(no subject)

[cocking_about]

Title: Untitled (Aka: The Ring Fic) 5/ (?) WIP
Author: Pip
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: R at the most
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, this is all lies.
Feedback: Would be treasured beyond pearls.
Archive: Not without permission.
Warnings: NZ-era Drama! H/C beyond words! OH THE ANGST!

A/N: Please note, this is a WIP. Has not had the final spanking it sorely needs, but has been lovingly encouraged along the way by the marvellous elmathelas. Any mistakes are most definitely mine. The fic clocks in at 70,000 words all told (so far).

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four

First posted Jan, 2007




It was nearly a quarter of an hour before Dom returned to the living room, a plate in one hand and a glass in the other, and he held the plate high so Billy couldn’t see what was on it from where he sat absently watching TV.

“Your cabana boy returns,” Dom announced grandly. “I grovelingly apologize, sir, for the length of time it took for your order to arrive, sir, and please be assured, sir, that your order is on the house, sir.” He lowered the plate to where a confused and frowning Billy could see it.

Billy looked at the green grapes, the thick slices of mango, and the chunks of fresh pineapple each with its own paper umbrella, and it took a moment to register, for him to remember. When he did, his face split into a sudden, sunny smile, miles from the cloudburst not long ago; Dom saw clearly what he meant by up and down. “Y’ mad bugger. You daft…bloody lunatic.”

Dom grinned. “It’s the itty bitty brollies that really make it special, in my opinion. And this,” he set the glass down on the coffee table, the straw already bent toward Billy, “is as close as you’re getting to champagne, I’m afraid.”

“What is it?” Billy asked, even as he leaned over to take a sip.

“Just sparkling water. I wanted sparkling grape juice, but they didn’t carry it.” Dom sat on the sofa beside Billy. “So do you forgive your cabana boy for taking such a horrendously long time with your order?”

Billy gave him a little laugh, and it warmed Dom to hear it and he couldn’t help but chuckle back. “I dunno, cabana boy. Why aren’t th’ grapes…ehm…what th’ fuck’s the word…peeled?”

“Ah, but if you look closely—“ Dom held the plate closer to Billy so he could see, “—that top one is peeled.”

“Just one?” Billy’s eyebrow lifted.

“Have you ever tried to peel grapes, Bill?” Dom demanded.

“Ehm—no. Can’t say I have.”

“It’s really bloody hard! And they’re slippery as hell, too,” he grumbled.

Billy laughed out loud. “How many’d you lose?”

“Four. One hit the sodding window.”

Billy laughed again, and the sound was so cheerful that Dom just looked at him, smiling, realizing how very much he’d missed that infectious sound. Billy’s cheeks turned a bit pink. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what’s with th’—the…” He waved a white-wrapped hand toward Dom’s face. “Glaikit smile?”

“The what?”

“Glaikit. Y’ know—“ Billy’s mouth twisted in annoyance, although he hadn’t yet lost his sudden good mood. He groaned. “Augh! Why th’ hell can I remember glaikit, and not…not…idiotic!” he suddenly shouted, then grinned in relief. “Idiotic.”

“I keep telling you, it’s just the drugs,” Dom waved it off easily. “Besides, I always like learning a foreign language.”

“Wanker.”

“Nope, that one I know already.”

Billy leaned to the side and kicked Dom lightly in the shin, then frowned when Dom grunted and winced. “What? I didn’t—I would’ve hit y’ harder than that, ‘cept I can’t. Hit you. I’m sorry. What?”

Dom chuckled. “Bill, you’re nattering. You just caught my bruise, that’s all.”

“Bruise? What’d y’ do?”

“What did I do? You don’t remember me nearly amputating my leg on your bloody bedrail?”

Billy’s brow furrowed. “No, I—oh. Wait. I got you an icepack.”

“Now you’ve got it. I have to say, you’re not a very sympathetic bloke, Bills,” Dom teased him. “Called me a whingeing jessie.”

“I kissed it better, y’ don’t get much more syp—syth—sympathetic than that!” he protested, his tongue not keeping up with him.

“That’s true. That was kind of nice.”

Suddenly Billy’s eyes widened. He unsteadily said, “I—I kissed it better…”

Dom knew he remembered that last, sensual kiss. He gently said, “That was kind of nice, too.”

All Billy could do was stare at him.

The sudden tension, even if it wasn’t hideously uncomfortable, was enough to make Dom drop his eyes, knowing he couldn’t trust any expression on Billy’s face because the drugs had him arse over tit. Instead he took a deep breath, picked up a piece of pineapple speared on a blue paper umbrella, and looked up again, saying, “Here, try this—“

Billy kissed him.

Just briefly, very lightly, soft and dry and warm on the lips, and it may have been brief, but nevertheless it was a kiss.

Billy. Kissed him.

Dom made a tiny sound of surprise, then quickly reined in the joy that threatened to blossom inside him, all riotous colour and scent and warm summer sun, like Samwise’s garden abloom in his chest. Just the fucking drugs, he sternly told himself, and set the mantra on continuous loop. Just the fucking drugs. Just the fucking drugs just the fucking drugs just the goddamn fucking drugs.

Billy sat back, staring at Dom’s mouth. “I just kissed you,” he whispered.

Dom cleared his throat, carefully said, “Yes, Billy, you did. And it was quite lovely.”

“It was…lovely,” he repeated, and then his confused eyes met Dom’s. “I shouldn’t do that t’ you, should I?”

“Probably best not to for a bit,” Dom agreed. “Not until you’re feeling more the thing, yeah?” His heart plummeted, though, at his own words, fell like Wile E. Coyote through a cloud. He blinked, wondering where the hell the Looney Tunes image had come from.

“I’m sorry, Dom. I’ll try to—t’ remember. Don’t want…really, really don’t want t’ hurt you,” Billy said slowly, and of its own volition his hand moved to Dom’s thigh, petted him with the back. “I—God, y’ know I…I care ‘bout you, Dom. You’re m’ Dom. But I can’t tell. The drugs, y’ know? I can’t even remember words like…like…” he floundered.

Dom gently picked Billy’s wrist up, moving the hand petting him away from its position perilously close to his crotch. “I know, Bills. It’s all right. No offense, but I don’t believe a word you say, and I won’t until the meds are out of your system.”

“But—but you’re m’ Dom,” Billy said worriedly. “Y’ believe that, right? You’re my Dom. You are. You’re m’ Dom.”

Dom smiled at him. “All right. That one I’ll believe. Billy?”

“Yeah, Dom. Yeah. I mean—what? Yeah?” His forehead wrinkled.

“I worked hard cutting all this effing fruit up. You want to shut up long enough to eat some of it?”

Billy blinked. “All right.”

Dom chuckled. “Here. Have some pineapple.” He held it up, let Billy pull it off the wooden pick with his teeth, and then he sucked it clean and tucked the umbrella behind Billy’s ear.

Billy glowered at him, but a second later a snigger ruined the effect. “You too. Wear one too.”

“What colour?”

Billy looked at the plate. “Yellow.”

Dom fed the pineapple on a yellow parasol to Billy, sucked the pick clean again, and tucked it behind his own ear. “Happy?”

Billy smiled widely. “’S very pretty.”

“Look who’s talking—like Lana Turner, you are. Here, eat your grape.” Dom picked it up carefully so it wouldn’t slip out from between his fingers like the others had, and popped it into Billy’s mouth. “Hope it’s worth all my hard work and frustration and angst,” he teased.

“Peelin’ grapes causes you…ehm…angst?”

“Definitely.” Dom ate a piece of mango.

“Don’t wanna cause my cabana boy angst. No more grape peelin’,” he said very seriously. “No—no…angsting?”

“Sure, if you like,” Dom fed Billy some mango.

“’F I like wha’?” Billy spoke unclearly around it.

“Angsting. I think it’s a new word. Should we put it in my dictionary, do you think?”

“Could we?” Billy’s face lit up. “I’ve never been ‘n a book before.”

Dom laughed.



Ten minutes later, the fruit was gone and Billy was fidgeting. Dom let him go for a few minutes, but finally said, “What is it, Billy? What do you need, mate?”

“Just th’ loo. But I don’t…don’ wanna get up.”

Dom grinned. “I could bring you a pail.”

Billy rolled his eyes even as he turned a little red.

“What are you blushing about? Compared to some of the places you’ve probably pissed in your life, I’m sure a pail is—“ Realization hit. “Oh. I see. A pail wouldn’t quite work, would it?”

“Ehm—no.”

“Well, come on, then,” Dom got up, then hauled Billy to his feet by the arms. “Nothing makes a bloke feel better than a good shite, I’ve always said.”

“You’ve never said that,” Billy accused, trying to fend off his embarrassment.

“Well, then, I should have. It makes me sound sage.” Dom followed Billy down the hall. “Listen, Bill—don’t bite my head off, but—have you…I mean…do you know if you can manage?”

Even the back of Billy’s neck flushed, and he rather stiffly said, “Whether I can or not, I—I will. This’s one thing I can’t—I won’t…You’re just…not.”

“All right, Bill. But I’m staying right outside. If you have to, call me, I will help you.”

“Fine.” Billy walked into the bathroom and presented Dom with his back. “Outside is where—where you’ll stay. ‘N don’t you dare…don’ even think about saying ‘How’s it going?’”

Dom chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He worked Billy’s trackies and shorts down a little further this time, and quietly retreated. He left the bathroom door slightly ajar.

Almost immediately Billy’s indignant voice shouted, “Shut th’ bloody door, y’ twat!”

Dom shut it. He stepped away a bit, leaned up against the wall, and waited. And waited.

And waited.

Just when he was considering risking his life by inquiring how it was going, from the bathroom came a sharply muttered, “Ah, fuck.”

“Billy?” He stepped towards the door.

“Fuck off, Dom!”

Dom hesitated, then decided to give him a few more minutes.

Billy began to swear, muttering just loud enough for Dom to hear when he stood right outside the door. “Fuckshitefuckgoddammitfuckdamnfucksakebuggeringhellshitedamnfuckfuckdamn—“ The stream of profanity continued unabated for over a minute, and if Dom hadn’t been worried, he would have laughed. For someone who had holes in his memory the size of small caravans, Billy didn’t seem to have any difficulty remembering his swear words.

But finally the swearing stopped, and after another thirty seconds of silence during which Dom tried not to pound his head on the wall, the toilet flushed. And then Billy called his name and Dom eased the door open and peered in to see Billy standing, facing away, waiting with poorly concealed frustration for his trackies to be pulled up.

Dom wordlessly walked over, dressed him, and followed when Billy stalked out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. He watched as Billy scanned the table, the counter, the stovetop—

“What are you looking for, Bill?” he asked quietly.

“Fuckin’—fuckin’—Augh! What the fuckin’ hell are they called?” he nearly shouted. “Pills!”

“The painkillers?”

“Yes!”

Dom opened the cupboard where he’d stashed them earlier, opened the plastic bottle and shook out two. “How bad is it? Should I check your hand?”

“No, y’ bloody well shouldn’t,” he snapped. “Give me th’ fucking pills.”

“Sit down, then,” Dom said neutrally, able to hang on to his own temper with the knowledge that Billy wasn’t really angry, at least, not with him.

Billy thumped down into a chair, breathing loudly through his nostrils.

Dom fetched a glass of water, stood behind him, and they went through the routine that was getting a little easier each time. Billy greedily swallowed both pills, and when he lowered his hand and Dom pulled the glass away, he dropped his head over, propping his elbows on his knees. Dom leaned against the counter and waited.

Eventually Billy, without raising his head, muttered, “Sorry.”

Dom was at Billy’s side immediately, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m not taking it personally.”

“Don’t mean t’ shout.”

“I know. Just wait for those to kick in.”

Billy was silent, but a moment later he turned sideways on his chair and leaned heavily against Dom, his head against Dom’s stomach.

Dom kept up the calming stroking up and down his spine for a while, but eventually just rested one hand on the back of his neck, and with the other cradled Billy’s head against his abdomen.



A long while later Billy sat up again. “’M sorry, Dom. Y’ must be tired.”

“A bit. How’s the pain, any better?”

“Yeah. Some. Enough. Why’n’t you go lay on the—y’ know, the sofa.”

“We should think about getting you to bed soon.”

“No.”

Dom raised his eyebrows even as his stomach sank. “What do you mean, no? You’ve got sedatives to make you sleep, and you may have dreamed a bit last night, but it didn’t last long and you didn’t even try to get out of bed, so what’s the problem, Billy, you can just go to bed and go to sleep so why won’t you go to sleep now, Jesus, Billy, please, you have to fucking go to sleep!”

Billy stared at Dom, at his clenched fists, at his heaving chest, and as gently as he could when his brain had such tenuous control over his tongue, he said, “I meant for now. Don’t wanna go t’ bed jus’ yet. Soon, okay, Dom? Is—is soon okay, m’ Dom?”

Dom closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling. “Yeah, Bills. Soon is fine.”

Billy got to his feet, stood behind Dom and nudged him with his head. “C’mon, Dom. Come with your Bills.”

“No, Billy, I need to get the laundry—“ he said a little roughly.

“Fuck th’ laundry. C’mon.” He shoved Dom harder with his head.

Dom reluctantly let himself be pushed out to the living room. Billy plunked himself down in the corner of the sofa and indicated for Dom to join him. Dom deliberately misunderstood, sat partway down the sofa, and picked up the TV remote. “What do you want to watch?”

Billy glared at him. “What th’ fuck are you doin’ down there?”

“Oh, how about this one? A little local Kiwi history, eh, Billy?”

“First, put on somethin’ I don’t have t’—have to—bugger. See?” He screwed up his eyes. “Concentrate. That’s it. Something I don’t have t’ concentrate on.”

“Right. Sorry.” Dom flipped the channels. “How about a movie? What’s this one, it looks familiar.”

Billy looked at the TV screen, easily said, “Oh, I like that one. ‘S The Princess Bride. Christopher Guest is fuckin’ excellent.”

Dom stared at him.

Billy stared back. His forehead wrinkled. “What th’ fuck is wrong with m’ brain?”

Dom couldn’t help it, he began to chuckle, and he relaxed a bit. “I don’t know, Bills, but it’s very entertaining. You seem to be quite fond of the word ‘fuck’, too.”

“Glad I could amuse you,” he muttered. “Is there anythin’ left in m’ glass over there?” He gestured to the glass of sparkling water Dom had brought him earlier.

Dom checked. “Yeah. Want a sip?”

“Please.”

Dom shifted closer and held the glass up for Billy so he could pucker his lips around the straw, watched him suck mouthful after mouthful. He ignored the suggestive part of his brain that was shrieking at him to give Billy something else to suck on, and instead focused on the fact that Billy had just completely drained the glass. He frowned. “Bill, if you’re thirsty, just let me know. I’ll make sure you’ve got something within reach.”

Billy released the straw with a little gasp for air, not seeing Dom swallow hard. “Didn’t realize I was. Just wanted a—a wee drink. Couldn’t stop. C’mere, Dom.”

“What?”

“Put the fuckin’ glass down and c’mere,” Billy demanded.

Dom set the glass on the coffee table a little harder than he’d intended. “Come where?” he said crossly, purposely being obtuse.

“Get your fuckin’ arse over here with me!”

“Why?”

Billy changed tactics. He leaned forward, touched Dom’s cheek with the back of one hand, quietly said, “I’m gonna steal your words ‘cos I’m—I’m bloody useless with ‘em right now. Dom—Dom. If y’ need a hug, lemme hug you. If y’ need a—a—a cuddle, lemme cuddle you. C’mere, m’ Dom.”

Dom closed his eyes. “I’m supposed to be looking after you, Billy.”

“Well right now, at this very moment, ‘m okay, Dom. ‘M okay. Lemme give you a cuddle, yeah?”

Dom opened his eyes and looked at Billy, then wordlessly crawled over to lay his head on Billy’s chest as Billy’s arms went around him.

“Ah, m’ Dom.” Billy shifted further down into the corner so Dom could lay more comfortably.

“Watch your hands,” Dom muttered into his shirt.

“I am. You’re takin’ such good care. Of me.”

“You’re my best mate. Couldn’t do anything else, could I? I hate to see you suffering, Billy, I wish I could do more.” He turned and pressed his forehead against the inside of Billy’s shoulder, wriggled an arm around his waist.

“No one could do more ‘n you have. Don’ know what I’d do without you. Fall apart.”

“You wouldn’t. You just hit a rough patch, you’re going to be fine. You’ll get another good night’s sleep tonight, take it easy tomorrow, and you’ll feel miles better.”

“Hope so. Really hope so. Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Did y’ say I dreamed…last night?”

Dom hesitated, but finally said, “Yeah. You did.”

“D’ you know?” Billy mumbled.

“Do I know what?”

“What I dreamed?”

“Not exactly,” Dom hedged.

Billy leaned his cheek on Dom’s hair. “Please.”

Dom sighed, then hooked a leg over Billy’s as if to protect him. “You dreamed about Margaret. And filming. And your hands.”

“How long did I—ehm…y’ know—keep you awake?”

“Not long, Bills.”

“I’m sorry, Dom.” Billy tightened his arms. “Sorry I woke you. ‘M sorry.”

Dom lifted his head to look up at Billy. “It’s okay, Billy, honestly. It really wasn’t long at all.”

“Okay. What—what’d I say about m’ hands?”

“I think you said they were gone.”

“Margaret?”

“You were just talking to her, like she was there with you.”

“Filming?”

Dom sighed. “You said—something about being on set, then the camera being on, but you weren’t ready.” Then Dom remembered one other detail, and smiled. “I spoke to you and you said, ‘Fuck off, Frodo’. That was funny.”

“Even asleep I say ‘fuck’,” Billy snorted. “Gran woulda—woulda. Y’ know. Washed my mouth out, if she’d heard m’ language today.”

“No doubt,” Dom laughed quietly.

Billy was quiet for a moment, then said, “I s’pose I thought m’ hands were gone ‘cos I can’t move them. Not so much that I can’t use ‘em, but I can’t even move ‘em. It’s—it’s hard. It’s…feels wrong.”

“I believe it. I wouldn’t want to go through it.”

Billy fell silent again, then suddenly said, “We shouldn’t sleep together.”

Dom froze. Finally managed, “Oh?”

“’M gonna sleep here. You in there.”

“Why, Billy?” Dom asked carefully, without warning finding himself walking a knife edge.

“Don’t wanna sleep with you. Don’ want to.”

Dom was impressed with himself. He really was a damn good actor. He calmly said, “It’s all right, Billy, you don’t have to. But I’ll take the sofa, we wouldn’t want you to roll over and fall off, would we?” He sat up.

Billy looked at him strangely, then suddenly began intensely studying the corner of the coffee table, brows together. “Something’s not—no. There’s somethin’ wrong here.”

Dom picked up Billy’s glass and stood. “Need another drink, Billy? I’m just going to go get a drink. Won’t be long, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, Dom escaped to the kitchen, where he gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles and leaned over, head bent, eyes closed. It was fine, he told himself firmly. He’d known Billy would come to a decision sooner or later, and that it might not be one he wanted to hear. It was just unfortunate Billy hadn’t waited until the meds were out of his system, because Billy was a good bloke who would usually be a lot more kind and subtle than ‘I don’t want to sleep with you’. Dom would get over the disappointment, and that’s all it was, really, was disappointment because they could have had some fun together, he and Billy, and it’s not like his heart was broken or anything melodramatic like that. A little bruised, maybe. But that was it.

Thus rationalized, Dom poured more water for Billy, a glass for himself, and returned to the living room. He found Billy standing in front of the window, forehead pressed to the glass. He forced his voice to be light as he said, “Don’t smudge the glass. I don’t do windows, you know.”

Billy didn’t move, didn’t answer.

“Billy?” Dom set the glasses down.

“Look,” he whispered.

Dom crossed to stand behind him and look out the window, but it was dark, only a distant streetlight throwing shadows through the trees. “What do you see, Billy?” he asked quietly.

Billy placed a fingertip on the glass near his nose. “See ‘em fall?‘S pretty in the window.”

“Okay, I think that means it’s time for bed, Billy, come on—“

Billy turned, and Dom saw what Billy had been watching in the window. The reflection of the tears sliding down his face.

“Bills, what’s wrong?” He gently put his hands on Billy’s arms.

He shook his head. “’M leaking. Not sad, though, Dom. Weird, innit? Jus’ started leaking. Think I said something. Know I did, but I don’ know what.” He dragged the sleeve of his jumper across his face, drying most of the tears. “What’d I say, Dom?”

“I don’t know. Nothing to worry about. Come on, let’s get you ready for bed, shall we?”

Billy froze, his head slightly cocked. Then his shoulders slumped and he sighed, “Almost had it. What’d I say? Tell me what I’ve said.”

“I don’t know—“

“No, no, I mean—I mean, actually tell me. I said this an’ I said this an’ I said this. Tell me. Have t’ find it.”

“Leave it until tomorrow—“

“No! Any more drugs and I’ll never remember.”

“Billy, this really isn’t—“

“Tell me!” Billy nearly shouted, his mood shifting yet again. “It’s—I know it’s fuckin’ important, Dom! I know something’s wrong—I know—and I can’t fuckin’ remember!” He turned back to the window, thunked his forehead against the glass again. “I can’t fuckin’ remember.”

“All right, Bills,” Dom said soothingly, just trying to ease the obvious tension making Billy’s whole body practically quiver. “All right, I’ll try and remember for you. But you need to relax a bit first, okay? Come on, take it easy.”

Billy loudly released a huge breath, and his shoulders dropped a bit.

“That’s it. That’s my—That’s good, Bills.” Dom sat in the armchair just behind and to Billy’s right.

“What’ve I said?”

“All right. You said ‘See them fall. Pretty in the window.’”

Billy shook his head impatiently. “Before that. Before th’ window.”

“Before the window. I went into the kitchen for drinks. Before that…”

“What? What, Dom?”

“Well, give me a minute to think!” he protested. “I didn’t know I was going to be quizzed on this, did I? Before I went to the kitchen…you said then too that something was wrong. And before that you said you didn’t want to sleep with me and that you were going to stay out here, but I told you I’d take the sofa.” Dom’s voice was remarkably even. “Because what if you rolled off? You might land on your hands, and God only knows what that would do. And before that we were talking about your dreams, and you said you must’ve dreamed your hands were gone because—“

“Stop,” Billy said sharply.

Startled, Dom stopped.

“Go back.”

“I’m trying, Billy, I don’t know how much further back I can remember—“

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, his forehead pivoting on the glass. “What y’ just said. Go back.”

“What, about your dreams? Is that what’s wrong, Billy? You’re worried you’re going to—“

“No. Back.”

“What if you rolled off the sofa?” Dom started to tense up again. Was Billy really going to make him say it again?

“No. Back.”

“Billy—“

“Back!” he cried. “Please, Dom, I’m almost there! I c’n feel it, an’ it’s really—really pissing me off I can’t remember!”

“Okay, Bills. Just take it easy. Before that you said you didn’t want to sleep with me and you were going to sleep out here, which is when I said what if—“

“Stop.” Billy turned, saw Dom’s closed eyes and the small grimace twisting his lips. “That’s it. Don’ wanna sleep with you.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear, Billy,” Dom pointed out with a twinge of bitterness to his voice.

“No. Don’t think I have.” Billy examined Dom’s face closely, trying very hard to concentrate. “Think ‘m a stupid fuckin’ bastard.”

“You’re not—“

“Am—God, Dom, I really am,” he said as quickly as he could manage. “Not ‘don’t wanna sleep with you’. Fuck—don’t wanna wake you. D’ you see, m’ Dom? Sleep out here ‘cos I don’t wanna wake you up again. Bloody hell, Dom, I’m sorry—“ He broke off his frantic explanation as Dom suddenly rose and headed for the doorway. “Dom, please—‘m sorry.”

Dom paused, but didn’t turn. “I know, Bills. It’s okay, I understand.” His voice sounded odd, but not at all angry.

“Then—then where y’ goin’?” Billy asked uncertainly.

“Just going outside for a minute. I need some fresh air. I’ll be right back, Bills.”

“Dom—“

“Be right back.”

Billy heard the kitchen door slam. He rather shakily sat in the chair just vacated by Dom.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

When Dom had been gone for several minutes, Billy got to his feet and stumbled out to the kitchen. He stood at his back door and flattened his nose against the glass, looking for Dom, and it took him a moment to spot him in the dark. He was laying flat out on his back in the grass, the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, his elbows pointing to the sky, and looking down at him Billy felt absolutely wretched. He automatically reached for the doorknob, stopping only when his fingers tried to spread to grasp it and couldn’t, and a little twinge flickered through his palm. “Shite. Come in, Dom,” he murmured. “Please come in.” Nose back against the window, Billy waited.

What seemed like ages later, but was really probably only a few minutes, Dom’s arms flopped to the ground, and then he slowly, wearily climbed to his feet. He returned to the house, head down, and it wasn’t until he’d almost reached the door that he looked up. He started upon seeing Billy’s face framed in the window, then looked at his nose and smiled, pressing a finger to the glass directly opposite.

Billy stood there a second longer, then stepped back to allow Dom to enter. When he did, closing the door behind him, Billy moved closer again to gently run the back of one wrapped hand down the centre of Dom’s chest, repeating the motion several times as he said, “I really am sorry, Dom. The drugs’ve got me all stupid. ‘M saying everything wrong.”

“No you’re not, Billy,” he said kindly, rubbing at Billy’s arm a bit. “You’re doing great, honest. I should have known better—I wasn’t going to believe a word you said, remember?”

“’Cept that you’re m’ Dom.”

“Except that I’m your Dom,” he agreed with a smile. “And I think, my Bills, it’s high time we got you to bed. Will you come take another dose of your antibiotics?”

Billy made a face. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really, no.”

“Didn’t think so.” He walked over to take a seat at the kitchen table. They went through the routine with the glass, and then Dom ushered him towards the bathroom.

“I think we’ll get you ready and then give you the sedative tonight, yeah?”

“Why?” Billy entered the bathroom, blinking as Dom flicked on the light.

“They really hit you hard last night, and you fought them a bit too much. So we’ll give them to you right before you lay down, and then you can just drift off.”

“Whatever y' think’s best, Dom.”

Dom grinned at him. “Can I have that in writing? Never thought I’d hear that from you.”

“Think you’re funny, don’ you?”

“I do, actually. All right, time to brush. Open wide for the choo-choo, little Billy.”

“I want m’ hands back just so I c’n…can…” Billy waved his hands about. “So I can, y’ know—throttle you.”

“Now, now,” Dom teased. “Is that any way to treat your cabana boy?” he asked as Billy glared at him but willingly opened his mouth.

After brushing Billy’s teeth and lowering his trousers for him, Dom left him alone, pulling the door over but not shut. By the time he’d retrieved the sedatives and a glass of water and left them on the night stand in the bedroom, he heard his name being called.

Dom poked his head into the bathroom as Billy flushed the toilet. “All set, then?”

“Yeah.” Billy waited with more patience than he had yet shown, as Dom set his clothing to rights.

“We’re getting better at this, eh, Bills?”

“Have I been that—that difficult?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dom said, dismayed, and turned Billy to face him. “You haven’t been difficult.” At Billy’s snort and raised eyebrow, he added, “Okay, maybe you have been a bit. But I know it’s not you, Billy, I know it’s the meds and it’s frustration, and this hasn’t been easy for me either, but we’re both getting better. It’ll all get easier from here on out if we just keep trying to help each other.”

Billy turned away and walked out of the bathroom. “You may not’ve—have—shite. Noticed. I’m no help.”

Dom followed him to the bedroom. “Wrong. You can help me a lot, Bills.”

“Oh really? How?” he challenged, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dom stood in front of him and looked down into his weary green eyes. “By telling me what you need. By telling me if you’re not doing so well. By not fighting me over things that have to be done. That’s how.”

Billy looked up at him. Blinked. “Oh.”

Dom chuckled. “Is it a deal?”

“Ehm…okay. I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me, Bills. You ready to get some sleep?”

“Yeah. ‘M tired, Dom.”

“Okay.” Dom picked up the pills and the glass and climbed onto the bed behind Billy. He sat close and reached around with both arms, tilting his head to the side so he could see. “First one.” When Billy opened his mouth, Dom put the pill in and held up the glass. After the second pill, before Dom could move away, Billy leaned back into him. “Uh-uh. Let’s get you changed for bed, first. Sit up.”

“But I need t’—“

“In a minute. In just one minute, whatever you need, I’ll do it for you. You just have to let me help you change first, before those pills knock you flat, okay?”

Billy sighed. “Okay.”

“Good man. Come on, then.” Dom got off the bed, put the glass on the dresser, found Billy’s shorts and tee that he slept in, and waited for him to stand.

It wasn’t nearly as difficult to get Billy undressed and changed as the night before, when he had been so affected by the sedatives. Dom didn’t quite know whether to be glad or disappointed he didn’t have to steady him with a hand on a bare hip again. After working Billy’s t-shirt on, he said, “There you are. Climb in—watch your hands.”

Billy carefully made his way into the bed. “Dom?”

Dom sat on the edge of the mattress. “Yeah? What was it you needed, Bills?”

“Can I—c’n I wake you up tonight?”

He frowned. “Of course, if you need me. But those are pretty strong sedatives you’re on, I don’t think you’ll be waking until tomorrow.”

“No. I mean—I mean. What do I mean?” he muttered. “Hang on.”

“It’s all right. Take your time.”

“Wake you up. That whole thing earlier. Where I fucked up.”

Dom smiled gently at him. “You didn’t fuck up, Billy. Do you mean me sleeping on the sofa in case you dream again?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said with a touch of relief. “M’ brain’s Swiss cheese, goddammit. Pissing me off. Can I wake you up? I mean—no sofa. Y’ see?”

“I see. You want me to sleep in here tonight?”

“If—if—if y’ don’t mind. Don’ want t' wake you, but…”

Dom chuckled. “The whole sofa plan was your idea in the first place, I hate sleeping on that thing. Of course I don’t mind, Billy.”

“Okay.”

Dom thought Billy looked relieved out of all proportion. “Hey,” he said quietly, catching and holding Billy’s eyes. “What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna—I feel—“ he floundered, and stopped.

“You feel what, Bills?”

“I feel—I don’t know.” He bit his lip.

“Is it your hands? Are you in pain?”

Billy shook his head. “No.”

“Okay. That’s good, then.” Dom watched him for a moment, saw the slight catch every time he drew a breath, thought back to the other night, laying on their backs in the tall grass under the starless sky. “Is it in here, Billy?” Dom asked, and pushed a fist up under his own sternum.

Billy stared at that fist, and seemed to shrink in on himself as he wordlessly nodded.

“Okay,” Dom said softly. “It’s all right.” He stood up, and immediately put out a reassuring hand as Billy’s head lifted in dismay. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go lock the doors and brush my teeth, okay? A few minutes, okay, Bills?” When Billy jerkily nodded, Dom repeated, “I’ll be right back,” before quickly going to get ready for bed.

When Dom returned a few minutes later, Billy was still in the exact same position, staring at the blanket over his thighs. Dom changed quickly, then flipped the light off and made his slow, careful way over to the bed. “I didn’t buy you a lamp today, did I?” he said in a normal, conversational tone. “I’ll have to get one tomorrow if we’re out.” Reaching the bed, he pulled the covers back and climbed in. “I could get you one of those lamps where you only have to touch the rim to turn it on and off, you wouldn’t even need your fingers for it. That’d be good, wouldn’t it?” Dom slouched down into his pillow. “Come here, Bills,” he urged.

Billy didn’t move.

“Come on. I’ll give you a bit of a cuddle, we’ll see if we can’t get that feeling to go away, yeah?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I—I don’t wanna—I know…” Billy trailed off again, but this time Dom stayed quiet, letting him piece the thought together. “I know how y’ feel, Dom. Don’ wanna—y’ know, hurt you.”

Dom softly said, “Thank you, Billy. I appreciate that, that you’re worried about me when you’ve got so much going on. But this is okay, you know. This is different.”

“It is?”

The desire in Billy’s voice to believe Dom’s words squeezed at his heart. “Yeah, Bills, it is. This is just me trying to help my best mate feel better. So come on over here.”

Billy slowly—much more slowly than Dom had expected—eased himself down onto his pillow. He stilled for a moment, then awkwardly shifted toward Dom, stopping a few inches short of touching him.

“What is it, Billy?” Dom wished he could see Billy’s face, but he didn’t want to move, to get up and go turn the light back on.

It was a long moment before Billy answered, and when he did his voice was tight. “I hate this,” he muttered, the volume slowly rising with every word. “I hate this. Hate this. Fucking hate this!”

Dom quickly reached for him. “I know. I know. Come here.” He pulled Billy closer, held on when Billy resisted, tried to pull away. “Hey, c’mon, it’s me.”

“Let me go.”

“No. I’m not letting go of you, Bills. I won’t let go,” Dom insisted. “I know you hate this—I know this isn’t really you. Come on, Bills, be careful, please. Don’t hurt your hands.”

“No, Dom, let me go. I don’ wanna—no hug.”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing a hug. It’s all right, it’s just me. Come on Bills, stop fighting me.”

“Fucking let me go, Dom!” Billy suddenly thrashed. “Have to get up. Have t’ get up!”

Dom went from trying to hug Billy to just trying to keep him from hurting himself. “No! Stop it, Billy! Christ, please, Billy—come on, stop it!”

“Let me go—“

Dom lowered his voice again, leaned his forehead against the back of a wildly struggling Billy. “Please, Bills—stop. You’re starting to scare me. Please.” It took a second, but the tinge of fear in his voice began to penetrate, and Billy’s struggles began to slow.

“Lemme go,” he insisted, but without shouting. “Don’ wanna do this again.”

“I don’t want to let you go, Bills. I don’t want to, I just want to have a bit of a cuddle with you until you go to sleep,” he murmured, and slowly loosened his arms a little as Billy stopped fighting him and lay there on his side, shaking. “You don’t want to do what again, Bills? Come on, talk to me.”

“Don’ wanna cry again. Had enough of crying,” he said angrily. “No one—no one older’n six cries this much. Wha’s wrong with me?”

Dom tightened his arms just a bit. “Bloody hell, Billy, how many times do I have to tell you—it’s just the meds making you so emotional. There’s nothing wrong with you, all right?”

Billy began to weep.

“Oh, shite,” Dom moaned. “I’m sorry, Billy, I didn’t mean to snap. Please tell me I didn’t do this. Please tell me you were about to cry anyway.”

“’Course I fuckin’ was.” He began to sob.

Dom quickly curled up against him, around him, stroking his hair, his back, whispering in his ear, trying to soothe him, to comfort him, and after a few minutes the sobs abated. Dom leaned his head against Billy’s and continued to hold him as Billy quietly, tiredly cried for another few minutes before that, too, came to an end.

“Shh, Bills, it’s all right. It’s okay.”

Billy twisted his head to the side, dislodging Dom’s. “No it’s not,” he muttered raggedly. “’S gotta fuckin’ stop. I know y’ say it’s the—the—pills. Drugs. But I feel—Dom, I feel like…crying this much—‘s not right. What’s th’ matter? An’—an’ if there’s—if there’s no reason, it’s ev’n worse. No one cries this much for no fuckin’ reason.”

“Billy. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. Will you make a deal with me?”

“What?” he asked, a little wary.

“Leave it for one day. Just one. Don’t worry about whether you cry, or shout, or laugh, or don’t feel like talking at all.” Dom gently rolled him over, then reached up in the dark to feel for his face, cupping it between both hands. “For one day, let whatever you feel out. And by tomorrow night, if you’re still worried about it, still crying a lot, then we’ll damn well start figuring out the reason why. Will you do that, Bills? Can you try and be patient with yourself for one day?”

“I—dunno. I’ll try, Dom.”

“It’s uphill from here, Billy, and I’ll be with you every step of the way, whether you want me or not, you hear me? I’m with you no matter what.” Dom leaned his head down to place his lips on Billy’s cheek, to press a gentle kiss there.

Billy awkwardly tried to put his arms around Dom, reached for him to pull him in, but there was no strength in him.

Dom rolled onto his side, pulled Billy with him, and again as he rolled onto his back, making sure Billy’s hands were out of the way, and as Billy lay half on top of him, Dom wrapped his arms tightly about him. “Tell me what’s making you fight that sedative so hard. You should be asleep by now, what’s going on? Tell me how you feel right now. Tell me what you see inside,” he murmured.

“I—I feel—“ Billy wretchedly whispered after a moment. “There’s me. There’s…me. An’ all around me—inside, but—but—outside me…there’s…space.”

“Is that what’s under your ribs, Bills?” Dom asked quietly. “Space?”

“Yeah. It’s…’s empty,” he said a little lamely.

“Know what, Bills? If someone asked me to describe loneliness, I think that’s what I might say. Space inside, between me and everyone else. Do you think it feels like loneliness?”

“No. Maybe…yes.”

Dom hugged him tighter. “Tomorrow we’ll try and find a way to get rid of your loneliness when you’re with me. Okay, Bills? We’ll try and find a place you can count on that you won’t feel lonely, okay? But for tonight, go to sleep, Billy. Time to close your eyes and sleep.”

“Can’t,” he muttered, twitching. “Can’t. Can’t.”

“Why not?” Dom asked in surprise. “You’re tired, go to sleep.”

“’S dark.”

“Which is how we know it’s time to sleep, you silly arse,” Dom teased softly, rubbing Billy’s back with his other hand.

“No. Not out there.”

“Inside?”

“Yeah. M’ head.”

“What do you mean, Bills?”

“This ’s th’ drugs. Know it is. But. When I start t’—t’ fall asleep—I fall. ‘S like…’s like a roller coaster. But with no seats. An’ at night. An’ no—no—y’ know. Don’ go back up. Jus’ th’ drop, an’ it keeps goin’ an’ goin’. Makes me queasy, Dom.” Billy kept rambling, and Dom knew it was to try and avoid that falling sensation as the sedative began to claim him. “Don’ know—know which way’s up. An’ I can’t even—I—fuck. Fuck. Can’t even hold onto th’ bed, can’t—what’s th’ word? Fuck. Y’ know, stick m’self down.” He twitched.

“Orient yourself? Ground yourself?”

“’S it. Tha’s it, Dom. Ground. Both.” His voice started to slur. “Can’t even fuckin’ hold on ‘cos I…no hands.”

“I’ll hold onto you,” Dom said quietly.

“’S dark. An’ I’m fallin’. ‘M fallin’, makes me feel sick, Dom, an’ nothin’ t’ hold onto, Dom…”

Dom began rubbing slow but firm circles on Billy’s back. “Does that help, Bill? Does that help you feel which way is up?”

“Sorta,” he mumbled. “Still fallin’. Fuck. Still fallin’, Dom.”

“It’s all right, don’t worry, Bills. I’ll hang on to you and we’ll fall together, okay?” He dropped his voice, feeling Billy’s tension start to drain away, feeling him going boneless as consciousness began to slip away. “It’ll be okay, nothing will happen as long as we fall together, no need to feel sick, Bills, we’re falling slowly now, so slowly, we’re just floating now. Floating down into soft black sleep.”

“Dom,” Billy breathed one last time.

“Shh. We’ll fall into gentle dark sleep together, Bills,” he whispered, “you and me, together. Shh.” He listened to Billy’s breathing, deep and even, felt not a shiver of movement, and knew he was finally out cold. Despite his slight unease, Dom fell asleep only minutes later, still holding onto Billy tightly.



Dom woke slowly, on his own, and stretched without opening his eyes. A snort in his ear made him jump a little, but he knew who it was snuffling in his hair before he even registered the sound itself. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at Billy’s chin. A quick glance up confirmed he was still fast asleep, and for the second morning in a row, Dom indulged in unabashed staring. That chin, mouth, the enticing space between Billy’s lips and his perfectly shaped nose, the eyelashes that lay on his too-pale cheeks. Dom wondered with a sudden pang how hard a fight it was going to be for Billy to…to what? To get back to ‘normal’? To heal, he supposed. To free himself from the grip of whatever this was that had him so turned around, whatever was making him feel lonely, whatever had him mired in uncertainty. Dom hoped the long—and apparently unbroken—sleep he was getting would go a long way to leveling out his erratic emotions.

Watching Billy for one more long moment, Dom carefully eased closer and feathered a light kiss on his lips, barely even touching him. He then slid out of bed and quietly padded out of the bedroom, pulling the door over behind himself.

It was another three hours before Billy shuffled into the living room and leaned against the wall.

Dom looked up from the television and smiled. “Morning, Billy.”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual and rough with sleep.

“Barely. Need a piss?”

“Yeah.” He turned and shambled back down the hall, Dom following behind. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“Almost thirteen hours.”

Billy stopped short and Dom nearly stepped on his heels. “Thirteen? Bloody hell, why di’n’t y’ wake me earlier?” he demanded.

“What for? You needed the sleep.”

“Still. Thirteen hours.”

Dom gave him a gentle push toward the bathroom. “Yes, because it was very important you be up by nine o’clock this morning.”

“Still,” Billy feebly protested.

“Still nothing. I’m going to make you take a nap this afternoon, too.” Dom waited until Billy stood in front of the toilet, then pulled his shorts down for him.

“You’ll make me?”

“Yes, I will,” Dom said cheerfully. “Give us a shout when you’re finished.” He walked out.

“You—y’ tyrant!” Billy yelled after him.


Chapter Six