Fic: "Infinite Possibilities" (part 3) for [livejournal.com profile] dizzydame in the 200

Dec. 31st, 2009 12:00 pm
[identity profile] slashababy-mod.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] slashababy
Title: Infinite Possibilities, part 3
Recipient: [livejournal.com profile] dizzydame
Author: [livejournal.com profile] elmathelas
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Mod Note: Because of its length, this story is posted in three parts: for story notes, see part 1.

part 1 | part 2

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.


8.

Margaret had been taking a quiche out of the oven when they walked in, and the three of them had eaten together, Dom carrying most of the conversation, telling Margaret stories about growing up in Germany and then moving to Manchester. Most of them were stories Billy hadn't heard yet, and he was grateful that Dom was keeping them both amused throughout dinner. He caught Margaret looking at him once or twice, a certain twist to her mouth that said she knew that something was going on but she wasn't going to press.

He and Dom did the washing up while Margaret retired to the living room, hips touching as they stood at the sink.

"We have to talk about what happened," Dom said, quietly, as he smoothed a sheet of cling film over the top of the remaining quiche.

"What happened is that BJ is being a dick," Billy said.

"Am I breaking up the band, Billy?" Dom looked stricken.

"He's full of shit," Billy said.

"I'm not asking if he's full of shit or not, because clearly, he is. But what he said aside. Am I breaking up Foreign Country?"

Billy shook his head. "No. If BJ throws a fit and leaves, that's his problem, not yours."

"But it would still be precipitated by my presence." He leaned against the fridge while Billy wiped down the worktop.

Billy hung the cloth over the tap and turned around, wiping his hands on his jeans. "I can't argue that, I suppose," he said slowly. The fact that Dom, as an outsider, saw the band breaking up as the most likely outcome made his stomach sink. "But if that's the attitude he's going to take, we're well shot of him."

"You've been together for seven years," Dom pointed out.

"And we've had more success than we might have expected," Billy agreed. "We've had fun. But if BJ is going to be a prick over what I do with my time outside the band, then fuck him. We've had one successful record and one album that looks like it's going to do well. Maybe that's the size of it."

"I don't like this," Dom said simply.

"Neither do I," Billy said, sighing deeply. "But this is one fight, okay? It's one disagreement among many small disagreements over the years. I'll see them again next week, maybe John will have talked some sense into BJ by then."

"OK." They both turned as Margaret walked into the room.

"I'm off to Sharron's," she said, picking up her purse. "Don't wait up."

They both said goodnight, and she winked at Dom, who blushed from his chin to his hairline.

Billy waited until the door had shut to speak.

"You know what this means?" he asked, stepping forward to hook his fingers into Dom's belt loops.

"What?" Dom said, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"You don't have to worry about being quiet," Billy said.

"Oh, I don't have to worry about being quiet?" Dom said, stepping closer so they were pressed together. "What about you?"

"I am the very model of discretion," Billy said.

"And you really think an orgasm is going to make me feel better?" Dom asked.

"It might take more than one," Billy said seriously.

"We'd better get to it then," Dom said, taking Billy's wrist and pulling him towards the stairs. At the top of the stairs Billy tried to pull him into the bedroom but Dom resisted.

"Wait," he said, "I've been riding a bike around the city all day, I'm not letting you get my kit off without a shower. Whore's bath, at least."

Billy thought about Dom, freshly scrubbed, pink and warm, something he'd only seen as Dom was hurrying away from him, and tugged him towards the shower.

"Get in," he said, "I'll get some towels."

The tub wasn't large, but it was big enough for two men if both of them were rather on the small side. Billy set the towels on the edge of the sink and started to undress as he watched Dom though the translucent shower curtain. He was standing with his face in the spray, head tilted back, and as Billy watched he bowed his head forward, letting the water wash over the crown of his head.

"I can feel you staring at me," Dom said, not turning his head. "Can you tell me which shampoo is yours?"

"I can do better than that," Billy said, pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the pile of his jeans and boxers. He opened the curtain at the back of the tub and stepped in, closing the curtain carefully behind himself. Dom looked at him over his shoulder, but didn't turn around. "Mine is in this thing," Billy said, coming up behind him, reaching forward to the wire basket that hung over the shower head. "Sorry." He let himself press up against Dom's wet warm back.

"Don't apologise," Dom said quietly as Billy closed his hand around the bottle.

"Trade places with me," Billy said, wrapping his arms around Dom, gently turning him towards the curtain so it was Billy's back that ended up being pressed into the cold shower wall for a moment. Billy took a moment to soak his own hair, then poured some shampoo into his palm. Dom made a small pleased noise when Billy worked his fingers through Dom's hair, scrubbing gently at Dom's scalp.

"Feels nice," Dom said, tilting his head back far enough that Billy could see his hairline. He carefully slicked Dom's hair back, trying not to get soap in his eyes. When he had worked the soap through every inch of Dom's hair he slid his hands down Dom's chest, pulling him tight against him, shivering despite the hot water at his back. The space between them was filled with a slick hot layer of water, and as he slid his hands down Dom's stomach it was hard to tell where he began and Dom began. He wrapped one hand around Dom's cock and slid it along, twisting his wrist, loosening his grip just as Dom started to thrust into his hand, teasing him.

"Billy," Dom whined.

"Not now," Billy warned him, gently cupping his sack, sliding his fingers along the thin skin, then reaching down, washing the insides of his thighs. Dom whimpered and leaned his head back against Billy's chest.

"Need something, soon," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear.

"Alright, just turn round," Billy said, guiding him again so he could stand under the water. Billy quickly soaped up his own hair while Dom stood under the spray, suds running down his chest. He tilted his hips up to let the water rinse off the last of the soap, then turned towards the spray, letting it wash over his face.

Billy carefully opened the curtain at the back of the tub and flattened himself against the wall, guiding Dom past him.

"Just going to rinse off quick," Billy said, "I'll meet you in there." Dom just nodded as he stepped out of the tub.

Billy gave himself a quick wash as he stood under the shower, thinking of Dom waiting for him in his room, on his bed, and he hurried to turn the water off.

Dom was sitting against the headboard when Billy got into the room, his damp hair standing up in spikes.

"Hey," he said, jumping up, cock bobbing distractingly as he moved, "come here." He grasped the front of the towel Billy had wrapped around his waist and pulled him to the edge of the bed. "Sit down right there."

"You being bossy tonight?" Billy asked.

"Yeah," Dom said, not a moment's hesitation, "you mind?"

"No," Billy said, surprised to find that he didn't.

"OK then." Dom opened the towel and dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, looking up at Billy once he was settled on the floor, his hands resting lightly on Billy's thighs. "Been thinking about this for a while, Billy," Dom said, "can I?"

"Yes," Billy said, feeling like he'd explode if Dom didn't get on with it and touch him already.

"Good." Dom inched closer, wrapped one hand around the base of Billy's cock and pulled his skin tight, making him throb, hot dry needy feeling seeming to cover him in the seconds it took for Dom to lower his mouth, flicker his tongue out against the shining head, circling around once before he slid his mouth over Billy's cock.

Billy shook, his hips stuttering closer to the edge of the bed, to Dom. Dom reached up with his free hand and held on to Billy's hipbone, then slid his arm back further, wrapped his forearm around Billy's lower back and grasped him by the opposite hip, digging his fingers in as Billy tried to press forward again.

Billy was trying to control himself, trying not to choke Dom, but the way he was taking Billy in his mouth, the unabashed way he was bobbing his head, letting the head of Billy's cock hit the soft inside of his cheek one moment, the firm surface of his palate the next was unlike any other blowjob he'd ever received in his life. Dom loosened his mouth, let his tongue swirl up against the underside of Billy's cock, then pulled back, looking up at him as he slowly dragged his loose fist up and down the shaft.

"Watch yourself, now," Dom said softly, pulling Billy even closer to the edge of the bed, arm pressing against his arse as he slid him. "Gonna make you feel good."

"You are," Billy said.

Dom looked up at him, his eyes full of wicked promise. "Just wait." This time when he slid his mouth down over Billy's cock he didn't stop, didn't pause, just let the head of Billy's cock push and slide against the soft back of his throat, then angled his head and pushed down, slow and steady, enveloping him in hot, tight, wet. Billy's head fell back, eyes closed, not knowing anything but the feeling of Dom's mouth and Dom's arm around him, one hand digging in to his hip, the other pressed flat against his thigh. Dom's arm tightened around him, encouraging him, moving him just the smallest bit forward and Billy's body responded, rolling his hips forward, pressing deeper just as Dom moved his head forward, nose bumping into Billy's pubic bone, then pulling back. Dom's hand slid over his thigh to cup his sack, rolling his balls minutely in his fingers as they seemed to draw up tighter, gathering close to his body as a sort of bright white heat gathered in his back, in his cock, racing in disjointed streams over the top of his legs, all of it nearly coalescing into something but not quite. Then Dom hummed, a low sound, vibrating his throat around Billy's cock, and Billy cried out, one sharp high sound as everything got a little closer, a little tighter. When Dom started swallowing, slow rippling squeeze of his throat around Billy's cock, he came, one throbbing pulse after another, hands coming to rest lightly on Dom's head as he moaned.

Dom pulled back slowly, bringing his hand up to help ease Billy's softening cock out of his mouth, guiding him so he didn't hit teeth. Dom stood up, took one look at Billy, and hooked his arms under Billy's to move him back on the bed.

"I can move," Billy said, his voice indistinct, almost slurred.

"Of course you can," Dom said, his own voice rough, and the thought of why that was made something in Billy's stomach shake, trembling towards something more even though it was far too soon for him to even think about getting hard again.

"Well go ahead then," Dom said after Billy had sat there for a moment. Billy shakily moved himself up towards the head of the bed, pulling the covers down so he could sit on the sheets with his back against the headboard. Dom settled in beside him, looped an arm around his waist, his fingers tracing over the place he'd held on to Billy's hip. "Think that's going to leave a mark," he said softly.

"It's alright," Billy said, turning his head to find that Dom's face was already near. When he kissed him he was surprised that Dom's lips didn't feel different, softer or bruised. There was no strong taste in his mouth, just the smallest hint of something different, something a little saltier than Dom's normal taste. He pressed harder, pushing his tongue past Dom's teeth, tracing along the ridges of his palate, looking for some trace of himself there.

"Swallowed it all," Dom said, smirking against Billy's lips as he pulled back. "Didn't leave you a drop. Though I suppose I could do, next time."

"Kinky bugger," Billy said, lips brushing against Dom's mouth.

"You don't know the half of it," Dom said, grinning as he reached up, cupping the back of Billy's head, splaying his fingers out to pull him close. Billy shivered, realising that really, he didn't know the half of it, and from some of the surreptitious research he had done it seemed that there might be a hell of a lot to know.

Dom released his hold on Billy's head, let them part, and smiled at him, fondly, gently, as if he could read Billy's mind.

"Can't do what you did," Billy said.

"I'd be surprised if you could," Dom said.

Billy let his hand travel down Dom's chest, across the softer plane of his stomach until he felt his cock, so hard it was practically flat against his body. Billy slipped his fingers underneath, stroked without actually circling his fingers around, watched as Dom's pupils got wider, impossibly thin ring of blue all that was left of his iris.

"There is one thing I can do that you can't," he said, running his thumb up the shaft, coming to rest just under the head, pressing gently against Dom's frenulum.

Dom looked at him, pupils blown, mouth wet and slack, the picture of debauchery. "What's that?"

Billy took his hand away, smiling as Dom whimpered. "You'll see." He knelt on the bed, then turned so he was facing Dom. "Spread your legs apart." Dom did as he asked, knees falling open as he slid his feet apart. Billy gently adjusted the leg that was nearer to him, then straddled it, walking towards Dom on his knees. He reached down and gently cupped Dom's sack, holding it steady while he inched nearer until his knee was snugged up against Dom's arse, then let go, sure now that he wouldn't accidentally crush anything sensitive when he moved. Dom was already slouching against the headboard; Billy grasped his hips and encouraged him to slouch just a little bit more, then leaned over him, testing the angle. He pressed a quick kiss to Dom's mouth, smiling as Dom tried to follow him, searching for more. "No, I've got to be over here, Dommie," he said. He wrapped his left hand around Dom's prick, gently pulling it forward, flicked his thumb over the frenulum again. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked. "I want to show you something." He took his own cock in his right hand and leaned forward, bracing his shoulder against the headboard, as he needed both hands free. His own cock was soft, pliant in his hand as he gently pulled his foreskin forward. He shifted, trying to get the right angle as he grasped Dom's cock more firmly, angling it forward. He shuddered when he touched the tip of Dom's cock to his own, biting his lip, focusing on that pain to get through the feeling of too much, too sensitive that shot through him. The feeling passed, and he used his fingers to work his foreskin over the head of Dom's cock, the feeling of letting Dom inside him, even that little way, more overwhelming than the pressure and heat on his oversensitised prick.

"Fuck, Billy," Dom rasped out, but Billy shushed him.

"This is nothing, Dom, just wait." He wrapped his right hand around the place where they were joined, squeezed gently so that Dom could feel the soft skin, still slick from Billy's own orgasm moving against him. Dom whimpered, opened his mouth, but Billy held the open palm of his left hand up to Dom's mouth. "Lick it."

Dom did, lavishing his tongue over Billy's palm until Billy took it away, wrapped it firmly around Dom's cock, sliding up until he hit the edge of his own hand, then pulling back, just holding them together. He twisted his wrist as he started sliding back up, tightened his right hand, pushing them even closer together and sliding the head of Dom's cock inside his skin. He slid his thumb round to Dom's frenulum, rubbed it through his own foreskin, his cock threatening to stiffen up again when Dom moaned.

He took a deep breath, paused, then started moving his hands in unison, twisting and rubbing with his right, longer strokes with the left hand, his shoulder starting to ache where he was holding himself up against the wooden headboard. Dom's eyes were closed, mouth open, panting as if he was trying to stave off his own orgasm. Billy changed his grip, pulling his foreskin down tighter and holding it in place with his thumb, firm pressure against the bit of sensitive flesh he could still feel through it.

"Billy, I'm gonna," Dom choked out.

"Do it," Billy hissed, his own cock hardening painfully, threatening to push Dom out of the tight sheath. Dom pressed closer, seemed to surge forward as he pulsed in Billy's hand, once, twice, then the completely new sensation of something hot and wet flooding over the head of his cock, trapped where he held the skin down tight, leaking out over his fingers. Billy groaned as his cock insisted on hardening just a little bit more, Dom's head slipping free, then, his fingers finally loosening and they parted.

"Fuck," Dom whispered. "Warm."

"It usually is," Billy said, pushing himself away from the headboard, the ache in his shoulder already letting up. They both looked down at Billy's cock, half hard and dripping come that wasn't his.

"That is fucking hot," Dom said, reaching down to gently grasp Billy's cock, swirling his thumb over the tip, gathering up the mess that was caught there. He pulled his hand away, thumb glistening, and Billy grabbed his hand before he'd even thought of it, sucked Dom's thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it the way Dom had to his cock, his eyes locked on Dom's as he looked over the other man's knuckles. He swallowed as Dom took his hand back, thumb leaving his mouth with a little pop. It was bitter, something musky under the bitterness, and he didn't like it but tried not to let his mouth twist as he swallowed, considering that Dom had swallowed his without a second thought. Then again the taste was gone almost as soon as he had swallowed.

Dom smiled at him, shook his head slightly as he wrapped an arm up over Billy's shoulders to pull him down next to him.

"You don't have to like it," he said as Billy settled in next to him. "I won't be offended."

"I might get used to it yet," Billy said, leaning against him.

"If you like," Dom said. He let his hand rest on Billy's stomach, near but not touching his cock. "You want?"

"No," Billy said, "not yet, anyway."

Dom grinned and slid down so his head was resting against the pillow, reached down and pulled the covers up over them as Billy followed suit.

"I like the sound of that," Dom said, pulling him close for a kiss.

Billy let their legs tangle together, hitching himself closer as he put an arm over Dom's back, the desire he felt building in the pit of his stomach a pleasure in itself rather than a demand.

9.

Billy rested his head on Dom's chest, staring up at Dom's low white ceiling. The window was open and the early summer air was just warm enough, the breeze across his bare chest pleasant instead of chilling.

"Kind of nice not to have a gig this weekend," Billy said.

"I bet," Dom said, his hand idly tracing the outline of Billy's bicep. "I was reading a copy of the university paper that was lying around. It mentioned you guys."

"Yeah, I saw that," Billy said.

"Referred to you as the hardest working band in Glasgow."

Billy snorted. "Bit of a dig, don't you think, as in, why have we been together for seven years and we're still only a Glasgow band."

Dom rolled on to his side and looked down at Billy. "You're not only a Glasgow band, though."

Billy shrugged. "Enough of a local band that no one has left their day jobs yet," he said.

"True enough," Dom said, settling back in. "What do you want?"

Billy froze. "I don't know," he said softly. "Whatever's been happening at the time has always seemed like the right thing." He sat up, needing to get away from Dom, from his innocent questions and his youth. He felt his thirtieth birthday bearing down on him and it felt like something final, or like there was a moment coming from which he would not escape if he didn't make a decision. There had been something small but insistent that had woken in his mind ever since he'd talked to Dom about being accepted into the RSAMD and he hadn't been able to get it to go to sleep.

"Billy, I didn't mean," Dom began as Billy pulled his shirt on.

"It's alright, Dom," Billy said, searching on the floor for his pants. "I've just been feeling a little bit down since Tuesday."

"No doubt," Dom said quietly, but didn't elaborate. He got up and started pulling his clothes on too. "Saturday mornings, I usually walk down the street, get a coffee, have a bit of a wander," he said. "Come with me?"

"You're stuck with me," Billy said, "I've got nowhere to be today." He straightened his shoulders, trying to shrug off the uneasy feeling Dom's questions had started up in him. "Sorry I've been in a mood."

"It's alright," Dom said. His phone buzzed against the top of his dresser, and he walked over to it, looked at the display. "It's my agent," he said, opening the phone.

"I'll be outside," Billy said, not wanting to listen to a one-sided conversation.

Outside it was a little cooler than he had expected from the feeling of the breeze and he was turning to go back inside, to ask Dom for another shirt, when the door opened and Dom came out, looking shocked.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Dom said. "It's a part I auditioned for ages ago, for a television series. Apparently they've just decided they can use me."

"Well, that's great," Billy said. "Where is it?"

"It's in France. I'm supposed to fly out this afternoon."

"Exciting," Billy said, trying to quash the feeling of disappointment that had flared up. "How long will you be there?"

"A month," Dom said, looking tortured.

Billy stepped forward and hugged him, not caring who might see him embracing his boyfriend on the pavement. "It'll be great," he said, stepping back and clapping Dom heartily on the shoulder. "You'll see."


By Monday morning he wasn't so sure. The days and weeks without Dom stretched ahead of him, seemingly without end, and he found himself morosely trudging over to the stacker. Stacker was a shite job, because you couldn't read, but there was nothing in particular to do other than make sure the covers came through on spec. If they didn't, the control panel adjusted the run, and if that didn't work he had to shut down the line and determine if it was production or a machine problem. Either way it was a pain in the arse and the day seemed to stretch far away from him, overly long, nearly endless. Mercifully the stacker was well behaved, only a few covers spewing out with their corner pieces not notched the proper number of millimetres. He pulled off one cover every twenty to measure, tried not to look at how slowly the hopper was filling. Once the hopper was full he could pause the stacker and bring it over to the hot glue area for the sewn signatures to be bound in along with the end papers.

The hot glue area reeked of chemicals, as usual. He pushed the metal bin full of stacked covers up to the mouth of the hot glue machine and engaged it, locking it down so the mechanical arms with their tiny suction cups could collect them one at a time. There was an empty hopper there waiting for him and he pushed it to the end of the machine, looking for one of his co-workers. Robert was a good twenty feet away from his station, yelling across the wide space to someone Billy couldn't see, the words indistinct under the loud hum of the machines. Billy leaned on the cart and waited, willing himself not to look at his watch.

"Nice of you to show up," Robert called as he walked back.

"Nice of you to be at your station," Billy countered.

"You know, with no covers I've got nothing to do," Robert said, all mock concern. "I do believe that costs the company money."

"So does delivering crap product," Billy said, affecting a haughty manner, "I had to make all of two adjustments."

Robert shrugged. "At least you're having a better day than the guys in stitch," he said. "They've got a new one with them, an apprentice? Like you used to be. They decided to let him set the parameters and he got a little timid on the tension." Robert held out the unbound book he was holding.

Billy hefted it in his hand. It was sturdy, at least two and a half inches thick, normal A5 size paper. He ran his thumb over the fore-edge, tapped the block against his hand. "What," he started to ask as he held on to the spine and dangled the fore-edge over the floor. The middle signature dropped down by a good inch, dangling on loose threads.

"That," Robert said. "You can keep that one, on the house, not worth retooling it."

"What is it?" It was a fairly fancy binding, several blank pages to come after the paste-down and flyleaf, so the title wasn't immediately visible.

"How the fuck do I know?" Robert asked, yelling as he turned his machine on. "Read it and tell me."

"Right, thanks," Billy said, tucking the loose signature back into the middle of the book and walking back to the stacker. He pushed the empty hopper into place, and started the process all over again. He fanned the pages in his hands. Reading was actually allowed on some machines, but it wasn't encouraged, and the stacker did require actual diligence. Still, the question of what it was niggled at him. He glanced up and down the gallery his machine was in, saw no one, and turned to the first page of text.

When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. He looked up, looked left and right, wondering if someone was putting him on. This was a book that required a massive print run? He set the book aside and pulled out a cover for its QC check and instead of simply checking the millimetres on the folds he actually looked at the cover as a reader might. The front was a black field, white all-caps Garamond spelling out The Fellowship of the Ring in two lines, with a yellow circle, like a bold forty-two point Helvetica O, centred beneath it. Something stirred in his memory, a long-ago intention to read this book, and he set the cover back in the stack with its mates. He watched the stacker, thinking about Dom, wondering if he had read the book. Probably, he decided. Although Dom had become a restless young man by the time he was an older teenager it seemed from his stories that he had been a studious child. The book was heavy and thick, but something about the first line made him think he would be able to slip into the story easily enough.


Tuesday evening found him sitting by the open door of the rehearsal space, a good quarter inch into the book. He found himself identifying with the hobbits, who only seemed to want a peaceful life, really. He sighed, wondering if that goal was out of reach for him, doubly so as he saw BJ walking towards him.

"Evening," Billy said.

"Hi," BJ said, uneasily. Well good, Billy thought, let him be uneasy. "Can I come in?"

"Please yourself," Billy said, scooting his chair over to leave more room at the door, which was plenty wide already. BJ walked in, grabbed a chair from the lot on the wall and sat down facing Billy. Out of striking range, though, Billy thought, and smiled grimly at that.

"I got a pretty stern talking to from John," BJ said, meeting his eyes only for a moment before he looked at the floor. "Rick, too, he rang me up over the weekend."

"I haven't got any talking-to's for you," Billy said, "I already told you where I stand."

"I know," BJ said, "and for what it's worth, I'm sorry I was a wanker." When Billy remained silent, he kept speaking. "About Dom, about you. I shouldn't care about who you're seeing."

"But you do care about what other people think," Billy said, no heat to his words, just an observation.

"It's hard not to when this band has been part of my life and livelihood for seven years," BJ said. "I've always kept Foreign Country's interests a priority and now when it seems like things might really be happening for us, it just couldn't be a worse time for those rumours about you to turn out to be true."

Billy rolled his eyes. "For Christ's sake, what century are you living in? What does it even matter, if all you're worried about is our success?"

BJ looked hesitant, but spoke anyway. "You're not exactly Michael Stipe," he pointed out.

"And this band is not exactly REM," Billy snapped, feeling bad about putting it in that light, but it was true. It was just the truth, and it hit him more heavily than he'd thought it would, just to say it out loud. They had more success than most bands ever saw, but far less than it would take for them to give up their jobs and make this their lifeblood, and while BJ seemed to think they were getting there Billy wasn't sure anymore.

"I know that, Billy, I'm just trying to get you to see my side," BJ said, "as much as I have a side, which, I admit, isn't much."

"As long as you admit that," Billy said. "I see your point, such as it is. Doesn't mean I don't think it's a shitty point of view to have."

BJ sighed. "I know it's a shitty point of view to have, OK? I know I'd be a lot better off if I could just be all sunshine and rainbows about this, and personally, I don't care that you're gay. But I can't stop caring about something that affects the band."

"You could stop being a dick about it," Billy suggested.

BJ looked down the street, as if he was looking for help to arrive. After a moment he looked back at Billy. "I could," he said. "I will."

"Alright then," Billy said, standing up, "that'll do for now."

BJ stood too, held out his hand. Billy took his hand, then pulled him in for a quick hug, wrapping one arm up over his shoulders for only a second. It was a short hug; if BJ flinched, Billy didn't feel it. When he stepped back it was to see Rick and John standing in the doorway.

"Thought I was going to have to crack heads together," John said, shaking his head at them. "Glad you've come to your senses." It sounded to Billy a little too much like John was including him in the "you," but he gave BJ a friendly cuff to the back of the head as he walked by, so it seemed fair.

The week apart had been good for them, apparently. Rick had come with some sketchy ideas for new material-- Billy and BJ fleshed them out while John put his oar in mainly with small but indispensable suggestions. By the time they left for the night they'd been through a new song twice, smoothing it out a bit more the second time around. It was far from perfect, but it was their sound, not just another good-enough Glasgow bar band, and Billy really felt like maybe BJ had the right idea, more than him, only in that Foreign Country might finally be moving beyond Glasgow.

"Got to get home," Rick said, "Janey is waiting up."

"At least you don't have to go back to work this time," Billy said.

Rick looked pained. "It's been brutal."

"Saturday at Halt, eight o'clock," John reminded them.

"See you then." Billy hurried to his car, as if he had somewhere to be, when the only thing he had waiting for him was the book that he couldn't seem to put down at night.



Two weeks into their separation and the only thing that Billy found newsworthy was his reading.

"I picked up a trade paperback of The Two Towers, Billy said, talking to Dom while he sat in his room, door closed like a fourteen year old girl hiding from her parents. It wasn't as if anything he said was risqué-- Dom was sharing a hotel room with two other men, otherwise he might have tried it-- but their conversations felt like something that ought to stay private. "But I noticed, there's another book by him that goes before The Hobbit, but I thought that was the first one?"

"Do you mean The Hobbit?" Dom asked. He had been amused when Billy had been so full of effusive praise and enthusiasm for the books; just as Billy had thought Dom had read them when he was barely in his teens.

"Did you read it?" Billy asked.

"Um, yeah, I did," Dom said, "I was kind of a nerd as a child. You can't tell me you never even read The Hobbit.."

"I never did!" Billy said, "I'd heard of it but it sounded daft."

"It's only one of the most celebrated children's books ever!" Dom countered, "tell you what, I'll read it to you when I get home."

Billy thought lying next to Dom and being read to in Dom's soft clear voice might not be so bad. "I'll let you," he said. "I'll pick up a copy on my way home tomorrow. I'll get you a paperback so you can just tear the pages off as you read."

The silence on the other end of the phone was so complete that Billy thought they might have been disconnected.

"Dom?"

"Billy." Dom's voice was flat, careful. "What am I supposed to do with that book?"

"Tear off the pages as you read them," Billy said. "Every time you finish an even-numbered page, you rip it off."

"What if you want to read the book again?" Dom cried. This was followed by the general sounds of a commotion and Dom's muffled voice trying to placate his roommates. "Sorry, I was saying, what if you want to put the book on your shelf and actually read it again?"

"If I wanted that I'd buy a hard cover," Billy said.

"Did you tear up Fellowship of the Ring as you read it?"

"Of course not," Billy said, "the pages were sewn together."

"Oh, of course," Dom said. "But The Two Towers? That's why you bought the paperback?"

"Certainly," Billy said, reaching over to the nightstand where the book was sitting, face down and open, spine creased but otherwise unharmed. "Only I'm not actually ripping the pages out of this one," he said, "there are a lot of place names that I might have to recheck."

"As in, you might want to read it again some time," Dom said.

"I might," Billy said.

"Do you really rip up your books as you read them?" Dom asked.

"Only the ones I read at work," Billy admitted, "might have said that to get a bit of a rise out of you."

"That's not the sort of thing you'd say for that effect," Dom said, teasing.

"Thought you were sharing with two other guys?" Billy asked.

"I am," Dom sighed. "And we are all very much right here."

"Then that sort of rise is going to have to wait until you get home."

"You'd better watch out," Dom warned, his tone only the slightest bit salacious, not so that anyone listening on his end would know.

"I'll brace myself," Billy said.

"Do that." He yawned hugely into the phone.

"You should go to sleep, Dommie," he said, the diminutive slipping out before he could catch it on the tip of his tongue.

"I will," Dom said, "in a minute." He sounded like a recalcitrant child trying to stay awake. "Two more weeks."

"It'll fly by," Billy said, carefully not mentioning that the two weeks just passed had not, at least not on his end.

"Call you tomorrow?" Dom asked.

"Probably not," Billy said, "we've got a gig in the evening at the Cask Room."

"They decided to let you back?"

"They must be desperate," Billy agreed. "Sleep tight, Dom."

"Night."

Billy hung up the phone, feeling like something had been missing, but it was far, far too early on to be saying anything at the end of a phone conversation other than good night.



The show was good, excellent crowd, many of whom had come to see them particularly. They did a good long set, without any calamities.

"Makes a difference when none of us are smoking," BJ noted as they sat down at the bar together.

"Or drinking scotch on stage," Billy said archly, looking over BJ's shoulder at John.

"Some of the songs didn't have a part for drums," John said, "was I just supposed to sit there?"

"No, you were supposed to create a fire hazard," Rick said, walking up behind them. He already had his bass case in his hand.

"Leaving so soon?" BJ asked.

"Haven't been spending much time with the family lately," Rick said, "got to make sure I'm able to get up bright and early tomorrow."

"Cheers, then," Billy said, lifting his glass.

"Thanks, see you." Rick hurried away.

Billy turned back towards the others, half expecting to hear some invective from BJ about how Rick wasn't putting the band first, but nothing was forthcoming.

"Where's Dom?" John asked, a bit later.

"Yeah, where's Dom?" BJ chimed in.

Billy rolled the last sip of scotch around the bottom of his glass, stared at the way the light caught the amber liquid. "He's in France," he said, "went there for a job."

"Music?" BJ asked.

Billy shook his head. "Acting."

"Well," BJ said, "to his success." He lifted his glass.

"To his success," Billy said, and drank the last of the scotch, waving away the offers of a refill. It was an early night, but his own home, his own bed seemed more inviting than anything he might find in a pub. That might be true most any night, but Dom had texted to say he had a late call, and might still be awake after midnight. Billy didn't want to text him back while he was in the pub, wanted to wait until he was alone, where he had the liberty of phoning Dom if he wanted to. He silenced the inner voice that kept comparing him to a hormonal teenager.


10.

Throughout the show at Garage, BJ kept catching his eye, smiling, jumping in on his banter between the songs. Garage was a proper music venue, the ceiling above the stage high enough that he didn't have to worry about striking the head of his guitar when he took it off. It was a beautiful June night, the doors at the back of the stage were propped open letting in a soft breeze, and the crowd was good, a mix of university students celebrating the end of term and people out after work, getting a jump on the weekend. It was a better attended gig than most on a Friday night; Billy estimated that there might have been a hundred and fifty people in the place, most of them standing on the small dance floor in front of the stage, some of them singing along on the choruses. Ted had called earlier that day-- the commercial was finally going to go out to half a dozen alternative stations in the UK and Ireland, and they had already made strong sales in the independent music shops in Glasgow. Billy felt alive, exceptionally awake, and hopeful, something good coming down the line. To make things even better, Dom was due home the next day, flying in Saturday morning, and Billy was picking him up at the airport. Every time he thought I'm picking my boyfriend up at the airport there was a little thrill that went with those words, and he could feel himself smiling at the thought, unable to keep that look off his face.

They closed strong, the crowd only dispersing after the house lights had come up. Billy turned to Rick to ask him if he had time for a pint before they packed it in for the evening, but he was already gone off backstage. Billy shrugged, and looked up, his eyes skimming over the crowd as he made for the stairs at the side of the stage. In the pale light by the bar he spied a familiar face, his heart leaping into his throat for a second before he told himself that it couldn't be Dom, was just a man who looked a lot like him. Then Dom saw him, grinned and waved, starting to move forward, and Billy didn't think anymore, just launched himself off the front of the stage into the crowd, jogging around groups of people as he made his way to Dom.

They were both moving and when they came together, arms wrapping around each other, it nearly knocked the wind out of Billy. He hugged Dom tight, then leaned back.

"How did you get here?" he asked.

"They finished with me, and I just caught the last plane," Dom said, grinning, leaning forward to thunk his forehead against Billy's. He could feel the warmth of Dom's face against his, felt drawn to him like a magnet. He knew it wasn't the safest thing in the world, but it was like a force of nature, trying to say no to the desire to kiss him, and he let his face tip forward that last little bit.

Dom's mouth fit to his, lips parting slightly, just a gentle flicker of his tongue against Billy's, in contrast to the force with which their mouths were pressed together. Billy felt Dom's hands come up to hold his head, fingers cool against the side of his face, pressing in to the soft skin over his temples. He felt held, and cherished, and entirely without any concept of the people around them, voices and the canned music all blending into one loud white noise. Then there was a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him so he angled away from Dom, tooth knocking painfully into his bottom lip as he was wrenched away.

Billy turned with the push, quickly, trying to face his opponent immediately rather than fighting against the force of his hand. He was ready to defend himself, ready to return blows if needed, but the face he saw there was a familiar one.

"BJ?" He straightened up, still wary. "What the fuck?"

"I thought you said he'd gone to France," BJ yelled. The venue was loud, but people still turned to stare.

"For a month, not forever," Billy countered. "And you said you didn't care."

"Fuck you! I care that you're making a scene with him in the middle of Garage!"

"You're the one making a scene," Billy said, trying to keep his voice level.

BJ took in the staring people around him, the concerned look on the bartender's face, and turned to stalk off towards the stage. Billy stood in place, feeling deflated. He felt Dom take his hand, a simple sweet gesture in the midst of everything that was going on in his head.

"You alright?" Dom asked.

"No," Billy said simply, squeezing Dom's hand, then letting go. "This is going to fucking end right now."

"Billy," Dom said, hurrying after him as he made his way through the crowd to the stage door, "don't do anything rash."

"It's not rash," Billy said, cold anger just rising to the surface, "it's been a long time coming."

He opened the door, shook his head once at Dom to tell him not to come in, and went into the room where BJ appeared to be holding court, Rick and John sitting in folding chairs, and, to his horror, Ted was there as well, leaning against the back wall.

"So," Billy said, "what the fuck is your problem?"

"You know what my problem is," BJ said. "My problem is how your actions are affecting the band."

"No, your problem is that you're an ignorant shit," Billy said, stepping forward, crowding him. It felt like there wasn't enough air in the room, like BJ was breathing it all.

"Why don't you ask Ted if I'm being ignorant?" BJ said. "Or am I the only one with an eye towards the business end of things?"

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?"

"Guys," Rick said, standing up. "Listen."

Billy relaxed, but only warily. If Rick thought he could talk him out of a good fight with BJ, he was sorely mistaken, and if he tried to lay a hand on him to get him to walk away Billy might end up punching him in the face too. And it would be a shame, he thought, for Rick to have to explain to his wife why he was coming home with a black eye.

"What is it, Rick?" he asked, never taking his eyes off of BJ.

"This is all a moot point." Billy turned towards him then, really hearing the sadness in his voice. "I've been promoted at work."

John sat forward. "That's good, right?" he said. "We can work around that."

Rick shook his head. "My new position is in Canada."

Billy took a deep breath, sighed. Of the other three, he was the closest to Rick, and the bulk of most of the songs were written by the two of them together. If John had left, they might have found another drummer, and he'd thought wistfully of getting someone else to do the keyboards from time to time, but there was no replacing Rick.

"Well, that tears it then," Ted said from the back of the room, pushing himself upright. "You've had a good run. Better than most. Not as good as it could have been, but still, better than most."

"Whatever is made from the CD, you three can keep it," Rick said. "I'm the one moving on. Don't worry about me."

"That and you'll have your big fancy job in Canada," John said, standing as well. "Congratulations." He held his arms out and they hugged, John slapping Rick heartily on the back.

"Congratulations," Billy said as they parted. "I know you've been working hard."

"Yeah, it's fucking great," BJ snapped. "Let's just pretend we weren't on our way to this anyway."

"BJ," Rick began, but the other man was already heading for the door.

"No. Screw you." He managed to slam the door behind him as he left.

"He'll be back," John pointed out, "his piano is still on stage."

"Get out of here," Rick said kindly, looking at Billy. "We'll take care of him."

"I just bet you will," Billy said, laughing hollowly, but appreciating the sentiment. "Congrats, though, really. When are you moving?"

"Within the month," Rick said, "to British Columbia."

"You just couldn't get further away, could you?" Billy asked.

Rick shook his head. "We'll talk before then, though."

"Right." Billy nodded, went to his guitar cases and picked them up.

"I'll ring you later," Ted said, no threat to his voice, but that didn't mean Billy had to look forward to it.

"Great. Good night."

When Billy stepped back out into the common area of the club Dom was still standing there, more or less where he'd left him. He held out a hand and Billy handed him the acoustic case, manoeuvring his way through the crowd with just the electric case was hard enough. They didn't speak until they were sitting in the car.

"So. That's over and done with," Billy said as he started the engine.

"The band?" Dom asked, "you guys really broke up?"

"Yup." He just sat there with his hands on the steering wheel.

"Because I kissed you." It wasn't a question, just a statement, Dom's voice laced with misery.

"No, because Rick is moving to British Columbia."

Dom nodded, taking it in. "But if he wasn't?"

"Doesn't bear thinking about what if," Billy said. He put the car in gear and pointed them towards his house. "Tell me about France."

"Well," Dom said, his voice lighter, "pretty soon you won't be the only one in Scotland who has seen my lily white arse."

Billy snorted. "I already wasn't the only one in Scotland who had seen it," he pointed out.

"Hey," Dom said, "make me sound like a slut, why don't you?"

"I know there's at least one other person," he said, reasonably, "I'm just trying for truth in advertising."

"Then shall we say that soon many more people in Scotland will see my naked arse?" Dom asked.

"Much better, thank you," Billy said, the heavy feeling that had settled in his chest already lifting by a millimetre at a time.


It was only midnight when they got home but Dom was already yawning hugely, and Billy felt simply worn out. He sat on the edge of his bed while Dom brushed his teeth, then did his own washing up. When he emerged from the washroom Dom was already burrowed under the covers.

"We make an exciting pair," he said. "I feel like I'm robbing you of your youth."

"Do I look like I'm complaining," Dom asked, resting his head on Billy's chest. "I'm knackered."

"Me too," Billy said, but he kept staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

"Did you finish Return of the King?" Dom asked.

"I did," Billy said. "I even picked up a copy of The Hobbit"

"Haven't started reading it yet?"

"I believe someone said he was going to read it to me," Billy pointed out.

"Well, then." Dom leaned over him and turned the bedside lamp on. The Hobbit was sitting on the small night stand and he picked it up. "I think we have time for one chapter before I fall entirely asleep."

"Now I really feel like an old man," Billy groused, but snuggled closer.

"Look, are you really up for sex right now?" Dom asked. "If it makes you feel better, I promise to suck your brain out through your dick in the morning."

"That does make me feel better," Billy said. "Go ahead."

"Thank you. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit," Dom began, and Billy felt himself mercifully drifting off to sleep.


As the weeks passed, the factory became more and more odious to him, possibly because there were no gigs on the weekends, no practises, no one else to write songs with. He was sitting behind the Zachini-Robi jogger, a fairly obsolete machine that was hardly ever used, trying to stretch out his morning break. There was a dusty window looking out over the street and he rested his feet against it, leaving prints against the glass. If anyone walked by outside they'd see him, but from inside the factory he was well hidden. He was just pushing himself up, trying to get the motivation to get back to work when his phone buzzed with a text from Dom.

Can you come to mine after work?.

Billy stood, brushed himself off, sure of two things. He hated his job, whereas before he'd only had a mild antipathy for it. And, he didn't want to greet Dom tonight with the proclamation that he'd been sacked.


Dom was pacing up and down the small living room in his flat when Billy arrived, a sheaf of script pages in his hands.

"Billy, you need to help me," he said, eyes gleaming as he looked over the edge of the pages.

"With what?"

"Almost a year ago I sent in an audition tape for a film and I just got called today. The director is going to be in London and he wants to see me read for the part in person."

"Why do you need me for that?" Billy asked, "unless you just need a lift."

"I'm reading for Merry," Dom said. "From Lord of the Rings? And my agent said they'd either supply me with someone to do Pippin's lines, or I could bring my own."

"So you need a lift?" Billy asked, amused.

"I need you to be my Pippin," Dom said, thrusting the pages at him.

"That's a terrible idea, Dommie," Billy said. "I'm not an actor."

"You got in to the RSAMD," Dom pointed out.

"Almost four years ago, and I never went," Billy countered.

"Please, Billy," Dom said. "If they put me with a stranger, I won't know their voice, I won't know their patterns, it'll be a mess. But if you read with me, I'll at least have practised with you."

Billy thought about it. There was a certain logic to that. And, that day, behind the machines as he hid from his work, he'd been thinking of going back to college after all. This might be the way to see if he was even still interested in acting.

"Besides," Dom said, breaking into his train of thought, "it'd be perfect, you being the Pippin to my Merry."

"Pippin is the younger one," Billy pointed out, "and they're cousins, not lovers."

"I still say it works," Dom said, holding out the script, shaking it at him a little. "Meeting's on Friday."

Billy reached out, took the pages. "I'll take the day off work," he said. "What the hell."

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Slasha, Baby - LotRiPS holiday fic exchange

January 2013

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