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monaboyd Jan. 3rd, 2004 01:56 pm)
sparklytiara.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jan. 3rd, 2004 01:56 pm)Title: You Oughta Know
Author: Ami
Pairing: Dom/Billy, Billy/Girlfriend, Dom/Elijah
Rating: NC-17, to be safe
Summary: Billy thinks he's doing the right thing. Dom has different ideas.
Disclaimer: It didn't happen.not yet oh. and song = Alanis Morisette.
Author's Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elvea87. *lick*
You Oughta Know
I want you to know that I'm happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
Fucking reporters.
Dominic hated reporters. He hated the way their smiles stretched false and thin over their features. The way they didn't even bother to mask the hungry, predatory look in their eyes as they questioned and pried and asked and scratched until they had a quavering, whimpering mass of raw human flesh at their disposal and even then, they'd maul at it some more until they had their goddamn story.
Fucking reporters.
He hated the way they gripped their pencils and steno pads, their microphones and notes. They way they surrounded him with their cameras and questions until he couldn't escape, could only sit there on his arse like a fucking helpless baby and smile and say, "Next question, please!" Dominic *hated* reporters. Hated how they were like sharks, circling him and closing in on him, sniffing for blood.
Fucking *reporters*.
They certainly knew how to draw blood.
Billy. It always came back to Billy. It was if Dominic had no other life but Billy fucking Boyd. And it killed Dominic, killed him how they always had to ask, "What about Billy? Do you still see him? What's he been up to? How's his girlfriend, do you like her?"
Once Dominic had smiled and asked the reporter, "Are you interviewing Dom Monaghan or are you channeling an interview with Billy Boyd through him?" The reporter, flustered, had dropped her pen and forgotten to pick it back up again as she rattled off a few questions about his latest film. He'd kicked the pen out of sight (stupid, vengeful, Dommie) and had given the standard answers of "it was an incredible experience" and "its an excellent film" and all the other bull shit that was expected of him.
That particular quote, Dominic noticed, never made it to the print of the interview.
He couldn't say that now. He didn't have the nerve to, not when he was surrounded by five, six, eight, twelve of them. They just kept fucking *coming*.
Dominic smiled for the camera. "Any more questions?"
"Do you keep up with your fellow hobbits?"
Dominic wondered what they would say if he said 'no'. Best not to try it. "Yeah, I just spoke to Elijah yesterday, actually." Kind of. Fucking, speaking, same thing in the end.
"What about Billy?"
Always, always, *always*. It always came back to Billy fucking Boyd. "I call him, we get together when we can. S'hard, you know, with family and work and stuff."
"And girlfriends."
Oh, fuck *off*. Dominic smiled wider. Harder. "Girlfriends?"
"Billy's. Does she interfere with your friendship?"
You haven't got a goddamn clue about what she interferes with. "Eh, not really." Fucking liar. "She's a great girl." Liar, liar, liar, Dommie, LIAR. "I'll kick Billy's arse for her if he hurts her." Laughter from the sharks.
"Do you think he'll hurt her?"
"Nah. I don't see anything but happiness together in their future." Dominic's smiled faded as he said, seriously, "I wish nothing but the best for them."
And I really do. That's what kills me about it all.
"What about you, Dominic? Any girls in your future?"
"Ask me that in about twenty years when I'm looking to settle down." More laughter. More questions about the women in his life, his movies, and Orlando Bloom's love life (why'd they always ask about that anyway? Who gave a shit if Orlando was fucking Kim...no, Kate. Her name was Kate. Whatever. Not as if Orlando had never called her the wrong name).
Dominic smiled for the camera, answered their questions, made them laugh, signed magazines for their kids, their grandkids, their nieces and nephews and second cousins once removed. He did whatever it took to get them far, far away from him.
Fucking reporters.
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theatre?
She wondered why Billy never took her with him when he went to the cinema. To the theatre. Why he always had some excuse, usually lame, but always accepted. Always a promise of, next time, love, I'll take you next time.
Billy couldn't have told her the truth.
He couldn't really bear to tell himself the truth.
That he went to the theatre, to the cinema, to sit in the dark and to remember Dom. To remember Dom's lips, close to his ear, whispering dark, dirty things that made Billy press his lips tightly together to keep from crying out and his eyes fastened on the screen, on the stage, even as his breath hitched and his heartbeat picked up. Dom always knew what would get to Billy, exactly what words whispered, hot and wetly in the dark, would make him whimper and his fingers lock tightly against the arms of his chair as he tried not to squirm to noticeably in an effort to relieve the sudden, but not entirely unexpected, erection Dom was encouraging between his legs.
Billy never really understood the draw a darkened theatre had to Dom. He never really understood what it was about that darkness, that hushed silence, that appealed to Dom, what sensuality there was in the low, soft breathing of the audience, the murmured gasps and quiet tears, the bursts of laughter and the low, sexual sound of couples, lips on lips, hands held, in the aisle behind them. If not for Dom, this all would have faded in Billy's mind, faded until there was nothing but himself and the players on the stage, on the screen. Billy could focus on, be drawn entirely into, a story like that.
Dom never could. Dom always needed constant stimuli, always needed something happening, something to do. He was always the one who talked throughout a movie, got up constantly to take a piss or buy more popcorn or stretch his legs. It never really annoyed Billy because he never really noticed it, so intent was he upon the story unfolding before his eyes.
Until Dom found a new way to keep himself entertained in a theatre, he never really noticed it, that is.
Dom suddenly realized whom he was sitting next to for two or more solid, uninterrupted hours of quiet and darkness. Billy Boyd. His best friend, his lover, the only one who put up with his chatter and going-and-coming during a film. And Dom was intrigued. How far could he go with Billy until he'd gone with far? And Dom wanted to know.
At first, Billy didn't really notice Dom's grip on his hand or the way Dom was massaging his thigh. But he definitely noticed when Dom's mouth was against his ear, whispering, "Just keep watching," even as his hand slid up, past Billy's thigh, to tug at the zipper of his jeans.
Billy had been too startled at first to object. He'd sat frozen, eyes wide, and mind spinning as Dom's hand moved, slowly and firmly, over his cock. He hadn't known what to say, what to do, and had just barely managed to keep from shouting when he came, bewildered, and sweating, wondering what had just happened. Beside him, Dom smiled happily to himself, his eyes focused on the film, even as he absently cleaned himself with the sweatshirt he'd shed as soon as they'd arrived. The sweatshirt dropped in Billy's lap and his eyes flickered from the screen, to it, to Dom, and then back to the screen. So this was going to be Dom's new game? Billy could live with that.
They never got caught. Not in all the months of Dom's mouth, Dom's hand, on him in the darkness of the theatre. They were never caught (and Billy breathed a prayer of relief for that small mercy) and Billy ended up going to shows and films twice, once with Dom and once with somebody else to see what he'd missed while concentrating on Dom, Dom's actions, and staying quiet, still.
And now. There was no Dom in the seat next to him, no lips whispering, "Just keep watching," close to his ear, whispered along with promises of things that would follow this endeavor in the dark, things that would nearly make Billy climax on the spot. There wasn't a hand on his leg, creeping up it, making Billy melt in his seat. There was only Billy and memories of Dom that followed him as he sat in the dark.
Once he'd phoned Dom, from his cell, in the men's room at a cinema when the memories became too bad. And he'd only had to say, "Dommie, I-,"
"Are you at a theatre?" Dom had asked, his voice low, guttural, *knowing*.
"Yes," Billy had admitted, tears stinging at his eyes. He knew what he was doing. He had always known exactly what he was doing. And yet, he *kept doing it*. It was like he was a junkie and Dom was the fucking drug he was addicted too.
"You know what I'd be doing if I was there with you, don't you, Billy?" Dom whispered. Billy gave a small whimper - yes. "I'd have my mouth wrapped around your cock, so fucking tight, so fucking hot and wet, and your hands'd be in my hair, tugging and pulling at me, because you want it. You *want* it."
"Yes," Billy had half-whispered, half-cried into the phone. "Yes. *Yes*," were the only words that left his mouth as Dom's voice slowly guided him to his release, leaving him panting into the phone, sticky, tired, and sick of himself and of what he was doing.
Tears were still there, stinging, burning, in the corners of his eyes. "Dom."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
The only response Billy got was the sound of a phone being hung up, miles away.
Billy cleaned himself up, drove around town for a bit until he'd regained all composure, and then went home. He went home to her and smiled and kissed her and made lover to her that night, just as he always did.
And she wondered why Billy never took her with him.
Does she speak eloquently?
And would she have your baby?
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother
The thing that really killed Dominic about Billy’s girlfriend was that she *was* a girlfriend, not a boyfriend. A girl. A woman. A fucking female.
There was no way Dominic could even begin to compete with a *girl*.
He just couldn’t.
Dominic didn’t have full hips and long silky hair and he wasn’t a fucking Scottish dancer. But he could compete with hips and hair and dancing. That stuff was all relative, things he could easily make Billy overlook. That wasn’t what mattered.
If only it *were* what mattered.
But what mattered were things that Dominic couldn’t change, no matter how hard he tried, prayed, begged, kicked and screamed for. He could never change the fact that he was, Dominic Monaghan. A boy A man. a fucking male.
A boy could never compete with a girl, not for another boy.
Because Dominic knew what Billy had had, what Billy had lost, and what Billy wanted to have again.
A mommy, a daddy, a child, a brother, a sister, Dominic knew that Billy wanted the whole fucking package. And Dominic couldn’t be that for Billy. He couldn’t be a wife, he couldn’t be a mother. He couldn’t give Billy children with Billy’s eyes and his mouth and Billy’s laugh and his nose. He couldn’t give Billy the traditional family life, atmosphere, that he had lost so young, and still, more than twenty years later, craved so badly.
Dominic wasn’t a woman.
That was never going to change. And he didn’t *want* it to change. He wanted Billy to want *him*, Dominic Monaghan, the way he was, male and ovary-less.
And the thing that pissed Dominic off even more was that she’d probably be a great mother. An excellent wife. Because Billy would never settle for and would never deserve less than the very best.
The thing that really killed Dominic was that he could never compete with the very best.
’Cause the love that you gave that we made
wasn’t able to make it enough for you to be open wide, no
Billy wasn’t enough for Dom. He could never be enough for Dom, not when Dom was too much for him. Dom was huge, big, larger than life, whatever you wanted to call it: Dom was *everywhere*. Dom was *everyone*. He lived too hard, loved too deeply, wanted too much, and took nothing, and gave everything.
It was overwhelming for Billy. Billy had always been more the quiet, soft-spoken type. Billy had always surrounded himself with loud, extroverted people so he didn’t have to be. But those were his friends. The ones that Billy took home at night, they were like him. They didn’t draw attention, they didn’t talk loudly, laugh louder, and they didn’t leave Billy breathless, crazy with wonder, always asking, why? now? what? They were *safe*.
Dom was anything but safe.
And Billy knew that just as he wasn’t enough, Dom was too much for him. Billy didn’t *want* to live life in constant amazement, always running after Dom, always worried about what would happen, what could happen, what had happened before.
He knew that Dom could never give that. Not to Billy. Not to anyone.
And he knew, that in that in the end, Dom would find somebody else. Somebody who would could keep up with his breakneck pace, somebody who would laugh instead of worry, somebody who would be able to sleep soundly at night, not sit up and stare at Dom and wonder how and why he was lying next to this man.
Dom would find somebody *else*.
Because Billy wasn’t and would never be, enough for him. And Billy didn’t know what made him sicker, the knowledge that he couldn’t satisfy Dom, that he’d never be able to be more than he already was, or the knowledge that it sort of relieved him, made him breathe freer, to know that he wouldn’t always be dragged after Dom.
Either way, he didn’t want to be there the day that Dom told him he’d found somebody else. He didn’t want to be hurt, not like that, not by Dom.
So Billy had beat Dom to it. He’d found somebody else, somebody quiet and safe and somebody who would let him be in control of the relationships, somebody who wouldn’t leave him and their relationship spinning wildly, randomly, out of control.
And he had hurt Dom. Billy knew he had hurt Dom, no matter what Dom might say different. But he was helpless, unable to explain why or to tell Dom the words that he really wanted to hear, because Billy could never tell Dom, I love you, I’m coming back to you.
Because one day Dom would find somebody else.
Billy wasn’t enough for Dom.
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you’d hold me
Until you died, ‘til you died
But you’re still alive
Dominic had always wondered how much she knew about his and Billy’s relationship. If she knew there had been so much more than the teasing and the banter, the hugs and the laughter. If she’d ever been suspicious in the first few months of her and Billy’s relationship, of the amount of time Billy had spent on the phone with Dominic, of how she was never invited out with them, of how Billy came back to her smelling of Dominic, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin, trying to rub Dominic out of him.
Did she know what had gone on during those dark, damp nights, beneath the sheets in Dominic’s apartment? Did she know how easy it was to make Billy beg, to make him moan and writhe and whimper? Did she know what it was to see Billy, head upturned against the pillow, eyes tightly shut and tears leaking from their corners, dripping down his face, and his lips whimpering, ‘please, yes, more?’ Probably. Because Billy was *hers* now. But when she had him like that, when he was whispering her name, shaking, did she appreciate how beautiful he was, how he was fucking ethereal, pale and almost glowing in the moonlight? No. She probably fucking didn’t because she’d never think to describe Billy as beautiful because men weren’t supposed to be beautiful, they were handsome or strong or rugged, never beautiful.
But Billy *was* beautiful.
And Dominic had told him that, so many times, as he loved him with his mouth, worshipped him with his tongue, throughout those too-short nights. Dominic had loved Billy the best way he knew how and in return, he got fucking shit from Billy.
And Dominic couldn’t hate him for it. He wanted too. He wanted to hate her. But he didn’t. He didn’t hate either of them.
What he did was lie awake at night and think about them. Sometimes he got a bit choked up, but usually he managed not to cry. Sometimes he got a little (extremely) angry, but usually he managed not kick over a chair and scream, “BILLY YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” And sometimes he simply let his mind wander, in and out of memories, smiling at some, frowning at others, but mostly just reliving moments.
He liked remembering the first time he had kissed Billy. Really kissed Billy, not just smacked a kiss to his cheek for the cameras or for friendship’s sake. But *really* kissed him, a proper snog, mouth-on-mouth, tongue, and all. He’d thought Billy was sleeping. Stupid, he knew, but Dominic had never claimed to be a genius. And Billy’s mouth was at just the right position, and he had just the tiniest glimmer of a smile about his features. Dominic couldn’t help himself. He’d turned off the television, crawled up alongside Billy on the couch, whispered, “Bill?” to be sure Billy was asleep, and then softly, let his lips brush against Billy’s. Only Billy wasn’t asleep. Because if Billy had been asleep, his arms wouldn’t have wrapped around Dominic, pulling him closer, and his mouth wouldn’t have pressed back, hard, his lips wouldn’t have parted, and Billy wouldn’t have moaned, eyes half-closed, “That took too fucking long to come about,” and kissed Dominic again. And again. And again.
Yeah. That had been a good day.
Dominic also liked remembering the first time Billy had slept over, a few months later. How Billy had been so fucking shy, not meeting Dominic’s eyes, forcing himself to read for twenty minutes before turning off the light, rolling over in bed, and letting out a mortified, “Shit,” when he’d realized that he’d just rolled his knee into Dominic’s groin. It hadn’t hurt that much, not really, and after some apologizing from Billy, reassurance through gritted teeth from Dominic, and some laughter and kissing, things had progressed as Dominic had intended they would from the beginning. Dominic was surprised by how easy it was to undress Billy, be undressed by Billy, to take pleasure in Billy’s soft moans and the feel of Billy’s hand on his skin. Dominic had slept with friends before and it was never as smooth, as simple, as it was that first night with Billy.
Billy liked to talk, after sex, Dominic found out that night, arms and legs tangled up with Billy’s as they tried to find a comfortable position, curled up together. Billy liked to talk about small little things, like the book he’d been reading or ask random questions, did Dominic have a nightlight when he was little? And Billy liked that close, quiet time to whisper things to Dominic he’d never have the nerve to say in the light of day. I love you. I will always love you. I won’t ever stop.
It was when Dominic remembered those words, promises to be loved and to be held till the end of his days, that Dominic wondered if she ever suspected what went on during those dark, damp nights?
And I’m here to remind you
of the mess you left when you went away
At first Dom had called, constantly. Wanting to apologize. Wanting to speak with Billy. Wanting anything that Billy had to offer him.
And Billy couldn’t answer those calls. He couldn’t bring himself to hear Dom’s voice, to see in his mind, Dom’s eyes, so pathetic and loyal and heartbroken to accompany his forlorn, pleading voice.
“Billy...*please*.”
Billy didn’t ever want to hear those words again.
Not from Dom.
It hurt too much, it killed him to hear Dom *begging* him. Begging *him* to listen, to forgive, to love. Billy couldn’t stand it. It was better to hurt Dom now than to wait another day, another week, another year, however long it took for Dom to hurt Billy. Now, before they were in too deep, before breaking it off would mean more than just tears and confusion and frustration.
At least that’s what Billy had thought then.
But then the calls from Dom got a little more angry, a little less contrite, until finally they were little more than, ‘fuck you Billy,’ and then, the calls stopped coming all together.
And Billy tried to remind himself, this was what I wanted. To save me, to save *us*, some hurt. To stop it before he’d wasted his entire life trying to be everything to Dom, only to be shunted aside when Dom was able to find someone who *could* be everything without even trying. This was what he had *wanted*.
But it was so hard to remember that when he sat up in the middle of the night, glanced down at the softly curving form on the woman next to him and sighed, pattering in the darkness into the bathroom. Into the bathroom where he could shut the door and rest his forehead against the cool wall and think of Dom, and how he’d laughed, the last time he’d seen Billy, before Billy had forced himself to tell Dom it was over. How Dom’s eyes had been fucking *shining* with laughter and happiness and how his lips had been warm on Billy’s, as warm as the breath that whispered across Billy’s forehead when Dom had said, “I love you. Forever.”
Forever was an *awfully* long time, Billy tried to reason.
Not for Dom though. Forever was right now, for Dom.
And Billy tried to smile to himself, tried to remember something funny, something happy, something to drive away the prick of sadness that had wedged itself in his heart. And then he had his piss and shuffled back to the bed, crawled beneath the covers and draped an arm over her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple, telling himself, this is what I wanted.
It’s not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that gave to me
You, you, you oughta know
Dominic was in love with Billy Boyd.
He would always. Always. *Always* be in love with Billy Boyd.
And he didn’t know why Billy wouldn’t believe him when he said, “I love you. Forever.”
Dominic wasn’t stupid. He knew that the word forever scared Billy because forever was really, a very long time. But it was also something that could be taken a day at a time, and every day, when Dominic woke up in the morning, the first thought on his mind was *Billy* and the fact that, he still loved Billy.
And if that was his burden, his fucking Ring to bear, than Dominic would learn to deal.
Because he was never going to stop loving Billy. Never.
You seem very well, things look peaceful
I’m not quite as well, I thought you should know
Unlike Dom, Billy liked to keep things to himself. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, he didn’t go around allowing every little triumph and sorrow in life color his face, his disposition for the day. Billy liked to thing small and quiet, close and confidential.
Dom didn’t. Dom was completely different from Billy. Dom’s eyes, mouth, face characterized whatever he was feeling at the moment - pleasure, shock, anger. All played out across his features, all reflected in the gestures of his hands and in the range of voice.
That was how Billy knew that it was true. Elijah and Dom. Because there was no way that Dom could fake the light that Elijah put into his eyes. There was no way that Dom could fake the possessive hand on Elijah’s arms, the smile of his face when Elijah was near him.
It was simple.
Dom had found somebody else.
And it was funny how easily Billy could forget that Dom was an actor. Because all he could see was: Dom found somebody else. He never considered anything but that because,
Dom had found somebody *else*.
Dom had found somebody else, just Billy had predicted he would. Dom had found somebody who could handle all of Dom, somebody who could keep Dom busy, stimulated, intrigued. Somebody who could give Dom all that Billy couldn’t give.
But Billy hadn’t predicted that Dom would find somebody so soon. That when he did find somebody it wouldn’t be somebody so close, so familiar, somebody that Billy knew. That Billy *loved*. Billy had thought he’d hate, resent, whoever took his place by Dom’s side, in Dom’s bed. He had *counted* on hating this somebody and had taken small pleasure in the fact that he would. But he didn’t. He didn’t hate Elijah. He couldn’t hate anyone who made Dom smile like Elijah did.
Billy hadn’t predicted that Dom finding somebody else would make him feel like this. Devastated. Broken. Empty and hollow. Alone. As though his heart was made up of a fragile glass. A fragile glass that had just shattered on the floor of Billy’s stomach and ground itself to dust every time he saw, heard about, Elijah and Dom.
This is what I wanted, he told himself as he looked at her across the dinner table. This is what I wanted, he told himself as he dodged her small, quiet complaints and made her laugh instead. I *wanted* this, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes and made love to her.
This is what I wanted, was what he told himself, the words a hollow echo in his mind, even as he pressed a kiss to her smiling lips, and said, I love you to her, even as his mind whispered after the words, Dom.
I love you. Dom.
It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced
Billy hadn’t even bothered to break up with Dominic properly before finding himself a new girlfriend.
That was something that thoroughly irritated Dominic when he thought about it. Which was almost constantly.
Billy had *known* he was breaking up with Dom and he was so fucking insecure, he couldn’t even bother to hold off on a new relationship before finishing off the old?
But that wasn’t true. Billy wasn’t insecure, not like that. Billy didn’t need a girlfriend, a boyfriend, to feel special or wanted or needed or loved. Because he *knew* he was. He didn’t *need* constant reassurance.
Then why the fuck had he gone to all the trouble of finding himself a girl before he lost the boy?
Billy had never been able to tell him why. When he’d first started seeing her, he’d only been able to offer Dom half-ass explanations, it looks good. My agent says it’ll get me some publicity. Publicity helps my career.
Fucking *bull shit*.
Dominic had tried to be understanding. At first he’d even believed, sort of, the crap Billy was feeding him about publicity and career moves and my-agent-says. But then Billy had started coming to Dom, smelling of her. Of rolling over almost immediately after he came and heading to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit before getting dressed and going home to her. And Dominic lay in the bed, still breathing hard, still sweating, remembering evenings of old when he’d laid in Billy’s arms for hours and they’d whisper and laugh softly in the dark, or maybe just fall asleep, wrapped together like that. And now, Billy didn’t even look at him or say good-bye before he slipped out of the apartment, going home to her.
And then Billy had started making excuses as to why he couldn’t come in as often, why she had to be fucking everywhere with him, why she was living with him. All this he said to Dominic, and all this Dominic did his best to believe, hoping, hoping, it was true. Because he didn’t want the opposite to be true. That Billy didn’t love him anymore. That Billy really *did* want the whole package, wife, kids, a house, a dog and family vacations to the fucking seashore. Dominic didn’t want that to be true.
There was no Dominic in Billy’s family portrait.
And it was funny. He had thought that nothing could hurt worse than being Billy’s second choice. That nothing would drive him madder than never knowing if Billy really couldn’t make it or if he was choosing to be with her that night.
But then Billy did choose. He finally made his goddamn clean break from Dominic.
Nothing could hurt worse than not being Billy’s choice at all. Nothing could hurt worse than never being chosen at all.
And it hurt Dominic to see Billy with her, to see them together, and to see how easy it had been to replace him.
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?
‘Cause the joke that you laid in the bed that was me
And I’m not gonna fade
“Billy.”
It was harder, at night, to hear her voice.
Her hand slipped up, beneath the covers, to rest on his hip.
It was harder, at night, to feel her touch.
“You awake?”
It was harder, at night, to know it was she, and not Dom.
“Yeah. I’m awake.” Billy sighed and rolled over so that he was facing her, her eyes soft and her lips smiling at him in the moonlight. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” But her voice was sad, a little, and he slowly, almost reluctantly, he opened his arms. She inched closer to him and sighed, burying her face into his neck as he folded his arms around her.
“Sure everything’s okay?”
“Yeah.” She pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Kind of. No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Billy didn’t push her, instead found her lips with his own.
“Mmm. I love you.”
Billy didn’t respond, only kissed her again and stroked his hands down her body, tugging at pajamas and discovering little dips and curves all over again. She moaned against his throat, her hands mirroring his motions, until they were both naked, whispering, moving.
Billy didn’t mean to fuck her, he didn’t mean to be so rough or so forceful.
He didn’t mean to ignore her gasps and her pleas for him to *please* be gentle.
Dom never minded when Billy was rough. He encouraged it if anything.
And maybe that’s why he rolled away from her and her touch when it was over, and closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way she whispered, pathetically, into the darkness, “I *love* you.”
As soon as you close your eyes and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails down someone else’s back
I hope you feel it...well can you feel it?
“Fuck. Dom. Oh, fuck.” Elijah wasn’t very verbal in bed, but what he said was straight and to the point. “Fuck.”
Dominic gave a short grunt, gripping Elijah’s shoulders with his hands, hard enough that Elijah gave a hiss of pain from his fingernails, digging. “You. Fuck me. Now.” Dominic was pretty straight and to the point himself.
“Yeah. Fuck.” Elijah’s fingers, cold and slick, sliding down his back, over his ass, probing, stretching,
“*Hurry*.”
“Yeah.” Elijah’s fingers left Dom, tugged at Dominic’s legs until Dominic, almost exasperatedly, moved them over Elijah’s shoulders, and he bitched into Elijah’s ear, now, hurry, fuck me.
And Elijah did.
He fucked Dominic, hard and fast, with short tight thrusts that left Dominic gasping, his eyes tightly shut and his fingernails digging deeper still into Elijah’s shoulders. And when Elijah came, he said Dominic’s name, low and forced out between gritted teeth. And when Dominic came, his eyes closed tighter yet and he sobbed Billy’s name, and tried not to think of Elijah as the other man whispered, “Billy?” and collapsed on top of Dominic.
“Dom?”
“I’m sorry,” Dominic whispered, his eyes still closed. “So fucking sorry.”
“Shit, Dom, don’t cry.” Elijah’s voice was panicked and he reached out, grabbed Dominic’s hand and held it tightly in his own. “I don’t care that you said Billy’s name. Really, I don’t.”
“I’m not crying.” Dominic threw Elijah’s hand off of his own and rolled over. “Don’t tell me I’m fucking crying. I’m not.”
“Dom.” Elijah’s voice was sad, slightly wondering. “What did he *do* you?
And I’m here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
They were fighting. They were always fighting, it seemed.
“Would you *talk* to me for once in your life instead of just walking away?” she snapped at him.
Billy froze, mid-step, and turned slightly, staring at her over his shoulder. “What do you want me to say?”
“Do you love me?”
“Of course,” he answered. Automatically.
“No, you *don’t*, that’s just it.” Tears were in her eyes.
“I love you,” he said, but his voice was unsteady, unsure, even to his own ears.
“You *don’t* Billy, you *don’t*.”
“I do.” He had to love her. Didn’t he? He gave up Dom for her, he left Dom to be with her, he... “Dom.”
“It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?” she asked, softly, simply. God. She knew. And she’d stayed with him. She had known, all this time, and yet, she had tried to wait it out, had tried to push Dom’s memory out of Billy’s mind. She *knew*. Billy turned around fully and stared at her, his hands dangling limply at his sides and his eyes defeated.
He didn’t want to pretend anymore. “Yeah. I guess that it does.”
“You love him.” Not only did she know, she had accepted it.
Stronger, braver, more than Billy could ever be.
He swallowed hard and nodded. “I love him.”
“Well. So. Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.” But he did know. Because Billy could see his future, and he could see Dom there, where’d he’d always been. Waiting for Billy. Billy smiled at her, a sad smile, and said, “I don’t know about you. But I think I’m going to L.A.”
It’s not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
“He didn’t do anything to me,” Dominic whispered, later that night.
“Billy?” Elijah rolled over to face Dominic, his eyes serious. “If he didn’t do anything, why do you still say his name?”
“Because it was me,” Dominic admitted, for the first time. “I did everything to him. I *made* him leave.”
“You didn’t make him do anything.”
“You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.” Dominic’s voice caught and he jerked a hand across his eyes. Elijah was quiet, pretended he didn’t notice the tears, and for that, Dominic was thankful. “He kept going back to her,” Dominic continued after a long pause. “And I kept asking, why, why, I wouldn’t leave him the hell alone, he was doing the best he could. And finally, he was in town one night and I don’t know. There was some drinking, some fucking, and finally, I asked him to choose. And he didn’t even have to fucking think about it, just sat up and said, “her” and wandered off to take a piss like he hadn’t just broken my fucking heart. And when he came back...I don’t remember, really. We argued and...shit, Elijah, I took a swing at him. I wanted to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt me, so I just...I hit him. And I just barely missed his temple, Christ, if I’d been a little closer, a little higher, I could have *killed* him. And I don’t think I would’ve cared at that point.”
“*Dom*.”
Dominic gave up and let the tears fall. “He just left then,” he whispered, wiping miserably at his face with one hand, Elijah’s hand wrapped tightly around the other again. “He stumbled a bit, looked shocked...but he didn’t say a word. He just left.”
“Maybe...maybe it was for the best.”
“It wasn’t for the fucking best. The best would have been if he’d never left me. If I’d never cared that he left me. Oh God, Lij,” Dominic whispered before sitting up and allowing Elijah to draw him into an embrace. “I love him.”
“I know. I know.” Elijah’s voice was gentle and his hand rubbed circles soothingly across Dominic’s back. “I know.”
“I’m sorry Lij. I should’ve gone home tonight.” Dominic’s voice was muffled and he pulled away from Elijah to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.”
“No. It’s *not*. I just fucking use you and you can just sit there and say it’s *okay*?”
“Did it ever,” Elijah said, quietly, one arm still loosely draped over Dominic’s shoulder, and his eyes focused on the slight bunching of the sheets between their two bodies, “occur to you that you’re not the only one to be thinking of someone else?”
“Sean?” Elijah gave a swift tilt of the head, his lips pressed firmly together, and Dominic almost cried over the pitiful picture they made, both in love, but not with each other, fucking each other, but thinking of someone else. “I didn’t know. God. What shit we get ourselves into.”
“We’re hobbits. Cousins. Its in our blood to get into shit.” And Elijah managed a weak smile and he clung to Dominic and they both managed to laugh, rather than cry, into each other’s shoulders.
You, you, you oughta know
Billy was sitting in an airport, waiting for the next connection on his flight to L.A. to land when his cell phone beeped, signifying a missed message. “Dammit.” Billy picked up the phone, reviewed the number.
Dom’s cell.
Nerves made Billy drop the phone and then kick it under a magazine rack before he was able to pick up the phone and press the proper key to pick up Dom’s message.
“Billy. It’s me. I don’t know what you think of me. What anyone’s told you about me. But...you oughta know. That I love you. That’s all. Bye.”
Billy gave himself two seconds to let Dom’s message sink in before he was dialing Dom’s number back.
“Hello?”
“Dom.”
“Billy?”
“You oughta know. That I love you too.””
“BILLY!”
Billy smiled and whispered quietly into the phone, “Dom.”
::END::
Author: Ami
Pairing: Dom/Billy, Billy/Girlfriend, Dom/Elijah
Rating: NC-17, to be safe
Summary: Billy thinks he's doing the right thing. Dom has different ideas.
Disclaimer: It didn't happen.
Author's Notes: For
elvea87. *lick*You Oughta Know
I want you to know that I'm happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
Fucking reporters.
Dominic hated reporters. He hated the way their smiles stretched false and thin over their features. The way they didn't even bother to mask the hungry, predatory look in their eyes as they questioned and pried and asked and scratched until they had a quavering, whimpering mass of raw human flesh at their disposal and even then, they'd maul at it some more until they had their goddamn story.
Fucking reporters.
He hated the way they gripped their pencils and steno pads, their microphones and notes. They way they surrounded him with their cameras and questions until he couldn't escape, could only sit there on his arse like a fucking helpless baby and smile and say, "Next question, please!" Dominic *hated* reporters. Hated how they were like sharks, circling him and closing in on him, sniffing for blood.
Fucking *reporters*.
They certainly knew how to draw blood.
Billy. It always came back to Billy. It was if Dominic had no other life but Billy fucking Boyd. And it killed Dominic, killed him how they always had to ask, "What about Billy? Do you still see him? What's he been up to? How's his girlfriend, do you like her?"
Once Dominic had smiled and asked the reporter, "Are you interviewing Dom Monaghan or are you channeling an interview with Billy Boyd through him?" The reporter, flustered, had dropped her pen and forgotten to pick it back up again as she rattled off a few questions about his latest film. He'd kicked the pen out of sight (stupid, vengeful, Dommie) and had given the standard answers of "it was an incredible experience" and "its an excellent film" and all the other bull shit that was expected of him.
That particular quote, Dominic noticed, never made it to the print of the interview.
He couldn't say that now. He didn't have the nerve to, not when he was surrounded by five, six, eight, twelve of them. They just kept fucking *coming*.
Dominic smiled for the camera. "Any more questions?"
"Do you keep up with your fellow hobbits?"
Dominic wondered what they would say if he said 'no'. Best not to try it. "Yeah, I just spoke to Elijah yesterday, actually." Kind of. Fucking, speaking, same thing in the end.
"What about Billy?"
Always, always, *always*. It always came back to Billy fucking Boyd. "I call him, we get together when we can. S'hard, you know, with family and work and stuff."
"And girlfriends."
Oh, fuck *off*. Dominic smiled wider. Harder. "Girlfriends?"
"Billy's. Does she interfere with your friendship?"
You haven't got a goddamn clue about what she interferes with. "Eh, not really." Fucking liar. "She's a great girl." Liar, liar, liar, Dommie, LIAR. "I'll kick Billy's arse for her if he hurts her." Laughter from the sharks.
"Do you think he'll hurt her?"
"Nah. I don't see anything but happiness together in their future." Dominic's smiled faded as he said, seriously, "I wish nothing but the best for them."
And I really do. That's what kills me about it all.
"What about you, Dominic? Any girls in your future?"
"Ask me that in about twenty years when I'm looking to settle down." More laughter. More questions about the women in his life, his movies, and Orlando Bloom's love life (why'd they always ask about that anyway? Who gave a shit if Orlando was fucking Kim...no, Kate. Her name was Kate. Whatever. Not as if Orlando had never called her the wrong name).
Dominic smiled for the camera, answered their questions, made them laugh, signed magazines for their kids, their grandkids, their nieces and nephews and second cousins once removed. He did whatever it took to get them far, far away from him.
Fucking reporters.
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theatre?
She wondered why Billy never took her with him when he went to the cinema. To the theatre. Why he always had some excuse, usually lame, but always accepted. Always a promise of, next time, love, I'll take you next time.
Billy couldn't have told her the truth.
He couldn't really bear to tell himself the truth.
That he went to the theatre, to the cinema, to sit in the dark and to remember Dom. To remember Dom's lips, close to his ear, whispering dark, dirty things that made Billy press his lips tightly together to keep from crying out and his eyes fastened on the screen, on the stage, even as his breath hitched and his heartbeat picked up. Dom always knew what would get to Billy, exactly what words whispered, hot and wetly in the dark, would make him whimper and his fingers lock tightly against the arms of his chair as he tried not to squirm to noticeably in an effort to relieve the sudden, but not entirely unexpected, erection Dom was encouraging between his legs.
Billy never really understood the draw a darkened theatre had to Dom. He never really understood what it was about that darkness, that hushed silence, that appealed to Dom, what sensuality there was in the low, soft breathing of the audience, the murmured gasps and quiet tears, the bursts of laughter and the low, sexual sound of couples, lips on lips, hands held, in the aisle behind them. If not for Dom, this all would have faded in Billy's mind, faded until there was nothing but himself and the players on the stage, on the screen. Billy could focus on, be drawn entirely into, a story like that.
Dom never could. Dom always needed constant stimuli, always needed something happening, something to do. He was always the one who talked throughout a movie, got up constantly to take a piss or buy more popcorn or stretch his legs. It never really annoyed Billy because he never really noticed it, so intent was he upon the story unfolding before his eyes.
Until Dom found a new way to keep himself entertained in a theatre, he never really noticed it, that is.
Dom suddenly realized whom he was sitting next to for two or more solid, uninterrupted hours of quiet and darkness. Billy Boyd. His best friend, his lover, the only one who put up with his chatter and going-and-coming during a film. And Dom was intrigued. How far could he go with Billy until he'd gone with far? And Dom wanted to know.
At first, Billy didn't really notice Dom's grip on his hand or the way Dom was massaging his thigh. But he definitely noticed when Dom's mouth was against his ear, whispering, "Just keep watching," even as his hand slid up, past Billy's thigh, to tug at the zipper of his jeans.
Billy had been too startled at first to object. He'd sat frozen, eyes wide, and mind spinning as Dom's hand moved, slowly and firmly, over his cock. He hadn't known what to say, what to do, and had just barely managed to keep from shouting when he came, bewildered, and sweating, wondering what had just happened. Beside him, Dom smiled happily to himself, his eyes focused on the film, even as he absently cleaned himself with the sweatshirt he'd shed as soon as they'd arrived. The sweatshirt dropped in Billy's lap and his eyes flickered from the screen, to it, to Dom, and then back to the screen. So this was going to be Dom's new game? Billy could live with that.
They never got caught. Not in all the months of Dom's mouth, Dom's hand, on him in the darkness of the theatre. They were never caught (and Billy breathed a prayer of relief for that small mercy) and Billy ended up going to shows and films twice, once with Dom and once with somebody else to see what he'd missed while concentrating on Dom, Dom's actions, and staying quiet, still.
And now. There was no Dom in the seat next to him, no lips whispering, "Just keep watching," close to his ear, whispered along with promises of things that would follow this endeavor in the dark, things that would nearly make Billy climax on the spot. There wasn't a hand on his leg, creeping up it, making Billy melt in his seat. There was only Billy and memories of Dom that followed him as he sat in the dark.
Once he'd phoned Dom, from his cell, in the men's room at a cinema when the memories became too bad. And he'd only had to say, "Dommie, I-,"
"Are you at a theatre?" Dom had asked, his voice low, guttural, *knowing*.
"Yes," Billy had admitted, tears stinging at his eyes. He knew what he was doing. He had always known exactly what he was doing. And yet, he *kept doing it*. It was like he was a junkie and Dom was the fucking drug he was addicted too.
"You know what I'd be doing if I was there with you, don't you, Billy?" Dom whispered. Billy gave a small whimper - yes. "I'd have my mouth wrapped around your cock, so fucking tight, so fucking hot and wet, and your hands'd be in my hair, tugging and pulling at me, because you want it. You *want* it."
"Yes," Billy had half-whispered, half-cried into the phone. "Yes. *Yes*," were the only words that left his mouth as Dom's voice slowly guided him to his release, leaving him panting into the phone, sticky, tired, and sick of himself and of what he was doing.
Tears were still there, stinging, burning, in the corners of his eyes. "Dom."
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
The only response Billy got was the sound of a phone being hung up, miles away.
Billy cleaned himself up, drove around town for a bit until he'd regained all composure, and then went home. He went home to her and smiled and kissed her and made lover to her that night, just as he always did.
And she wondered why Billy never took her with him.
Does she speak eloquently?
And would she have your baby?
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother
The thing that really killed Dominic about Billy’s girlfriend was that she *was* a girlfriend, not a boyfriend. A girl. A woman. A fucking female.
There was no way Dominic could even begin to compete with a *girl*.
He just couldn’t.
Dominic didn’t have full hips and long silky hair and he wasn’t a fucking Scottish dancer. But he could compete with hips and hair and dancing. That stuff was all relative, things he could easily make Billy overlook. That wasn’t what mattered.
If only it *were* what mattered.
But what mattered were things that Dominic couldn’t change, no matter how hard he tried, prayed, begged, kicked and screamed for. He could never change the fact that he was, Dominic Monaghan. A boy A man. a fucking male.
A boy could never compete with a girl, not for another boy.
Because Dominic knew what Billy had had, what Billy had lost, and what Billy wanted to have again.
A mommy, a daddy, a child, a brother, a sister, Dominic knew that Billy wanted the whole fucking package. And Dominic couldn’t be that for Billy. He couldn’t be a wife, he couldn’t be a mother. He couldn’t give Billy children with Billy’s eyes and his mouth and Billy’s laugh and his nose. He couldn’t give Billy the traditional family life, atmosphere, that he had lost so young, and still, more than twenty years later, craved so badly.
Dominic wasn’t a woman.
That was never going to change. And he didn’t *want* it to change. He wanted Billy to want *him*, Dominic Monaghan, the way he was, male and ovary-less.
And the thing that pissed Dominic off even more was that she’d probably be a great mother. An excellent wife. Because Billy would never settle for and would never deserve less than the very best.
The thing that really killed Dominic was that he could never compete with the very best.
’Cause the love that you gave that we made
wasn’t able to make it enough for you to be open wide, no
Billy wasn’t enough for Dom. He could never be enough for Dom, not when Dom was too much for him. Dom was huge, big, larger than life, whatever you wanted to call it: Dom was *everywhere*. Dom was *everyone*. He lived too hard, loved too deeply, wanted too much, and took nothing, and gave everything.
It was overwhelming for Billy. Billy had always been more the quiet, soft-spoken type. Billy had always surrounded himself with loud, extroverted people so he didn’t have to be. But those were his friends. The ones that Billy took home at night, they were like him. They didn’t draw attention, they didn’t talk loudly, laugh louder, and they didn’t leave Billy breathless, crazy with wonder, always asking, why? now? what? They were *safe*.
Dom was anything but safe.
And Billy knew that just as he wasn’t enough, Dom was too much for him. Billy didn’t *want* to live life in constant amazement, always running after Dom, always worried about what would happen, what could happen, what had happened before.
He knew that Dom could never give that. Not to Billy. Not to anyone.
And he knew, that in that in the end, Dom would find somebody else. Somebody who would could keep up with his breakneck pace, somebody who would laugh instead of worry, somebody who would be able to sleep soundly at night, not sit up and stare at Dom and wonder how and why he was lying next to this man.
Dom would find somebody *else*.
Because Billy wasn’t and would never be, enough for him. And Billy didn’t know what made him sicker, the knowledge that he couldn’t satisfy Dom, that he’d never be able to be more than he already was, or the knowledge that it sort of relieved him, made him breathe freer, to know that he wouldn’t always be dragged after Dom.
Either way, he didn’t want to be there the day that Dom told him he’d found somebody else. He didn’t want to be hurt, not like that, not by Dom.
So Billy had beat Dom to it. He’d found somebody else, somebody quiet and safe and somebody who would let him be in control of the relationships, somebody who wouldn’t leave him and their relationship spinning wildly, randomly, out of control.
And he had hurt Dom. Billy knew he had hurt Dom, no matter what Dom might say different. But he was helpless, unable to explain why or to tell Dom the words that he really wanted to hear, because Billy could never tell Dom, I love you, I’m coming back to you.
Because one day Dom would find somebody else.
Billy wasn’t enough for Dom.
And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me you’d hold me
Until you died, ‘til you died
But you’re still alive
Dominic had always wondered how much she knew about his and Billy’s relationship. If she knew there had been so much more than the teasing and the banter, the hugs and the laughter. If she’d ever been suspicious in the first few months of her and Billy’s relationship, of the amount of time Billy had spent on the phone with Dominic, of how she was never invited out with them, of how Billy came back to her smelling of Dominic, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin, trying to rub Dominic out of him.
Did she know what had gone on during those dark, damp nights, beneath the sheets in Dominic’s apartment? Did she know how easy it was to make Billy beg, to make him moan and writhe and whimper? Did she know what it was to see Billy, head upturned against the pillow, eyes tightly shut and tears leaking from their corners, dripping down his face, and his lips whimpering, ‘please, yes, more?’ Probably. Because Billy was *hers* now. But when she had him like that, when he was whispering her name, shaking, did she appreciate how beautiful he was, how he was fucking ethereal, pale and almost glowing in the moonlight? No. She probably fucking didn’t because she’d never think to describe Billy as beautiful because men weren’t supposed to be beautiful, they were handsome or strong or rugged, never beautiful.
But Billy *was* beautiful.
And Dominic had told him that, so many times, as he loved him with his mouth, worshipped him with his tongue, throughout those too-short nights. Dominic had loved Billy the best way he knew how and in return, he got fucking shit from Billy.
And Dominic couldn’t hate him for it. He wanted too. He wanted to hate her. But he didn’t. He didn’t hate either of them.
What he did was lie awake at night and think about them. Sometimes he got a bit choked up, but usually he managed not to cry. Sometimes he got a little (extremely) angry, but usually he managed not kick over a chair and scream, “BILLY YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” And sometimes he simply let his mind wander, in and out of memories, smiling at some, frowning at others, but mostly just reliving moments.
He liked remembering the first time he had kissed Billy. Really kissed Billy, not just smacked a kiss to his cheek for the cameras or for friendship’s sake. But *really* kissed him, a proper snog, mouth-on-mouth, tongue, and all. He’d thought Billy was sleeping. Stupid, he knew, but Dominic had never claimed to be a genius. And Billy’s mouth was at just the right position, and he had just the tiniest glimmer of a smile about his features. Dominic couldn’t help himself. He’d turned off the television, crawled up alongside Billy on the couch, whispered, “Bill?” to be sure Billy was asleep, and then softly, let his lips brush against Billy’s. Only Billy wasn’t asleep. Because if Billy had been asleep, his arms wouldn’t have wrapped around Dominic, pulling him closer, and his mouth wouldn’t have pressed back, hard, his lips wouldn’t have parted, and Billy wouldn’t have moaned, eyes half-closed, “That took too fucking long to come about,” and kissed Dominic again. And again. And again.
Yeah. That had been a good day.
Dominic also liked remembering the first time Billy had slept over, a few months later. How Billy had been so fucking shy, not meeting Dominic’s eyes, forcing himself to read for twenty minutes before turning off the light, rolling over in bed, and letting out a mortified, “Shit,” when he’d realized that he’d just rolled his knee into Dominic’s groin. It hadn’t hurt that much, not really, and after some apologizing from Billy, reassurance through gritted teeth from Dominic, and some laughter and kissing, things had progressed as Dominic had intended they would from the beginning. Dominic was surprised by how easy it was to undress Billy, be undressed by Billy, to take pleasure in Billy’s soft moans and the feel of Billy’s hand on his skin. Dominic had slept with friends before and it was never as smooth, as simple, as it was that first night with Billy.
Billy liked to talk, after sex, Dominic found out that night, arms and legs tangled up with Billy’s as they tried to find a comfortable position, curled up together. Billy liked to talk about small little things, like the book he’d been reading or ask random questions, did Dominic have a nightlight when he was little? And Billy liked that close, quiet time to whisper things to Dominic he’d never have the nerve to say in the light of day. I love you. I will always love you. I won’t ever stop.
It was when Dominic remembered those words, promises to be loved and to be held till the end of his days, that Dominic wondered if she ever suspected what went on during those dark, damp nights?
And I’m here to remind you
of the mess you left when you went away
At first Dom had called, constantly. Wanting to apologize. Wanting to speak with Billy. Wanting anything that Billy had to offer him.
And Billy couldn’t answer those calls. He couldn’t bring himself to hear Dom’s voice, to see in his mind, Dom’s eyes, so pathetic and loyal and heartbroken to accompany his forlorn, pleading voice.
“Billy...*please*.”
Billy didn’t ever want to hear those words again.
Not from Dom.
It hurt too much, it killed him to hear Dom *begging* him. Begging *him* to listen, to forgive, to love. Billy couldn’t stand it. It was better to hurt Dom now than to wait another day, another week, another year, however long it took for Dom to hurt Billy. Now, before they were in too deep, before breaking it off would mean more than just tears and confusion and frustration.
At least that’s what Billy had thought then.
But then the calls from Dom got a little more angry, a little less contrite, until finally they were little more than, ‘fuck you Billy,’ and then, the calls stopped coming all together.
And Billy tried to remind himself, this was what I wanted. To save me, to save *us*, some hurt. To stop it before he’d wasted his entire life trying to be everything to Dom, only to be shunted aside when Dom was able to find someone who *could* be everything without even trying. This was what he had *wanted*.
But it was so hard to remember that when he sat up in the middle of the night, glanced down at the softly curving form on the woman next to him and sighed, pattering in the darkness into the bathroom. Into the bathroom where he could shut the door and rest his forehead against the cool wall and think of Dom, and how he’d laughed, the last time he’d seen Billy, before Billy had forced himself to tell Dom it was over. How Dom’s eyes had been fucking *shining* with laughter and happiness and how his lips had been warm on Billy’s, as warm as the breath that whispered across Billy’s forehead when Dom had said, “I love you. Forever.”
Forever was an *awfully* long time, Billy tried to reason.
Not for Dom though. Forever was right now, for Dom.
And Billy tried to smile to himself, tried to remember something funny, something happy, something to drive away the prick of sadness that had wedged itself in his heart. And then he had his piss and shuffled back to the bed, crawled beneath the covers and draped an arm over her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple, telling himself, this is what I wanted.
It’s not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that gave to me
You, you, you oughta know
Dominic was in love with Billy Boyd.
He would always. Always. *Always* be in love with Billy Boyd.
And he didn’t know why Billy wouldn’t believe him when he said, “I love you. Forever.”
Dominic wasn’t stupid. He knew that the word forever scared Billy because forever was really, a very long time. But it was also something that could be taken a day at a time, and every day, when Dominic woke up in the morning, the first thought on his mind was *Billy* and the fact that, he still loved Billy.
And if that was his burden, his fucking Ring to bear, than Dominic would learn to deal.
Because he was never going to stop loving Billy. Never.
You seem very well, things look peaceful
I’m not quite as well, I thought you should know
Unlike Dom, Billy liked to keep things to himself. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, he didn’t go around allowing every little triumph and sorrow in life color his face, his disposition for the day. Billy liked to thing small and quiet, close and confidential.
Dom didn’t. Dom was completely different from Billy. Dom’s eyes, mouth, face characterized whatever he was feeling at the moment - pleasure, shock, anger. All played out across his features, all reflected in the gestures of his hands and in the range of voice.
That was how Billy knew that it was true. Elijah and Dom. Because there was no way that Dom could fake the light that Elijah put into his eyes. There was no way that Dom could fake the possessive hand on Elijah’s arms, the smile of his face when Elijah was near him.
It was simple.
Dom had found somebody else.
And it was funny how easily Billy could forget that Dom was an actor. Because all he could see was: Dom found somebody else. He never considered anything but that because,
Dom had found somebody *else*.
Dom had found somebody else, just Billy had predicted he would. Dom had found somebody who could handle all of Dom, somebody who could keep Dom busy, stimulated, intrigued. Somebody who could give Dom all that Billy couldn’t give.
But Billy hadn’t predicted that Dom would find somebody so soon. That when he did find somebody it wouldn’t be somebody so close, so familiar, somebody that Billy knew. That Billy *loved*. Billy had thought he’d hate, resent, whoever took his place by Dom’s side, in Dom’s bed. He had *counted* on hating this somebody and had taken small pleasure in the fact that he would. But he didn’t. He didn’t hate Elijah. He couldn’t hate anyone who made Dom smile like Elijah did.
Billy hadn’t predicted that Dom finding somebody else would make him feel like this. Devastated. Broken. Empty and hollow. Alone. As though his heart was made up of a fragile glass. A fragile glass that had just shattered on the floor of Billy’s stomach and ground itself to dust every time he saw, heard about, Elijah and Dom.
This is what I wanted, he told himself as he looked at her across the dinner table. This is what I wanted, he told himself as he dodged her small, quiet complaints and made her laugh instead. I *wanted* this, he reminded himself as he closed his eyes and made love to her.
This is what I wanted, was what he told himself, the words a hollow echo in his mind, even as he pressed a kiss to her smiling lips, and said, I love you to her, even as his mind whispered after the words, Dom.
I love you. Dom.
It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced
Billy hadn’t even bothered to break up with Dominic properly before finding himself a new girlfriend.
That was something that thoroughly irritated Dominic when he thought about it. Which was almost constantly.
Billy had *known* he was breaking up with Dom and he was so fucking insecure, he couldn’t even bother to hold off on a new relationship before finishing off the old?
But that wasn’t true. Billy wasn’t insecure, not like that. Billy didn’t need a girlfriend, a boyfriend, to feel special or wanted or needed or loved. Because he *knew* he was. He didn’t *need* constant reassurance.
Then why the fuck had he gone to all the trouble of finding himself a girl before he lost the boy?
Billy had never been able to tell him why. When he’d first started seeing her, he’d only been able to offer Dom half-ass explanations, it looks good. My agent says it’ll get me some publicity. Publicity helps my career.
Fucking *bull shit*.
Dominic had tried to be understanding. At first he’d even believed, sort of, the crap Billy was feeding him about publicity and career moves and my-agent-says. But then Billy had started coming to Dom, smelling of her. Of rolling over almost immediately after he came and heading to the bathroom to clean himself up a bit before getting dressed and going home to her. And Dominic lay in the bed, still breathing hard, still sweating, remembering evenings of old when he’d laid in Billy’s arms for hours and they’d whisper and laugh softly in the dark, or maybe just fall asleep, wrapped together like that. And now, Billy didn’t even look at him or say good-bye before he slipped out of the apartment, going home to her.
And then Billy had started making excuses as to why he couldn’t come in as often, why she had to be fucking everywhere with him, why she was living with him. All this he said to Dominic, and all this Dominic did his best to believe, hoping, hoping, it was true. Because he didn’t want the opposite to be true. That Billy didn’t love him anymore. That Billy really *did* want the whole package, wife, kids, a house, a dog and family vacations to the fucking seashore. Dominic didn’t want that to be true.
There was no Dominic in Billy’s family portrait.
And it was funny. He had thought that nothing could hurt worse than being Billy’s second choice. That nothing would drive him madder than never knowing if Billy really couldn’t make it or if he was choosing to be with her that night.
But then Billy did choose. He finally made his goddamn clean break from Dominic.
Nothing could hurt worse than not being Billy’s choice at all. Nothing could hurt worse than never being chosen at all.
And it hurt Dominic to see Billy with her, to see them together, and to see how easy it had been to replace him.
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?
‘Cause the joke that you laid in the bed that was me
And I’m not gonna fade
“Billy.”
It was harder, at night, to hear her voice.
Her hand slipped up, beneath the covers, to rest on his hip.
It was harder, at night, to feel her touch.
“You awake?”
It was harder, at night, to know it was she, and not Dom.
“Yeah. I’m awake.” Billy sighed and rolled over so that he was facing her, her eyes soft and her lips smiling at him in the moonlight. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” But her voice was sad, a little, and he slowly, almost reluctantly, he opened his arms. She inched closer to him and sighed, burying her face into his neck as he folded his arms around her.
“Sure everything’s okay?”
“Yeah.” She pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Kind of. No.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Billy didn’t push her, instead found her lips with his own.
“Mmm. I love you.”
Billy didn’t respond, only kissed her again and stroked his hands down her body, tugging at pajamas and discovering little dips and curves all over again. She moaned against his throat, her hands mirroring his motions, until they were both naked, whispering, moving.
Billy didn’t mean to fuck her, he didn’t mean to be so rough or so forceful.
He didn’t mean to ignore her gasps and her pleas for him to *please* be gentle.
Dom never minded when Billy was rough. He encouraged it if anything.
And maybe that’s why he rolled away from her and her touch when it was over, and closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way she whispered, pathetically, into the darkness, “I *love* you.”
As soon as you close your eyes and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails down someone else’s back
I hope you feel it...well can you feel it?
“Fuck. Dom. Oh, fuck.” Elijah wasn’t very verbal in bed, but what he said was straight and to the point. “Fuck.”
Dominic gave a short grunt, gripping Elijah’s shoulders with his hands, hard enough that Elijah gave a hiss of pain from his fingernails, digging. “You. Fuck me. Now.” Dominic was pretty straight and to the point himself.
“Yeah. Fuck.” Elijah’s fingers, cold and slick, sliding down his back, over his ass, probing, stretching,
“*Hurry*.”
“Yeah.” Elijah’s fingers left Dom, tugged at Dominic’s legs until Dominic, almost exasperatedly, moved them over Elijah’s shoulders, and he bitched into Elijah’s ear, now, hurry, fuck me.
And Elijah did.
He fucked Dominic, hard and fast, with short tight thrusts that left Dominic gasping, his eyes tightly shut and his fingernails digging deeper still into Elijah’s shoulders. And when Elijah came, he said Dominic’s name, low and forced out between gritted teeth. And when Dominic came, his eyes closed tighter yet and he sobbed Billy’s name, and tried not to think of Elijah as the other man whispered, “Billy?” and collapsed on top of Dominic.
“Dom?”
“I’m sorry,” Dominic whispered, his eyes still closed. “So fucking sorry.”
“Shit, Dom, don’t cry.” Elijah’s voice was panicked and he reached out, grabbed Dominic’s hand and held it tightly in his own. “I don’t care that you said Billy’s name. Really, I don’t.”
“I’m not crying.” Dominic threw Elijah’s hand off of his own and rolled over. “Don’t tell me I’m fucking crying. I’m not.”
“Dom.” Elijah’s voice was sad, slightly wondering. “What did he *do* you?
And I’m here to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
They were fighting. They were always fighting, it seemed.
“Would you *talk* to me for once in your life instead of just walking away?” she snapped at him.
Billy froze, mid-step, and turned slightly, staring at her over his shoulder. “What do you want me to say?”
“Do you love me?”
“Of course,” he answered. Automatically.
“No, you *don’t*, that’s just it.” Tears were in her eyes.
“I love you,” he said, but his voice was unsteady, unsure, even to his own ears.
“You *don’t* Billy, you *don’t*.”
“I do.” He had to love her. Didn’t he? He gave up Dom for her, he left Dom to be with her, he... “Dom.”
“It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?” she asked, softly, simply. God. She knew. And she’d stayed with him. She had known, all this time, and yet, she had tried to wait it out, had tried to push Dom’s memory out of Billy’s mind. She *knew*. Billy turned around fully and stared at her, his hands dangling limply at his sides and his eyes defeated.
He didn’t want to pretend anymore. “Yeah. I guess that it does.”
“You love him.” Not only did she know, she had accepted it.
Stronger, braver, more than Billy could ever be.
He swallowed hard and nodded. “I love him.”
“Well. So. Where do we go from here?”
“I don’t know.” But he did know. Because Billy could see his future, and he could see Dom there, where’d he’d always been. Waiting for Billy. Billy smiled at her, a sad smile, and said, “I don’t know about you. But I think I’m going to L.A.”
It’s not fair to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
“He didn’t do anything to me,” Dominic whispered, later that night.
“Billy?” Elijah rolled over to face Dominic, his eyes serious. “If he didn’t do anything, why do you still say his name?”
“Because it was me,” Dominic admitted, for the first time. “I did everything to him. I *made* him leave.”
“You didn’t make him do anything.”
“You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.” Dominic’s voice caught and he jerked a hand across his eyes. Elijah was quiet, pretended he didn’t notice the tears, and for that, Dominic was thankful. “He kept going back to her,” Dominic continued after a long pause. “And I kept asking, why, why, I wouldn’t leave him the hell alone, he was doing the best he could. And finally, he was in town one night and I don’t know. There was some drinking, some fucking, and finally, I asked him to choose. And he didn’t even have to fucking think about it, just sat up and said, “her” and wandered off to take a piss like he hadn’t just broken my fucking heart. And when he came back...I don’t remember, really. We argued and...shit, Elijah, I took a swing at him. I wanted to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt me, so I just...I hit him. And I just barely missed his temple, Christ, if I’d been a little closer, a little higher, I could have *killed* him. And I don’t think I would’ve cared at that point.”
“*Dom*.”
Dominic gave up and let the tears fall. “He just left then,” he whispered, wiping miserably at his face with one hand, Elijah’s hand wrapped tightly around the other again. “He stumbled a bit, looked shocked...but he didn’t say a word. He just left.”
“Maybe...maybe it was for the best.”
“It wasn’t for the fucking best. The best would have been if he’d never left me. If I’d never cared that he left me. Oh God, Lij,” Dominic whispered before sitting up and allowing Elijah to draw him into an embrace. “I love him.”
“I know. I know.” Elijah’s voice was gentle and his hand rubbed circles soothingly across Dominic’s back. “I know.”
“I’m sorry Lij. I should’ve gone home tonight.” Dominic’s voice was muffled and he pulled away from Elijah to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.”
“No. It’s *not*. I just fucking use you and you can just sit there and say it’s *okay*?”
“Did it ever,” Elijah said, quietly, one arm still loosely draped over Dominic’s shoulder, and his eyes focused on the slight bunching of the sheets between their two bodies, “occur to you that you’re not the only one to be thinking of someone else?”
“Sean?” Elijah gave a swift tilt of the head, his lips pressed firmly together, and Dominic almost cried over the pitiful picture they made, both in love, but not with each other, fucking each other, but thinking of someone else. “I didn’t know. God. What shit we get ourselves into.”
“We’re hobbits. Cousins. Its in our blood to get into shit.” And Elijah managed a weak smile and he clung to Dominic and they both managed to laugh, rather than cry, into each other’s shoulders.
You, you, you oughta know
Billy was sitting in an airport, waiting for the next connection on his flight to L.A. to land when his cell phone beeped, signifying a missed message. “Dammit.” Billy picked up the phone, reviewed the number.
Dom’s cell.
Nerves made Billy drop the phone and then kick it under a magazine rack before he was able to pick up the phone and press the proper key to pick up Dom’s message.
“Billy. It’s me. I don’t know what you think of me. What anyone’s told you about me. But...you oughta know. That I love you. That’s all. Bye.”
Billy gave himself two seconds to let Dom’s message sink in before he was dialing Dom’s number back.
“Hello?”
“Dom.”
“Billy?”
“You oughta know. That I love you too.””
“BILLY!”
Billy smiled and whispered quietly into the phone, “Dom.”
::END::
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:D Thanks!