Sea Change (Dom/Billy, NC-17)
Title: Sea Change
Author: Mirabile Dictu
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dom in a dress.
Disclaimer: Lies from start to finish.
A/N: Beta by my dearest darling the empress_wu; offered to her as a gift.
Sea Change
Sean didn't look up when the club's door swung open, letting in a rush of moist air; he was too busy watching Elijah on the dance floor, swinging wildly first one way, then another. But when Elijah froze in mid-spin, arms outstretched, sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, eyes wide, mouth open, Sean had to turn as well.
Carefully shutting the door was Billy, looking extraordinarily dapper in a suit, a real suit with shiny shoes. Standing next to him, demure in a pale blue-grey dress with a tight bodice and a very full skirt, was oh hell, surely not. Sean felt his own eyes widen and his jaw drop.
That was Dominic Monaghan in a dress. Sure as shootin', that was their own Merry. Looking very nice, Sean admitted to himself. He'd risen from his seat without even thinking; glancing around, he saw that many others had, too. He straightened, smoothing his hair. He knew he should say something, and wished it could be witty, but that was unlikely even if they could hear him over the music. Instead, he smiled at Billy, who nodded his head, and, when Dom didn't meet his eyes, Sean looked at Elijah.
Whose mouth still hung open. Orlando had moved next to him, draping his long arms around Elijah's shoulders, letting them dangle across his chest. Orlando was smiling; he looked drunk. Sean knew few men who held their liquor as poorly as Orlando Bloom, so even though it was early in the evening, he probably was pie-eyed. He wondered if Orlando was able to recognize Dom, or if he thought Billy had got lucky and pulled a pretty girl tonight.
Pulled. Sean mentally rolled his eyes. Those Brits. Elijah worked hard to imitate their speech, but Sean had tried to avoid it. No luck.
Well, Billy had certainly pulled something tonight, that was true. Sean scratched his head and wondered what to do.
~ ~ ~
Ian sipped his beer, longing for bed. His back ached, the beer wasn't particularly good, and the music Elijah had selected to dance to sounded more like something to die to. He had looked up when cool breeze carrying the scent of rain filled the club, delighted to see Billy. Dressed beautifully, too, and Ian had always enjoyed a well-dressed man. He leaned forward to better observe the woman Billy was escorting. She wore a rather old-fashioned frock with a bluish floral pattern in a light fabric; the skirt swirled gracefully around her long legs as Billy shut the door behind her. Lovely pumps, too, Ian thought, and then let his eyes move to her face.
Dear God.
Ian rose abruptly, setting his beer aside. "Dominic," he murmured, and straightened his jacket.
He watched as Billy cupped Dom's elbow and gestured toward a table. Dom smiled, very unlike his usual cocky grin. Just a quick upturn of his mobile mouth, his eyes flashing, and then he looked down again, meeting no one else's eyes. Ian nodded, smiling to himself, as Dom waited at the table Billy selected. Billy slid back a chair, and scooted Dom in, leaning over his shoulder to smile down at him.
Beautiful performance, Ian thought, mentally applauding. A waiter paused to speak to Billy, who answered at some length, gesturing. When he finally sat, he looked at Dom, who smiled back, his real smile this time. Billy's eyebrow rose, and Dom bit his lips, trying not to laugh.
Ian wondered what they thought they were up to. He made his way toward them, determined to find out.
"Gentle-" he began, then corrected himself. "Billy, would you introduce me to your lovely guest?"
"Ian! Lovely to see you. You mean this guest?" Billy gestured toward Dom. "Is this who you're interested in? Didn't know you were interested in skirts."
"Some skirts more than others," Ian acknowledged. Dom was turning purple.
"Well, this skirt is my date for the evening."
"So I assumed." Ian turned to Dom, picked up his unresisting hand, and bent over it. "My dear. You look lovely tonight."
"Ta very much," Dom said. "Don't make my date jealous."
"I wouldn't dream of it. May I ask what's the occasion?"
Dom and Billy exchanged glances. "Well," Dom started. "Just a bit of a joke, see?"
"Dom," Billy said.
"Okay, not so much a joke as a bet."
"Ah, and you lost?"
"Dom, say no more," Billy said. "And no, Ian, we won't be tellin' ya what the bet was, so don't bother asking."
"I wouldn't dream of asking anything so personal." The waiter returned then, carrying a tray with two beers. "Oh, no," Ian said. "No, please. Bring this happy couple a bottle of champagne, and put it on my tab."
The waiter smiled and turned to go. "Aw, leave the beer," Billy said, taking a mug and handing it to Dom. "Then bring the champagne. Three glasses?" he asked Ian.
"No, no, I must be off. Past my bedtime, I'm afraid. Have a lovely evening." He bowed to Dom. "A lovely evening for a lovely lady."
"Cheers," Dom said, smiling up at him. "I hope to."
~ ~ ~
Viggo watched as the waiter poured out two flutes of champagne and handed one to Dom and then to Billy. Dom was definitely modulating his behavior, probably in deference to his dress. His eyes were smudgy with liner and mascara, his lips a bit shiny, and that was definitely a lipstick smear on the glass when he set it down.
He wondered what they were up to, but fully approved whatever it was. Anything that got Mr. Monaghan into a frilly dress that matched his eyes met with Viggo's approval. He'd stood in surprise, and had meant to confront them, as Ian had, but now . . . He sat back down, aware of the smile on his face, and pulled out a pencil to begin sketching on the paper tablecloth. His first pass didn't come out well, so he folded over a corner and began fresh, staring at Dom.
Such an interesting face. In the short time Viggo had known Dom, he'd grown accustomed to the crooked jaw, the askew nose, so they seemed new as he studied Dom's features. The pale, English skin, lightly freckled, sensitive to everything; his soft brown hair falling onto his forehead; and those eyes, as distinctive in their own way as Elijah's.
He nodded to himself and began again. He'd need to finish this in color, though, to capture the shades of grey and blue in the dress and in his eyes. Viggo noticed that Billy was wearing a tie with diagonal stripes in the same colors, and his dress shirt was the same palest blue.
This was no impulse, he thought, drawing steadily and confidently. Those two had put their heads together and come up with this scheme. Only they knew their reasons, and Viggo knew them well enough to doubt they'd share them with anyone. All jokes and laughs on the outside, they were, but even in the few months he'd worked and played with them, he'd seen how deeply connected they were. Nothing they said or did was meaningless, even the most absurd banter and ridiculous antics.
Thick as thieves, he remembered Sean Bean describing them early on. Like thieves at a fair, he'd thought at the time. Dom and Billy had been verbally sparring, Dom's English nearly as incomprehensible to Viggo as Billy's Scots-laden vowels had been, so he could only watch. A form of love-making, he'd decided, and had never found a reason to change his mind. Sean had occasionally translated for him, but Sean's own accent would thicken in their presence.
He looked up from his work to see Dom smile at Billy, his usual merry grin a bit softened, perhaps by his role, perhaps by something Billy had said. He started a fresh sketch, trying to capture that smile, how Dom's eyes crinkled, how his long lashes fluttered against his skin. "Beautiful," he murmured. Beautiful boy.
~ ~ ~
Sean remained at the bar and ordered another beer. He'd been watching Viggo and, when Vig had stood abruptly, Sean's eyes had followed. Just Billy, though looking shockingly well turned out in a suit, much older and more sophisticated than Pippin, and leading in a pretty bird -- fuckin' hell. He also rose. Felt like the whole pub stopped for a split second, and then the world rolled on again.
Well, well. Sean smiled to himself and he settled back down and took another sip. What prank were these fools pullin' tonight? Must be something good. He watched them in the smoked mirror, their images a bit smeared. But then, so are they, he thought. He toasted their reflections and drank.
He remembered meeting them, mouthy little buggers who made him laugh till snot came out his nose and he feared he'd never catch his breath again. Anyone observing would think them irre -- irre -- fuck, what was the word? Impossible to control. But their behaviour was a kindness on those fuckin' helicopter rides they'd had to take.
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help," he murmured, remembering a particularly bad flight, and how Dom had begged the pilot to swing closer to a snow-covered peak while Billy sang obscene songs and Elijah giggled. Sean couldn't help but smile in recollection. The hills in New Zealand would be mountains in Sheffield, and he hated heights. Somehow with the youngsters acting the fool, though, they were more than bearable. They were memorable.
Tonight would be memorable, too, he thought, looking into the mirror again. Over his shoulder, he saw Ian approach Dom and Billy. Viggo was still staring at them, almost avidly. Beyond them, on the surging dance floor, he saw Orlando thrashing wildly, a tall slim reed rising above the mass of shorter kids. All dressed in what looked liked rags; he knew his own girls dressed similarly, but Orlando carried it off with enormous panache, even as he tossed his hair and flailed his arms. He watched as Elijah saw Dom and froze, and as Orlando draped himself over Elijah's thin shoulders and nibbled on his ear, staring in the same direction.
"Another round, mate," he told the bartender wiping down the counter in front of him. Yeah, a memorable night, but so many nights and days were memorable out here. Despite the length of the flights out, the daily changes in the script, the last minute replacement of Stuart, the chaotic sets, despite all that and everything else, he was glad he'd come. The stories he'd tell. He smiled, watching himself in the mirror, and raised his eyebrows. The stories they'd all tell.
~ ~ ~
Elijah was sweating like a son-of-a-bitch, his shirt clinging to him uncomfortably, his hair sticking to his face, and fucking Orli was hot and heavy leaning on him like that. "Wozzat?" Orlando slurred, and licked his ear. "Zat Dominic? Fuck me, but he's a pretty girl."
Elijah had to agree. He'd sobered quickly when he had realized that Billy was escorting Dom, not some boyish girl. Dom looked good, really pretty; Orlando was right. His hair was combed down, not sticking up for a change, and there was something glittering in it -- rhinestones? Real jewels? He squinted, but his vision wasn't good enough even with his glasses on to identify the sparkles. Pretty, though. He sighed.
Orlando kissed his ear. "Do you like him? I do. Billy's the luckiest bloke in the cast." He sighed.
Elijah turned to look up at him. "Do you really think so?"
Orlando hesitated, and Elijah thought he might be blushing, though it was impossible to be sure in the heat of the club. "Uh, maybe. Depends, like."
Elijah smiled. "Depends on what?" He tried to sound sophisticated, making his voice a bit deeper, a bit huskier. Orlando met his eyes and they smiled. Their faces were very close; he could feel the heat rise off Orlando's body like steam.
"Warm in here, innit," Orlando drawled, and fuck, but he did sound sophisticated.
"Yeah."
"Maybe we should, uh, get some air."
"Air, yeah." Elijah's face almost hurt from smiling so hard. "Air."
"Yeah."
They stood motionless, the crowd dancing around them, rising and falling in rhythm and counterpoint to the loudspeakered music. Someone knocked into Elijah, who fell against Orlando, who caught him, his arms hot around Elijah. "Air," Orlando gasped, and pushed Elijah toward the exit.
Elijah twisted his head around; as the crowd rolled in rhythm, he could catch shattered glimpses of Dom in the pretty blue dress, and Billy all dressed up in a suit despite the heat of the club.
"Come on," Orlando shouted over the roar, and shoved harder, half carrying Elijah through the sweaty bodies. They passed Viggo, sketching madly, and Bean, staring into the mirror behind the bar, and ended up in front of Astin, who was standing by a doorway, watching them with narrowed eyes.
"Where you going?" Elijah saw him say, but the music swelled, and the noise of the crowd drowned out any discussion. Elijah gestured to Orlando, who still gripped him around the waist, and then gestured again past him.
Sean stared at him, face red and sweating in the crowded room. Elijah gazed steadily back, resting against Orlando's wiry body. Sean shook his head and then bent forward and swiftly kissed Elijah's mouth. Their eyes met again as Sean pulled back, and then he turned and slid into the bouncing throng, retreating the way Elijah and Orlando had come. Elijah caught quick glimpses of him as he passed through the crowd, pausing by Dom and Billy, resting his hand on Billy's shoulder. Dom flashed a quick smile at him, and then Elijah saw Sean silhouetted briefly as he stood in the doorway. A breeze fluttered through the overheated room when Sean shut the door behind him.
He raised his head to look at Orlando, who smiled down at him. A buzzy sensation, that of Sean's lips, remained against his, so he stood on his toes and kissed Orlando, who bent his head and kissed him thoroughly, right there in the club.
~ ~ ~
"Whoa," John said, stepping back as the horse jerked his head sharply upward. "That's a boy, yes, that's a fine, fine boy." He stroked his big hand down the horse's neck, ruffling the mane. The horse exhaled sharply, but relaxed under his touch.
"That's brilliant, John," Orlando said admiringly. He stood well back, watching closely. "You've done a lot of riding?"
"Only because I've lived so long," he said. "You've done more in the last few months than I have in years."
"I like it," he said simply, and John smiled.
"Shall we?"
Orlando helped John into the saddle; he was a tall man, and a big one, but his arthritis had been bothering him. Besides, it was pleasant to be waited upon by a handsome boy, all eyes and admiration. When Orlando was seated on his horse, they looked at each other. John had to smile again. What an adventure this was. "Now, remember, I'm old enough to be your grandfather."
"Yes, I guess, I mean --" but then John kicked his heels and his horse shot forward. Orlando shouted something and they raced around the paddock. It was a coolish day; they were leaving the miserable, humid summer behind them, and, despite the arthritis, John felt alive in a way he hadn't since he'd started suffering from the prosthetics.
"This is the life, eh, boy?" he shouted to Orlando, who beamed. They circled the paddock twice more before slowing to a walk. "I jiggle like a sack of potatoes," John observed sadly, noticing how gracefully Orlando sat in the saddle.
"Nonsense," Orlando said, which cheered John though he knew it to be a lie.
"I suppose they'll make us take these poor beasts through that obstacle course," John said.
"In a bit. I don't mind."
"No, you wouldn't." They ambled along companionably. The air smelt of hay and horseshit and fresh air and growing green things. John inhaled deeply. "This is a beautiful place," he said at last. "It's like another world. A place of new beginnings."
"It is," Orlando agreed, sounding unusually thoughtful. "We can be -- no, we can try, uh, stuff. Try to be something new."
"Someone new," John suggested, and Orlando nodded.
"Yeah, that's it. Try to be someone new."
"See if you like that new person. Maybe we'll find out who we should be. At my age." He smiled to himself as he watched Orlando's mobile face. "Who will you be, Orlando?"
Orlando blushed, and re-settled himself. "Dunno. Too young, I guess. But I'm trying everything once. And some things more than once."
"Good boy," John said, and he meant it.
"Do you think so? What if, ah. What if we're really different? Can it be bad?"
"What're you thinking of?"
Orlando was still pink, but he stared thoughtfully at the ground ahead of them, and slowed his horse even further. "Well. Let's say not me. Let's say, uh, well, Dom and Billy. Did you know Billy took Dom out for a drink the other night? Did you hear?"
"Those rascals are always out drinking, as far as I can tell."
"Well, yeah, we all are, kind of, but this was different. Bill was in a suit, and Dom wore a frock."
"A frock."
"Yeah, blue. And swirly. I think it was chiffon."
John had to restrain himself from repeating the word chiffon. "Why would he do that?"
Orlando shrugged. "I asked, but they wouldn't tell. Said it was private."
"They do seem remarkably close."
"Yeah. Like that." He smiled to himself. "You think that's okay, John? To try to be someone that different?"
"Do you feel the need to wear a frock?"
"No. Well, actually, it might be a lark, but that's not what I meant. Well, actually it is what I meant --"
"Orlando. I know what you meant. Yes, it's more than okay." He hesitated and then said, "You might not know it now, but at one time I looked quite good in a frock. Had the legs for it, y'see."
Orlando's eyes went as wide as his horse's.
"'s truth. You know that here in New Zealand there's a day when all the blokes wear frocks? So you'll have your chance to try it." They rode in silence a bit more before John asked, "So how did Dom look?"
"Smashing," Orlando said enthusiastically. "Couldn't get over it. He's such a bloke, you know? Always so sharp and with the girls and all, but he was so different. And Bill was, too, he was like, you know, a grown up."
John smiled again. He'd noticed the grown up in Bill at times, too, although usually not around Dom, who seemed to bring the average age down to about seven. "I wish I'd seen them," he murmured.
"Well, that day we all wear frocks, eh?" Orlando said, smiling at him, and then kicked once and leaned forward, dashing away, looking as graceful as Legolas, and in John's opinion twice as handsome.
"O brave new world," John said, laughing, and urged his own horse into a trot.
"Be not afeard!" Orlando shouted back over his shoulder. John thought that was excellent advice.
~ ~ ~
Dom knelt over Billy, curled over him, their faces close, so close he could feel Billy's breath touch his lips. He moved slowly, slowly, sliding their sweat-slicked skin together, trying not to groan at the sensation, at the power building in him. Billy exhaled again, his breath sweet against Dom's hot face, and he inhaled deeply, gasping. He wanted so much. He wanted exactly this, he wanted to be deep inside Billy, he wanted Billy inside him, why couldn't they have it all? But he kept his pace slow, slow, watching Billy's face, red and sweaty, as they struggled toward the desired completion.
Billy felt torn nearly in two, by the weight of Dom pressed so firmly on him, their pricks pushing past each other, Dom's balls lying on his, his legs straddling Billy's thighs. His breath caught in his throat, and he exhaled fiercely, trying to suck in more oxygen, but the air in the room was molten, despite the cool evening beyond the open window. In here, in their bedroom, they'd turned everything to fire. What are we doing, he wondered, opening his eyes to stare up at Dom, who looked in pain as he thrust again and again.
Dom clutched tighter at Billy's shoulder, and bent his head further, so he could rest his lips against Billy's and suck in the hot air. Billy kissed him, thoroughly, deeply, and he had to remind himself again that this was Billy, Billy's tongue, Billy's body, that somehow he had earned the right to these privileges, these blessings. He sucked at Billy's tongue, breathing him in. His arms trembled with the effort, and his hips began to jerk a-rhythmically.
Billy pulled at Dom, drawing him down so he could feel more of his sweat and fevered-skin, his muscles aching with the effort as they strove together, pushing past all obstacles, all fears, pushing forward with Dom's energy and Billy's single-mindedness, pushing beyond everything familiar, and then Billy cried out, his prick burned from the friction and pressure but the release was so powerful, fierce and almost angry. His heart thumped erratically, and he tightened his hold on Dom, keeping him together, keeping them together.
Dom collapsed onto Billy, confident that Billy could bear his weight and more. He sighed heavily, and kissed Billy's sweaty neck. "Lovely, that," he murmured, and heard Billy rumble in agreement, wordless but full of meaning to Dom's ears. They should shower, they should sleep, but right now he only wanted this: to lie in Billy's arms, hot and sticky and trembling. He'd had to come halfway round the world to make this discovery, but it would have been worth it if he'd had to walk every step.
Who is this man, Billy wondered, stroking the sweaty hair off Dom's forehead. The smell rose around him, yeasty and sweet, and he inhaled deeply. Someday he'd miss this, he knew. Something would happen, they would be forced to separate, or would choose to separate, or something, and then he wanted this memory: the scent and sound and weight of Dom surrounding him. Who is this man that has so changed me? I have suffered a sea-change, into something rich and strange, I hope. He looked at the top of Dom's hair, and lifted his head to kiss Dom.
Dom yawned, relaxed and heavy. Then he licked Billy's throat, wrinkling his nose at the sweat-and-smoky taste of it. "Shower, don't y'think?" he murmured, and yawned again.
"Gerroff me, ya big lump," Billy said, squeezing Dom tighter before not-too-gently shoving him to one side. "You're takin' my breath away, you are."
"Course I am," Dom said, sliding slowly off the bed and onto the floor. He rolled, graceful as a cat, onto his back, arms akimbo, and stared up at Billy who peered down at him from the edge of the bed. "I'm just that good lookin', that's why."
"Smell like a fuckin' brewery, that's why."
Dom sat up enough to kiss Billy, and then rose, tugging at Billy until he, too, stood up. "Need to change them sheets," he observed.
Billy slapped Dom's arse, then rubbed it apologetically. "Shower first. And I've got to brush my teeth. God, when I think where my tongue's been." Grinning, Dom leaned away from Billy and farted, then dashed toward the en suite; Billy followed, waving his hands. "Foul beast," he said, smiling.
Dom peeked over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. "Hurry up, Bills," he shouted over the squeal of the shower. "Feet's in less than four hours. Let's catch a kip before the car shows up."
"Bloody hell," Billy muttered as he stepped into the shower and accepted the soap from Dom. "Amydde his hand he leet the frere a fart, Ther nys no capul, drawynge in a cart, That myghte have lete a fart of swich a soun," he said, astounded that he'd been able to dredge that up.
"La, la," Dom said, scrubbing at Billy's bum. "Lovely thing, nicely shaped, not flat, not flabby, but stinky as hell you are, hmm."
Billy couldn't help but laugh, and laugh again, at himself, here in this tiny shower with not enough hot water, and Dom tenderly washing his private parts. "You were beautiful the other night, in that pretty frock," he said, smiling back at him. "Let's do it again."
Dom beamed, and quickly kissed Billy. "At home? Or out again?"
"Oh, at home for a bit, I think. I like to keep you to myself." For as long as I can, he thought.
Dom nodded as he resumed scrubbing. "You look smashing in that blue plaid thing."
"That was m' kilt," he said, and Dom rolled his eyes.
"Kilt, skirt, dress. Long as I can see your knees and you've got no knickers, that's all I want."
"I thought you liked the stockings and garter belt?"
"Oh, well." He paused. "Yes, Bill, I quite do. We'll have to flip a coin again, eh?"
"Worked well that night. And what will the winner get this time?"
Dom looked up in surprise. "To wear the stockings and belt."
Billy nodded, and began scrubbing Dom. "Now that would be a prize," he agreed, already imagining it. There really was what the Americans called a win-win situation, he thought, and then the hot water ran out despite all their best cursing and prayers, and Feet was so soon, his eyes were closing, and he was back in bed, cuddled against Dom, happily, sleepily, Dom dreaming of Billy, Billy dreaming of Dom, both dreaming of silk and slippers and what Dom would do to Billy and what Billy would do to Dom when next they had a chance.
Author: Mirabile Dictu
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Dom in a dress.
Disclaimer: Lies from start to finish.
A/N: Beta by my dearest darling the empress_wu; offered to her as a gift.
Sea Change
Sean didn't look up when the club's door swung open, letting in a rush of moist air; he was too busy watching Elijah on the dance floor, swinging wildly first one way, then another. But when Elijah froze in mid-spin, arms outstretched, sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, eyes wide, mouth open, Sean had to turn as well.
Carefully shutting the door was Billy, looking extraordinarily dapper in a suit, a real suit with shiny shoes. Standing next to him, demure in a pale blue-grey dress with a tight bodice and a very full skirt, was oh hell, surely not. Sean felt his own eyes widen and his jaw drop.
That was Dominic Monaghan in a dress. Sure as shootin', that was their own Merry. Looking very nice, Sean admitted to himself. He'd risen from his seat without even thinking; glancing around, he saw that many others had, too. He straightened, smoothing his hair. He knew he should say something, and wished it could be witty, but that was unlikely even if they could hear him over the music. Instead, he smiled at Billy, who nodded his head, and, when Dom didn't meet his eyes, Sean looked at Elijah.
Whose mouth still hung open. Orlando had moved next to him, draping his long arms around Elijah's shoulders, letting them dangle across his chest. Orlando was smiling; he looked drunk. Sean knew few men who held their liquor as poorly as Orlando Bloom, so even though it was early in the evening, he probably was pie-eyed. He wondered if Orlando was able to recognize Dom, or if he thought Billy had got lucky and pulled a pretty girl tonight.
Pulled. Sean mentally rolled his eyes. Those Brits. Elijah worked hard to imitate their speech, but Sean had tried to avoid it. No luck.
Well, Billy had certainly pulled something tonight, that was true. Sean scratched his head and wondered what to do.
~ ~ ~
Ian sipped his beer, longing for bed. His back ached, the beer wasn't particularly good, and the music Elijah had selected to dance to sounded more like something to die to. He had looked up when cool breeze carrying the scent of rain filled the club, delighted to see Billy. Dressed beautifully, too, and Ian had always enjoyed a well-dressed man. He leaned forward to better observe the woman Billy was escorting. She wore a rather old-fashioned frock with a bluish floral pattern in a light fabric; the skirt swirled gracefully around her long legs as Billy shut the door behind her. Lovely pumps, too, Ian thought, and then let his eyes move to her face.
Dear God.
Ian rose abruptly, setting his beer aside. "Dominic," he murmured, and straightened his jacket.
He watched as Billy cupped Dom's elbow and gestured toward a table. Dom smiled, very unlike his usual cocky grin. Just a quick upturn of his mobile mouth, his eyes flashing, and then he looked down again, meeting no one else's eyes. Ian nodded, smiling to himself, as Dom waited at the table Billy selected. Billy slid back a chair, and scooted Dom in, leaning over his shoulder to smile down at him.
Beautiful performance, Ian thought, mentally applauding. A waiter paused to speak to Billy, who answered at some length, gesturing. When he finally sat, he looked at Dom, who smiled back, his real smile this time. Billy's eyebrow rose, and Dom bit his lips, trying not to laugh.
Ian wondered what they thought they were up to. He made his way toward them, determined to find out.
"Gentle-" he began, then corrected himself. "Billy, would you introduce me to your lovely guest?"
"Ian! Lovely to see you. You mean this guest?" Billy gestured toward Dom. "Is this who you're interested in? Didn't know you were interested in skirts."
"Some skirts more than others," Ian acknowledged. Dom was turning purple.
"Well, this skirt is my date for the evening."
"So I assumed." Ian turned to Dom, picked up his unresisting hand, and bent over it. "My dear. You look lovely tonight."
"Ta very much," Dom said. "Don't make my date jealous."
"I wouldn't dream of it. May I ask what's the occasion?"
Dom and Billy exchanged glances. "Well," Dom started. "Just a bit of a joke, see?"
"Dom," Billy said.
"Okay, not so much a joke as a bet."
"Ah, and you lost?"
"Dom, say no more," Billy said. "And no, Ian, we won't be tellin' ya what the bet was, so don't bother asking."
"I wouldn't dream of asking anything so personal." The waiter returned then, carrying a tray with two beers. "Oh, no," Ian said. "No, please. Bring this happy couple a bottle of champagne, and put it on my tab."
The waiter smiled and turned to go. "Aw, leave the beer," Billy said, taking a mug and handing it to Dom. "Then bring the champagne. Three glasses?" he asked Ian.
"No, no, I must be off. Past my bedtime, I'm afraid. Have a lovely evening." He bowed to Dom. "A lovely evening for a lovely lady."
"Cheers," Dom said, smiling up at him. "I hope to."
~ ~ ~
Viggo watched as the waiter poured out two flutes of champagne and handed one to Dom and then to Billy. Dom was definitely modulating his behavior, probably in deference to his dress. His eyes were smudgy with liner and mascara, his lips a bit shiny, and that was definitely a lipstick smear on the glass when he set it down.
He wondered what they were up to, but fully approved whatever it was. Anything that got Mr. Monaghan into a frilly dress that matched his eyes met with Viggo's approval. He'd stood in surprise, and had meant to confront them, as Ian had, but now . . . He sat back down, aware of the smile on his face, and pulled out a pencil to begin sketching on the paper tablecloth. His first pass didn't come out well, so he folded over a corner and began fresh, staring at Dom.
Such an interesting face. In the short time Viggo had known Dom, he'd grown accustomed to the crooked jaw, the askew nose, so they seemed new as he studied Dom's features. The pale, English skin, lightly freckled, sensitive to everything; his soft brown hair falling onto his forehead; and those eyes, as distinctive in their own way as Elijah's.
He nodded to himself and began again. He'd need to finish this in color, though, to capture the shades of grey and blue in the dress and in his eyes. Viggo noticed that Billy was wearing a tie with diagonal stripes in the same colors, and his dress shirt was the same palest blue.
This was no impulse, he thought, drawing steadily and confidently. Those two had put their heads together and come up with this scheme. Only they knew their reasons, and Viggo knew them well enough to doubt they'd share them with anyone. All jokes and laughs on the outside, they were, but even in the few months he'd worked and played with them, he'd seen how deeply connected they were. Nothing they said or did was meaningless, even the most absurd banter and ridiculous antics.
Thick as thieves, he remembered Sean Bean describing them early on. Like thieves at a fair, he'd thought at the time. Dom and Billy had been verbally sparring, Dom's English nearly as incomprehensible to Viggo as Billy's Scots-laden vowels had been, so he could only watch. A form of love-making, he'd decided, and had never found a reason to change his mind. Sean had occasionally translated for him, but Sean's own accent would thicken in their presence.
He looked up from his work to see Dom smile at Billy, his usual merry grin a bit softened, perhaps by his role, perhaps by something Billy had said. He started a fresh sketch, trying to capture that smile, how Dom's eyes crinkled, how his long lashes fluttered against his skin. "Beautiful," he murmured. Beautiful boy.
~ ~ ~
Sean remained at the bar and ordered another beer. He'd been watching Viggo and, when Vig had stood abruptly, Sean's eyes had followed. Just Billy, though looking shockingly well turned out in a suit, much older and more sophisticated than Pippin, and leading in a pretty bird -- fuckin' hell. He also rose. Felt like the whole pub stopped for a split second, and then the world rolled on again.
Well, well. Sean smiled to himself and he settled back down and took another sip. What prank were these fools pullin' tonight? Must be something good. He watched them in the smoked mirror, their images a bit smeared. But then, so are they, he thought. He toasted their reflections and drank.
He remembered meeting them, mouthy little buggers who made him laugh till snot came out his nose and he feared he'd never catch his breath again. Anyone observing would think them irre -- irre -- fuck, what was the word? Impossible to control. But their behaviour was a kindness on those fuckin' helicopter rides they'd had to take.
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help," he murmured, remembering a particularly bad flight, and how Dom had begged the pilot to swing closer to a snow-covered peak while Billy sang obscene songs and Elijah giggled. Sean couldn't help but smile in recollection. The hills in New Zealand would be mountains in Sheffield, and he hated heights. Somehow with the youngsters acting the fool, though, they were more than bearable. They were memorable.
Tonight would be memorable, too, he thought, looking into the mirror again. Over his shoulder, he saw Ian approach Dom and Billy. Viggo was still staring at them, almost avidly. Beyond them, on the surging dance floor, he saw Orlando thrashing wildly, a tall slim reed rising above the mass of shorter kids. All dressed in what looked liked rags; he knew his own girls dressed similarly, but Orlando carried it off with enormous panache, even as he tossed his hair and flailed his arms. He watched as Elijah saw Dom and froze, and as Orlando draped himself over Elijah's thin shoulders and nibbled on his ear, staring in the same direction.
"Another round, mate," he told the bartender wiping down the counter in front of him. Yeah, a memorable night, but so many nights and days were memorable out here. Despite the length of the flights out, the daily changes in the script, the last minute replacement of Stuart, the chaotic sets, despite all that and everything else, he was glad he'd come. The stories he'd tell. He smiled, watching himself in the mirror, and raised his eyebrows. The stories they'd all tell.
~ ~ ~
Elijah was sweating like a son-of-a-bitch, his shirt clinging to him uncomfortably, his hair sticking to his face, and fucking Orli was hot and heavy leaning on him like that. "Wozzat?" Orlando slurred, and licked his ear. "Zat Dominic? Fuck me, but he's a pretty girl."
Elijah had to agree. He'd sobered quickly when he had realized that Billy was escorting Dom, not some boyish girl. Dom looked good, really pretty; Orlando was right. His hair was combed down, not sticking up for a change, and there was something glittering in it -- rhinestones? Real jewels? He squinted, but his vision wasn't good enough even with his glasses on to identify the sparkles. Pretty, though. He sighed.
Orlando kissed his ear. "Do you like him? I do. Billy's the luckiest bloke in the cast." He sighed.
Elijah turned to look up at him. "Do you really think so?"
Orlando hesitated, and Elijah thought he might be blushing, though it was impossible to be sure in the heat of the club. "Uh, maybe. Depends, like."
Elijah smiled. "Depends on what?" He tried to sound sophisticated, making his voice a bit deeper, a bit huskier. Orlando met his eyes and they smiled. Their faces were very close; he could feel the heat rise off Orlando's body like steam.
"Warm in here, innit," Orlando drawled, and fuck, but he did sound sophisticated.
"Yeah."
"Maybe we should, uh, get some air."
"Air, yeah." Elijah's face almost hurt from smiling so hard. "Air."
"Yeah."
They stood motionless, the crowd dancing around them, rising and falling in rhythm and counterpoint to the loudspeakered music. Someone knocked into Elijah, who fell against Orlando, who caught him, his arms hot around Elijah. "Air," Orlando gasped, and pushed Elijah toward the exit.
Elijah twisted his head around; as the crowd rolled in rhythm, he could catch shattered glimpses of Dom in the pretty blue dress, and Billy all dressed up in a suit despite the heat of the club.
"Come on," Orlando shouted over the roar, and shoved harder, half carrying Elijah through the sweaty bodies. They passed Viggo, sketching madly, and Bean, staring into the mirror behind the bar, and ended up in front of Astin, who was standing by a doorway, watching them with narrowed eyes.
"Where you going?" Elijah saw him say, but the music swelled, and the noise of the crowd drowned out any discussion. Elijah gestured to Orlando, who still gripped him around the waist, and then gestured again past him.
Sean stared at him, face red and sweating in the crowded room. Elijah gazed steadily back, resting against Orlando's wiry body. Sean shook his head and then bent forward and swiftly kissed Elijah's mouth. Their eyes met again as Sean pulled back, and then he turned and slid into the bouncing throng, retreating the way Elijah and Orlando had come. Elijah caught quick glimpses of him as he passed through the crowd, pausing by Dom and Billy, resting his hand on Billy's shoulder. Dom flashed a quick smile at him, and then Elijah saw Sean silhouetted briefly as he stood in the doorway. A breeze fluttered through the overheated room when Sean shut the door behind him.
He raised his head to look at Orlando, who smiled down at him. A buzzy sensation, that of Sean's lips, remained against his, so he stood on his toes and kissed Orlando, who bent his head and kissed him thoroughly, right there in the club.
~ ~ ~
"Whoa," John said, stepping back as the horse jerked his head sharply upward. "That's a boy, yes, that's a fine, fine boy." He stroked his big hand down the horse's neck, ruffling the mane. The horse exhaled sharply, but relaxed under his touch.
"That's brilliant, John," Orlando said admiringly. He stood well back, watching closely. "You've done a lot of riding?"
"Only because I've lived so long," he said. "You've done more in the last few months than I have in years."
"I like it," he said simply, and John smiled.
"Shall we?"
Orlando helped John into the saddle; he was a tall man, and a big one, but his arthritis had been bothering him. Besides, it was pleasant to be waited upon by a handsome boy, all eyes and admiration. When Orlando was seated on his horse, they looked at each other. John had to smile again. What an adventure this was. "Now, remember, I'm old enough to be your grandfather."
"Yes, I guess, I mean --" but then John kicked his heels and his horse shot forward. Orlando shouted something and they raced around the paddock. It was a coolish day; they were leaving the miserable, humid summer behind them, and, despite the arthritis, John felt alive in a way he hadn't since he'd started suffering from the prosthetics.
"This is the life, eh, boy?" he shouted to Orlando, who beamed. They circled the paddock twice more before slowing to a walk. "I jiggle like a sack of potatoes," John observed sadly, noticing how gracefully Orlando sat in the saddle.
"Nonsense," Orlando said, which cheered John though he knew it to be a lie.
"I suppose they'll make us take these poor beasts through that obstacle course," John said.
"In a bit. I don't mind."
"No, you wouldn't." They ambled along companionably. The air smelt of hay and horseshit and fresh air and growing green things. John inhaled deeply. "This is a beautiful place," he said at last. "It's like another world. A place of new beginnings."
"It is," Orlando agreed, sounding unusually thoughtful. "We can be -- no, we can try, uh, stuff. Try to be something new."
"Someone new," John suggested, and Orlando nodded.
"Yeah, that's it. Try to be someone new."
"See if you like that new person. Maybe we'll find out who we should be. At my age." He smiled to himself as he watched Orlando's mobile face. "Who will you be, Orlando?"
Orlando blushed, and re-settled himself. "Dunno. Too young, I guess. But I'm trying everything once. And some things more than once."
"Good boy," John said, and he meant it.
"Do you think so? What if, ah. What if we're really different? Can it be bad?"
"What're you thinking of?"
Orlando was still pink, but he stared thoughtfully at the ground ahead of them, and slowed his horse even further. "Well. Let's say not me. Let's say, uh, well, Dom and Billy. Did you know Billy took Dom out for a drink the other night? Did you hear?"
"Those rascals are always out drinking, as far as I can tell."
"Well, yeah, we all are, kind of, but this was different. Bill was in a suit, and Dom wore a frock."
"A frock."
"Yeah, blue. And swirly. I think it was chiffon."
John had to restrain himself from repeating the word chiffon. "Why would he do that?"
Orlando shrugged. "I asked, but they wouldn't tell. Said it was private."
"They do seem remarkably close."
"Yeah. Like that." He smiled to himself. "You think that's okay, John? To try to be someone that different?"
"Do you feel the need to wear a frock?"
"No. Well, actually, it might be a lark, but that's not what I meant. Well, actually it is what I meant --"
"Orlando. I know what you meant. Yes, it's more than okay." He hesitated and then said, "You might not know it now, but at one time I looked quite good in a frock. Had the legs for it, y'see."
Orlando's eyes went as wide as his horse's.
"'s truth. You know that here in New Zealand there's a day when all the blokes wear frocks? So you'll have your chance to try it." They rode in silence a bit more before John asked, "So how did Dom look?"
"Smashing," Orlando said enthusiastically. "Couldn't get over it. He's such a bloke, you know? Always so sharp and with the girls and all, but he was so different. And Bill was, too, he was like, you know, a grown up."
John smiled again. He'd noticed the grown up in Bill at times, too, although usually not around Dom, who seemed to bring the average age down to about seven. "I wish I'd seen them," he murmured.
"Well, that day we all wear frocks, eh?" Orlando said, smiling at him, and then kicked once and leaned forward, dashing away, looking as graceful as Legolas, and in John's opinion twice as handsome.
"O brave new world," John said, laughing, and urged his own horse into a trot.
"Be not afeard!" Orlando shouted back over his shoulder. John thought that was excellent advice.
~ ~ ~
Dom knelt over Billy, curled over him, their faces close, so close he could feel Billy's breath touch his lips. He moved slowly, slowly, sliding their sweat-slicked skin together, trying not to groan at the sensation, at the power building in him. Billy exhaled again, his breath sweet against Dom's hot face, and he inhaled deeply, gasping. He wanted so much. He wanted exactly this, he wanted to be deep inside Billy, he wanted Billy inside him, why couldn't they have it all? But he kept his pace slow, slow, watching Billy's face, red and sweaty, as they struggled toward the desired completion.
Billy felt torn nearly in two, by the weight of Dom pressed so firmly on him, their pricks pushing past each other, Dom's balls lying on his, his legs straddling Billy's thighs. His breath caught in his throat, and he exhaled fiercely, trying to suck in more oxygen, but the air in the room was molten, despite the cool evening beyond the open window. In here, in their bedroom, they'd turned everything to fire. What are we doing, he wondered, opening his eyes to stare up at Dom, who looked in pain as he thrust again and again.
Dom clutched tighter at Billy's shoulder, and bent his head further, so he could rest his lips against Billy's and suck in the hot air. Billy kissed him, thoroughly, deeply, and he had to remind himself again that this was Billy, Billy's tongue, Billy's body, that somehow he had earned the right to these privileges, these blessings. He sucked at Billy's tongue, breathing him in. His arms trembled with the effort, and his hips began to jerk a-rhythmically.
Billy pulled at Dom, drawing him down so he could feel more of his sweat and fevered-skin, his muscles aching with the effort as they strove together, pushing past all obstacles, all fears, pushing forward with Dom's energy and Billy's single-mindedness, pushing beyond everything familiar, and then Billy cried out, his prick burned from the friction and pressure but the release was so powerful, fierce and almost angry. His heart thumped erratically, and he tightened his hold on Dom, keeping him together, keeping them together.
Dom collapsed onto Billy, confident that Billy could bear his weight and more. He sighed heavily, and kissed Billy's sweaty neck. "Lovely, that," he murmured, and heard Billy rumble in agreement, wordless but full of meaning to Dom's ears. They should shower, they should sleep, but right now he only wanted this: to lie in Billy's arms, hot and sticky and trembling. He'd had to come halfway round the world to make this discovery, but it would have been worth it if he'd had to walk every step.
Who is this man, Billy wondered, stroking the sweaty hair off Dom's forehead. The smell rose around him, yeasty and sweet, and he inhaled deeply. Someday he'd miss this, he knew. Something would happen, they would be forced to separate, or would choose to separate, or something, and then he wanted this memory: the scent and sound and weight of Dom surrounding him. Who is this man that has so changed me? I have suffered a sea-change, into something rich and strange, I hope. He looked at the top of Dom's hair, and lifted his head to kiss Dom.
Dom yawned, relaxed and heavy. Then he licked Billy's throat, wrinkling his nose at the sweat-and-smoky taste of it. "Shower, don't y'think?" he murmured, and yawned again.
"Gerroff me, ya big lump," Billy said, squeezing Dom tighter before not-too-gently shoving him to one side. "You're takin' my breath away, you are."
"Course I am," Dom said, sliding slowly off the bed and onto the floor. He rolled, graceful as a cat, onto his back, arms akimbo, and stared up at Billy who peered down at him from the edge of the bed. "I'm just that good lookin', that's why."
"Smell like a fuckin' brewery, that's why."
Dom sat up enough to kiss Billy, and then rose, tugging at Billy until he, too, stood up. "Need to change them sheets," he observed.
Billy slapped Dom's arse, then rubbed it apologetically. "Shower first. And I've got to brush my teeth. God, when I think where my tongue's been." Grinning, Dom leaned away from Billy and farted, then dashed toward the en suite; Billy followed, waving his hands. "Foul beast," he said, smiling.
Dom peeked over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. "Hurry up, Bills," he shouted over the squeal of the shower. "Feet's in less than four hours. Let's catch a kip before the car shows up."
"Bloody hell," Billy muttered as he stepped into the shower and accepted the soap from Dom. "Amydde his hand he leet the frere a fart, Ther nys no capul, drawynge in a cart, That myghte have lete a fart of swich a soun," he said, astounded that he'd been able to dredge that up.
"La, la," Dom said, scrubbing at Billy's bum. "Lovely thing, nicely shaped, not flat, not flabby, but stinky as hell you are, hmm."
Billy couldn't help but laugh, and laugh again, at himself, here in this tiny shower with not enough hot water, and Dom tenderly washing his private parts. "You were beautiful the other night, in that pretty frock," he said, smiling back at him. "Let's do it again."
Dom beamed, and quickly kissed Billy. "At home? Or out again?"
"Oh, at home for a bit, I think. I like to keep you to myself." For as long as I can, he thought.
Dom nodded as he resumed scrubbing. "You look smashing in that blue plaid thing."
"That was m' kilt," he said, and Dom rolled his eyes.
"Kilt, skirt, dress. Long as I can see your knees and you've got no knickers, that's all I want."
"I thought you liked the stockings and garter belt?"
"Oh, well." He paused. "Yes, Bill, I quite do. We'll have to flip a coin again, eh?"
"Worked well that night. And what will the winner get this time?"
Dom looked up in surprise. "To wear the stockings and belt."
Billy nodded, and began scrubbing Dom. "Now that would be a prize," he agreed, already imagining it. There really was what the Americans called a win-win situation, he thought, and then the hot water ran out despite all their best cursing and prayers, and Feet was so soon, his eyes were closing, and he was back in bed, cuddled against Dom, happily, sleepily, Dom dreaming of Billy, Billy dreaming of Dom, both dreaming of silk and slippers and what Dom would do to Billy and what Billy would do to Dom when next they had a chance.