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Title: William And Dominic Are Acting
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, this never happened.
Summary: Billy's got issues with this play.
Notes: So many thanks to Kia for the idea, and to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
merrilytookish for the beta and the title-help.
“Come on, rehearse with me,” Dom pleads.
“No.”
“Why not?” An affronted noise now.
“Tired.”
“You were tired last night when I tried this,” Dom accuses. “Billy, please? Rehearsals start next week. I want to be perfect. Typically, perfect comes after the practice.”
“And if I refuse, Rosencrantz?”
“Not an option, Guildenstern,” Dom shoots back and shoves a script book into Billy’s rejecting arms. Billy grumbles while he grudgingly opens the script to the proper page. He lightens an infinitesimal amount at the bright smile he receives from Dom. “Seriously, what is your problem with this play?”
“Never mind,” Billy quietly mutters before complying with Dom’s wishes and studies the words on the page. Dom gives him a suspicious and confused look while Billy is in no position to glare back. This has never happened before in their friendship, and Billy has never expressed any kind of aversion to a role before.
‘This is strange,’ Dom concludes, and gives Billy one last puzzled look before turning his own script to the proper page.
“Oh, I’ve got it now.” Dom jumps right into Rosencrantz’s head. “That man, a foreigner, he woke us up.”
There is a pause before Billy responds with the next line. It’s enough time for Dom to look up and catch the cringe that washes over Billy’s face.
Dom catches up to Billy after their first rehearsal. He hates to say it, but they crashed. They crashed, they burned, and they were eaten by a metaphorical pack of wolves and spat back out. Billy had been speaking to the director with a look of grave disappointment on his face.
Dom wraps one arm around Billy as they head out the door.
“So, you see what I mean about the practice?” Dom begins.
“Not now, Dom,” Billy hisses. “I’m in a mood.”
“See, the perfect that comes from practice? We didn’t have it. We didn’t even see it. It knocked us out, tied us up, and ran away to Mexico to enjoy the sun and drinks with umbrellas in them,” Dom continues. When Billy gives him a death look, Dom admits slight defeat. “What’s wrong? Was it something the director said?”
“It’s how he told me to play it,” Billy responds before slipping out of Dom’s hold. Dom watches him with curiosity as Billy gets into the car and sits there waiting for Dom to join him.
“Play it?” Dom softly murmurs before pushing himself to join Billy in the car. He doesn’t understand, but he’s willing to find out what’s going on. During their drive back, they don’t speak at all save for Dom trying once – only once – to initiate rehearsal.
“Well, shall we stretch our legs?” Dom breaks the silence with the quote.
Billy doesn’t even turn to look at him.
Dom decides to talk to the director. Billy’s foul mood wasn’t so bad until Dom had caught them having a private chat after rehearsal the previous day. It isn’t even that Dom wants to know what was going on during their conversation, but the way Billy’s avoiding him makes him paranoid and sketchy.
He waits until Billy’s left, in a somewhat better mood than the day before and sidles up to the director, sipping on a bottle of water. He leans against the wall, attempting to seem casual, but before he can say anything, Nick the Director interrupts him tiredly.
“Dominic, I need to go home, what’s up?” he manages a bit of pep and cheer at the end of his words. Dom twists the cap on the water bottle, and runs his tongue over his lower lip while considering his words. “Within the day would be lovely.”
“Just a quick thing,” Dom promises, forcing a smile.
“And the question is in regards to…?”
“Was just wondering as to what you and Billy discussed,” Dom collects himself and speaks smoothly, giving an assertive smile now. “Just in case I can use it towards my performance.”
Nick raises one eyebrow in Dom’s direction, slowly and contemplatively.
“Billy didn’t tell you?” Nick questions with a surprised noise at the end. He pauses a moment in thought. “Well, I hardly think it’s my place then,” he muses.
Dom rolls his eyes, and is about to ask something further as to why exactly Billy won’t tell him, and Nick won’t tell him anything either when Nick walks away, saluting Dom in the process.
“Just ask him,” he advises before leaving out the back door.
Dom takes to studying Billy while he prepares a quick meal for the both of them before they go to an emergency night rehearsal to incorporate something new into the script. Billy has this intense sort of concentration to him. It doesn’t matter that all he’s focusing on is the food (salad at the moment), it deserves every inch of Billy’s concentration.
He runs his tongue over his lower lip while tapping out random rhythms on the counter and he wonders if the problem is just that Billy is being too picky with the script. Maybe he’s putting too much of that focus into something simplistic.
“Billy,” he speaks up, but Billy doesn’t take his focus off the recipe he’s tending to. Dom grabs an apple and tosses it between his hands. “Billy!” he tries a little louder, and finally catches Billy’s attention. When Billy looks at him expectantly, Dom gives a pleasant smile. “What’d you and Nick discuss?” he asks with a bite of apple.
“The play,” Billy evenly responds, pouring a spoon of wine into the pot, stirring it.
“I assumed so.” Dom rolls his eyes. “What, like you were going to ask Nick about some kind of magical anti-aging elixir recipe? Or did you just gossip about your love lives?”
Billy rolls his eyes this time before smacking Dom on the wrist with the wooden spoon when Dom reaches for one of the slices of garlic toast Billy is preparing. Dom pouts and retracts his arm immediately, munching on the apple.
“It’s none of your business,” Billy informs him, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Dom sets his jaw. “Nick says it is.”
“Well, Nick is lying.”
“He’s not lying.” Dom retorts almost immediately. “You’re just not telling me.”
Billy hesitates. “Maybe,” he admits.
“So then, tell me,” Dom replies with a shrug, relaxing in his chair and biting into the apple, licking away the stray juice that drips from the corner of his lips. Billy stirs the pot for a moment before he looks up, looks at Dom, and gives a frustrated sigh. “Come on, the garlic toast isn’t going to tell me for you.”
“It’s this bloody play,” Billy growls, turning the heat on the stove off.
“Well, and now you talk about it,” Dom responds, trying to sound coaxing and persuasive. It doesn’t seem to work because Billy slams the cover on the pot and gives him a very angry look.
“No, Dominic, I don’t,” Billy snaps. “Now you drop it.”
They make it through dinner without killing each other or saying anything particularly cruel-hearted. Without saying much at all, Dom amends in his mind. They don’t even speak other than the necessities as they clean up.
Billy leaves for bed a good two hours before his usual sleeping time. Dom watches him with suspicion all through dinner as he went through each and every possible thing Billy could have been discussing with Nick. As the night had progressed, all the pieces seemed to start clicking into place for Dom.
It’s when Billy shuts the door with a gentle slam that Dom gets it.
And he can’t believe how stupid he is to have missed it.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, cleaning up the last of the dishes and putting them away noisily. “Real bright you are,” he scoffs as he rolls his eyes. He puts everything away very neatly, and waits until his temper has calmed down enough to think rationally. A moment of that is all it takes for Dom to realise that he doesn’t want rational thought. He immediately heads for Billy’s bedroom, opening the door.
“Dom,” Billy hisses when the light spills into the room and straight into his eyes.
“So, then,” Dom begins, taking cocky steps into the room, “what’s so very wrong with Billy Boyd and this play, I wonder?” He sits on the bed, turning so that he faces Billy. “Is it the script? Is it the director? Or is it his co-star? What’s the matter with you?” Dom stresses, inching closer and closer to Billy.
“Dom, what are you on about?” Billy responds acidly.
“Your issue is with me, isn’t it?” Dom challenges. “All your talking with Nick, the lack of rehearsing. What the fuck, Billy? I mean, really! If you didn’t want to do this play so badly, you could have just said something.”
“Dom…it’s just…” Billy responds tiredly and sighs. He sits up slowly, trying to explain things with his hands. Dom scoffs, rolls his eyes, and doesn’t give him the chance to respond.
“You’re not denying it,” Dom simply states.
Billy is silent.
“Thanks, Bill,” Dom mutters quietly. “Thanks a lot.”
With that, Dom storms out of the room, the house, and drives back to his own flat as quickly as he can. The entire way, he doesn’t bother to spare a single thought as to what he’s going to do.
The next day is stormy, dreary, and Dom is miserable when he drives to Billy’s to pick him up. He’s always reacted quite closely to the weather, and his body is making no exceptions. He knocks on the door, waits a while in the fog, and finally gets let in to find Billy looking quite tired and worn.
“You look like shit,” Dom says plainly, pushing past Billy to make himself a cup of coffee.
“Feel it,” Billy murmurs behind him as he shuts the door. “Didn’t sleep,” he adds bitterly.
They don’t say anything else until Dom is holding a mug of instant coffee in his hands, sipping cautiously. Billy leans against the table and rubs at his eyes every once in a while, running his hand through his hair.
“Want to talk?” Billy murmurs finally, breaking the heavy silence.
“Only if you’re going to say something that I don’t already know,” Dom agrees.
Billy hesitates before giving a shrug, leaning forward and speaking evenly. “That whole play is one long scene between these two characters. It’s one long scene riddled with subtext, and reading between the lines. And I don’t know why, but it just keeps eating at me.”
“Billy…” Dom begins, arching a dubious eyebrow.
“Dom, you can call me crazy when I finish, all right?” Billy tiredly cut him off. “And the more I think about the lines, the more I think about the words…the more I can’t do it.”
Dom pauses and gives a moment of thought.
“Are you more uncomfortable with reading between the lines of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, or Dom and Billy?” Dom softly asks, not looking up to meet Billy’s eyes. He’s not sure what answer he’s looking for here. He finally looks up to find Billy staring right at him. “What, Billy? Well? Tell me.”
“Is there something to read between us?” Billy asks plainly.
Dom looks down, scratching the side of his cheek, and shrugs. “I uh…I wouldn’t fight it. Wouldn’t be half bad, really.”
Billy snorts.
“Half bad?” Billy shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You really know how to be enthusiastic, don’t you? Look, do we have something or not? I don’t want to dwindle in the lands of subtext if you want to write it into text.”
“Do you?”
Billy looks down this time, gripping the table a little harder now. He clears his throat and looks away (out the window) before looking at Dom. When they achieve contact, neither of them says a thing. Billy bites down on his lip and nods slowly.
“I don’t want this to be something where I search for deeper meaning, and you’re just looking at the obvious. I’ve…well…wanted something, but I assumed you would want to move on, it being after filming and all…”
“Billy, when did you start thinking like this?” Dom interrupts when Billy’s voice softens, processing everything and wondering -- just wondering -- how dim Billy could be at times.
“There must have been a moment,” Billy answers quietly, “but I can’t put my finger on it. When things went from easy and known to this. But I don’t know when. Look, I’m prepared to let the whole matter drop.”
Or I could lick yours, instead, Dom thinks with triumph. And he grins, because he just can’t hide it any longer.
“Have you been subconsciously quoting from our script all along?” Dom muses with a huge grin. “Because I find it endearing. Should I continue? What’s the line here? Oh, right. Or I could lick yours, instead,” Dom airily retorts. “Billy, you daft idiot, I want text. I want it a lot. Just how blind have you been exactly?”
Billy opens his mouth, shuts it, and gives a weak shrug. “You…you do, want something?”
“Let me put it this way,” Dom grins. “We’ll go to rehearsal, I’m going to take you out to dinner, and then tomorrow morning, someone is going to have to wake us up.”
And this time, Billy smiles.
THE END
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, this never happened.
Summary: Billy's got issues with this play.
Notes: So many thanks to Kia for the idea, and to
merrilytookish for the beta and the title-help.“Come on, rehearse with me,” Dom pleads.
“No.”
“Why not?” An affronted noise now.
“Tired.”
“You were tired last night when I tried this,” Dom accuses. “Billy, please? Rehearsals start next week. I want to be perfect. Typically, perfect comes after the practice.”
“And if I refuse, Rosencrantz?”
“Not an option, Guildenstern,” Dom shoots back and shoves a script book into Billy’s rejecting arms. Billy grumbles while he grudgingly opens the script to the proper page. He lightens an infinitesimal amount at the bright smile he receives from Dom. “Seriously, what is your problem with this play?”
“Never mind,” Billy quietly mutters before complying with Dom’s wishes and studies the words on the page. Dom gives him a suspicious and confused look while Billy is in no position to glare back. This has never happened before in their friendship, and Billy has never expressed any kind of aversion to a role before.
‘This is strange,’ Dom concludes, and gives Billy one last puzzled look before turning his own script to the proper page.
“Oh, I’ve got it now.” Dom jumps right into Rosencrantz’s head. “That man, a foreigner, he woke us up.”
There is a pause before Billy responds with the next line. It’s enough time for Dom to look up and catch the cringe that washes over Billy’s face.
Dom catches up to Billy after their first rehearsal. He hates to say it, but they crashed. They crashed, they burned, and they were eaten by a metaphorical pack of wolves and spat back out. Billy had been speaking to the director with a look of grave disappointment on his face.
Dom wraps one arm around Billy as they head out the door.
“So, you see what I mean about the practice?” Dom begins.
“Not now, Dom,” Billy hisses. “I’m in a mood.”
“See, the perfect that comes from practice? We didn’t have it. We didn’t even see it. It knocked us out, tied us up, and ran away to Mexico to enjoy the sun and drinks with umbrellas in them,” Dom continues. When Billy gives him a death look, Dom admits slight defeat. “What’s wrong? Was it something the director said?”
“It’s how he told me to play it,” Billy responds before slipping out of Dom’s hold. Dom watches him with curiosity as Billy gets into the car and sits there waiting for Dom to join him.
“Play it?” Dom softly murmurs before pushing himself to join Billy in the car. He doesn’t understand, but he’s willing to find out what’s going on. During their drive back, they don’t speak at all save for Dom trying once – only once – to initiate rehearsal.
“Well, shall we stretch our legs?” Dom breaks the silence with the quote.
Billy doesn’t even turn to look at him.
Dom decides to talk to the director. Billy’s foul mood wasn’t so bad until Dom had caught them having a private chat after rehearsal the previous day. It isn’t even that Dom wants to know what was going on during their conversation, but the way Billy’s avoiding him makes him paranoid and sketchy.
He waits until Billy’s left, in a somewhat better mood than the day before and sidles up to the director, sipping on a bottle of water. He leans against the wall, attempting to seem casual, but before he can say anything, Nick the Director interrupts him tiredly.
“Dominic, I need to go home, what’s up?” he manages a bit of pep and cheer at the end of his words. Dom twists the cap on the water bottle, and runs his tongue over his lower lip while considering his words. “Within the day would be lovely.”
“Just a quick thing,” Dom promises, forcing a smile.
“And the question is in regards to…?”
“Was just wondering as to what you and Billy discussed,” Dom collects himself and speaks smoothly, giving an assertive smile now. “Just in case I can use it towards my performance.”
Nick raises one eyebrow in Dom’s direction, slowly and contemplatively.
“Billy didn’t tell you?” Nick questions with a surprised noise at the end. He pauses a moment in thought. “Well, I hardly think it’s my place then,” he muses.
Dom rolls his eyes, and is about to ask something further as to why exactly Billy won’t tell him, and Nick won’t tell him anything either when Nick walks away, saluting Dom in the process.
“Just ask him,” he advises before leaving out the back door.
Dom takes to studying Billy while he prepares a quick meal for the both of them before they go to an emergency night rehearsal to incorporate something new into the script. Billy has this intense sort of concentration to him. It doesn’t matter that all he’s focusing on is the food (salad at the moment), it deserves every inch of Billy’s concentration.
He runs his tongue over his lower lip while tapping out random rhythms on the counter and he wonders if the problem is just that Billy is being too picky with the script. Maybe he’s putting too much of that focus into something simplistic.
“Billy,” he speaks up, but Billy doesn’t take his focus off the recipe he’s tending to. Dom grabs an apple and tosses it between his hands. “Billy!” he tries a little louder, and finally catches Billy’s attention. When Billy looks at him expectantly, Dom gives a pleasant smile. “What’d you and Nick discuss?” he asks with a bite of apple.
“The play,” Billy evenly responds, pouring a spoon of wine into the pot, stirring it.
“I assumed so.” Dom rolls his eyes. “What, like you were going to ask Nick about some kind of magical anti-aging elixir recipe? Or did you just gossip about your love lives?”
Billy rolls his eyes this time before smacking Dom on the wrist with the wooden spoon when Dom reaches for one of the slices of garlic toast Billy is preparing. Dom pouts and retracts his arm immediately, munching on the apple.
“It’s none of your business,” Billy informs him, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Dom sets his jaw. “Nick says it is.”
“Well, Nick is lying.”
“He’s not lying.” Dom retorts almost immediately. “You’re just not telling me.”
Billy hesitates. “Maybe,” he admits.
“So then, tell me,” Dom replies with a shrug, relaxing in his chair and biting into the apple, licking away the stray juice that drips from the corner of his lips. Billy stirs the pot for a moment before he looks up, looks at Dom, and gives a frustrated sigh. “Come on, the garlic toast isn’t going to tell me for you.”
“It’s this bloody play,” Billy growls, turning the heat on the stove off.
“Well, and now you talk about it,” Dom responds, trying to sound coaxing and persuasive. It doesn’t seem to work because Billy slams the cover on the pot and gives him a very angry look.
“No, Dominic, I don’t,” Billy snaps. “Now you drop it.”
They make it through dinner without killing each other or saying anything particularly cruel-hearted. Without saying much at all, Dom amends in his mind. They don’t even speak other than the necessities as they clean up.
Billy leaves for bed a good two hours before his usual sleeping time. Dom watches him with suspicion all through dinner as he went through each and every possible thing Billy could have been discussing with Nick. As the night had progressed, all the pieces seemed to start clicking into place for Dom.
It’s when Billy shuts the door with a gentle slam that Dom gets it.
And he can’t believe how stupid he is to have missed it.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, cleaning up the last of the dishes and putting them away noisily. “Real bright you are,” he scoffs as he rolls his eyes. He puts everything away very neatly, and waits until his temper has calmed down enough to think rationally. A moment of that is all it takes for Dom to realise that he doesn’t want rational thought. He immediately heads for Billy’s bedroom, opening the door.
“Dom,” Billy hisses when the light spills into the room and straight into his eyes.
“So, then,” Dom begins, taking cocky steps into the room, “what’s so very wrong with Billy Boyd and this play, I wonder?” He sits on the bed, turning so that he faces Billy. “Is it the script? Is it the director? Or is it his co-star? What’s the matter with you?” Dom stresses, inching closer and closer to Billy.
“Dom, what are you on about?” Billy responds acidly.
“Your issue is with me, isn’t it?” Dom challenges. “All your talking with Nick, the lack of rehearsing. What the fuck, Billy? I mean, really! If you didn’t want to do this play so badly, you could have just said something.”
“Dom…it’s just…” Billy responds tiredly and sighs. He sits up slowly, trying to explain things with his hands. Dom scoffs, rolls his eyes, and doesn’t give him the chance to respond.
“You’re not denying it,” Dom simply states.
Billy is silent.
“Thanks, Bill,” Dom mutters quietly. “Thanks a lot.”
With that, Dom storms out of the room, the house, and drives back to his own flat as quickly as he can. The entire way, he doesn’t bother to spare a single thought as to what he’s going to do.
The next day is stormy, dreary, and Dom is miserable when he drives to Billy’s to pick him up. He’s always reacted quite closely to the weather, and his body is making no exceptions. He knocks on the door, waits a while in the fog, and finally gets let in to find Billy looking quite tired and worn.
“You look like shit,” Dom says plainly, pushing past Billy to make himself a cup of coffee.
“Feel it,” Billy murmurs behind him as he shuts the door. “Didn’t sleep,” he adds bitterly.
They don’t say anything else until Dom is holding a mug of instant coffee in his hands, sipping cautiously. Billy leans against the table and rubs at his eyes every once in a while, running his hand through his hair.
“Want to talk?” Billy murmurs finally, breaking the heavy silence.
“Only if you’re going to say something that I don’t already know,” Dom agrees.
Billy hesitates before giving a shrug, leaning forward and speaking evenly. “That whole play is one long scene between these two characters. It’s one long scene riddled with subtext, and reading between the lines. And I don’t know why, but it just keeps eating at me.”
“Billy…” Dom begins, arching a dubious eyebrow.
“Dom, you can call me crazy when I finish, all right?” Billy tiredly cut him off. “And the more I think about the lines, the more I think about the words…the more I can’t do it.”
Dom pauses and gives a moment of thought.
“Are you more uncomfortable with reading between the lines of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, or Dom and Billy?” Dom softly asks, not looking up to meet Billy’s eyes. He’s not sure what answer he’s looking for here. He finally looks up to find Billy staring right at him. “What, Billy? Well? Tell me.”
“Is there something to read between us?” Billy asks plainly.
Dom looks down, scratching the side of his cheek, and shrugs. “I uh…I wouldn’t fight it. Wouldn’t be half bad, really.”
Billy snorts.
“Half bad?” Billy shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You really know how to be enthusiastic, don’t you? Look, do we have something or not? I don’t want to dwindle in the lands of subtext if you want to write it into text.”
“Do you?”
Billy looks down this time, gripping the table a little harder now. He clears his throat and looks away (out the window) before looking at Dom. When they achieve contact, neither of them says a thing. Billy bites down on his lip and nods slowly.
“I don’t want this to be something where I search for deeper meaning, and you’re just looking at the obvious. I’ve…well…wanted something, but I assumed you would want to move on, it being after filming and all…”
“Billy, when did you start thinking like this?” Dom interrupts when Billy’s voice softens, processing everything and wondering -- just wondering -- how dim Billy could be at times.
“There must have been a moment,” Billy answers quietly, “but I can’t put my finger on it. When things went from easy and known to this. But I don’t know when. Look, I’m prepared to let the whole matter drop.”
Or I could lick yours, instead, Dom thinks with triumph. And he grins, because he just can’t hide it any longer.
“Have you been subconsciously quoting from our script all along?” Dom muses with a huge grin. “Because I find it endearing. Should I continue? What’s the line here? Oh, right. Or I could lick yours, instead,” Dom airily retorts. “Billy, you daft idiot, I want text. I want it a lot. Just how blind have you been exactly?”
Billy opens his mouth, shuts it, and gives a weak shrug. “You…you do, want something?”
“Let me put it this way,” Dom grins. “We’ll go to rehearsal, I’m going to take you out to dinner, and then tomorrow morning, someone is going to have to wake us up.”
And this time, Billy smiles.
THE END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Thanks for reading, and I'm super-glad you think the ending works, because I spent about twenty minutes weighing the pros and cons of a few endings.
Thank you! :)
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But thank you for reading.
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You know, if they ever did do R&G, I would move heaven and earth to be there to see it. No power in the verse could stop me.
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And thanks ever much for reading! (also, whee, Firefly quotage!)
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And Firefly, well, it's just so quotable!
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::loves on the angst::
Thanks for this.
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Thanks for reading!
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You did Dom so well; I love that when he realized Billy was upset about him, Dom thought that Billy was mad at him instead of being like, "Oh, Billy must be in love with me so I'll be cocky and give him a snog without pretense!" But your Dom's reaction hurts so good, and then the hurt goes away at the end because the end... it's so perfect.
I love:
And this time, Billy smiles.
^.^ ::saves the fic::
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I needed a bit of Monaboyd to brighten up this bleak and despairing day =)
Thank you for sharing! =D
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