring father for years, since the moment he knew Cameron existed. Why would being gay suddenly make him an unfit parent? Not wanting to rush Billy or push too hard, Dom thinks carefully before opening his mouth.
“You know, just because your slag of an ex-wife and her wanker of a husband get it in their fool heads that’d like your son to live with them full-time, doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen, Billy.” Hand squeezing Billy’s shoulder, Dom continues in a low, gentle voice. “You’re the one who has custody of Cam. He loves you, so much; you’re a terrific father. Completely devoted.”
Fresh moisture stinging his eyes, Billy shakes his head violently, hating how fragile his control is over his emotions. To be so exposed right now, vulnerable, in front of Dom, makes Billy’s limbs tremble. The painful, ugly divorce had taken its toll on Billy, mentally and emotionally, and he’s never felt comfortable sharing his heart since it was so badly broken. Since that time, Cameron has filled the void in his life, soothing the ache of loneliness in his heart.
“You don’t understand. Michael is perfect,” Billy mumbles, averting his eyes. “He’s exactly what a father should be.”
Suddenly, their previous argument over Cameron’s peanut butter sandwich has a whole new meaning. “What, he’s the charmingly competent, domestic type?” Dom asks knowingly.
Wearily, Billy nods. “Michael could give Martha Stewart lessons in the kitchen. He’s the perfect companion for a female surgeon determined to make it to the top of her field.”
“So?”
“So, while Cameron’s at home, he and Abby will gang up on him and make life so wonderfully perfect that he won’t want to come back to me,” Billy explains hoarsely, his throat raw and aching. “Dom, he didn’t want to come here to Glasgow in the first place. Here’s the truth: I bribed him with the pool. Of course he’s going to want to stay with them.”
It takes every ounce of control that Dom possesses not to tell Billy that is the most bloody ridiculous thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. From the bleak expression shadowing Billy’s stricken green eyes, Dom can tell that Billy fully believes the utter nonsense he’s just uttered. What kind of shite have they been feeding Billy for the last eight months? After everything they’ve talked about, especially during Dom’s massage sessions, Dom doesn’t understand why Billy didn’t tell him. Why he’s stayed silent for so long.
“This is Cam’s home, Billy,” Dom says matter of factly. “Not London. It’s here. With you. Like it’s always been.”
Shaking and unnaturally cold, Billy clings to Dom, face buried in the firm line of Dom’s shoulder. “You don’t get it, Dom. The man bakes chocolate chip cookies. From scratch. I barely have time to buy them at the market.”
If Billy wasn’t so honestly distressed, Dom would’ve burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it, but instead, Dom gently rocks Billy in his arms, engulfed by a tenderness that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time, if ever. Staggered by the intimacy of the moment, Billy’s grief becomes Dom’s as well, spreading through every inch of his body and soul. It tears through Dom as Billy struggles desperately to force back the hot, salty tears clouding his eyes, the fear of losing his precious son overwhelming him. Harsh gasps escape from his throat as Dom’s own eyes grow suspiciously damp as well.
Feeling Billy’s tears dampen the material of his t-shirt as he valiantly tries to remain quiet, Dom wishes Billy would allow himself to cry out the pain he’s obviously feeling and has kept a secret, failing to share it with Dom. It’s clear now that Billy’s been quietly fearing this all along, but kept it hidden inside, struggling to deal with it in his own, stubbornly independent way. Billy’s too damn close to the problem; if only he’d told Dom sooner, so he could help.
Giving into his grief and fear, Billy welcomes the strength of Dom’s arms around him, the tenderness of his touch as they slowly rock back and forth, and the soft murmurs of comfort being whispered in his ear. Not for the first time, Billy considers how wonderfully gentle Dom can be, despite his brash, public personality and obvious strength. Dom is strong enough to be tender, something Abby never was, and could never be. She considers vulnerability a weakness, and has repeatedly exploited it, for her own gain, of course.
Slowly, Billy feels his will returning, control seeping back through his limbs and bringing warmth with it. He’ll be damned if he’s going to allow his beloved son to grow up in the vast wasteland of Abby and Michael’s loveless power marriage. Both of them are too selfish to know how to love and nurture a child, especially someone as special as Cameron. He deserves much better than that.
“They aren’t going to have him,” Billy announces firmly.
“Of course not,” Dom agrees instantly, feeling the change in Billy immediately. He’s going to be alright, not that Dom had possessed a moment’s doubt. It’s completely understandable, considering the pressure Billy’s been under, that he would need to release some of the tension that he’s been holding inside for far too long.
“I’m not going to allow them to turn his head with all sorts of empty promises,” Billy vows as he looks up to meet Dom’s soft, blue-grey eyes.
“Not to mention chocolate chip cookies,” Dom adds with a slight smile that encourages an answering one.
“It sounds pretty fecking silly when you say it out loud, yeah?” Billy says, trying to smile a little.
Taking Billy’s hands in his, Dom squeezes them gently. “A little,” he admits. “I bet that ex-wife of yours has been working a pretty dirty campaign lately, sending you on one bloody guilt trip after another. On top of all the other changes in your life, Billy, it only makes sense you’d be a wee bit vulnerable right now.”
“You know I worry about Cameron,” Billy says softly, eyes glistening. “I can’t help it. I just love him so much.”
“I know. Just like I know that you’re a wonderful father,” Dom replies tenderly, brushing Billy’s hair back and cupping his cheek. “And he adores you.”
Ducking his head shyly for a moment, Billy bravely looks up to meet Dom’s warm gaze. “But he’s not even eight years old, Dom. His head can be turned by fun and excitement, toys and promises. How do I compete with that?”
Dom’s expressive eyes watch him with gentle understanding. “Billy, do you honestly believe that Cameron is so shallow that he’ll trade the love you two share for a couple of cookies? Don’t you think that you’ve set a better example than that?”
“When you put it that way, I guess not,” Billy admits, breath hitching as he lowers his head again. “Cameron wouldn’t do that.”
Smiling, Dom kisses the top of Billy’s head. “Bloody right he wouldn’t. Besides, you’ve got an ace in the hole, Bills.”
“What’s that?” Billy asks, looking up, a frown of confusion furrowing his brow.
Giving Billy a saucy wink, Dom says, “If you’d mentioned this to me sooner, I could’ve told you - I bake one incredible chocolate chip cookie. My Mum’s secret family recipe.”
Sharing Dom’s laughter, Billy feels the tightness that’s been squeezing his chest for the past eight months of Abby’s battle to win Cameron break away. The mood suddenly changes as their eyes meet and lock, the desire sparking higher than ever before.
“Would you do something for me?” Billy asks in a low, intimate voice, his fingers slowly trailing down the smooth column of Dom’s tanned neck.
Feeling the rising heat between their bodies, Dom’s breath catches in his throat as a shiver flutters through his limbs. “Of course, Billy. Anything. Absolutely anything.”
Tracing the sexy pout of Dom’s lower lip with the tip of his small, trembling finger, Billy looks deeply into Dom’s eyes.
“Come to bed with me,” Billy whispers before sliding a hand around Dom’s neck and bringing their lips together in a deep, passionate kiss.
* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *
Chapter 11
Author:
dylan_dufresne Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG-13, maybe.
Summary: After a match, Dom gets caught in a lie, and Billy’s brave façade cracks.
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: We’re getting closer, I promise. Really. Trust me. *runs away*
Previous Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9
Chapter 10 - Hurt & Comfort
Rangers play their final match before the Christmas holidays away from Glasgow, and as Billy and Cameron watch on television at home, Billy is distressed to see Dom’s game slowly and painfully deteriorate. Over and over again, his advancement down the pitch and passes are blocked, the ball lost to the opposing team, and Dom's given absolutely no room to move. To make matters worse, the rest of the team fares no better, barely managing to push their way into their opponents half of the pitch only a handful of times. In the end, the Rangers lose to Inverness, 3-0, but it may as well be 100-0 for all the chance they had.
For Billy, however, the match results in a victory of sorts, because as the weary and defeated players finally escape, Dom has been able to walk off the field, instead of being carried off on a stretcher. The camera passes over Dom’s face for an instant, and Billy’s hit hard with the urge to slide his hands over Dom’s fatigued body and ease his pain.
Watching the news later that night after Cameron has gone to bed, Billy is not surprised in the least to see Coach Holm less than pleased.
“I want to apologize to the fans,” he declares during an after-match interview. “That team fumbling around out there was not only an embarrassment to Glasgow and the entire country of Scotland, it was an embarrassment to the game of football.”
As he glowers into the camera, Billy glares back, flipping him a silent, two finger salute, thankful that his son isn’t awake to witness his behavior.
“But I’m going to change all that,” the coach continues. “We’re having a full practice tomorrow at eight o’clock sharp. No excuses.”
“In the morning?” the sportscaster asks incredulously. “But it’s going to be very late by the time the team gets back to Glasgow. Is that really fair?”
“Look,” Holm growls heatedly, “I’m the one who makes the decisions, and it’s fair to me.”
Pointing the remote control at the bulldog-like coach, Billy wishes it was something far more lethal as he presses the button, darkening the screen.
It’s well after midnight when a dozing Billy hears a car pull to a stop at the curb, then a passenger door opening and closing. Flipping back the blanket and rising from the couch, Billy hurries over to the window to catch sight of a taxi as it pulls away, and a flash of Dom’s blonde hair under a streetlight as he limps up the front walk.
Turning away from the window, Billy scoops up his black doctor’s bag and then walks over to the window facing Dom’s house. Waiting for a light to turn on inside, Billy’s eyes scan the darkness, searching for any sign of movement. Will Dom call or come over if he needs Billy’s help? If Dom turns on a light, he’ll go over and check on him, Billy decides.
Standing at the window, Billy waits for nearly thirty minutes, but no light is ever turned on, nor does he see a shadow. Sighing heavily, Billy finally sets his bag down on the floor before walking up the stairs to go to bed, thoughts of Dom weighing heavily on his mind.
In the morning, Billy is wrapping a towel around his body after stepping out of the shower when he hears Dom’s Porsche drive away.
“Got some time for a battle-weary football player?” Dom asks with false enthusiasm as he limps over to the treatment table where Billy is completing the paperwork of the patient he’s just finished examining.
Forcing his face into a mask of professional composure, even though he’s been obsessively watching the clock move at a snail’s pace for nearly five hours now, Billy turns to face Dom. “I believe we can fit you in, Mr. Monaghan. How’s the knee?”
“Like all those buildings in Venice.” At Billy’s questioning gaze, Dom elaborates in a softer tone. “Ancient and crumbling steadily, day by day.”
Billy opens his mouth to answer and then promptly shuts it, knowing that after the match and another brutal practice this morning, Dom’s probably in no mood to rehash old arguments. What would be the point?
“Let’s take a look, shall we?” Billy suggests instead, leading the way to a private treatment room. Biting down on his lower lip, he barely suppresses the urge to slide his arm around Dom’s narrow waist and help bear his weight.
Once Dom is settled on the table, clad only in socks and shorts, it takes every ounce of Billy’s inner strength not to gasp as he proceeds through the gentle, yet extensive examination.
“What happened to your eye?” Billy inquires, observing a spot just above Dom’s left eyelid that is scratched and swollen, appearing to limit his vision somewhat on that side.
“Near miss with a stud,” Dom mumbles. “Kept watering so much that I could barely see out of it during the second half of the match.”
So that explains part of the dismal performance in the match, Billy decides silently, eyes cloudy with concern.
“It’s going to take at least a week to heal properly, maybe closer to two,” Billy reports after examining the wound closely.
Dom shrugs noncommittally, albeit stiffly. “Cuts like that usually do,” he agrees.
Keeping his touch as gentle and light as possible, Billy runs his hand down Dom’s side, over his ribs, where his tanned skin is turning an unappealing shade of yellow and purple. “And this?” Billy asks softly.
“Unavoidable collision with a Defender.”
“Terrific, Dom,” Billy says with a heavy sigh, shaking his head.
“Isn’t it? It was an accident, Billy. The bloke actually apologized to me.”
Moving to Dom’s knee, Billy probes carefully, surprised when Dom doesn’t even flinch. Even he can’t be that much in control, Billy thinks suspiciously.
“Look over at the wall,” Billy instructs.
“Why?” Dom inquires.
Billy’s green eyes narrow, focused intently on Dom’s. “Because your doctor just told you to.”
A wary expression moves across Dom’s face, but for once he doesn’t argue, doing as he’s told. Pulling a long syringe from the tray beside him, Billy inserts it into the bruised flesh surrounding Dom’s knee. When there is no response, Billy has to restrain himself from screaming and cursing profusely.
“You fecking idiot,” he says to Dom in a furious whisper. “You bastard! You let them shoot you up with xylocaine, didn’t you?”
Still staring obediently at the wall, Dom’s answering expression is one of bland innocence. “Of course I didn’t.”
Trembling with rage, Billy silently curses at the coaches who encourage such behavior, the team physio’s who are all too willing to risk a player’s entire future, and mostly, at this moment, Billy feels like killing Dom. Slowly. Painfully.
“Is that so?” Billy tosses back angrily in exasperation. “Then would you care to explain to me why it is that you can’t feel that syringe?”
Glancing down, Dom frowns. “You cheated, Billy.”
“No,” Billy retorts firmly. “You cheated, Dom. You cheated yourself when you pulled that bloody, stupid stunt. Don’t you realize that with your knee deadened like that, you’d have no way of knowing if you’re placing too much stress on the tendons and ligaments until it’s too late?”
Shifting and grimacing, Dom drags a hand through his already tousled hair and curses under his breath.
“Look,” Dom argues, his blue-grey eyes flaring. “I sure as hell wasn’t wild about the idea myself, but I was in a lot of fucking pain during the last half of the match. I couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a couple of seconds, Billy. I had to do something, and it was that or throw the match away completely.” Finally, Dom’s shoulders slump in defeat. “So I agreed to shoot up, alright? It won’t happen again.”
Billy is tempted to send one sharp kick at Dom’s battered knee right then and end all this nerve-wracking waiting. Such an intelligent man, Dom is, and he’s been around the game too long not to realize how dangerous it is and how it could easily become a disabling habit. Damn him, Billy fumes, his hands shaking with barely controlled rage.
“I suppose it would be completely pointless of me to draw attention to the fact that you didn’t win the match,” Billy observes dryly, not bothering to even try to hide his annoyance.
“Not only pointless,” Dom agrees with an arched eyebrow, “But rather impolite as well.”
With a snort of impatience, Billy carefully withdraws the syringe and tosses it absently toward the tray. Skittering across the metal surface with a force born of Billy’s anger and fear, the syringe falls to the floor, but neither Dom nor Billy notice.
“You could’ve taken yourself out of the match, you know,” Billy adds, trying to move the conversation in a different direction.
In an instant, Dom’s gaze turns to one definitely challenging. “Sure, and let Morgan pull my arse out of the fire?”
For a long, tense moment they measure each other in silence, and then Billy finally speaks. “Are you honestly interested in the Rangers winning? Or are you more concerned about the great Dominic Monaghan regaining his fortune and fame?”
Sliding off the table with a small grimace, Dom pulls his t-shirt over his head and then glares at Billy. “That was a cheap shot, Dr. Boyd, even for you. You sound like those damn reporters. Are you actually implying that I’d risk the team losing rather than just take myself out of the match?”
“I don’t know what you’d do, Dom,” Billy replies honestly, taking a step closer. “Up until today, I thought you were an intelligent man. That little stunt with the painkiller makes me realize that I really don’t know you at all.”
“Do you think Morgan could’ve won that match?” Dom challenges, his eyes dark and unreadable as he pulls his blue jeans up over his hips, not fastening the button or raising the zipper.
Billy shrugs. “How should I know? I’m certainly no expert, and as you’ve probably figured out, I’ve never seen the man play.”
“He wouldn’t have,” Dom bites out. “So just get that idea out of your head.” An unmistakable grimace of pain crosses Dom’s weary face as he bends down and slips on his trainers, and Billy’s heart goes out to him.
“Dom,” Billy says softly, fingers sliding ever so lightly over Dom’s mussed hair and stroking the nape of his neck. “Let’s not fight like this. Please.”
Slowly, Dom straightens up, staring deep into Billy’s eyes for a long, silent moment. When he speaks, Dom’s voice is unusually husky. “You’re right. We’ve made it this far, let’s not toss it all away now. Give me a few weeks and I’ll have everything under control.”
“No more xylocaine?” Billy presses, arching an eyebrow, his fingers sliding over the tense muscles in Dom’s shoulder, gently kneading and soothing as Dom fastens his denims.
Dom raises his right hand in a solemn pledge. “I swear, Dr. Boyd, if I see anyone coming at me with a needle, I’ll take off running.”
“Considering your knee, that doesn’t give me a lot of hope,” Billy retorts dryly.
Quickly closing the small distance between them, Dom gives Billy a swift, hard kiss on the lips that sends a burning flash of lightening sparking through Billy’s entire body, stealing his breath. Knowing that it’s the first time they’ve kissed since that night on his couch, Dom feels it, too. Opening his eyes, Dom gazes at Billy in obvious wonder.
“Wow,” Dom murmurs, the tip of his finger tracing the sensual bow of Billy’s trembling upper lip.
“Wow,” Billy agrees breathlessly, his eyes dark with arousal.
“You know, for a doctor,” Dom observes in a voice that is far from steady, “You sure as Hell don’t know much about chemistry, Dr. Boyd. Haven’t you been assuring me for months that this attraction would pass?”
Having recently come to his own conclusions about that, and fully aware of Dom’s propensity for casual, intimate relationships, Billy’s thoughts have been anything but encouraging. Meeting Dom’s gaze, Billy shrugs, attempting to be casual, even though his heart is racing.
“I may have made a misdiagnosis,” he says coolly, holding Dom’s intense gaze. “Are you planning to sue?”
Eternally grateful that they’re in a private treatment room, Dom grins wickedly, relishing in the erotic fantasies running through his mind. “No, I’ve got a much better idea.”
Not even attempting to avoid Dom’s advances, Billy’s arms slide gently around Dom’s slender body as he moves closer, Billy’s soft mouth yielding deliciously as they share a slow, deep, wet kiss that seems to go on forever. Don’t think, Billy warns himself as Dom’s tongue moves against his. Don’t ruin this by analyzing. Just feel. Enjoy.
“Will you come away and celebrate with me when the Rangers win the Scottish Cup Final?” Dom murmurs against Billy’s rosy lips, the tip of his tongue sliding out to taste the sweetness.
“I’ll go anywhere to celebrate with you, Dom,” Billy replies softly, punctuating his words with brief, feathery kisses as his small fingers tangle in Dom’s hair.
“Good.”
“You know, you should’ve called last night,” Billy adds pointedly, yet his tone is gentle and soothing as his fingers move down to stroke the firm muscles of Dom’s lower back. “Or just come over when you got home. You’re all tense.”
“It was late,” Dom replies, nuzzling his nose against Billy’s cheek and then bringing their lips back together for a lazy, lingering kiss.
“I was awake,” Billy murmurs, almost whimpering when Dom’s long fingers slide under his starched, white lab coat and press gently at the small of his back, teasing him. “I was waiting up for you, in case you needed me.”
“You were awake?” Dom asks in surprise, pulling back just enough so their eyes can meet.
“I was worried about you. I waited for while, but you didn’t turn any lights on,” Billy says quietly. “Then I figured you’d gone right to sleep, especially considering you had practice so early this morning.”
“Yeah.” Dom nods slowly, his expression difficult to read. “Practice this morning.”
“I want you to rest this afternoon,” Billy instructs gently, stroking the muscles between Dom’s shoulder blades just hard enough for Dom to murmur his approval.
“Okay,” Dom agrees mildly, eyes fluttering closed as their lips come back together again.
“I mean it, Dom. A hot shower, a soak in the tub would be better, and then some careful stretching,” Billy adds between kisses, somehow managing to form words. “Until later.”
“Does this mean I’m getting a massage tonight?” Dom asks teasingly, smiling against Billy’s lips.
“Yes. As soon as I get home,” Billy replies softly. “But just a massage, nothing more.”
“Damn.”
“Dom-”
“Shut up and kiss me,” Dom interjects, cutting Billy off as his hands slide down to cup the round curve of Billy’s arse.
Threading the fingers of one hand through Dom’s hair, his other hand splaying across Dom’s back, Billy acquiesces, drawing Dom’s pouty lower lip into his mouth and sighing when Dom’s tongue slides along the seam of his upper lip.
“Oh, excuse me.” Orlando’s smooth apology interrupts them as he ducks his head into the room, before Dom can deepen the blissful kiss. “You’ve got an emergency, Dr. Boyd. An over-enthusiastic tennis player.”
Breaking the kiss and wiping his mouth surreptitiously, Billy watches Orlando escape before he can say a word, pull out of Dom’s embrace or explain why he and Dom are wrapped up in each others arms. Then again, he’s not exactly sure what he’d say to Orlando. He’s just been caught snogging a patient. What possible medical reason could Billy have for kissing Dom? It certainly wasn’t mouth to mouth resuscitation.
“I’ll see you later,” Dom says, releasing Billy slowly, regretfully. “Oh, hey, I wanted to go with you Wednesday morning when you took Cam to the airport, but Holm’s called a team meeting. I won’t be able to make it.”
“That’s fine. I understand.” No strings, Billy reminds himself. No obligations.
“Is it alright if I drop his Christmas present by the house today?” Dom inquires. “I know it’s early, but I don’t want him to have to wait until January.”
Billy nods. “He’d love it.” Then Billy frowns, looking at Dom suspiciously. “I never did ask you what you got for him. It isn’t anything that eats Puppy Chow, is it?”
In response, Dom laughs, a rich, happy sound that banishes the flicker of irritation in Billy’s eyes. “Of course not.” Then his grin grows absolutely devilish. “You do know a place around here where we can get some oats and hay, yeah?”
“Dominic Monaghan, you didn’t get him a pony, did you?” Billy demands, eyes widening. Sure, Cameron has been hinting for one for over a year, but Dom wouldn’t be so foolish, would he?
Shoulders shaking with laughter, Dom shakes his head. “You know, Boyd, you sure do get uptight about the little stuff.”
“I’m a parent. It’s in the job description.”
“Hey Billy?”
“What?”
“When’s your birthday?” Dom asks suggestively, eyes twinkling. “I don’t suppose it’s anytime soon, is it? Because I’ve got the perfect present, and I can’t wait to give it to you.”
The memory of Dom climaxing beneath him resurfaces in Billy’s mind, causing heat to rise up his neck and stain his cheeks pink.
“August,” he replies softly, uneven breath caressing Dom’s mouth.
“Really?” Dom inquires, visibly disappointed. “Damn. I don’t think the present will keep that long.”
“No?” Billy asks breathlessly, staring as Dom’s seductive, wet mouth moves closer yet again.
“No. So I guess I’ll just have to give it to you early,” Dom whispers hotly, his lips a breath from Billy’s. “When you’re least expecting it, of course.”
“Dom!”
“See you later,” Dom adds cheekily, giving Billy a fast kiss on the lips before before he pulls away and almost saunters out of the room.
All the aches and pain Dom had brought into the clinic with him seem to have been cured by Billy’s very special magic, Dom muses to himself. Every single day, Billy shows Dom what an extraordinary man he is, how very special he is, Dom realizes. They kissed today, several times, and it was wonderful. The physical connection was natural and comfortable, like it’s something they do every day. Piloting his Porsche almost automatically through the streets, crowded with holiday shoppers, Dom smiles, knowing that Christmas is only days away now. Dom is rather pleased with himself, knowing that he doesn’t have to rush, because his shopping is all done.
Of course, a man would have to be crazy not to be attracted to Billy. He’s gorgeous, strong, intelligent and independent, as well as gentle, loving and so damn sexy that the fantasies he inspires in Dom’s mind create serious havoc in his body. Grasping hold of the idea, Dom clings to it like a drowning man reaching for a length of rope. There have been too many times lately he’s experienced an unnamed twinge of emotion, a feeling towards Billy that defies description. Or maybe it’s that he can’t force himself to decide on a word.
It’s simply the way Billy’s forced Dom to wait, Dom assures himself as he pulls the sleek car into his driveway. Billy’s become an obsession and so long as Dom recognizes it for what it is, he can keep his feelings for Billy in perspective. Slowly, Billy is finally letting things happen between them. He didn’t fight the kiss, or the ones that followed. In fact, he’s the one who initiated the contact this time, soothing Dom with his gentle touch.
The problem solved, Dom begins to whistle ‘Jingle Bells’ as he crosses the back garden to Billy’s house, intending on giving Cameron his present before he leaves for London. However, the usually jaunty tune sounds hollow, even to his own ears.
The house seems so incredibly empty as Billy wanders through the rooms, knowing that he’s being utterly ridiculous. Cameron’s only visiting his mum for the holidays, as previously arranged and agreed to, back in July. Yet, here Billy is, just hours after Cameron leaves, acting as if he’s died or something. Even though Billy knows that he’s overreacting, he can’t help the heavy weight of depression that is settling over him, in a black, suffocating cloud.
“Hey, anybody home?” Dom calls out, breaking into Billy’s thoughts.
Billy tries to open his mouth to answer, but the words won’t come. He’s frozen, unable to move.
“Billy? Did Cam’s plane land at Heathrow okay?”
Struck by the eerie silence and nearly total absence of light, a thought enters Dom’s mind that makes his blood run cold. It’s a good neighborhood, a safe place for children, low crime, but still. Billy’s gotten into the habit of securing the house when he’s in for the night, yet the kitchen door was open tonight. What if something terrible has happened to him? Ignoring the sharp twinge of pain in his knee that steals his breath, Dom takes the stairs two at a time, searching for any sign of the stubborn Scottish doctor. At Billy’s bedroom door, Dom holds his breath, pushing it open, only to be disappointed as it proves to be as quiet and dark as the rest of the house.
Cameron’s room is next, and Dom is grateful that his eyes have adjusted enough to see Billy sitting at the end of his son’s single bed, staring at the floor. Billy offers no indication that he’s noticed Dom standing in the doorway, apparently lost in his thoughts.
“Billy?” Dom says softly, walking further into the dimly lit room. “What are you doing, sitting all alone in the dark?”
The mattress sinks under Dom’s weight as he sits down beside Billy and lays his long, elegant fingers over Billy’s small, unusually ice-cold hands. A moment later, Billy surprises Dom by curling into his slender body and resting his head on Dom’s shoulder, pressing his nose firmly against Dom’s neck.
“Oh Dom,” he whispers unsteadily. “I’m scared. I’m so fecking scared.”
Feeling Billy tremble violently against him, Dom wraps his arms around the slightly smaller man and cuddles him close, knowing that he’d give up everything he’s ever worked for, if it will take away Billy’s pain. Rubbing his cheek against Billy’s ginger hair, Dom slides a hand down the length of Billy’s spine in an attempt at comfort.
“Hey,” Dom says, gently tipping up Billy’s chin with his other hand and smiling encouragingly. “Airplanes are safer than bathtubs, Billy. Cam’s going to be fine, believe me.”
Shaking his head, Billy draws in a deep, tortured breath. “That’s not it, Dom.”
Ever so slowly and tenderly, Dom draws his fingers through Billy’s hair, the gesture soothingly gentle. Looking into Billy’s dark and bleak green eyes, Dom feels his heart ripping in two. He’s utterly baffled by the sight before him and doesn’t understand what could have Billy so upset.
“Does it have something to do with Cam?” Dom probes delicately, rubbing the tense muscles at the nape of Billy’s neck.
Shoulders slumped in defeat, Billy nods. “He’s going to stay in London, Dom.” Tears spring to his eyes and Dom watches in admiration as Billy fights to control them. “They want him to stay.”
“Cam’s staying in London? With his mum?”
Billy nods again, slowly and painfully, his breath hitching.
“Wait just a second. When did this happen?” Dom asks in confusion. “I thought you have permanent custody of him.”
“I do,” Billy says flatly. “But Abby called after Cameron’s plane was in the air. She told me that they want him. Abby and Michael want him.”
Part of Dom wants to break in and ask what one has to do with the other, especially since the stories he’d heard about Dr. Abigail Taylor are anything but complimentary. It seems that now, after all this time, after years of not making Cameron a part of her life, Abby wants her son back. Nice. Biting down on his lower lip, Dom waits, allowing Billy to tell the story at his own pace.
“About eight months ago, Abby discovered that she can’t have any more children,” Billy says after a long pause, his tone devoid of emotion, eyes expressionless as he stares out into the dark room. “Apparently they’ve been trying to have a baby for the last two years and she finally saw a specialist who diagnosed her.”
“There’s always adoption,” Dom points out reasonably. “Lots of kids are without parents.”
“You’d think that would be the logical answer, wouldn’t you?” Billy replies, nodding in agreement. “But Michael feels that Abby deserves to have her own flesh and blood. That Cameron should have a normal family. I got the impression a couple of years ago that Abby may suspect I was gay, but this is the first time she’s actually come out and said something about it.”
Suddenly Dom catches the gist of the conversation, and resists the urge to put his fist through the nearest wall in lieu of Michael’s face. The bastard. How dare they insinuate that because of Billy’s sexual orientation, he is less capable, somehow less deserving of being a parent? He’s not the one who was unfaithful and essentially ignored Cameron for his entire life.
“They want Cam.”
Billy draws in a long, shaky breath. “Cameron,” he agrees in a whisper.
Dom’s still struggling to make sense of it all. Why should Billy be anything but annoyed by the entire suggestion? Billy’s been a wonderful and caring father for years, since the moment he knew Cameron existed. Why would being gay suddenly make him an unfit parent? Not wanting to rush Billy or push too hard, Dom thinks carefully before opening his mouth.
“You know, just because your slag of an ex-wife and her wanker of a husband get it in their fool heads that’d like your son to live with them full-time, doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen, Billy.” Hand squeezing Billy’s shoulder, Dom continues in a low, gentle voice. “You’re the one who has custody of Cam. He loves you, so much; you’re a terrific father. Completely devoted.”
Fresh moisture stinging his eyes, Billy shakes his head violently, hating how fragile his control is over his emotions. To be so exposed right now, vulnerable, in front of Dom, makes Billy’s limbs tremble. The painful, ugly divorce had taken its toll on Billy, mentally and emotionally, and he’s never felt comfortable sharing his heart since it was so badly broken. Since that time, Cameron has filled the void in his life, soothing the ache of loneliness in his heart.
“You don’t understand. Michael is perfect,” Billy mumbles, averting his eyes. “He’s exactly what a father should be.”
Suddenly, their previous argument over Cameron’s peanut butter sandwich has a whole new meaning. “What, he’s the charmingly competent, domestic type?” Dom asks knowingly.
Wearily, Billy nods. “Michael could give Martha Stewart lessons in the kitchen. He’s the perfect companion for a female surgeon determined to make it to the top of her field.”
“So?”
“So, while Cameron’s at home, he and Abby will gang up on him and make life so wonderfully perfect that he won’t want to come back to me,” Billy explains hoarsely, his throat raw and aching. “Dom, he didn’t want to come here to Glasgow in the first place. Here’s the truth: I bribed him with the pool. Of course he’s going to want to stay with them.”
It takes every ounce of control that Dom possesses not to tell Billy that is the most bloody ridiculous thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. From the bleak expression shadowing Billy’s stricken green eyes, Dom can tell that Billy fully believes the utter nonsense he’s just uttered. What kind of shite have they been feeding Billy for the last eight months? After everything they’ve talked about, especially during Dom’s massage sessions, Dom doesn’t understand why Billy didn’t tell him. Why he’s stayed silent for so long.
“This is Cam’s home, Billy,” Dom says matter of factly. “Not London. It’s here. With you. Like it’s always been.”
Shaking and unnaturally cold, Billy clings to Dom, face buried in the firm line of Dom’s shoulder. “You don’t get it, Dom. The man bakes chocolate chip cookies. From scratch. I barely have time to buy them at the market.”
If Billy wasn’t so honestly distressed, Dom would’ve burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it, but instead, Dom gently rocks Billy in his arms, engulfed by a tenderness that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time, if ever. Staggered by the intimacy of the moment, Billy’s grief becomes Dom’s as well, spreading through every inch of his body and soul. It tears through Dom as Billy struggles desperately to force back the hot, salty tears clouding his eyes, the fear of losing his precious son overwhelming him. Harsh gasps escape from his throat as Dom’s own eyes grow suspiciously damp as well.
Feeling Billy’s tears dampen the material of his t-shirt as he valiantly tries to remain quiet, Dom wishes Billy would allow himself to cry out the pain he’s obviously feeling and has kept a secret, failing to share it with Dom. It’s clear now that Billy’s been quietly fearing this all along, but kept it hidden inside, struggling to deal with it in his own, stubbornly independent way. Billy’s too damn close to the problem; if only he’d told Dom sooner, so he could help.
Giving into his grief and fear, Billy welcomes the strength of Dom’s arms around him, the tenderness of his touch as they slowly rock back and forth, and the soft murmurs of comfort being whispered in his ear. Not for the first time, Billy considers how wonderfully gentle Dom can be, despite his brash, public personality and obvious strength. Dom is strong enough to be tender, something Abby never was, and could never be. She considers vulnerability a weakness, and has repeatedly exploited it, for her own gain, of course.
Slowly, Billy feels his will returning, control seeping back through his limbs and bringing warmth with it. He’ll be damned if he’s going to allow his beloved son to grow up in the vast wasteland of Abby and Michael’s loveless power marriage. Both of them are too selfish to know how to love and nurture a child, especially someone as special as Cameron. He deserves much better than that.
“They aren’t going to have him,” Billy announces firmly.
“Of course not,” Dom agrees instantly, feeling the change in Billy immediately. He’s going to be alright, not that Dom had possessed a moment’s doubt. It’s completely understandable, considering the pressure Billy’s been under, that he would need to release some of the tension that he’s been holding inside for far too long.
“I’m not going to allow them to turn his head with all sorts of empty promises,” Billy vows as he looks up to meet Dom’s soft, blue-grey eyes.
“Not to mention chocolate chip cookies,” Dom adds with a slight smile that encourages an answering one.
“It sounds pretty fecking silly when you say it out loud, yeah?” Billy says, trying to smile a little.
Taking Billy’s hands in his, Dom squeezes them gently. “A little,” he admits. “I bet that ex-wife of yours has been working a pretty dirty campaign lately, sending you on one bloody guilt trip after another. On top of all the other changes in your life, Billy, it only makes sense you’d be a wee bit vulnerable right now.”
“You know I worry about Cameron,” Billy says softly, eyes glistening. “I can’t help it. I just love him so much.”
“I know. Just like I know that you’re a wonderful father,” Dom replies tenderly, brushing Billy’s hair back and cupping his cheek. “And he adores you.”
Ducking his head shyly for a moment, Billy bravely looks up to meet Dom’s warm gaze. “But he’s not even eight years old, Dom. His head can be turned by fun and excitement, toys and promises. How do I compete with that?”
Dom’s expressive eyes watch him with gentle understanding. “Billy, do you honestly believe that Cameron is so shallow that he’ll trade the love you two share for a couple of cookies? Don’t you think that you’ve set a better example than that?”
“When you put it that way, I guess not,” Billy admits, breath hitching as he lowers his head again. “Cameron wouldn’t do that.”
Smiling, Dom kisses the top of Billy’s head. “Bloody right he wouldn’t. Besides, you’ve got an ace in the hole, Bills.”
“What’s that?” Billy asks, looking up, a frown of confusion furrowing his brow.
Giving Billy a saucy wink, Dom says, “If you’d mentioned this to me sooner, I could’ve told you - I bake one incredible chocolate chip cookie. My Mum’s secret family recipe.”
Sharing Dom’s laughter, Billy feels the tightness that’s been squeezing his chest for the past eight months of Abby’s battle to win Cameron break away. The mood suddenly changes as their eyes meet and lock, the desire sparking higher than ever before.
“Would you do something for me?” Billy asks in a low, intimate voice, his fingers slowly trailing down the smooth column of Dom’s tanned neck.
Feeling the rising heat between their bodies, Dom’s breath catches in his throat as a shiver flutters through his limbs. “Of course, Billy. Anything. Absolutely anything.”
Tracing the sexy pout of Dom’s lower lip with the tip of his small, trembling finger, Billy looks deeply into Dom’s eyes.
“Come to bed with me,” Billy whispers before sliding a hand around Dom’s neck and bringing their lips together in a deep, passionate kiss.
Chapter 11
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damn damn damn typo! Look what you've done to my writing "skills"
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Both work for me. :)