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monaboyd Jun. 30th, 2004 10:14 pm)
semaphore27.livejournal.com posting in monaboyd Jun. 30th, 2004 10:14 pm)Author: Semaphore
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13, but a little medically squicky this time around.
Summary: the sequel to Lost. Dom comes home--to the rental house, at least, but things don't go quite as smoothly as planned.
Previous writings can be found at: Caraidean
Feedback: Very much appreciated. Hugs to all who've commented--it's greatly appreciated.
Disclaimers: Lies, lies, filthy lies.
Found, Part 19
Billy knows it’s ridiculous, really, to be so nervous. It’s only Dom coming home after all, not a houseload of foreign dignitaries arriving for a state visit, but he and Elijah have both begun to take their preparations to the point of absurdity, fluttering about pointlessly until they literally run into one another.
“Oops! Three Stooges moment!” Elijah’s giggling, grabbing Billy’s arms to maintain both their balances.
“Lucky we didn’t fall flat on our arses,” Billy laughs in return—but then he’s surprised, because Elijah’s hugging him suddenly, and it’s like they’re back in New Zealand (which, on reflection, they are, of course), as if they’ve gone back to the beginning, to the old days, when things were so much simpler. Half-surprised, Billy returns the embrace, holding then younger man close to him.
Elijah smells of dish soap and laundry softener, and his t-shirt is damp, his dark hair silky against Billy’s cheek.
It’s a moment of unexpected sweetness. All the more so because things have been, in a friendly-enough-seeming way, oddly strained between them the past few days. There’s so much they don’t speak about, so much they both know is better left unspoken.
Just now, though, Elijah pats his back and lays his head on Billy’s shoulder. “He’s finally coming home, Bill. He’s coming home! Can you believe it?”
Billy finds himself holding Lij tenderly, thinking, This is my friend. This man is my friend. He’s been good to me. Better than I deserve, really.
“Whatcha thinking, Bills?” Elijah asks.
“Och, nothing much.” Billy pulls away a little, gazing into Lij’s remarkable eyes. There are shadows there, and a barely-concealed vulnerability. “Only that I appreciate all you’ve done for us. For me.”
“De nada,” Elijah answers, shrugging, blushing faintly—that very light pink that is all the colour his porcelain skin will consent to show—studying Billy in return. “You really look better, Billy. You freaked me out for a while there.”
Billy smiles slightly. He is better, he thinks, in small, strange ways. Still prone to moments of fear, still quieter than he ought to be, but whether it’s time or the drugs or the counselor he’s seen four times already, he feels capable, nearly always, of rational thought, not so prone to those distressing episodes of panic or rage. He’s in touch with the world around him, so that terrible, confusing time when he lost himself, though recent, now seems far away. “I am better, I think.”
“Well enough to have Dom here?” Elijah asks, pointedly. “I mean, honestly? He’s still gonna need a lot from us, Billy. His mom and dad will do a bunch, but he’ll need more than that. From you, especially. I’m not talking just physically. What you guys went through…”
“Lij,” Billy says softly.
“I’m just saying.”
“He can’t get better there. He needs to be here, with… With us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I do kinda get the impression he’s hanging on by his fingernails.” Elijah glances toward the window suddenly. “Hey, isn’t that…?”
Billy follows his gaze. The grey car Aureen and Austin have hired is pulling into the drive, and his heart begins to beat to fast, so fast Billy’s not sure if it’s telling him that he’s excited, or afraid—a bit of both, most likely.
Austin’s driving, and he parks close as possible to the door. There are sounds of the motor switching off, of the brake being set. Billy’s mouth goes dry suddenly, and as if alerted by some form of telepathy, Elijah passes him a bottle of water.
“Hey, man, don’t forget to breathe.”
Billy smiles faintly. “Aye, breathing. Always to be recommended.” He swigs from the bottle, but the water goes down the wrong pipe, leaving him coughing madly, whilst Elijah pounds his back.
By the time he gets over the fit and straightens again, Dom’s standing in the doorway, the slightest of smirks on his face, “Still suffering from that drinking problem, Bills? It’s the esophagus, not the trachea, you’re aiming for.”
“What’s that?” Billy’s voice comes out hoarse: he’s not certain if it’s from the mis-swallowed water, or emotion.
Dom smiles at him, a genuine Dom-smile, brighter than the sun and moon together, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Missed you, Bill,” he says, quietly.
Billy smiles back, unable to speak. He wraps his arms round Dom, holding him tenderly, keeping him close. Missed you too, Dommie. More than words can say, he’d like to respond—the sentiment, however banal, is nonetheless true. There aren’t words for how he’s feeling. There’s nothing in the world but Dom’s body pressed against his, so fragile now Billy wants nothing but to hold onto him and protect him forever.
Not that that’s a thing Dom would allow, ever. The holding, yes--but he’s uncomfortable with being protected, a fact Billy will need to remember. Still, he rubs his hand over Dom’s back, feeling the hard knobs of his spine, the sharp edges of shoulderblades and ribs.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers in Dom’s ear. “At least a little?”
Dom’s leaning against him then, quite hard. Harder than he expected, making Billy stagger back the slightest bit. Aureen steps in, her manner lovingly brisk. “Let’s get you sat down, love, before you crumple up from exhaustion.”
Billy gives him one more gentle squeeze, then moves to the side, keeping his arm round Dom’s waist, supporting him. “We’ve bought a very ugly chair for you, Dommie. Before you say anything, be aware that Elijah chose it.”
“It’s comfy!” Lij protests, making Dom laugh softly.
“Give us a kiss, Doodle. Missed you, too.” With Billy still holding onto him, Dom gives Elijah a loud smack on the cheek, rubbing the spot afterward softly with his thumb. “You’ve been the best of good mates, Doodlebug.”
Elijah turns away then, eyes filling. “Yeah, well, come sit in your new throne, King Dom, before we have to scrape you off the floor again.”
Dom and Billy exchange glances, and Billy thinks Dom looks a bit sad, but more than that, beyond weary. “Have a hard journey over?” Billy whispers.
“It was a bit…” Dom lets his voice trail off, shrugging one-sidedly. “I’m fine. Hurt a bit, traveling by car, but I’m fine. Would like to sit down, though.”
Austin moves in on Dom’s other side, helping to support him, and Dom stumbles into the lounge, obviously fighting for some semblance of his normal grace, lower lip caught beneath his teeth. He sinks into the new lounger (which is rust-coloured leather, but other than that, squashy and truly rather hideous) gratefully, leaning into the headrest.
Billy works the lever, tipping him back gently.
“Elijah, would you fetch some pillows?” Aureen asks. “And, Billy, a glass of milk? Dom has a few pills to take.”
“Mum,” Dom groans, sounding rather like a ten-year-old with a suspiciously deep voice.
“Dominic, we’ve talked about your schedule. Keep to it, or you’ll find yourself back in hospital faster than you can say ‘poor patient compliance.’ Which I hope you know I shan’t stand for.”
“Bills,” Dom mock-whines, “She’s pestering me.”
“And rightly so,” Billy answers, with an equally false sternness. In truth, Dom looks so tired he’s shaking, and his mouth is pale and tight with pain. He fetches the milk in a tall glass, as requested, coming back as Aureen’s counting out pills. There must be at least twenty there, in assorted shapes and colours, capsules and tablets.
Dom groans softly again, and Billy knows that isn’t assumed at all. He perches on the arm of the chair, holding the glass for his lover to drink, as Aureen feeds him the pills one by one—five or so, then a short rest, then five more, repeating the action until Dom’s done with the lot. He slumps in his seat, eyes closed, panting, as his mum kneels beside him.
“You all right, love?” she asks in a soft tone, clearly interpreting the same signs Billy sees: Dom looks bloody sick after all the pill-taking.
“Could I have some water, please?” Dom asks, tight-lipped.
Elijah hurries from the room, calling back over his shoulder, “On it.”
“Will you bring an icepack too, Elijah?” Aureen asks him, straightening.
Lij is back in seconds with the requested items, the plastic pack wrapped in a tea-towel. Aureen holds it against Dom’s throat gently.
“Helps with the nausea,” she explains. “Are you ready for your water, Dominic?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah. Sorry to be such a trouble.”
Billy sets the empty milk-glass on the floor, taking the water instead, holding the bottle as Dom sips slowly, swallows hard, sips again, obviously struggling against his rebellious stomach. In a few minutes, however, he seems to relax a little.
“’m gonna be okay,” he tells his mum, and Billy glances at her worriedly.
“Wonderful, love, that’s wonderful.” Aureen strokes back her son’s hair gently.
“Bloody pills,” Dom mutters. “Don’t tell me they’re for my own good.”
She bends down to kiss the crown of his head. “I won’t then, darling.”
“If I get sick,” Dom explains, “Have to start all over again. Not worth the trouble.” He grins a bit, but his face is still all pallor and shadows, slightly green about the lips. “I’m a little cold,” he says, smiling faintly as Elijah brings the light down throw from the sofa, spreading it over him. Dom shivers beneath the cover.
“Did you want me to stay with you, love, whilst you’re resting?” Aureen asks softly.
For a moment stubbornness flashes across Dom’s face, but the expression quickly fades. “Nah, not necessary. Why don’t you and dad get some lunch? Maybe take Doodle with you. Bills will stay here with me, won’t you, Billy?”
“Glad to do so,” Billy answers, happy to be given the opportunity to be alone with Dom, at the same moment a bolt of panic stabs through him. He orders it away sternly.
“Are you sure, son?” Austin asks solemnly. He normally has quite a cheerful face, but he looks older today, careworn.
“G’wan, dad,” Dom answers, with a slightly shaky smile. “Take your time. Enjoy!”
When the others have gone, Billy slides into the large chair beside him, edging Dom over carefully. Dom’s left arm is in plaster now, a cast from over his shoulder to just short of his fingers, elbow bent, wrist turned inward at an odd angle. The cast’s supported on the pillows Elijah brought, but it still looks heavy, painful. The plaster’s wrapped up in a blue elasticized tape, presumably to stop it from crumbling, or getting too dirty, and the colour reflects in Dom’s eyes, making them nearly blue as Elijah’s, though with a hectic glitter to them.
“How long’s that for, then?” Billy asks, but Dom only shakes his head slightly.
“Can’t talk just now, Bills.” He slumps a little in his seat, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder. Billy takes his right hand gently.
“You rest then, céile. Only rest, it’s what you need.”
It’s good to feel Dom’s weight, heavy against his chest. It’s good to hear Dom’s breathing so close to him, even if it is a little troubled. Billy’s drifting, nearly asleep himself, when Dom jerks forward, giving a sharp, choked cough. There’s a sour smell, a rush of hot wetness, a groan.
“Dommie?” Billy jerks back to awareness too, grabbing for the bin at the end of the sofa and shifting it into position before Dom can retch again, which he does, painfully, though there’s nothing in his stomach but milk and half-dissolved pills. The smell and the mess make Billy a bit queasy, but he holds the bin in place, his other hand resting on the back of Dom’s head gently. He’s heaving and heaving, but there’s nothing left for him to be sick with.
“Ah, God, Dommie,” Billy breathes, but he doubts Dom hears him. Nearly twenty minutes pass, by the pale blue numbers on the VCR, before Dom falls back again, breathing in shallow, rapid gasps.
“All finished?” Billy asks.
Dom’s too spent to answer. His hand’s pressed tightly against his chest, and the muscles on either side of his jaw are jumping. His head snaps forward again, and Billy gets the bin back into position, but nothing’s added to it but a thin trickle of saliva. There are times in his own life Billy’s felt deathly ill, but nothing like this. It worries him terribly.
“I’m going to ring your mum and dad,” he says, keeping a hand on Dom’s shoulder. He’s still hanging over the bin, making horrible, dry, choking sounds, his hair soaked, icy sweat trickling down his face and his neck.
Carefully, keeping the bin in place, Billy peels away the saturated coverlet, wadding it up on itself and carrying it off to the nearest of the bathrooms, tossing the bundle into the shower for the moment. After a second’s consideration, he strips off his shirt, which caught the worst of the mess, then his trousers, wetting a cloth at the taps for a quick, rough wash.
Feeling slightly less disgusting, he throws on a clean t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, then hurries into the lounge again. Dom’s slumped in his chair, still panting, but apparently done for the moment. Carefully, Billy extracts the bin from his lap, empties it down the loo, rinses it thoroughly in hot water, then rinses it again, shaking out the excess moisture before he flushes the toilet. In one of the cupboards, he finds a basin, in another a collection of towels and face flannels, which he carries back with him, swinging into the kitchen to fill the basin with warm water from the tap there.
Dom’s trying to wipe his face clean with his hand. He looks confused, revolted, absolutely shaken.
“Let’s get you tidied up, then,” Billy tells him, wetting one of the flannels, washing Dom’s face first, then his hand, before wringing the cloth out again. He’s no idea of how to get Dom out of his shirt without hurting him, but he manages in the end, peeling the sodden fabric up from Dom’s back, over his good arm, over his head, then down over the cast, carrying it into the bathroom to join the other soiled items. Luckily the coverlet caught the worst of everything, and Dom’s trousers were spared, so Billy won’t have to disturb Dom further to get him completely undressed.
Instead, he returns to wash Dom’s throat and chest carefully, crooning words to him that make no sense, that are only meant to be comforting, though Dom, at the moment, looks beyond comfort. Billy can’t tell if he’s shaking or shivering, but he appears entirely miserable, whichever it is.
“S-s-sorry,” Dom stammers. “S-so s-s-sorry, B-bills. Don’t h-hate me.”
“Don’t try to speak,” Billy tells him. “My poor love. I’d no idea you were feeling so sick.”
“Didn’t either,” Dom answers. “Need to lie down properly, Bill.”
“Aye, I can understand that, Dommie. In the bedroom?”
Dom nods briefly.
“Are you strong enough to make it there?”
“Not sure. Try though.”
Cautiously, Billy tips the chair to its upright position, steadying Dom with a hand on his shoulder, giving him a moment to adjust to sitting. Dom brushes Billy’s hand with his fingers to let him know he’s ready, but once he’s on his feet Billy‘s concerned he’ll faint again, without warning, too quickly for him to catch, and that in falling he’ll hurt himself.
Billy shakes the idea out of his head. Dom’s leaning on him—quite hard, it’s true, but still fully conscious. Billy’s able to move him into the bedroom without incident, and get Dom tucked into the bed, head raised on a mound of pillows until he’s all but sitting.
Billy perches beside him on the edge of the mattress. “Is that better?”
Dom gives a slight nod. “So, so, sorry, Bills.” He’s still shivering violently, and Billy pulls the duvet up around him warmly.
“Nothing to apologise for—unless you did it on purpose.”
That gets him a flicker of a smile. “Yeah, that’s it. For the fun of it all.”
“How’s the stomach?”
“Just… bloody. God, Billy. Thought I was over that bit. Don’t ring mum and dad. Let them have some time away, won’t you?”
“Dom.”
“I just… Such a burden.”
“No, Dommie.” Billy touches his cheek lightly. “You’re not. We love you.”
Dom’s eyes slip shut, and he quiets as his tiredness washes over him. Billy knows he should speak to Aureen, at least, and tell her what’s happened, but Dom looks peaceful enough for the moment, and he hates to leave him alone.
“Give us a cuddle?” comes Dom’s sleepy voice.
“Though you were out of it, having your kip.”
“Rather have my Billy.”
Billy moves close to him, sliding under the covers, wrapping his arms round Dom’s body, his chin resting on Dom’s shoulder.
“Good, tha’s good. Missed you, Billy.”
Billy holds him a little tighter. “Missed you too, y’ numpty. Only, say ‘sorry’ one more time and I’ll be forced to bite you.”
Dom gives a weak chuckle. “That’s my Bills. That’s my Billy.” He’s silent for a moment. “God, I smell awful.”
“Ssh, you’re all right. You’re all right, m’Dommie.”
As Dom falls into a leaden sleep in his arms, Billy only hopes that’s actually true.
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13, but a little medically squicky this time around.
Summary: the sequel to Lost. Dom comes home--to the rental house, at least, but things don't go quite as smoothly as planned.
Previous writings can be found at: Caraidean
Feedback: Very much appreciated. Hugs to all who've commented--it's greatly appreciated.
Disclaimers: Lies, lies, filthy lies.
Found, Part 19
Billy knows it’s ridiculous, really, to be so nervous. It’s only Dom coming home after all, not a houseload of foreign dignitaries arriving for a state visit, but he and Elijah have both begun to take their preparations to the point of absurdity, fluttering about pointlessly until they literally run into one another.
“Oops! Three Stooges moment!” Elijah’s giggling, grabbing Billy’s arms to maintain both their balances.
“Lucky we didn’t fall flat on our arses,” Billy laughs in return—but then he’s surprised, because Elijah’s hugging him suddenly, and it’s like they’re back in New Zealand (which, on reflection, they are, of course), as if they’ve gone back to the beginning, to the old days, when things were so much simpler. Half-surprised, Billy returns the embrace, holding then younger man close to him.
Elijah smells of dish soap and laundry softener, and his t-shirt is damp, his dark hair silky against Billy’s cheek.
It’s a moment of unexpected sweetness. All the more so because things have been, in a friendly-enough-seeming way, oddly strained between them the past few days. There’s so much they don’t speak about, so much they both know is better left unspoken.
Just now, though, Elijah pats his back and lays his head on Billy’s shoulder. “He’s finally coming home, Bill. He’s coming home! Can you believe it?”
Billy finds himself holding Lij tenderly, thinking, This is my friend. This man is my friend. He’s been good to me. Better than I deserve, really.
“Whatcha thinking, Bills?” Elijah asks.
“Och, nothing much.” Billy pulls away a little, gazing into Lij’s remarkable eyes. There are shadows there, and a barely-concealed vulnerability. “Only that I appreciate all you’ve done for us. For me.”
“De nada,” Elijah answers, shrugging, blushing faintly—that very light pink that is all the colour his porcelain skin will consent to show—studying Billy in return. “You really look better, Billy. You freaked me out for a while there.”
Billy smiles slightly. He is better, he thinks, in small, strange ways. Still prone to moments of fear, still quieter than he ought to be, but whether it’s time or the drugs or the counselor he’s seen four times already, he feels capable, nearly always, of rational thought, not so prone to those distressing episodes of panic or rage. He’s in touch with the world around him, so that terrible, confusing time when he lost himself, though recent, now seems far away. “I am better, I think.”
“Well enough to have Dom here?” Elijah asks, pointedly. “I mean, honestly? He’s still gonna need a lot from us, Billy. His mom and dad will do a bunch, but he’ll need more than that. From you, especially. I’m not talking just physically. What you guys went through…”
“Lij,” Billy says softly.
“I’m just saying.”
“He can’t get better there. He needs to be here, with… With us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I do kinda get the impression he’s hanging on by his fingernails.” Elijah glances toward the window suddenly. “Hey, isn’t that…?”
Billy follows his gaze. The grey car Aureen and Austin have hired is pulling into the drive, and his heart begins to beat to fast, so fast Billy’s not sure if it’s telling him that he’s excited, or afraid—a bit of both, most likely.
Austin’s driving, and he parks close as possible to the door. There are sounds of the motor switching off, of the brake being set. Billy’s mouth goes dry suddenly, and as if alerted by some form of telepathy, Elijah passes him a bottle of water.
“Hey, man, don’t forget to breathe.”
Billy smiles faintly. “Aye, breathing. Always to be recommended.” He swigs from the bottle, but the water goes down the wrong pipe, leaving him coughing madly, whilst Elijah pounds his back.
By the time he gets over the fit and straightens again, Dom’s standing in the doorway, the slightest of smirks on his face, “Still suffering from that drinking problem, Bills? It’s the esophagus, not the trachea, you’re aiming for.”
“What’s that?” Billy’s voice comes out hoarse: he’s not certain if it’s from the mis-swallowed water, or emotion.
Dom smiles at him, a genuine Dom-smile, brighter than the sun and moon together, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Missed you, Bill,” he says, quietly.
Billy smiles back, unable to speak. He wraps his arms round Dom, holding him tenderly, keeping him close. Missed you too, Dommie. More than words can say, he’d like to respond—the sentiment, however banal, is nonetheless true. There aren’t words for how he’s feeling. There’s nothing in the world but Dom’s body pressed against his, so fragile now Billy wants nothing but to hold onto him and protect him forever.
Not that that’s a thing Dom would allow, ever. The holding, yes--but he’s uncomfortable with being protected, a fact Billy will need to remember. Still, he rubs his hand over Dom’s back, feeling the hard knobs of his spine, the sharp edges of shoulderblades and ribs.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers in Dom’s ear. “At least a little?”
Dom’s leaning against him then, quite hard. Harder than he expected, making Billy stagger back the slightest bit. Aureen steps in, her manner lovingly brisk. “Let’s get you sat down, love, before you crumple up from exhaustion.”
Billy gives him one more gentle squeeze, then moves to the side, keeping his arm round Dom’s waist, supporting him. “We’ve bought a very ugly chair for you, Dommie. Before you say anything, be aware that Elijah chose it.”
“It’s comfy!” Lij protests, making Dom laugh softly.
“Give us a kiss, Doodle. Missed you, too.” With Billy still holding onto him, Dom gives Elijah a loud smack on the cheek, rubbing the spot afterward softly with his thumb. “You’ve been the best of good mates, Doodlebug.”
Elijah turns away then, eyes filling. “Yeah, well, come sit in your new throne, King Dom, before we have to scrape you off the floor again.”
Dom and Billy exchange glances, and Billy thinks Dom looks a bit sad, but more than that, beyond weary. “Have a hard journey over?” Billy whispers.
“It was a bit…” Dom lets his voice trail off, shrugging one-sidedly. “I’m fine. Hurt a bit, traveling by car, but I’m fine. Would like to sit down, though.”
Austin moves in on Dom’s other side, helping to support him, and Dom stumbles into the lounge, obviously fighting for some semblance of his normal grace, lower lip caught beneath his teeth. He sinks into the new lounger (which is rust-coloured leather, but other than that, squashy and truly rather hideous) gratefully, leaning into the headrest.
Billy works the lever, tipping him back gently.
“Elijah, would you fetch some pillows?” Aureen asks. “And, Billy, a glass of milk? Dom has a few pills to take.”
“Mum,” Dom groans, sounding rather like a ten-year-old with a suspiciously deep voice.
“Dominic, we’ve talked about your schedule. Keep to it, or you’ll find yourself back in hospital faster than you can say ‘poor patient compliance.’ Which I hope you know I shan’t stand for.”
“Bills,” Dom mock-whines, “She’s pestering me.”
“And rightly so,” Billy answers, with an equally false sternness. In truth, Dom looks so tired he’s shaking, and his mouth is pale and tight with pain. He fetches the milk in a tall glass, as requested, coming back as Aureen’s counting out pills. There must be at least twenty there, in assorted shapes and colours, capsules and tablets.
Dom groans softly again, and Billy knows that isn’t assumed at all. He perches on the arm of the chair, holding the glass for his lover to drink, as Aureen feeds him the pills one by one—five or so, then a short rest, then five more, repeating the action until Dom’s done with the lot. He slumps in his seat, eyes closed, panting, as his mum kneels beside him.
“You all right, love?” she asks in a soft tone, clearly interpreting the same signs Billy sees: Dom looks bloody sick after all the pill-taking.
“Could I have some water, please?” Dom asks, tight-lipped.
Elijah hurries from the room, calling back over his shoulder, “On it.”
“Will you bring an icepack too, Elijah?” Aureen asks him, straightening.
Lij is back in seconds with the requested items, the plastic pack wrapped in a tea-towel. Aureen holds it against Dom’s throat gently.
“Helps with the nausea,” she explains. “Are you ready for your water, Dominic?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah. Sorry to be such a trouble.”
Billy sets the empty milk-glass on the floor, taking the water instead, holding the bottle as Dom sips slowly, swallows hard, sips again, obviously struggling against his rebellious stomach. In a few minutes, however, he seems to relax a little.
“’m gonna be okay,” he tells his mum, and Billy glances at her worriedly.
“Wonderful, love, that’s wonderful.” Aureen strokes back her son’s hair gently.
“Bloody pills,” Dom mutters. “Don’t tell me they’re for my own good.”
She bends down to kiss the crown of his head. “I won’t then, darling.”
“If I get sick,” Dom explains, “Have to start all over again. Not worth the trouble.” He grins a bit, but his face is still all pallor and shadows, slightly green about the lips. “I’m a little cold,” he says, smiling faintly as Elijah brings the light down throw from the sofa, spreading it over him. Dom shivers beneath the cover.
“Did you want me to stay with you, love, whilst you’re resting?” Aureen asks softly.
For a moment stubbornness flashes across Dom’s face, but the expression quickly fades. “Nah, not necessary. Why don’t you and dad get some lunch? Maybe take Doodle with you. Bills will stay here with me, won’t you, Billy?”
“Glad to do so,” Billy answers, happy to be given the opportunity to be alone with Dom, at the same moment a bolt of panic stabs through him. He orders it away sternly.
“Are you sure, son?” Austin asks solemnly. He normally has quite a cheerful face, but he looks older today, careworn.
“G’wan, dad,” Dom answers, with a slightly shaky smile. “Take your time. Enjoy!”
When the others have gone, Billy slides into the large chair beside him, edging Dom over carefully. Dom’s left arm is in plaster now, a cast from over his shoulder to just short of his fingers, elbow bent, wrist turned inward at an odd angle. The cast’s supported on the pillows Elijah brought, but it still looks heavy, painful. The plaster’s wrapped up in a blue elasticized tape, presumably to stop it from crumbling, or getting too dirty, and the colour reflects in Dom’s eyes, making them nearly blue as Elijah’s, though with a hectic glitter to them.
“How long’s that for, then?” Billy asks, but Dom only shakes his head slightly.
“Can’t talk just now, Bills.” He slumps a little in his seat, resting his head on Billy’s shoulder. Billy takes his right hand gently.
“You rest then, céile. Only rest, it’s what you need.”
It’s good to feel Dom’s weight, heavy against his chest. It’s good to hear Dom’s breathing so close to him, even if it is a little troubled. Billy’s drifting, nearly asleep himself, when Dom jerks forward, giving a sharp, choked cough. There’s a sour smell, a rush of hot wetness, a groan.
“Dommie?” Billy jerks back to awareness too, grabbing for the bin at the end of the sofa and shifting it into position before Dom can retch again, which he does, painfully, though there’s nothing in his stomach but milk and half-dissolved pills. The smell and the mess make Billy a bit queasy, but he holds the bin in place, his other hand resting on the back of Dom’s head gently. He’s heaving and heaving, but there’s nothing left for him to be sick with.
“Ah, God, Dommie,” Billy breathes, but he doubts Dom hears him. Nearly twenty minutes pass, by the pale blue numbers on the VCR, before Dom falls back again, breathing in shallow, rapid gasps.
“All finished?” Billy asks.
Dom’s too spent to answer. His hand’s pressed tightly against his chest, and the muscles on either side of his jaw are jumping. His head snaps forward again, and Billy gets the bin back into position, but nothing’s added to it but a thin trickle of saliva. There are times in his own life Billy’s felt deathly ill, but nothing like this. It worries him terribly.
“I’m going to ring your mum and dad,” he says, keeping a hand on Dom’s shoulder. He’s still hanging over the bin, making horrible, dry, choking sounds, his hair soaked, icy sweat trickling down his face and his neck.
Carefully, keeping the bin in place, Billy peels away the saturated coverlet, wadding it up on itself and carrying it off to the nearest of the bathrooms, tossing the bundle into the shower for the moment. After a second’s consideration, he strips off his shirt, which caught the worst of the mess, then his trousers, wetting a cloth at the taps for a quick, rough wash.
Feeling slightly less disgusting, he throws on a clean t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, then hurries into the lounge again. Dom’s slumped in his chair, still panting, but apparently done for the moment. Carefully, Billy extracts the bin from his lap, empties it down the loo, rinses it thoroughly in hot water, then rinses it again, shaking out the excess moisture before he flushes the toilet. In one of the cupboards, he finds a basin, in another a collection of towels and face flannels, which he carries back with him, swinging into the kitchen to fill the basin with warm water from the tap there.
Dom’s trying to wipe his face clean with his hand. He looks confused, revolted, absolutely shaken.
“Let’s get you tidied up, then,” Billy tells him, wetting one of the flannels, washing Dom’s face first, then his hand, before wringing the cloth out again. He’s no idea of how to get Dom out of his shirt without hurting him, but he manages in the end, peeling the sodden fabric up from Dom’s back, over his good arm, over his head, then down over the cast, carrying it into the bathroom to join the other soiled items. Luckily the coverlet caught the worst of everything, and Dom’s trousers were spared, so Billy won’t have to disturb Dom further to get him completely undressed.
Instead, he returns to wash Dom’s throat and chest carefully, crooning words to him that make no sense, that are only meant to be comforting, though Dom, at the moment, looks beyond comfort. Billy can’t tell if he’s shaking or shivering, but he appears entirely miserable, whichever it is.
“S-s-sorry,” Dom stammers. “S-so s-s-sorry, B-bills. Don’t h-hate me.”
“Don’t try to speak,” Billy tells him. “My poor love. I’d no idea you were feeling so sick.”
“Didn’t either,” Dom answers. “Need to lie down properly, Bill.”
“Aye, I can understand that, Dommie. In the bedroom?”
Dom nods briefly.
“Are you strong enough to make it there?”
“Not sure. Try though.”
Cautiously, Billy tips the chair to its upright position, steadying Dom with a hand on his shoulder, giving him a moment to adjust to sitting. Dom brushes Billy’s hand with his fingers to let him know he’s ready, but once he’s on his feet Billy‘s concerned he’ll faint again, without warning, too quickly for him to catch, and that in falling he’ll hurt himself.
Billy shakes the idea out of his head. Dom’s leaning on him—quite hard, it’s true, but still fully conscious. Billy’s able to move him into the bedroom without incident, and get Dom tucked into the bed, head raised on a mound of pillows until he’s all but sitting.
Billy perches beside him on the edge of the mattress. “Is that better?”
Dom gives a slight nod. “So, so, sorry, Bills.” He’s still shivering violently, and Billy pulls the duvet up around him warmly.
“Nothing to apologise for—unless you did it on purpose.”
That gets him a flicker of a smile. “Yeah, that’s it. For the fun of it all.”
“How’s the stomach?”
“Just… bloody. God, Billy. Thought I was over that bit. Don’t ring mum and dad. Let them have some time away, won’t you?”
“Dom.”
“I just… Such a burden.”
“No, Dommie.” Billy touches his cheek lightly. “You’re not. We love you.”
Dom’s eyes slip shut, and he quiets as his tiredness washes over him. Billy knows he should speak to Aureen, at least, and tell her what’s happened, but Dom looks peaceful enough for the moment, and he hates to leave him alone.
“Give us a cuddle?” comes Dom’s sleepy voice.
“Though you were out of it, having your kip.”
“Rather have my Billy.”
Billy moves close to him, sliding under the covers, wrapping his arms round Dom’s body, his chin resting on Dom’s shoulder.
“Good, tha’s good. Missed you, Billy.”
Billy holds him a little tighter. “Missed you too, y’ numpty. Only, say ‘sorry’ one more time and I’ll be forced to bite you.”
Dom gives a weak chuckle. “That’s my Bills. That’s my Billy.” He’s silent for a moment. “God, I smell awful.”
“Ssh, you’re all right. You’re all right, m’Dommie.”
As Dom falls into a leaden sleep in his arms, Billy only hopes that’s actually true.
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Real comment to follow. I'm still here, sorta. Guilt brings this on. Off to read.
Pip
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http://www.livejournal.com/community/monaboyd/794217.html - Part 1
http://www.livejournal.com/community/monaboyd/800100.html - Part 2
a very busy Pip
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Poor Dommie I wish he was feeling better now that he's home, will that happen soon? I just want to hug the stuffing out of both of them, and Elijah, I hope my friends will be as steadfast for me.
Sema have you decided yet how many chapters there will be?
Thanks for the up date! **LOVES**
Love,Cindy
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From: (Anonymous)
just amazing
sistersluge
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*sigh*
*love and hugs*
That, my friend, was lovely.
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This is just beautiful and a little sad, but so sweet and realistic and perfect and lovely and [insert multitudinous praise here].
I loved it, in other words, and want some more. Thank you!
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Sob! Dommie is puir sick Dommie!
“Give us a kiss, Doodle. Missed you, too.” With Billy still holding onto him, Dom gives Elijah a loud smack on the cheek, rubbing the spot afterward softly with his thumb. “You’ve been the best of good mates, Doodlebug.”
That was such a sweet little bit. Elijah getting a kiss. He really has been the best of good mates.
But ultimately it comes down to this:
“Give us a cuddle?” comes Dom’s sleepy voice.
“Though you were out of it, having your kip.”
“Rather have my Billy.”
Soooooo sweet. Thanks Sema
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Oh yeah. I LOVED the Billy and Elijah moment and it just made me CRY.
Oh, and also. I had just started eating my breakfast when Dom threw up for 20 minutes. Thanks. ;D
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so happy he's home...hope it lasts, can't take another relapse
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Once again, brilliant as always. I am so scared though for Dommie. I so want him to get better, but it is like he is walking in sand. For every step forward, he slids back, never really moving forward.
*loves*
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Your story, you write it how you will...*cough*have-an-alternate-ending-if-he-dies*cough* >_>
Your story, you write it how you will...*cough*have-an-alternate-ending-if-he-dies*cough* >_> <_< >_>
=D *scampers off*
*scampers back* Still loving it to pieces!
<small>I swear that isn't me in my icon...that's...uh...A fig nuton of your imagination.</small> <_< >_> *scampers off again*
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Not that that’s a thing Dom would allow, ever. The holding, yes--but he’s uncomfortable with being protected, a fact Billy will need to remember.
And there is the heart of the problem, yeah?
Lovely as ever. Loving it, as ever. =)
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Poor Dom. He just can't catch a break can he?
Great job.
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How did I get two chapters behind already, anyway? I'd best rush off to the next one -- I'm under strict orders to be in bed by 3am and I won't be able to sleep if I know I haven't read it all.
Gorgeous, as always. *applauds*
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Loved this bit:
Billy finds himself holding Lij tenderly, thinking, This is my friend. This man is my friend. He’s been good to me. Better than I deserve, really.
“Whatcha thinking, Bills?” Elijah asks.
“Och, nothing much.” Billy pulls away a little
The Billy/Elijah dynamic is just so sad...
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