Story: Not All (R) Monaboyd

[kronette.livejournal.com]

Title: Not All
Author: Hazel Thicket
Pairing: Monaboyd, Dom/Lij (implied)
Rating: R
Summary: She watches them from her window.
Feedback: Always appreciated to hazelthicket”@”kcnet.com
Disclaimer: Nope, not them, not me, nobody I know, nobody you know. This didn’t happen.
Author’s Notes: This quickly became an obsession: how to get the #@!(#)* POV and tenses right. My first challenge story, and one of the hardest things I’ve attempted. For the lotrpschallenge #16. Thanks to Javelin Hack for the beta.

Not All

She peeks out the window again, wondering which one will show tonight.

Lacy almost feels sorry for the tousled-blond man, toying with his always-present wrist cuff. He’s been sitting on his car trunk for over half an hour, waiting outside the hotel. This is the third time this week she’s seen the Englishman, which isn’t all that unusual, but he normally doesn’t have to wait long if he’s the first to arrive.

Once a week, sometimes less, sometimes more, he meets with either a barely-legal-looking American or a slightly older guy with a similar accent…Irish? Scottish? She doesn’t really care, as long as she can watch them grope each other from the comfort of her living room.

She licks her lips as she remembers the dark-haired American. He’s fucking gorgeous in that ‘big eyes/long limbs/high enthusiasm’ sort of way. He dresses about as wild as the Englishman, though his hairstyle changes just about every time she sees him. Blondie keeps his pretty much the same: tousled in a deliberate way, the roots darker than the ends.

The older, not-quite-English man isn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but he has something about him. He’s got a quieter manner than the other two, though he’s probably the most intense of them all. That’s how she sees it, anyway. He dresses more conservatively than the other two men, though nothing near business-like. None of the three gives her that vibe.

A sound draws her attention back to the window, but the Englishman is still by himself. Just when Lacy thinks the guy is going to have to use that hotel room by himself, a familiar car pulls in next to his. With a wicked grin, she settles herself down in her armchair as the older, not-quite-English man gets out of the car and walks over to the suddenly very happy blond man.

Her eyes stray to n-q-E man’s hands, where he’s fiddling with his keys. His face has an odd expression – she gets the feeling he’s not sure if he wants to stay. Fine with her if he leaves; she has dibs on an American-English cohabitation at some point in the future.

Then the moment’s gone, and blondie engulfs the older man in a hug. Lacy’s anticipating the usual banter, kiss and disappearance into the hotel, but then the older guy pulls back, and the other man sort of lets his arms hang there – pitifully. She sits up, intrigued. She can see they’re talking, but it’s just a low murmur from where she is. Snippets drift to her open window, growing in volume as the discussion heats up:

“…I care for him, too.”

What’s this? A lover’s quarrel? She wonders if this is about the American. Or, God, if blondie is fucking three people…

The older man crosses his arms over his chest and bows his head. She’s sure he’s still talking, but can’t hear a damn thing. Why can’t they be closer? Why can’t she have one of those spy-dish-things that hears a mouse sneezing in China?

She watches avidly as the blond man closes the gap between them, gently prying the crossed arms down to the older man’s sides and clasping his hands. “…important to me, Billy.”

Don’t squeal, Lacy, she tells herself as she grips her chair. Just because after all these months, one of the three guys finally gives a name is no reason to reveal her presence. Billy. Billy…it suits him, she supposes. She moves to the edge of her chair, hoping to catch the blond’s name.

Billy, the artist formerly known as the not-quite-English man, stares hard at the blond man, the wetness in his eyes shining from the streetlamps. “…long have you been doing this to both of us?”

She sniggers in glee. It looks like blondie is caught with his hands in both cookie jars. Either the youngest one found out about this little triangle and went to the not-quite–damn, she’s going to have to wrap her brain around names – Billy, or he discovered it on his own. That gives her hope for the American, if the building anger in Billy’s expression is any indication.

The blond suddenly looks as old as Billy does; tired and defeated. The Englishman’s face is crest-fallen as he releases the other man’s hands. “I don’t see it as ‘doing’ anything to either of you.”

“You’re fucking him and you’re fucking me, therefore you’re ‘doing’ something to both of us!” Billy yells, getting in the Englishman’s face. “Why, Dom? Explain to me why.”

Her head spins as two revelations hit her at once. Scottish. That’s what the not-quite-English accent is! She’s been trying to place it forever, but now that they’re screaming, it’s easy to make out. Then there’s the blond’s name: Dom. It fits with her theory that he’s in a band; after all, what sort of name is Dom if he’s not a rock star?

Dom, she thinks, who’s been impatiently waiting for this man to show up tonight. Dom, who’s probably rubbed the skin of his wrist raw. Dom, who stumbles back as though he’s been punched, but she doesn’t see any clenched fists. It takes her a moment to realize he’s reacting to Billy’s harsh words.

She always suspected when this night came – when one of the guys discovers Dom is cheating on him – it would end dramatically, and she’d get a good show. So far, it’s pretty dramatic, only…she doesn’t feel like cheering. It starts to sink in that these are two real men, not just hot guy-on-guy action for her amusement. These are two lives – no, make that three – that are being decided right now.

She feels a pang in her chest as Dom fights back tears. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I love both of you, so I can’t choose. Can’t it stay this way, Billy? Can’t you accept this?”

She sits back as Billy’s face goes blank and his eyes settle into narrow strips of glittering ice. Even from this distance, she’s afraid of what the Scotsman will do.

Dom takes a step back and trembles, but doesn’t get a chance to say a word as Billy snaps, “This is not love. This is fucking your best mates. If you loved either of us, you’d be with one of us. You’d make a choice.”

“I do love you,” the younger man wails, a few tears finally escaping down his face. “I love Elijah differently than I love you, but it’s still love.”

Any elation she would have felt at hearing the last name in this triangle is overpowered by her growing shame at watching this drama unfold. Granted, they shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the road, but that doesn’t curb her feeling of guilt.

She’s a little shaken as Billy’s expression darkens even more. “It’s not possible for a human being to love two people at the same time.”

“Why not? Just because conventional stereotypes say so? That’s bullshit.” She gasps as Dom grabs the older man around the neck and pulls him in for a throat-cleansing kiss. Billy shoves against Dom’s chest, intently at first, then gradually relaxes until his arms come around the other man, fingers burying deep into his hair.

They stay lip-locked for a long time as hands dig into jeans and up shirts. Her breathing starts to hitch as hips start to work against hips, and it looks like they’re going for it, right in the street. She bites her lip but can’t tear her eyes away, finally able to see what she’s only imagined until now. From mildly curious to intensely needful, her little window watching has turned into something bigger than her; bigger than the two of them outside, not caring who can see them.

She groans softly as she realizes Billy has his hand fisted around the other man’s hard cock, twisting and sliding him to completion. She struggles not to touch herself – though the sounds Dom is making are driving her insane.

The younger man catches his breath – which is more than she gets – before he places his open mouth on Billy’s neck and does something to make the other man groan. Dom’s hands are down the other man’s jeans, one in front and one in back. Billy’s hips are thrusting back and forth, his gasps filling the empty sounds of the late night as he comes. She’s so enthralled by the Scotsman – why didn’t she think him gorgeous before? – that the agonized sounds he makes startle her. They aren’t pleasure-filled, and she wonders if Dom notices.

They hold onto each other in the stillness following their climactic frenzy. She tingles all over, despite the fact that she restrained from touching herself to keep watching. She’s breathing as hard as they seem to be, yet she feels tears prick her eyes.

Billy pulls away and fastens himself up, not looking at Dom as he does the same. When they are proper again, the elder kisses the younger man softly. Even from her position half-hidden in the shadows of her house, it looks like a good-bye kiss. It must feel like one, as Dom starts openly crying.

“Don’t, Billy. Please don’t make me choose.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t choose me?” the Scotsman challenges.

She flinches at the expression on Dom’s face. It’s the ‘just slapped’ look, a sucker-punch, and there’s no need to voice an answer, because the looks and tears say it all.

Tears begin to slip down Billy’s face as well, and she feels some of her own beginning to form. She realizes then that she looks forward to their meetings, trying to guess which will show up, who will have the more intense greeting, and who will be the last to leave in the morning. And yeah, admit it already Lacy, she gets up early just to see Dom kiss whichever one goodbye, eyes sleepy and hair still tousled from their night together.

“Guess that’s my answer, then,” Billy says. He turns to leave, and the younger man takes a few steps after him, but doesn’t say anything. She’s sure this is it; end of the road, good-night, looks like the American wins. Or do they all lose?

She jumps and squeaks as Dom suddenly screams, “I want you, Billy Boyd!” into the night, startling a few dogs awake.

The barking almost has her yelling, as it drowns out the conversation. She leans out the window, straining to hear anything, but between the dogs and watching the by-play, she can’t make out anything.

Lacy flinches as Billy storms back over to the other man, eyes blazing. She’s sure that a punch will be thrown this time and nothing will be salvaged from this night. But Dom is determined, eyes flashing and hands animated. It looks like he might be getting through to the other man, but no. She sighs as Billy shakes his head a few times. Whatever Dom’s saying isn’t enough, and she feels her heart begin to pound in her chest.

Then Dom’s holding Billy back from walking away. Billy wretches away from him, and even from this distance, she can see that his arms are shaking. Dom’s yelling something at him that she can’t hear, but she doesn’t dare lean any further out the window.

Just then, the dogs still, and in the quiet, “…fucking truth!” completes the sentence.

Truth? What more truth is there? She sits up like an eager child, waiting for a bedtime story.

Dom is breathing hard, face flushed, hands trembling. “I’m with Elijah because he’s safe. He doesn’t want a commitment. He’s free to see other people, and so am I. We don’t have any strings keeping us together; we just are.” Her eyes go wide as he steps forward and clasps Billy’s hands again. “You’re not safe, Billy Boyd. You want a commitment, something you can tangibly hold and say ‘yes, I’m with this person’. You want the life-long companion, someone who knows all of you and doesn’t hate the nasty parts. You want someone willing to live where you are, someone who will be there 24/7, someone unlike me. You want everything. And I wasn’t sure I was ready for everything.”

It sounds like a line, but somehow she knows it isn’t. One thing that Dom has always done, is wear his heart on his sleeve. It’s why she started watching him in the first place. For him to be able to keep his level of love for Billy in check is astounding. But, she also suspects that Dom has feelings for the young American, who isn’t here to witness this breakthrough. What will happen to him?

Billy’s expression is soft as he replies, but the damn dogs start in again. She gives serious thought to setting them loose, just so they yap in someone else’s neighborhood.

Thankfully, she doesn’t appear to have missed too much as Dom steps even closer, arms circling the older man. “I’m sure that I want you in my life. I’m sure that I love you. I also know that I can’t be everything for you.”

She can count a thousand heartbeats in the time it takes Billy to answer, and her fingernails are in serious danger of extinction. She wants to scream, “Take him back!” but she’s pretty sure that they wouldn’t appreciate having an audience for the past few hours, though she doubts she’s the only one awake and listening by this time. And when did she switch allegiances? Wasn’t she for the American-English cohabitation earlier this evening? When did the Scotsman sneak under her skin?

Speaking of whom, Billy’s arms come around the other man, pulling him in for a soft kiss. She hears herself sigh and mentally slaps herself. Don’t get sappy, Lacy warns herself, but knows it’s too late.

“I need you in my life, Dom. I love you too much not to need you every single day. You’re already everything to me. Nothing can change that.” Billy’s voice gets harder as he adds, “Not even if you’d chosen Elijah or someone else.”

She falls back in her chair in shock. What the fuck? Did Billy plan all this just to get Dom to admit his feelings for him? If so, the fucking asshole is brilliant. It’s not like this has been a few days, or even a few weeks coming. She first remembers seeing them months ago.

Poor Dom looks completely sideswiped, not that she can blame him. “Then, why…?”

Billy grows serious again, eyes flashing with emotion. “Do you know how much it hurt finding out that you were fucking Elijah? To know that I wasn’t enough for you? It made me feel old and incredibly naive. That I could’ve tamed the great Dom Monaghan into a monogamous relationship was a foolish dream.”

She snorts. Not exactly a surprising revelation – Dom has trouble committing. The man has been fucking two people for months – obviously, he can’t make a choice. And the wily Scotsman found a way to force Dom to choose. Her respect for Billy raises a few more notches, and she doesn’t feel bad about her switched allegiances anymore. Okay, not as much.

It seems to take Dom awhile to catch up with the conversation. Lacy watches all these emotions cross his face, and she feels herself grinning as he gets it: Confusion, anger, fear, understanding and finally, happiness. “Are you—are you saying you’re willing to stay with me?” 

“I’m saying that I’d like to try a real relationship, instead of this,” Billy replies, indicating the hotel behind them. “No more, all right? We do this proper.”

Dom nods once, his happiness fading to concern. “I’m sorry, Billy. So fucking sorry,” he says as their foreheads touch. “I took what I thought I could get, not believing that you might want something more. God, I love you so much.”

That declaration is sealed with a deep, soul-bending kiss. Hands muss hair, fingers trace over jaws and cheeks, bodies crush against one another.

She finds herself sighing again. When did she become such a sap? When did guy-on-guy action become sweet? She shakes her head. She has to find another hobby.

When they break apart, fingers laced together, they are both smiling. They murmur to each other, get into their respective cars, and drive off.

She sighs again, chin resting on her folded arms on the windowsill. Dom and Billy have their happy ending, but not all endings are happy, because the American is still out there, unaware of what went down tonight. Maybe watching isn’t so bad; she doesn’t have to deal with any of the consequences this way.

With a yawn, she closes the window and heads for bed.

The End

 

Comments

[lillywhite1.livejournal.com]

Wonderful. You had me on the edge of my seat the whole time. I like Lacy, too. Nice work.

[kronette.livejournal.com]

Thank you! It was an odd challenge, because I always write from 3rd person - but always as one of the main characters. It ended up pretty cool, though.