Book 5, Chapter 12: Craft the Only Thing We Know Into Surprise
Title: Craft the Only Thing We Know Into Surprise
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Word Count: 6797
Summary: The night of the presentations.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Dominic takes the stairs in the humanities building two at a time in his hurry to get to Billy. He's still in his now slightly wrinkled presentation suit, and the two cups of coffee in his hands--one of which has spilled over and is dripping down his hand and arm--make him look more like a lost first-year professor than a student who has been surrounded by the noise and delirium of his peers all amped up from the presentations for most of the day, and now perversely brings coffee to his professor and advisor and more in an attempt to ease them both into the evening. But he's in a good mood, which must count for something, he reasons, and this is no ordinary coffee but coffee from Billy's favorite cafe.
At one point earlier in the day he'd thought he might meet Billy there, that they would talk over everything that had happened from the moment they'd gone their separate ways from Billy's house that morning. And there'd been so much, beginning with his German professor's calming, teasing admiration of the suit Dominic wore and the tie Billy had bought him to go with it. Inside the jacket Billy had tucked the letter of congratulations and invitation Dominic had received a few weeks before, now soft from both his and Billy's handling as they'd read it over and over again. Knowing it was there had made Dominic feel stronger this morning, as if he could whip it out at the merest breath of a suggestion or surprise that of all people he should be among those participating in the presentations. He belonged among them, Billy had stressed; he'd earned his place in that room, at that podium in front of so many students and faculty and parents.
Even so, in those moments before his reading, it had still seemed unreal to Dominic that one of his poems should be chosen by the faculty of the German department to win top honours. That three had been chosen beggared belief. The monetary prize had meant almost nothing to him--though he'd decided almost immediately how he'd spend it--but the chance to be published, even if it brought him nothing but a few free copies, that-that was everything.
Before any of that, however, he had to survive the presentations themselves. In his chair at the front, surrounded by the other award winners from various departments, Dominic had fairly vibrated with nervous energy, biting at his thumbnail while his other hand reached to smooth down his tie. Billy's excitement and pride in him had greatly taken the sting out of his father's reaction to Dominic's good news; the man had proclaimed poetry a waste of the money he and Dominic's mother had spent sending him to Baskerville, and so Dominic hadn't even bothered looking for his parents in the audience, though a small part of him had hoped that his mum might make it. Of course, she hadn't, and Dominic had been too nervous to allow himself real sadness at her absence; instead he'd channeled that into searching for Billy among the people and finding just as little success.
That search had been interrupted by the sound of the Humanities department Chair approaching the podium to begin his speech. Dominic found it hard to concentrate, hard to contain his energy as the relatively sedate students around him had managed to do. It had taken almost every ounce of restraint to not turn and look for Billy again, to know someone was with him, there for him, for what Dominic figured might be two or three of the longest hours of his life. As he sat, Dominic had run through the poems he'd read in his mind several times, reminding himself of where he'd found it all too easy to be tripped up vocally by this phrase or that, by this emotion or that behind the words. The first two poems were shorter, easier, more comfortable things, contained bursts of rhythm and careful flow, but the last and most important would be harder; it speaks volumes on love to Dominic, every syllable more considered and weighed and measured than any Dominic had ever committed to paper or voice in his life. Its inspiration is never named and couldn't be even if Dominic had wanted it so, but Billy knows, has known, since the evening Dominic had found the courage to read it to him and translate it afterward, haltingly, unable to meet Billy's eyes until gently forced to do so.
The professor who had nominated Dominic for the prize had spoken to him at length about how that poem had touched her, and as Dominic had watched her at the podium, introducing him and some of his fellow students, he'd reflected distractedly on how lucky he'd been since he'd found his feet again, in class and out. So many people had been genuinely concerned about him, striving with him as he fought to find and reach his goals again--Orlando, those in the German department, Billy, some of the art students, and even Professor Blanchett, without whom he would have failed biology and perhaps himself, too.
The other presentations had been just a blur of students standing up, presenting and sitting down. His rising nerves had meant Dominic hadn't been able to pay proper attention to them or enjoy them; he'd been too occupied forcing his hands to stop shaking, to confirm his poems are still in the other inside breast pocket of his jacket. Only the motion of the girl next to him standing for her turn at the podium had startled him into attention again, and even so he'd turned one last time to peer into the sea of faces, looking for Billy. Again no luck, and again Dominic had turned back around to face the stage, this time steeling himself for what would be his turn next.
Once onstage, Dominic had dragged from some inner depths the strength he'd last used properly in the art studios with Ms. O, or perhaps less carefully with Billy over the course of some night he absolutely could not dwell on there and then, not with all those faces searching his expectantly. A low cough and shuffle of his papers, and then Dominic had begun to read, stumbling a bit through the first poem and then finding his way, his voice becoming as fervent as the text he read as he continued. The last poem had surprisingly taken less out of him than he'd expected; yes, it had been frightening to read aloud, to let fly into the general air what Dominic had never thought would leave his paper or at the most the comforting surrounds of Billy's home, but it had also shockingly liberating-at the final line, Dominic had raised his chin almost defiantly, daring his audience to not believe in the power of his subject, of love consuming and consumed.
And then it had all been another blur: the sound of applause, the warm touch of his German's professor hand on his arm as she'd led him to the side of the stage, the claps on his shoulder from classmates and students he'd never met as they congratulated him. Administrators he'd come to fear in corridors and offices had shaken his hand and offered him their congratulations, too, and Dominic had struggled to remain conscious of everything around him, to thank anyone and everyone within hearing, to smile and nod in appreciation of their appreciation. He'd felt electric, thrumming with energy, and then, finally-finally-he'd turned to see Billy, standing back just enough to take full measure of Dominic, to allow him this space Dominic desperately had not needed.
Admitting his fear to Billy had been easy; suddenly realizing that Billy had not arrived to meet him alone had been much harder. Dominic had been polite to Professor Blanchett, even as he'd wanted to back away from her steady, cool gaze. Behind her, Billy had urged strength into him from his own stare, and Dominic had held his ground. Had he been able, he would have explained to her what she wanted to know about the poem she'd enjoyed, the one that spoke of his confusion and fear. He liked to think she would have understood. Still, her presence between him and Billy had been unnerving, even though there'd been no reason to think anything strange about her and Billy having been at the presentation together, but the thoughts had run through Dominic's mind nonetheless, and had remained there after he'd been pulled away from them by his professor again. Billy and Professor Blanchett had stepped back into their own conversation as if Dominic had never been there, and Dominic had welcomed the distraction he'd been thrown into over the several hours that followed.
Slipping quickly inside Billy's half-opened office door now, Dominic catches the door with his foot and lets it slam, grinning when Billy jumps a bit and the pen in his hand streaks across the page of notes before him at the sound of the door, leaving a dark green diagonal line in the middle of what was already a mess of thoughts. Dominic's nervousness fades at the sight of Billy's shock, and he barks out a laugh in greeting. "Hiya."
"One of those had better be for me," Billy says sharply, already rising to take the coffees from Dominic so Dominic can settle into Billy's guest chair. "And you've got a brilliant sense of timing; a minute ago I thought I was going t'fall asleep at that desk." Billy crosses the room to lock the door, and when he turns again to face Dominic, he stifles a laugh and reaches to push the tie back in front of Dominic's shirt from where he's flipped it over his shoulder. "You're a mess," Billy sighs, still smiling. "You’ve earned it, though. You were brilliant today, not that you need to hear me tell you. What happened after all that?"
"They sent us around to talk to all these people,” Dominic sighs, setting one of the coffee cups in front of Billy’s stack of notes. “We all ended up at the professors' pub, if you can believe it." Dominic laughs as Billy raises his eyebrows, both jealous and amused. "We had something to eat, something to drink, talked until I thought I was going hoarse. It was fantastic.”
“I can imagine.”
“I know.” Dominic’s grin widens. “I may have been challenged to a match at that pool table, too. Little did they know I learned from the master.”
Billy rolls his eyes, reaching for the coffee. “Of all the things to have actually absorbed, Dom. Right, so afterward you were fine. What about during?”
“During?”
“While you were reading up there,” Billy says calmly. “What were you feeling?”
“Terror.” Billy tilts his head and smiles, but Dominic shakes his head. “I’m not joking. Absolute fucking terror, at least through the first one. And I wanted-I looked for you, and I know you were there, but--”
“I was there, yes, not that you would have needed me to be to make the impression you did, you should know that.”
“I do.” That it’s not a lie shocks Dominic to his core, and he blinks, getting back on track immediately. “I think I felt you there, like; I felt like I was talking to you again, reading them to you. It made it easier.”
Billy smiles, leaning back in his chair. “The last was fantastic,” he says softly. “You found your speed, Dom, and you just-took off with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that from you in a context outside of my own house.”
“It’s easier there, too.”
“Well, you would think so.” Billy leans forward again, conspiratorially almost over his desk, hands folded in front of him. “You’ve got free reign to read me anything y’like at home, if you do it like that. But take it back to what I meant, Dom; you must have felt like you’d taken on Everest afterward; your professor looked like she was ready to hand you a flag to plant there.”
Dominic nods and blushes, looking away before he can meet Billy’s eyes again. “It was brilliant,” he says, admitting it to himself as well as Billy. “And exhausting. I thought about going back home to have a kip in your garden instead of going to the pub, but it would have been a waste of the suit, yeah?"
"So you're not hungry?" Dominic shakes his head, and Billy releases a resigned little noise before he takes a sip of the coffee. "That's a shame. We could have celebrated somewhere."
"We still can," Dominic laughs, then stretches his legs out in front of him, letting his gaze wander to Billy's candy jar. "We already did, though, too. A lot. I'd rather just go home and do something like that, if you're wanting to celebrate a little more." Setting his own coffee at the edge of Billy's desk, he reaches into the candy jar and takes a handful of chocolates. "I'll have to weed that garden out for you this weekend, though. Do it properly so we can make something of it next season."
"So you can."
"You as well."
"I kill plants just looking at them, Dom. And I'm a little occupied cultivating other things, hmm?" Dominic concedes that with another laugh, and Billy sighs, settling back into his chair with a handful of hard, tart candies that aren't Dominic's favourites. "Right, we can talk the weekend later; I have forms here you're going to need to fill out. Not now if you don't want to; you can bring them home. But one's an intention to graduate form, and there's a lot you'll have to attach, so we can go through it carefully together if you'd like. The other ones are just boring shite, you'll see when you read them." Billy's eyes fall to Dominic's file on his desk, and he licks his sticky fingertips and pats them with a handkerchief before he begins to flip through its pages. "But there's a few things I noticed weren't in here, Dom. There should be a copy of your German prize letter, and your transcript from last term. I can get that if you sign off for it--" Billy looks up from beneath his lashes, amused. "And probably even if y'don't. But you'll need to speak to your German professor for the letter. Oh, and there's this ..."
Billy shifts the stack of papers in Dominic's file all to one side, face down, and taps his fingers lightly against the now-bared back cover. "I'm supposed to ask you what your plans are for the future, Dom," Billy says, sighing again when Dominic suddenly abandons his chair and begins to move around the office restlessly. "Especially if you're thinking to continue in school."
"Do we have to decide now? I mean--"
"We do not have to do anything," Billy says quietly. "This is your decision to make."
Dominic nods absently, still pacing. "I haven't thought about it and I know my dad isn't going to pay for me to go any further, and... I don't know." He shrugs his shoulder, stopping at the window to look out for a moment before starting on another circuit of the room. "Do you think I could even get through another program, Billy? I mean, I've barely made it through this one."
"Barely is relative. You've dug yourself out of quite the hole, Dom; don't let yourself forget that. And I believe you can do anything, provided you want it badly enough." Billy's voice is calm but firm, and he slumps down low in his chair, elbows on the arms and fingers tented in front of his face. "There are ways to pay for studies, and I would encourage you to find them. You could clerk, or be a teaching assistant for German or philosophy. You can take it slowly, one or two classes at a time-but only if you want to and you're willing to work for it. I won't pretend it's an easy route. It would have done me in if it hadn't been the only thing I was living for at the time." Dominic pauses in front of him, and Billy flushes, seeming to realize what he's just said. He stands and walks to Dominic, shaking his head.
"You’re not me. Be happy for it. Dom, listen," he says softly, his hand rising to curve over Dominic's shoulder, kneading the muscle there lightly. "You have the stuff to be a brilliant teacher. It will be your decision, and only yours, but you do have to decide. Not today, but soon. And whatever you decide, you must know how much you've already achieved and how proud you should be-how proud I am and will be for you. Christ, Dom," Billy laughs. "Think about how you felt after you read your poetry to all those people. You'll get the same rush sometimes teaching. I'm not trying to pressure you. It's just that things are speeding up, and I want you have a-path, like. A direction. Somewhere to be, to want to be. For now, though you should also remember how you felt today. It won't be the last time you feel it, I swear it to you."
Dominic ducks his head, feeling his cheeks warm under the praise. It's not that he hasn't thought about the future, it's just that those thoughts have been limited to finally being able to be free with Billy. That's all he wants at the moment, though he’s happy enough to keep that to himself for now. Resting his hands at Billy's waist, Dominic leans in to brush his lips against Billy's. "Thank you. I'll think about it, yeah? And we'll talk about it this weekend."
Billy nods, stepping out of Dominic's arms to start gathering his briefcase and coat. "I'll hold you to that. Tell me about your other classes this week, Dom."
"Everything's a lot better."
"And the biology?"
"Professor Blanchett's a brilliant teacher." It comes out quickly, to Dominic's surprise again, and again it's no lie. The strange tension he'd felt inside himself earlier in her presence seems irrelevant now, as he reminds himself again of what she'd done for him. "A little hard sometimes. She gets frustrated, I think, when the class isn't paying 100 percent attention. Luckily she knows that I'm trying hard to be still in her class, so-“
"I see how it is. You'll be still for the brilliant Professor Blanchett and not so much for me. That'll have to be rectified."
Dominic laughs, watching Billy move around the office. “The rest of it's sorted. I've got three exams, one presentation, and a paper before the end of the term. Not to mention my reading journal for your class and the lab reports for biology. But I think I'll be alright. It's not feeling like so much this time. Everything's-you know everything's changed, Billy."
"Thank Christ for that." Billy huffs as he takes another look over his desk, shifting papers around. "You sound more confident than I've heard you in ages, Dom, even with all the work. I wouldn't trade positions with you for pay, but I'm sure you're going to do well." He throws a smile over his shoulder at Dominic. "I might crash your other presentation, Dom. D'you think I could get away with it?"
"It's going to be held in one of those big lecture halls in the humanities building. You could come. I doubt anyone would notice one more body and I would feel better knowing you're there." Dominic steps forward, reaching to brush at a spot on Billy's sleeve that turns out to be dark green ink. "You'll be bored to tears, though. It's not any of my own work, just basically an essay on the rise and fall of Germanic poetry during the seventeenth century. Told in German."
"Neither the subject nor the language spoken would keep me away," Billy says. "And I'd recognize names-give me a bit of credit here." Billy lowers his voice slightly. "When you're working on your German, Dom ... are you thinking in German as well? I once had a student who told me she did everything, including her Maths, in Spanish in her head before she ever committed a single English word to paper. She was a good writer-everything made sense, sometimes made more than sense-but I was certain her papers would have just soared if she hadn't felt so hemmed in by English. I've got no idea what that's like. I suppose it depends on the person. Maybe it's hellish, maybe there's some safety in knowing you can't show or tell too much."
"Maybe it's neither," Dominic says. He rests one hand flat on Billy's chest now, feeling warm skin beneath Billy's shirt. "Maybe it's both. When I write in German, I think in German; when I'm writing something for you, like, for the class, the thinking and the writing are in English. Except-" He thinks about his answer then, closing his eyes and comparing some words in German and English, before he speaks again, quietly, working out how to phrase it. "My poems. Those are different. I can't write poetry in English. I've tried, but the words don't come. Only in German. And ..." Dominic flexes his hand gently, the fabric of Billy's shirt wrinkling beneath it.
"When we're together, when we're home and we're in bed, I think in German. I don't know why. But when I think of your body..." Dominic splays his fingers again and slowly moves his hand down until it rests at Billy's waist again, the image of what Billy's skin and the muscle beneath looks and feels like etched on his memory. "I think of you in German. I don't think of anyone else that way, and I never have. I don't know what it means. Maybe I don't have to."
"And maybe it's better you don't." Dominic looks up sharply, but there's no tease in Billy's expression, not even in his eyes. "One day I might learn it, Dominic. One day I might let you teach me that and a little more."
Dominic knows he should wait Billy out, then, but the day's been too long, and Billy looks tired, too, run through a different kind of wringer. They're both quiet for several moments before Dominic breaks the silence, with a slow laugh. "This is the best advising session I've ever had. Well, second best." Billy laughs, too, and Dominic raises his hand to brush his fingers against Billy's stubbled cheek. "And I get to go home with my advisor, and one day you won't be; you'll just be you, and we'll just be us. If I don't go back to school, I'll just-work. And I'll get to look after you instead of always the other fucking way around."
"Y'don't do any of that now, you think?" Billy tilts his head. "Pay a bit more attention to yourself this weekend, then. After you sort out what you might want to do in the next year and inform that advisor. Imagine me thinking of the future, when I'm always trying to keep you on the ground of the present. If you want to work, I wouldn't try to stop you, but I'd sooner see you working at something you love than just clocking in somewhere for the money. And I'd-"
Billy pauses, clearly trying to think of how to say what he wants to express himself. The struggle is fascinating for Dominic to watch, its resolution thrilling to hear. "I've only got a year left here on my contract, Dominic," Billy says quietly. "If you stayed-with me, here-we could find our way afterward. And if you found something somewhere else, we'd still make it right. We'd just have to-"
"Work a bit harder," Dominic whispers. So many of Dominic's fears have been based on the thought of their relationship ending when his final term ends. Just knowing for certain that Billy wants them to be together afterward as well makes all the other decisions seem so much easier. Filled with a sudden energy, Dominic begins pacing the room again, his eyes bright as he finally give voice to his secret plans. "That's what I want. I'd like to be a teacher, like you. Not a professor, though, just a teacher. I'd like to teach children. Can you see that?"
"I can." Dominic turns to face Billy, and Billy shrugs and nods. "I've told more than one person that once you've decided to do something, nothing short of a natural disaster can stand in your way. Your belief in yourself is enough then. I'm only adding to it." Billy turns back to the desk for one last look at it, pushing away a short stack of papers he'd clearly been thinking of bringing home. "You'd be good with children, I think-that voice and your imagination. And your patience, when you want to show it. All good things, all things with promise. Whatever you want to do, Dom, I'll have your back. I'll be the boot in your arse when it needs kicking, but more often I'll just enjoy the view. We should go."
Dominic's lost enough in his thoughts that he barely notices anything around them as he follows Billy out of the humanities building. It's only when they're crossing the green space on the way to the parking area that he seems to wake up from them, turning to Billy when Billy clears his throat and speaks.
"They've asked me to speak, Dom. At the graduation. Nothing important, just something short, as if I'm ever able to keep anything short, right. So I'll see you, Dominic; I'll be up there on the stage instead of in the far back of that enormous hall. I told you, it feels like centuries ago, but I told you I'd see you walk, and I'm keeping that promise. And if I keep my bloody composure I'll call myself the strongest man in the world." Billy pauses, then laughs at what Dominic supposes must be his stunned expression before they both squint at the sunset and continue slowly to the car. "You must be exhausted. I'll spare you my rambling about a speech I haven’t even outlined, and we'll just get home. Resign ourselves to our fates. D'you feel like driving?"
Dominic grins and takes the keys Billy brandishes, pushing away the questions he wants to ask Billy. Any opportunity to drive is taken gladly--especially Billy’s old car, which practically purrs to the driver as it runs the road. Tossing his bag into the back, Dominic slides into the smooth leather seat and turns the key, deciding immediately to take the long way to Billy's home. Driving through the streets of downtown, a ways off campus, he stops at a light and suddenly pauses in the middle of some anecdote when he notices a familiar face in the car next to theirs, that of another professor.
"Billy." Dominic murmurs, clears his throat, and then continues. "I wouldn't look now, but I think Professor Sinclair is in the car next to us. I think he's arguing with his wife." He’s not surprised when the imperative to not look of course makes Billy immediately do the opposite, to confirm that it is indeed Harry Sinclair, professor of linguistics and resident of the office four doors down from Billy's, next to them.
"Pull up," Billy says calmly. "Just another few inches." Dominic slides the car back in gear and moves them forward, enough so that Billy can peer at his side mirror and then throw his hand weakly. "Well, there we go. With any luck he's too involved to give a damn about us, and at this point ... Dominic, I am so tired of hiding. This term cannot end quickly enough." He stares out the window as Dominic accelerates, a little harder than before. "I want to be able to sit with you in the coffee shop and do the shopping whenever we fucking feel like it. Sometimes--" Billy pauses, looking for the right words. "I think I should have resigned. I can teach anywhere they'd have me, but I'd be able to just--exist with you, be with you as much as I want, when and where I want." His hand brushed against Dominic's, curled around the gearshift. "If I had, though, I would have failed both of us, and I don't-do failure, Dom, I won't have it."
Dominic can feel the smile that more than turns up the corners of his lips. He makes a smooth left and then a right further up, taking them in the opposite direction from Billy's home as he drives, suddenly in the mood to take them as far away from Baskerville as the car can carry them. Finding himself on a small two-lane road, Dominic wonders how far it goes, and if it will end at one of the bodies of water he knows Billy so loves, and decides to find out.
"I'm glad you didn't quit. I've only had the courage to stay because of yours," Dominic says quietly. Billy opens his mouth to protest, but Dominic carries on as if he hasn't noticed. "I think you're brilliant, and it would have deprived your students if you left, and more than just me, who needs you as a professor and advisor almost as much as anything else."
"I’m not sure I’m much cop at any of that anymore," Billy sighs. "D'you know how long it's been since I published? This speaking at graduation, right? I can't help feeling like it might be a kiss of death. The last two professors they asked didn't last out the following year. It's a bad omen. Not that I believe in any of that, but it hangs over me."
Billy goes quiet then, watching the scenery pass outside his window. "I'm sorry," he says finally, turning back to Dominic. "You've probably saved my job, Dom. Even when we seem to have done everything we could to make me lose it. About ten miles from here there's a turnoff to a pier. Remember the Victorian footbridge I was telling you about? There will be signs for the water, if you're in the mood for another place to hide."
Dominic doesn't answer, but he drives smoothly so that he, too, can enjoy the scenery. The sun is beginning to go down, and the light is diffused through the trees, casting a soft glow on everything. The meadows on either side are green and lush, and Dominic rolls down his window, letting the cool evening air move over them in the car.
He finds the spot Billy mentioned easily enough. They sit for a moment before each steps out of the car and begins to walk to the end of the nearby weathered pier, more appealing than the prettier footbridge somehow. Dominic tugs Billy back to him when Billy moves too far forward, stilling them both. "I meant what I said," Dominic murmurs, letting the peace of the evening settle around them before he continues. "I owe you everything, and not just because of-us, Billy. And I’m not the only one. Maybe we don’t all know how lucky we are, but," Dominic shrugs, then leans in to touch his forehead to Billy’s temple gently, a smile in his voice. “We’ll learn. You’ve got another two minutes to be a morose bastard, Billy. After that, it’s a waste of a beautiful night.”
Billy releases an amused little noise, then shakes his head. "Your fault, you know. I used to keep this rubbish to myself. Talking in my office like that-about your future, our future-I’m more terrified than I've let on, and I’m not likely to admit that again, so keep it safe somewhere. It’ll be alright, though. I don’t believe in much, Dom, but again, it’s not like I have a choice in this anymore."
“Don’t make it sound such a chore, Billy,” Dominic laughs, and Billy shakes his head again, harder, as if to shake away the last several hours of his life before his fingers find Dominic’s sleeve, moving them again in the direction of the water.
"So, little ones, then. You like children. You'll teach them their numbers and letters in German, and the words for breakfast, lunch and dinner." Billy nudges Dominic's shoulder with his own. "Y'could teach German children, Dom. There's a school in the Midlands, did you know that? They teach expatriate children, all nationalities-and when they're very young, they're settled in with teachers who speak their language. Imagine teaching a little German boy or girl, Dom. And more than just footie rules."
"I'd like that. Make them feel more comfortable."
They stand shoulder to shoulder and look over the water, the sound and sight of it calming Dominic. He likes that things feel settled; he will go to school, and Billy will teach. They'll be together. Once he finishes at Baskerville, he can tell his family--his father--his plans, and then move out completely, and in with Billy. Permanently with Billy, in the little house he already loves so much.
A thought comes to him, something he hasn't really ever tried to give serious thought to. "Did you ever want children, Billy?"
Billy stands quietly for a long moment before he answers, only his thumb moving in circles on Dominic's hand. "I'll tell you something, Dom," he sighs. "When Margaret had David, I was at the hospital. Her husband Peter was there too, of course, but I was-waiting. I was so scared for her. Peter came out to the waiting room and told me to come in, see Maggie, meet the baby. I held him, the baby I mean, and Peter took a picture of the three of us-me, Maggie and David. It was months before I saw the picture. The one on the top shelf of the bookcase, you’ve seen it. But I took it home and just looked at it for ages, Dom. Maggie wrote on the back of it, I'll show it to you when we get home. She said, get out of your pit, Bill; you're next."
Billy takes a breath and squeezes Dominic's hand. "I'm not sure I am. I don't have to emphasize to you that I'm the most selfish human being on this bloody planet, and while I love David and Petra, children flummox me. I could see maybe one-a boy, a little one I'd convince t'believe rugby was better than football. That's about all I'd do right, though, I think. I'm not above trying to learn, I suppose, but …" He trails off, then turns to Dominic. "D'you see little ones in your future?"
"No," Dominic answers honestly, the sound of his voice betraying his thoughts as he lowers his gaze. "That's one thing my mum has regretted about having ... about having a son like me. I do like children, though." Dominic can't help the slow smile that spreads across his face as he thinks of his brother and pregnant sister-in-law. "Matt and Katie are expecting soon, though, so that makes my mum happy. I've barely heard a word from her since she began buying baby clothes with Katie."
"That will happen," Billy laughs. "She's going to be a grandmother. I can tell you from personal experience that they can be a bit obsessive." Billy touches his forehead to Dominic's this time, affectionately, bringing his hand to curl gently around Dominic's neck. "Your mother adores you, regardless of whether you bring her grandchildren or not, Dom, I believe that."
They stand there for several moments, listening to the water lap at the wooden legs of the pier. "Long day," Billy suddenly murmurs. "I'm almost too tired to eat. Almost," he says, looking up sharply. "Are you awake enough to drive us home?"
Dominic nods but doesn’t move just yet, sensing Billy’s not quite as ready to leave this place as he thinks; there’s something unsaid in the air, resting just at Billy’s surface. Billy knows it too, from the way he takes several strong, deep breaths before he speaks again.
“You’re still going home for the holidays, yeah?” Dominic nods again and this time lowers his eyes to the ground, staring at the water moving between the slats of the pier beneath them. Billy hums, then takes yet another deep breath. “And you’ll be back straight after.”
“On the 27th if I can get away with it.”
“Right.” Billy steps forward, just enough to lean against one of the pier supports, facing Dominic and waiting for him to meet Billy’s gaze. Dominic does, trying not to hold his breath as soon as he sees the expression on Billy’s face.
“What is it?”
“Come to Paris with me.”
Dominic blinks, feeling a thrilled shiver move between his shoulders and down his back. “Sorry, Paris? You want me to go to Paris with you?”
“Don’t make it sound such a chore,” Billy says, the smirk splitting his face in two. “We’ve earned a getaway, don’t y’think? You’ll come back, I’ll intercept any attempt you make to get any sleep before I throw you back on a train, and there we are.”
“There we are.” Dominic’s voice feels caught in his throat, shocked hoarse. “You’re sure?”
“In what universe d’you suppose I would have said anything if I hadn’t been sure, hmm?” Billy’s smirk goes softer, and he tilts his head. “I can drive back tonight if you’d rather spend the rest of it in your head on this, Dom. It’s not the hardest thing I’ve asked from you.”
“No.” Dominic shakes himself out of the momentary stupor and laughs. “Right. Yes. Yes, I want to go. I mean-it’s fucking ridiculous, Billy, of course I want to go. I’ll be-I’m not going t’be able to stand it at home now, I think.”
“You don’t get that choice,” Billy says gently, and Dominic nods in acknowledgment even as Billy continues. “This morose bastard is going to be here when you get back. Make the best you can of your time home, Dominic; I don’t think I can stress enough how important it is, no matter how hard. I know I can’t.”
Dominic looks up in time to see something brief and terrible move over Billy’s expression, but it’s gone just as quickly, and Billy’s smiling again. “I’ll take my keys back, I think.”
“Right. Right.” Dominic hands them over without a thought, laughing again. “This is-this day, Billy. I can’t even process it right now.”
“Good thing you don’t have to.” Billy yawns again, then pivots off the pier support and begins to walk, looking over his shoulder at Dominic. “Come on. Home. We’ve got some celebrating to do, hmm?”
Dominic bites his lip and nods, staring at Billy’s back as he walks for a moment before he follows, happily processing nothing more than the next steps in front of his feet.
Authors: kiltsandlollies and escribo
Characters: Dominic/Billy
Word Count: 6797
Summary: The night of the presentations.
Index
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; the recognizable people in the story belong to themselves and have never performed the actions portrayed here. I do not know the actors nor am I associated with them in any way. If you are underage, please do not read this story. I am not making any profit from these stories, nor do I mean any harm.
Dominic takes the stairs in the humanities building two at a time in his hurry to get to Billy. He's still in his now slightly wrinkled presentation suit, and the two cups of coffee in his hands--one of which has spilled over and is dripping down his hand and arm--make him look more like a lost first-year professor than a student who has been surrounded by the noise and delirium of his peers all amped up from the presentations for most of the day, and now perversely brings coffee to his professor and advisor and more in an attempt to ease them both into the evening. But he's in a good mood, which must count for something, he reasons, and this is no ordinary coffee but coffee from Billy's favorite cafe.
At one point earlier in the day he'd thought he might meet Billy there, that they would talk over everything that had happened from the moment they'd gone their separate ways from Billy's house that morning. And there'd been so much, beginning with his German professor's calming, teasing admiration of the suit Dominic wore and the tie Billy had bought him to go with it. Inside the jacket Billy had tucked the letter of congratulations and invitation Dominic had received a few weeks before, now soft from both his and Billy's handling as they'd read it over and over again. Knowing it was there had made Dominic feel stronger this morning, as if he could whip it out at the merest breath of a suggestion or surprise that of all people he should be among those participating in the presentations. He belonged among them, Billy had stressed; he'd earned his place in that room, at that podium in front of so many students and faculty and parents.
Even so, in those moments before his reading, it had still seemed unreal to Dominic that one of his poems should be chosen by the faculty of the German department to win top honours. That three had been chosen beggared belief. The monetary prize had meant almost nothing to him--though he'd decided almost immediately how he'd spend it--but the chance to be published, even if it brought him nothing but a few free copies, that-that was everything.
Before any of that, however, he had to survive the presentations themselves. In his chair at the front, surrounded by the other award winners from various departments, Dominic had fairly vibrated with nervous energy, biting at his thumbnail while his other hand reached to smooth down his tie. Billy's excitement and pride in him had greatly taken the sting out of his father's reaction to Dominic's good news; the man had proclaimed poetry a waste of the money he and Dominic's mother had spent sending him to Baskerville, and so Dominic hadn't even bothered looking for his parents in the audience, though a small part of him had hoped that his mum might make it. Of course, she hadn't, and Dominic had been too nervous to allow himself real sadness at her absence; instead he'd channeled that into searching for Billy among the people and finding just as little success.
That search had been interrupted by the sound of the Humanities department Chair approaching the podium to begin his speech. Dominic found it hard to concentrate, hard to contain his energy as the relatively sedate students around him had managed to do. It had taken almost every ounce of restraint to not turn and look for Billy again, to know someone was with him, there for him, for what Dominic figured might be two or three of the longest hours of his life. As he sat, Dominic had run through the poems he'd read in his mind several times, reminding himself of where he'd found it all too easy to be tripped up vocally by this phrase or that, by this emotion or that behind the words. The first two poems were shorter, easier, more comfortable things, contained bursts of rhythm and careful flow, but the last and most important would be harder; it speaks volumes on love to Dominic, every syllable more considered and weighed and measured than any Dominic had ever committed to paper or voice in his life. Its inspiration is never named and couldn't be even if Dominic had wanted it so, but Billy knows, has known, since the evening Dominic had found the courage to read it to him and translate it afterward, haltingly, unable to meet Billy's eyes until gently forced to do so.
The professor who had nominated Dominic for the prize had spoken to him at length about how that poem had touched her, and as Dominic had watched her at the podium, introducing him and some of his fellow students, he'd reflected distractedly on how lucky he'd been since he'd found his feet again, in class and out. So many people had been genuinely concerned about him, striving with him as he fought to find and reach his goals again--Orlando, those in the German department, Billy, some of the art students, and even Professor Blanchett, without whom he would have failed biology and perhaps himself, too.
The other presentations had been just a blur of students standing up, presenting and sitting down. His rising nerves had meant Dominic hadn't been able to pay proper attention to them or enjoy them; he'd been too occupied forcing his hands to stop shaking, to confirm his poems are still in the other inside breast pocket of his jacket. Only the motion of the girl next to him standing for her turn at the podium had startled him into attention again, and even so he'd turned one last time to peer into the sea of faces, looking for Billy. Again no luck, and again Dominic had turned back around to face the stage, this time steeling himself for what would be his turn next.
Once onstage, Dominic had dragged from some inner depths the strength he'd last used properly in the art studios with Ms. O, or perhaps less carefully with Billy over the course of some night he absolutely could not dwell on there and then, not with all those faces searching his expectantly. A low cough and shuffle of his papers, and then Dominic had begun to read, stumbling a bit through the first poem and then finding his way, his voice becoming as fervent as the text he read as he continued. The last poem had surprisingly taken less out of him than he'd expected; yes, it had been frightening to read aloud, to let fly into the general air what Dominic had never thought would leave his paper or at the most the comforting surrounds of Billy's home, but it had also shockingly liberating-at the final line, Dominic had raised his chin almost defiantly, daring his audience to not believe in the power of his subject, of love consuming and consumed.
And then it had all been another blur: the sound of applause, the warm touch of his German's professor hand on his arm as she'd led him to the side of the stage, the claps on his shoulder from classmates and students he'd never met as they congratulated him. Administrators he'd come to fear in corridors and offices had shaken his hand and offered him their congratulations, too, and Dominic had struggled to remain conscious of everything around him, to thank anyone and everyone within hearing, to smile and nod in appreciation of their appreciation. He'd felt electric, thrumming with energy, and then, finally-finally-he'd turned to see Billy, standing back just enough to take full measure of Dominic, to allow him this space Dominic desperately had not needed.
Admitting his fear to Billy had been easy; suddenly realizing that Billy had not arrived to meet him alone had been much harder. Dominic had been polite to Professor Blanchett, even as he'd wanted to back away from her steady, cool gaze. Behind her, Billy had urged strength into him from his own stare, and Dominic had held his ground. Had he been able, he would have explained to her what she wanted to know about the poem she'd enjoyed, the one that spoke of his confusion and fear. He liked to think she would have understood. Still, her presence between him and Billy had been unnerving, even though there'd been no reason to think anything strange about her and Billy having been at the presentation together, but the thoughts had run through Dominic's mind nonetheless, and had remained there after he'd been pulled away from them by his professor again. Billy and Professor Blanchett had stepped back into their own conversation as if Dominic had never been there, and Dominic had welcomed the distraction he'd been thrown into over the several hours that followed.
Slipping quickly inside Billy's half-opened office door now, Dominic catches the door with his foot and lets it slam, grinning when Billy jumps a bit and the pen in his hand streaks across the page of notes before him at the sound of the door, leaving a dark green diagonal line in the middle of what was already a mess of thoughts. Dominic's nervousness fades at the sight of Billy's shock, and he barks out a laugh in greeting. "Hiya."
"One of those had better be for me," Billy says sharply, already rising to take the coffees from Dominic so Dominic can settle into Billy's guest chair. "And you've got a brilliant sense of timing; a minute ago I thought I was going t'fall asleep at that desk." Billy crosses the room to lock the door, and when he turns again to face Dominic, he stifles a laugh and reaches to push the tie back in front of Dominic's shirt from where he's flipped it over his shoulder. "You're a mess," Billy sighs, still smiling. "You’ve earned it, though. You were brilliant today, not that you need to hear me tell you. What happened after all that?"
"They sent us around to talk to all these people,” Dominic sighs, setting one of the coffee cups in front of Billy’s stack of notes. “We all ended up at the professors' pub, if you can believe it." Dominic laughs as Billy raises his eyebrows, both jealous and amused. "We had something to eat, something to drink, talked until I thought I was going hoarse. It was fantastic.”
“I can imagine.”
“I know.” Dominic’s grin widens. “I may have been challenged to a match at that pool table, too. Little did they know I learned from the master.”
Billy rolls his eyes, reaching for the coffee. “Of all the things to have actually absorbed, Dom. Right, so afterward you were fine. What about during?”
“During?”
“While you were reading up there,” Billy says calmly. “What were you feeling?”
“Terror.” Billy tilts his head and smiles, but Dominic shakes his head. “I’m not joking. Absolute fucking terror, at least through the first one. And I wanted-I looked for you, and I know you were there, but--”
“I was there, yes, not that you would have needed me to be to make the impression you did, you should know that.”
“I do.” That it’s not a lie shocks Dominic to his core, and he blinks, getting back on track immediately. “I think I felt you there, like; I felt like I was talking to you again, reading them to you. It made it easier.”
Billy smiles, leaning back in his chair. “The last was fantastic,” he says softly. “You found your speed, Dom, and you just-took off with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that from you in a context outside of my own house.”
“It’s easier there, too.”
“Well, you would think so.” Billy leans forward again, conspiratorially almost over his desk, hands folded in front of him. “You’ve got free reign to read me anything y’like at home, if you do it like that. But take it back to what I meant, Dom; you must have felt like you’d taken on Everest afterward; your professor looked like she was ready to hand you a flag to plant there.”
Dominic nods and blushes, looking away before he can meet Billy’s eyes again. “It was brilliant,” he says, admitting it to himself as well as Billy. “And exhausting. I thought about going back home to have a kip in your garden instead of going to the pub, but it would have been a waste of the suit, yeah?"
"So you're not hungry?" Dominic shakes his head, and Billy releases a resigned little noise before he takes a sip of the coffee. "That's a shame. We could have celebrated somewhere."
"We still can," Dominic laughs, then stretches his legs out in front of him, letting his gaze wander to Billy's candy jar. "We already did, though, too. A lot. I'd rather just go home and do something like that, if you're wanting to celebrate a little more." Setting his own coffee at the edge of Billy's desk, he reaches into the candy jar and takes a handful of chocolates. "I'll have to weed that garden out for you this weekend, though. Do it properly so we can make something of it next season."
"So you can."
"You as well."
"I kill plants just looking at them, Dom. And I'm a little occupied cultivating other things, hmm?" Dominic concedes that with another laugh, and Billy sighs, settling back into his chair with a handful of hard, tart candies that aren't Dominic's favourites. "Right, we can talk the weekend later; I have forms here you're going to need to fill out. Not now if you don't want to; you can bring them home. But one's an intention to graduate form, and there's a lot you'll have to attach, so we can go through it carefully together if you'd like. The other ones are just boring shite, you'll see when you read them." Billy's eyes fall to Dominic's file on his desk, and he licks his sticky fingertips and pats them with a handkerchief before he begins to flip through its pages. "But there's a few things I noticed weren't in here, Dom. There should be a copy of your German prize letter, and your transcript from last term. I can get that if you sign off for it--" Billy looks up from beneath his lashes, amused. "And probably even if y'don't. But you'll need to speak to your German professor for the letter. Oh, and there's this ..."
Billy shifts the stack of papers in Dominic's file all to one side, face down, and taps his fingers lightly against the now-bared back cover. "I'm supposed to ask you what your plans are for the future, Dom," Billy says, sighing again when Dominic suddenly abandons his chair and begins to move around the office restlessly. "Especially if you're thinking to continue in school."
"Do we have to decide now? I mean--"
"We do not have to do anything," Billy says quietly. "This is your decision to make."
Dominic nods absently, still pacing. "I haven't thought about it and I know my dad isn't going to pay for me to go any further, and... I don't know." He shrugs his shoulder, stopping at the window to look out for a moment before starting on another circuit of the room. "Do you think I could even get through another program, Billy? I mean, I've barely made it through this one."
"Barely is relative. You've dug yourself out of quite the hole, Dom; don't let yourself forget that. And I believe you can do anything, provided you want it badly enough." Billy's voice is calm but firm, and he slumps down low in his chair, elbows on the arms and fingers tented in front of his face. "There are ways to pay for studies, and I would encourage you to find them. You could clerk, or be a teaching assistant for German or philosophy. You can take it slowly, one or two classes at a time-but only if you want to and you're willing to work for it. I won't pretend it's an easy route. It would have done me in if it hadn't been the only thing I was living for at the time." Dominic pauses in front of him, and Billy flushes, seeming to realize what he's just said. He stands and walks to Dominic, shaking his head.
"You’re not me. Be happy for it. Dom, listen," he says softly, his hand rising to curve over Dominic's shoulder, kneading the muscle there lightly. "You have the stuff to be a brilliant teacher. It will be your decision, and only yours, but you do have to decide. Not today, but soon. And whatever you decide, you must know how much you've already achieved and how proud you should be-how proud I am and will be for you. Christ, Dom," Billy laughs. "Think about how you felt after you read your poetry to all those people. You'll get the same rush sometimes teaching. I'm not trying to pressure you. It's just that things are speeding up, and I want you have a-path, like. A direction. Somewhere to be, to want to be. For now, though you should also remember how you felt today. It won't be the last time you feel it, I swear it to you."
Dominic ducks his head, feeling his cheeks warm under the praise. It's not that he hasn't thought about the future, it's just that those thoughts have been limited to finally being able to be free with Billy. That's all he wants at the moment, though he’s happy enough to keep that to himself for now. Resting his hands at Billy's waist, Dominic leans in to brush his lips against Billy's. "Thank you. I'll think about it, yeah? And we'll talk about it this weekend."
Billy nods, stepping out of Dominic's arms to start gathering his briefcase and coat. "I'll hold you to that. Tell me about your other classes this week, Dom."
"Everything's a lot better."
"And the biology?"
"Professor Blanchett's a brilliant teacher." It comes out quickly, to Dominic's surprise again, and again it's no lie. The strange tension he'd felt inside himself earlier in her presence seems irrelevant now, as he reminds himself again of what she'd done for him. "A little hard sometimes. She gets frustrated, I think, when the class isn't paying 100 percent attention. Luckily she knows that I'm trying hard to be still in her class, so-“
"I see how it is. You'll be still for the brilliant Professor Blanchett and not so much for me. That'll have to be rectified."
Dominic laughs, watching Billy move around the office. “The rest of it's sorted. I've got three exams, one presentation, and a paper before the end of the term. Not to mention my reading journal for your class and the lab reports for biology. But I think I'll be alright. It's not feeling like so much this time. Everything's-you know everything's changed, Billy."
"Thank Christ for that." Billy huffs as he takes another look over his desk, shifting papers around. "You sound more confident than I've heard you in ages, Dom, even with all the work. I wouldn't trade positions with you for pay, but I'm sure you're going to do well." He throws a smile over his shoulder at Dominic. "I might crash your other presentation, Dom. D'you think I could get away with it?"
"It's going to be held in one of those big lecture halls in the humanities building. You could come. I doubt anyone would notice one more body and I would feel better knowing you're there." Dominic steps forward, reaching to brush at a spot on Billy's sleeve that turns out to be dark green ink. "You'll be bored to tears, though. It's not any of my own work, just basically an essay on the rise and fall of Germanic poetry during the seventeenth century. Told in German."
"Neither the subject nor the language spoken would keep me away," Billy says. "And I'd recognize names-give me a bit of credit here." Billy lowers his voice slightly. "When you're working on your German, Dom ... are you thinking in German as well? I once had a student who told me she did everything, including her Maths, in Spanish in her head before she ever committed a single English word to paper. She was a good writer-everything made sense, sometimes made more than sense-but I was certain her papers would have just soared if she hadn't felt so hemmed in by English. I've got no idea what that's like. I suppose it depends on the person. Maybe it's hellish, maybe there's some safety in knowing you can't show or tell too much."
"Maybe it's neither," Dominic says. He rests one hand flat on Billy's chest now, feeling warm skin beneath Billy's shirt. "Maybe it's both. When I write in German, I think in German; when I'm writing something for you, like, for the class, the thinking and the writing are in English. Except-" He thinks about his answer then, closing his eyes and comparing some words in German and English, before he speaks again, quietly, working out how to phrase it. "My poems. Those are different. I can't write poetry in English. I've tried, but the words don't come. Only in German. And ..." Dominic flexes his hand gently, the fabric of Billy's shirt wrinkling beneath it.
"When we're together, when we're home and we're in bed, I think in German. I don't know why. But when I think of your body..." Dominic splays his fingers again and slowly moves his hand down until it rests at Billy's waist again, the image of what Billy's skin and the muscle beneath looks and feels like etched on his memory. "I think of you in German. I don't think of anyone else that way, and I never have. I don't know what it means. Maybe I don't have to."
"And maybe it's better you don't." Dominic looks up sharply, but there's no tease in Billy's expression, not even in his eyes. "One day I might learn it, Dominic. One day I might let you teach me that and a little more."
Dominic knows he should wait Billy out, then, but the day's been too long, and Billy looks tired, too, run through a different kind of wringer. They're both quiet for several moments before Dominic breaks the silence, with a slow laugh. "This is the best advising session I've ever had. Well, second best." Billy laughs, too, and Dominic raises his hand to brush his fingers against Billy's stubbled cheek. "And I get to go home with my advisor, and one day you won't be; you'll just be you, and we'll just be us. If I don't go back to school, I'll just-work. And I'll get to look after you instead of always the other fucking way around."
"Y'don't do any of that now, you think?" Billy tilts his head. "Pay a bit more attention to yourself this weekend, then. After you sort out what you might want to do in the next year and inform that advisor. Imagine me thinking of the future, when I'm always trying to keep you on the ground of the present. If you want to work, I wouldn't try to stop you, but I'd sooner see you working at something you love than just clocking in somewhere for the money. And I'd-"
Billy pauses, clearly trying to think of how to say what he wants to express himself. The struggle is fascinating for Dominic to watch, its resolution thrilling to hear. "I've only got a year left here on my contract, Dominic," Billy says quietly. "If you stayed-with me, here-we could find our way afterward. And if you found something somewhere else, we'd still make it right. We'd just have to-"
"Work a bit harder," Dominic whispers. So many of Dominic's fears have been based on the thought of their relationship ending when his final term ends. Just knowing for certain that Billy wants them to be together afterward as well makes all the other decisions seem so much easier. Filled with a sudden energy, Dominic begins pacing the room again, his eyes bright as he finally give voice to his secret plans. "That's what I want. I'd like to be a teacher, like you. Not a professor, though, just a teacher. I'd like to teach children. Can you see that?"
"I can." Dominic turns to face Billy, and Billy shrugs and nods. "I've told more than one person that once you've decided to do something, nothing short of a natural disaster can stand in your way. Your belief in yourself is enough then. I'm only adding to it." Billy turns back to the desk for one last look at it, pushing away a short stack of papers he'd clearly been thinking of bringing home. "You'd be good with children, I think-that voice and your imagination. And your patience, when you want to show it. All good things, all things with promise. Whatever you want to do, Dom, I'll have your back. I'll be the boot in your arse when it needs kicking, but more often I'll just enjoy the view. We should go."
Dominic's lost enough in his thoughts that he barely notices anything around them as he follows Billy out of the humanities building. It's only when they're crossing the green space on the way to the parking area that he seems to wake up from them, turning to Billy when Billy clears his throat and speaks.
"They've asked me to speak, Dom. At the graduation. Nothing important, just something short, as if I'm ever able to keep anything short, right. So I'll see you, Dominic; I'll be up there on the stage instead of in the far back of that enormous hall. I told you, it feels like centuries ago, but I told you I'd see you walk, and I'm keeping that promise. And if I keep my bloody composure I'll call myself the strongest man in the world." Billy pauses, then laughs at what Dominic supposes must be his stunned expression before they both squint at the sunset and continue slowly to the car. "You must be exhausted. I'll spare you my rambling about a speech I haven’t even outlined, and we'll just get home. Resign ourselves to our fates. D'you feel like driving?"
Dominic grins and takes the keys Billy brandishes, pushing away the questions he wants to ask Billy. Any opportunity to drive is taken gladly--especially Billy’s old car, which practically purrs to the driver as it runs the road. Tossing his bag into the back, Dominic slides into the smooth leather seat and turns the key, deciding immediately to take the long way to Billy's home. Driving through the streets of downtown, a ways off campus, he stops at a light and suddenly pauses in the middle of some anecdote when he notices a familiar face in the car next to theirs, that of another professor.
"Billy." Dominic murmurs, clears his throat, and then continues. "I wouldn't look now, but I think Professor Sinclair is in the car next to us. I think he's arguing with his wife." He’s not surprised when the imperative to not look of course makes Billy immediately do the opposite, to confirm that it is indeed Harry Sinclair, professor of linguistics and resident of the office four doors down from Billy's, next to them.
"Pull up," Billy says calmly. "Just another few inches." Dominic slides the car back in gear and moves them forward, enough so that Billy can peer at his side mirror and then throw his hand weakly. "Well, there we go. With any luck he's too involved to give a damn about us, and at this point ... Dominic, I am so tired of hiding. This term cannot end quickly enough." He stares out the window as Dominic accelerates, a little harder than before. "I want to be able to sit with you in the coffee shop and do the shopping whenever we fucking feel like it. Sometimes--" Billy pauses, looking for the right words. "I think I should have resigned. I can teach anywhere they'd have me, but I'd be able to just--exist with you, be with you as much as I want, when and where I want." His hand brushed against Dominic's, curled around the gearshift. "If I had, though, I would have failed both of us, and I don't-do failure, Dom, I won't have it."
Dominic can feel the smile that more than turns up the corners of his lips. He makes a smooth left and then a right further up, taking them in the opposite direction from Billy's home as he drives, suddenly in the mood to take them as far away from Baskerville as the car can carry them. Finding himself on a small two-lane road, Dominic wonders how far it goes, and if it will end at one of the bodies of water he knows Billy so loves, and decides to find out.
"I'm glad you didn't quit. I've only had the courage to stay because of yours," Dominic says quietly. Billy opens his mouth to protest, but Dominic carries on as if he hasn't noticed. "I think you're brilliant, and it would have deprived your students if you left, and more than just me, who needs you as a professor and advisor almost as much as anything else."
"I’m not sure I’m much cop at any of that anymore," Billy sighs. "D'you know how long it's been since I published? This speaking at graduation, right? I can't help feeling like it might be a kiss of death. The last two professors they asked didn't last out the following year. It's a bad omen. Not that I believe in any of that, but it hangs over me."
Billy goes quiet then, watching the scenery pass outside his window. "I'm sorry," he says finally, turning back to Dominic. "You've probably saved my job, Dom. Even when we seem to have done everything we could to make me lose it. About ten miles from here there's a turnoff to a pier. Remember the Victorian footbridge I was telling you about? There will be signs for the water, if you're in the mood for another place to hide."
Dominic doesn't answer, but he drives smoothly so that he, too, can enjoy the scenery. The sun is beginning to go down, and the light is diffused through the trees, casting a soft glow on everything. The meadows on either side are green and lush, and Dominic rolls down his window, letting the cool evening air move over them in the car.
He finds the spot Billy mentioned easily enough. They sit for a moment before each steps out of the car and begins to walk to the end of the nearby weathered pier, more appealing than the prettier footbridge somehow. Dominic tugs Billy back to him when Billy moves too far forward, stilling them both. "I meant what I said," Dominic murmurs, letting the peace of the evening settle around them before he continues. "I owe you everything, and not just because of-us, Billy. And I’m not the only one. Maybe we don’t all know how lucky we are, but," Dominic shrugs, then leans in to touch his forehead to Billy’s temple gently, a smile in his voice. “We’ll learn. You’ve got another two minutes to be a morose bastard, Billy. After that, it’s a waste of a beautiful night.”
Billy releases an amused little noise, then shakes his head. "Your fault, you know. I used to keep this rubbish to myself. Talking in my office like that-about your future, our future-I’m more terrified than I've let on, and I’m not likely to admit that again, so keep it safe somewhere. It’ll be alright, though. I don’t believe in much, Dom, but again, it’s not like I have a choice in this anymore."
“Don’t make it sound such a chore, Billy,” Dominic laughs, and Billy shakes his head again, harder, as if to shake away the last several hours of his life before his fingers find Dominic’s sleeve, moving them again in the direction of the water.
"So, little ones, then. You like children. You'll teach them their numbers and letters in German, and the words for breakfast, lunch and dinner." Billy nudges Dominic's shoulder with his own. "Y'could teach German children, Dom. There's a school in the Midlands, did you know that? They teach expatriate children, all nationalities-and when they're very young, they're settled in with teachers who speak their language. Imagine teaching a little German boy or girl, Dom. And more than just footie rules."
"I'd like that. Make them feel more comfortable."
They stand shoulder to shoulder and look over the water, the sound and sight of it calming Dominic. He likes that things feel settled; he will go to school, and Billy will teach. They'll be together. Once he finishes at Baskerville, he can tell his family--his father--his plans, and then move out completely, and in with Billy. Permanently with Billy, in the little house he already loves so much.
A thought comes to him, something he hasn't really ever tried to give serious thought to. "Did you ever want children, Billy?"
Billy stands quietly for a long moment before he answers, only his thumb moving in circles on Dominic's hand. "I'll tell you something, Dom," he sighs. "When Margaret had David, I was at the hospital. Her husband Peter was there too, of course, but I was-waiting. I was so scared for her. Peter came out to the waiting room and told me to come in, see Maggie, meet the baby. I held him, the baby I mean, and Peter took a picture of the three of us-me, Maggie and David. It was months before I saw the picture. The one on the top shelf of the bookcase, you’ve seen it. But I took it home and just looked at it for ages, Dom. Maggie wrote on the back of it, I'll show it to you when we get home. She said, get out of your pit, Bill; you're next."
Billy takes a breath and squeezes Dominic's hand. "I'm not sure I am. I don't have to emphasize to you that I'm the most selfish human being on this bloody planet, and while I love David and Petra, children flummox me. I could see maybe one-a boy, a little one I'd convince t'believe rugby was better than football. That's about all I'd do right, though, I think. I'm not above trying to learn, I suppose, but …" He trails off, then turns to Dominic. "D'you see little ones in your future?"
"No," Dominic answers honestly, the sound of his voice betraying his thoughts as he lowers his gaze. "That's one thing my mum has regretted about having ... about having a son like me. I do like children, though." Dominic can't help the slow smile that spreads across his face as he thinks of his brother and pregnant sister-in-law. "Matt and Katie are expecting soon, though, so that makes my mum happy. I've barely heard a word from her since she began buying baby clothes with Katie."
"That will happen," Billy laughs. "She's going to be a grandmother. I can tell you from personal experience that they can be a bit obsessive." Billy touches his forehead to Dominic's this time, affectionately, bringing his hand to curl gently around Dominic's neck. "Your mother adores you, regardless of whether you bring her grandchildren or not, Dom, I believe that."
They stand there for several moments, listening to the water lap at the wooden legs of the pier. "Long day," Billy suddenly murmurs. "I'm almost too tired to eat. Almost," he says, looking up sharply. "Are you awake enough to drive us home?"
Dominic nods but doesn’t move just yet, sensing Billy’s not quite as ready to leave this place as he thinks; there’s something unsaid in the air, resting just at Billy’s surface. Billy knows it too, from the way he takes several strong, deep breaths before he speaks again.
“You’re still going home for the holidays, yeah?” Dominic nods again and this time lowers his eyes to the ground, staring at the water moving between the slats of the pier beneath them. Billy hums, then takes yet another deep breath. “And you’ll be back straight after.”
“On the 27th if I can get away with it.”
“Right.” Billy steps forward, just enough to lean against one of the pier supports, facing Dominic and waiting for him to meet Billy’s gaze. Dominic does, trying not to hold his breath as soon as he sees the expression on Billy’s face.
“What is it?”
“Come to Paris with me.”
Dominic blinks, feeling a thrilled shiver move between his shoulders and down his back. “Sorry, Paris? You want me to go to Paris with you?”
“Don’t make it sound such a chore,” Billy says, the smirk splitting his face in two. “We’ve earned a getaway, don’t y’think? You’ll come back, I’ll intercept any attempt you make to get any sleep before I throw you back on a train, and there we are.”
“There we are.” Dominic’s voice feels caught in his throat, shocked hoarse. “You’re sure?”
“In what universe d’you suppose I would have said anything if I hadn’t been sure, hmm?” Billy’s smirk goes softer, and he tilts his head. “I can drive back tonight if you’d rather spend the rest of it in your head on this, Dom. It’s not the hardest thing I’ve asked from you.”
“No.” Dominic shakes himself out of the momentary stupor and laughs. “Right. Yes. Yes, I want to go. I mean-it’s fucking ridiculous, Billy, of course I want to go. I’ll be-I’m not going t’be able to stand it at home now, I think.”
“You don’t get that choice,” Billy says gently, and Dominic nods in acknowledgment even as Billy continues. “This morose bastard is going to be here when you get back. Make the best you can of your time home, Dominic; I don’t think I can stress enough how important it is, no matter how hard. I know I can’t.”
Dominic looks up in time to see something brief and terrible move over Billy’s expression, but it’s gone just as quickly, and Billy’s smiling again. “I’ll take my keys back, I think.”
“Right. Right.” Dominic hands them over without a thought, laughing again. “This is-this day, Billy. I can’t even process it right now.”
“Good thing you don’t have to.” Billy yawns again, then pivots off the pier support and begins to walk, looking over his shoulder at Dominic. “Come on. Home. We’ve got some celebrating to do, hmm?”
Dominic bites his lip and nods, staring at Billy’s back as he walks for a moment before he follows, happily processing nothing more than the next steps in front of his feet.