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[lavitanuova.livejournal.com]

Half Step and a Tumble
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairing: Monaboyd, vaguest mention of Billy/girlfriend
Disclaimer: Not mine, not true, leave me alone.
Summary: "How do you convince someone that you're serious about something that's been a running joke for the past four years?"




How do you convince someone that you're serious about something that's been a running joke for the past four years? That's what Dom can't wrap his mind around. There isn't an easy way; he's spent long months thinking about it and that's the only conclusion that he's come to. There isn't an easy way to do it.

"Hi, Billy, you know all that shite about us being gay? And, you know, a couple? So how do you really feel about that?"

No, that probably wouldn't work. Scratch that - it definitely wouldn't work. Billy would give him a startled look, perhaps, and then laugh. He would assume it was a joke. If Dom says it, it's a joke. Always a joke.

He's thought quite often about not saying anything at all. Going an alternate route - the 'put your money where your mouth is' route. Mouth. Heh. Literally. What would Billy do, if Dom were to just shove him up against a wall and be done with it? Snog him good and hard, just once, and then back away. Let it sink it, let Billy react however he will. At least it will over then. Something will have been done about it. No more of this melodramatic, angsty mooning over it. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling. No more stares from across the room.

But what if it upset Billy? What if Billy wasn't the type of bloke that you could just push up against a wall and snog? What if he clocked Dom one (good old-fashioned shiner), or even worse, what if Billy didn't say anything? What if Billy just turned and walked away? No, no, better to give him some warning first.

Four years. Of course, he hasn't spent the entire four years pining away for Billy. He's had flings. More one night stands than he could ever possible remember. A few that he thought might go somewhere (never did). He told everyone that wasn't ready for a serious relationship yet. Not that this point in his life. Not unless it happened to be with one Billy Boyd, who was, for all intents and purposes, already taken.

Yes, that was a bit of a problem too. While Dom might be enjoying life free of any reigns, save those he imposed on himself, Billy was a bit more tied down. Tied down to his land, his beloved Scotland, and his Ali. Spunky little Scottish thing, all cheeks and legs and sparkle. Dom didn't dislike her for any reason other than that good old standing excuse of she being one of the things that kept Billy from Dom.

He had waited four years. Logic dictated that he could wait a bit more. But Dom wasn't much on the logical way of thinking, not when it came to things like Billy and emotions and suddenly needing to know his place in life. Rings was over, and yes, the aftermath would ring on for decades, probably, but the main bond between he and Billy had been laid to rest. No longer could they depend on functions and premieres and interviews to bring them together. It was all them. The true test of friendship. Of love. And Dom wasn't quite prepared to let Billy slip out of his reach just yet.

And from this line of thinking stemmed Dom's idea that now was the time to tell Billy.


"Dom." The thud of a bag hitting the ground (a bag? what's in the bag?) and the swoosh of fabric brushing fabric (love that jacket on you, bills) and Billy lunges and Dom catches and they both embrace like their life depends on it. "DomDomDomDomDommie."

"Billy!" Dom laughs, something inside of him releasing at the sound of Billy's voice, open and sincere , and he thinks that maybe, maybe this won't be so hard after all. Billy is so happy to see him, and it's only been a month, and he's so, so happy to see Billy, to feel him and smell him and it's all just a little too much. He's lived for a month with the knowledge that the next time he saw Billy would be it, go-time, do it or die time, ground zero. An ending or a beginning. (the ending of Dom, the beginning of Them).

"So glad you came, Dom, so glad you called!"

Dom is in Manchester, had to meet him halfway, couldn't very well ask Billy to pick up and fly halfway 'round the bloody world just because Dom wanted a conversation that didn't involve plastic-and-metal go betweens. Besides, he need a visit with the family, his mum had been nagging and his old mates thought he'd damned well forgotten them. Which maybe wasn't all that far from the truth, but it wouldn't do to let them know, now would it?

"How could I stay away, Bills? And what's in the beg? Is it a pressie? Is it for me?" Dom bounces foot to foot and grins at Billy, who grins back at Dom, who grins even wider, even brighter, in return.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't." Billy says, laughing.

"Billy-" Dom says, drawing out the last syllable, reaching out to tug on the ends of Billy's jacket. He wants to kiss him, suddenly, not as a confession or an experiment, but simple because he is Billy and Dom has been so bloody nervous and Billy, Billy is here, and it feels so nice.

"Take me in your flat, Dom, show me around, get me something to drink and make me feel welcome. Then we'll talk about any possible pressies that might be hiding around." Billy reaches out and cuffs Dom on the chin. "Then, maybe."


Four hours later, and Dom is toying with the ends of his new scarf with one hand and holding a shotglass in his other. "Billy." He says, softly. Billy looked up at him, expectantly. The same look he's had on his face for the past half hour. Like he knows something is coming. Like he half-suspects what, but isn't all that inclined to say. "How are things, Bill? With Ali?"

Billy tilts his head. "The same."

Nope, not inclined in the least.

"Ah. That's, um, good."

"Dom," Gently, a nudge. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I needed to know, Billy."

Dom finishes off his glass, sets it on the table.

"I miss you." Billy says, his voice impossibly low. "Miss you."

Dom is surprised, has to wait a second, replay it in his mind. Try and convince himself he hasn't misheard. "Miss you too, Bills."
Billy doesn't say anything. Dom recognizes the moment as being exactly what it is; the perfect time. All of the thinking and planning that he's done; all of the words and phrases he's conjoured up in his head (soulmates and forever and poetry that flows like honey on his tongue) all flutter away, replaced by...

By...

"Love you, Bills." A murmur, nothing more, just a brief little murmur that he isn't even completely sure Billy caught on to.

But then there's a sigh, with heavy seconds between- "Love you too."

"No. Uhm. Love you."

Dom's got his eyes closed, his hand gripping at the scarf now, his new scarf, the one Billy gave him that's blue-gray-green ('Like your eyes, Dom, and New Zealeand') and impossibly soft to the touch. His eyes closed, clenched, every fibre of his being tensed and waiting. And then Billy touches his hand, the hand that's wrapped around the scarf, pries fingers loose and takes them in his own. "Dominic. Look at me."

(serious now, three syllables, that means business)

So he opens his eyes and he looks and he sees Billy, looking at him like he might break, and it never occured to him before that it would make him feel this weak, this brittle, like thin glass or an eggshell. If Billy says no, if Billy says go, then he'll shatter and break and splatter and be an icky mess of Dom all over the place.

"Love you too, Dom." And Billy leans forward and pulls at the scarf, pulling it away, off of Dom, and leans forward even more and brushes his lips against Dom's cheek. "Love you. Always. So don't worry."

Something cracks and Dom wonders if Billy will be angry if he does break now, or disappointed, or put-out. He won't cry (much too girly, he's much too much of a man) but he may sob, he may shudder and tremble if something doesn't happen soon, and not this, this non-action that's taking place. "Billy, I need-"

"I know what you need, Dom. I need it too. But not tonight."

Dom stops, pauses, everything in his momentarily at a standstill. "Not tonight?" His voice is small, meek.

"Not tonight." Billy stands, dropping the scarf onto Dom's lap. "Dom-" He starts. "Just. Not tonight."

He's going to walk away, walk out now, and Dom can't- just can't-

But Billy turns around as if he realizes that he needs to say something more, something else, so it doesn't end like this. "It isn't a no, Dom. It's just a... wait."


Two days later, Dom goes back to the States, thoroughly confused and thoroughly depressed. Billy said it wasn't a no, but it wasn't a yes, either, and the only thing Dom didn't prepare himself for was this type of in-between.

He doesn't know what to tell himself. He doesn't know anything anymore.

When he gets back to his house in Cali, there are three messages on his answering machine.

Elijah, asking if he's back in. His mum, asking if he made it all right on the flight across. And-

"Dom? This is Billy. Why... you left. You shouldn't have- Dom, I didn't mean to upset you, I don't know if you are upset, but I didn't mean to- You're bloody impatient, you know that? Too bloody impatient. Fucking spoiled, that's what you are. I broke up with Ali- fuck all, Dom, don't you know I've been waiting four years for you to- ah, shite, it doesn't matter, just- give me a ring when you get in? I'll fly over, if you want. Dom..." There's a pause, a long whirring silence on the machine, and Dom wonders if Billy hung up or was finished and forgot to hand up, and then- "Love you, Dommie." And then there's the click, and it's a good thing that the couch is right by the phone, because Dom sits abruptly, his head still cloudy and his heart still not quite ready to accept what Billy says.

But.

Billy loves him. And that's really all that he needs to know.