Threadbare Gypsy Soul
Title: Threadbare Gypsy Soul (21/?)
Rating: NC-17 over all (PG-13 most chapters)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Warnings: Sequel to BTS, AU, angst. In this universe, Dom is a NYC social worker. The nature of his work may be a touchy subject for some people.
Feedback: is loved.
Summary: It’s human nature to bury our secrets. The fear lies in digging them up.
Chapter Notes: Little mysteries.
Sunday, December 24th
9:03am
“I’m only saying,” Aureen stood at the sink, tidying the kitchen after breakfast, “You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he was a young man when you were just a boy. And that was in the eighties when… well, when we didn’t know things we know now.”
Dom rolled his eyes, “We’re not stupid, Mum.”
He picked another flower out of the bouquet that had arrived from distant aunt that morning, cutting its stem to fit a somewhat short Christmas vase his mother had dug out of a cupboard. From his seat at the table, he could just see Billy out the living room window, squatting by the motorbike parked on the curb with Matt, who was pointing at various bits of the engine and apparently discussing them at length. His dad had gone somewhere, which was fine by him, given the topic of conversation.
“I know you’re not stupid, I taught you better than that,” his mother said calmly. “You’re sure, then, he’s been tested as well?”
“We both had it done a couple of months ago, we were at the doctor’s anyway,” Dom answered, “Besides that, they had mandatory health checks for the cruise line’s crew, once a year at least. He had it done then.”
“Well, that’s good to know. It’s just worrying, him growing up so fast. I’d call him very lucky,” she said. “You just wouldn’t remember, Dom, back then people were scared. Us in the medical community especially, since we didn’t know what we were dealing with. Your father-”
“My father thinks I must have caught being gay like it’s a disease, so his opinion is irrelevant.”
Aureen put down the dishtowel and turned to face him with a huff, “I was going to say, your father spoke against all the fear-mongering and hatred it caused, particularly in the church. He realized like most science-minded people did that there must be more to it than people assumed, and he was right on that occasion. He can separate proven facts and his own personal beliefs, Dom, you of all people ought to know that. He’s always been an open-minded man.”
“Right, I forgot, you and him and the rest of the Flower Children,” Dom scoffed, “It didn’t touch him back then, did it? It’s all sunshine, daisies and someone else’s problem until it’s your son bringing home a boyfriend.”
“You’ve been spikes out since you got here, I might add,” she put her hands on her hips, “You’ve never been so quick to lip, that was always Matt’s way. It’s no wonder Austin doesn’t know what to make of you. It’s one thing to know you prefer the lads and another to see it, you know. Give him time to settle with the idea, Dommie.”
Dom nearly sniped back again, but held it and dropped his eyes back to his work, picking through the uncut flowers. Aureen sat down beside him at the table, gathering the stems he’d already done and starting to arrange them in the vase. Looking out at Billy again, he was calmed by the sight of him, smiling and casual, comfortable in his skin. That Matt and Billy had immediately taken to each other settled him a bit, and made this entire trip the slightest bit easier.
Matt gestured to the bike, wiping condensation off the seat, and after several shakes of his head and shrugs and smiles, Billy himself straddled it. Looking at all the gauges and fiddling with the shifter by his foot, he looked awkward and silly and completely out of place. Billy looked far more at home on the rail of a ship then he’d ever look on a slick black bike.
“God, but you are twitterpated, aren’t you?”
“I’m what?” Dom choked, laughing abruptly at such a ridiculous word, though he’d been caught out with an ogling grin on his face, his cheek propped on his hand as he gazed out the window.
“You are!” his mum teased, tossing a broken bud at him, “You can’t keep your eyes off him for more than five minutes, can you? Mind you, he’s not bad looking. A bit plain is all, but what a voice, and he’s so charming. I don’t blame you, really.”
“Mum!” His cheeks and ears were surely flaming by now, but he could still see Billy, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows even in the misty morning, having switched places with Matt from the bike and now standing with his feet balanced and sure, his face thoroughly attentive.
“Mattie likes him. And he adores you, that much is obvious,” Aureen continued, “Even your father can’t avoid seeing that.”
Dom ducked his gaze back to garden snips, even as warmth flooded him. Two out of three, then. He wondered how much more charming Billy would have to be to melt the ice that was his dad.
“There’s a… Oh, I don’t know, a sadness about him, though, isn’t there?” she wondered quietly. “I suppose that’s why you’re so mysterious about him. When we talked while you were sleeping yesterday... he seemed positively stunned that you’d have him at all, as if he’s done some great wrong. Poor thing. He must have been so scared and lonely.”
“What did you talk about?” Dom asked, unable to contain his curiosity, “Before we met, I mean. What did he tell you?”
“Well, he mentioned his parents’ accident, of course, and going off on his own, living on the streets and working odd jobs. He talked about a guitar shop he worked for, which I guess is why he’s settled in at the place he’s at now, right? Same sort of thing. And, let’s see, he told me about a mate and him getting jobs on that cruise ship, and that was where he’d been up to when you met each other.” She eyed him carefully, “Why? Is there something else I ought to know?”
“It’s not really my place to say,” Dom lifted a shoulder, snipping the last flower stem, “He’s not had it easy, that’s all. I didn’t expect he’d tell you much more than he told me at the beginning.”
“Is there more to tell?” she asked, arching a brow.
Dom met her eyes briefly and nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
“Well, I guess I’m not really surprised at that,” she looked out at the two of them through the window, “It’s no wonder he and Matt get on. Your brother’s got more than enough in his head that he won’t tell his own mother,” she looked worrisome, fluffing the finished bouquet and pushing it to middle of the table. “You just take care of him.”
Dom, chuckled, shaking his head, “He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”
“Of course he is,” she said, “But I’ll tell you a secret about the wandering sort. They need to be reassured they can have nice things. Especially something as nice as a person who loves as hard as you, Dommie.”
She stood up and collected her purse and coat, “Now, I’ve got a few more things to get at the shops, hopefully they’re not all closed yet.” She ruffled his hair as she passed. “Try not to murder your father before I get back, hmm?”
7.:20pm
“What sort of Midnight Mass is at eight in the evening? I intend to have strong words with the dean of the church about this, you know, maybe even draft a letter to Archbishop Wots-His-Name. Clearly they’re all screwed up on the time sweet baby Jesus was born, and that’s just not on.”
Dom snorted at Matt’s diatribe - which could be heard throughout the house - while he knotted his tie and smoothed his suit in front of the bedroom mirror. He was hardly looking forward to sitting on a hard pew for however many hours it would take to get through, but like his mother could be heard patiently explaining, the time was so all the students could be taken home and put to bed at a decent hour.
Austin had reappeared before Aureen had returned from her last minute shopping, and unsurprisingly, he’d made a point to keep to himself while Dom spent an enjoyable several hours kicking around an old football with Matt and Billy in the back garden, using a pair of rhododendrons as goal markers. When the winter drizzle started back up, Matt annihilated Billy and Dom as a team at chess, even with Dom carefully ignoring Matt’s distraction techniques and doing all the strategizing. Austin made a brief trip through the room to the kitchen when Aureen had returned and Dom helped her with dinner, but had nothing to say. In fact, apart from overly polite displays of table manners, they didn’t exchange a word all day.
Twiddling his rings with a last glance in the mirror, he stepped out into the hall. Through the open door to the guest bathroom, Billy was finishing up as well. Having given up on combing his now somewhat unruly hair into its old sleek fashion on the ship, he’d instead roughed it up so it stuck out in all directions. He wore the suit Dom had bought for him in their first few days in New York, a rather versatile black three-piece with just the subtlest hint of pinstriping. Though tonight, Billy had done away with the waistcoat and instead paired a black shirt with an evergreen silk tie.
“Happy Christmas to me,” Dom said, raking his eyes up and down the sight before him. Imagination and memory be damned, Dom did sometimes forget how edible Billy could be when he got dressed up.
“What, this old thing?” Billy grinned, pocketing his hands and striding into the dim hall toward him, looking cocky and decadent from his perfectly shined shoes to his playfully spiky hair. “Not quite MI-6 standard, though.”
“You’ve obviously gone rogue. You’re doing deals with the highest figures in the Russian Mafia now.” Dom gave him a little push into the wall, leaning in to inhale the scrubbed clean scent of him, and whisper darkly against his freshly shaven jaw, “I could just rub off on you right here.”
Billy rounded his brows innocently, keeping his own voice low, “Like you did in the Harrods men’s after they fitted this, if I recall correctly?”
Dom slid his hands around Billy’s waist beneath the jacket and grinned hotly against Billy’s neck, remembering.
“Not always such a good boy, then,” Billy murmured provocatively. “What would Matt say?”
“He’d take every bit of piss out of me,” Dom laughed, then gave a wanting little growl, tugging on the tie. “Christ, you’re sexy in this.”
“Look who’s talking. Make that noise again, I love that noise.” Billy tilted his mouth up to beg a kiss, and Dom obliged both requests.
When a figure darkened the end of the hall in their peripheral vision, Billy retreated back slightly, but Dom hooked a hand round his nape to prevent him getting away, and went back at his lips. Nipping with teeth and delving for a longer taste beneath toothpaste, he got a melty noise from the back of Billy’s throat, and felt triumphant at the way his body rose and fell between his own and the wall.
“I don’t care if he sees,” he breathed against Billy’s mouth and glanced rebelliously to the end of the hall, where the shape of his father retreated without a word. They’d been behaving since they got here, but if his dad needed to see what made him happy, then he might as well get an eyeful. He was seriously considering saying they’d stay here alone after all, and see how open-minded his dad was about the implications behind that.
“Okay,” Billy whispered, sneaking another quick kiss, “Tease. Get me all hot and bothered and then make me sit through church, that’s not very nice at all.”
“Naughty. I’ll get nothing but coal this year.”
“Oi, you two quit groping each other and let’s get this over with,” Matt’s voice called loudly, his own shape appearing at the hallway. “I’m not wearing Dad’s old trousers, Mum, for the last time. God doesn’t mind jeans. He’s very fond of jeans, otherwise old Levi Strauss would never have been so successful. And did you know, Levi is also another name for the great Saint Matthew, after whom I believe Yours Truly was named? It’s true!”
They emerged from the hall at this latest bit of trivia, Billy’s mouth appearing recently beestung and Dom feeling unapologetically smug about it, looking straight at his father. Austin appeared deeply interested his keys.
“Dom, you paid attention in Bible Study. Tell them about old Matthew.”
“He was a tax collector, your Sainthood. Not especially well liked,” Dom grinned. Matt wore an un-ironed button-down, untucked over worn jeans, a beaten pair of Docks and finished with a tweedy sort of blazer and a newsboy cap over tousled hair, and still he managed to be freakishly good looking. “Mum, you will keep your eyes on the young impressionable girls? It’s so easy to fall from grace.”
“Christ, look at you,” Matt drooped theatrically at Billy, “Who knew a pikey could shine up like that?”
“Said pot to kettle,” Billy replied airily, examining his nails.
“Dad, you’ll want to keep your eyes on the alter-boys, you know how corruptible they are at that age,” Matt sniffed.
“Enough, you two, for heaven’s sake. Let’s go.” Aureen herded them all towards the garage.
11:24pm
Dom politely broke away from the group with whom his mother was chatting. Mass was over but many people still remained in the pews or otherwise mingling at the entry where there were festive biscuits and muffins and donations of sorts set up by various of the school’s clubs. The church itself was wasn’t huge, though larger and older than the ones he remembered from his own schools in Manchester. Matt could already be seen doing some sort of magic trick with a coin, surrounded by a group of twittering schoolgirls.
Billy, who had excused himself to the loo, was found in a quiet alcove, studying a stained glass window.
“Your brother’s up to no good,” he said, when Dom stepped up next to him.
“I saw that,” Dom grinned, “He needs one of those remote control shock collars. Down, boy.” He mimed pressing a button and making an electric zapping sound in Matt’s direction.
“Is Catholic Mass always that long?”
“No. But it always seems like it is,” Dom pocketed his own hands and stood just close enough for their elbows to brush. “Why? Does your arse hurt?”
“Yes,” Billy laughed quietly, “I’d forgotten. Gran used to drag us to church, especially after Mum and Dad died. Was one of the things we came to blows about before I left. She thought it was good for me, thought it would ‘give me direction’, is what she said. It did that, all right. Any direction but Glasgow.”
Dom kept his eyes on the window, “That was the Scots church?”
“The Kirk, yeah,” Billy grinned, glancing around surreptitiously, “Hostile territory, this is.
“Once, when I first ran away, I went to St. Andrews Cathedral. I had that old notion of sanctuary, you know, from the telly. I thought a church would take in anyone, no matter what you’ve done. Of course, the pastor was very kind, chatted with me for a bit and then went off and brought me something to eat.” Billy chuckled quietly, “He made a mistake though, left me alone when he went to answer the door when the coppers had arrived, nice and quiet-like. I suppose he intended them to scare me a bit, take me home and teach me a lesson.”
“But you already had a record by then,” Dom put in.
“Aye. Knew my way around the police long before that day. I heard them before they got to me. Barely got away out the back. Stupid naïve idea. Taught me who you can trust. Who you can’t, really. I was a lot more careful after that.”
Dom looked around, being sure no one was within hearing range. “The last time I remember confessing, the priest told me flat out, God hated queers, and all sorts of horrible things would happen to me. ‘What would my father think?’ he asked. Scared the shit out me, really. Basically destroyed everything I’d ever been taught to believe in. And that was right before we moved. Dad found a new school, new church, everything. I thought the priest had told my dad, and he uprooted me because of it. Took me a while to figure out it wasn’t like that, it was nothing more than a salary thing. And for some reason it made it that much worse.
“It’s weird, being back,” he reminisced, pocketing his hands and looking back up at the sparkling window, “I haven’t been scared or angry about this stuff for a long time. I’ve hardly even thought about it for years. But I can’t believe in it anymore. The rest of it, I mean.” He scrubbed a hand through the back of his hair, laughing a little, “That priest... I suppose he thought he was saving my soul, and instead he managed to put me off the whole thing.”
Billy met his eyes, “I don’t think it’s wrong to be ourselves, Dommeh, no matter who says so. But as for the rest of it,” he looked back up at the window and shrugged, “You know I never set much store in following the rules. Whatever makes people believe what they believe in, that’s all fine and good, if it gives them purpose. But it’s too big for me. I don’t understand it and I don’t want to, I just want to live my life.”
“Me too,” Dom said. “I just… I just wish Dad would see it like that.”
A pair of arms encircled both of their shoulders, and Matt’s face inserted itself in their midst. “I sense a far too serious discussion between my two favourite homosexuals and the birthday boy,” he nodded up at the depiction of Jesus on the window.
“You are definitely going to hell, Matt,” laughed Dom.
“Absolutely,” Matt beamed, steering them back around to the pews, and the group of students he’d been entertaining, “Fifth or six circle, at least, but hey, I’ve made my peace with that. Ladies, this is my kid brother. Say hi, Dommie, it’s only polite, they think you’re quite adorable, don’t you?”
The girls giggled madly. “You’re Mr. Monaghan’s son as well?” asked one of them.
“I suppose,” Dom glanced around for the Mr. Monaghan in question. “Is he your science teacher?”
“Yeah,” she answered, “He’s funny. He talks about you all the time.”
Dom fish-mouthed at her a bit. “He… he does?”
“Yeah, he says you work with kids in New York,” the girl eyed him up, clearly this clique’s leader, her hair stylishly bobbed and her dress flashier than most of the girls behind her, “He says you support Man U like he does, the slag. Said you wanted to play professional, but you got hurt when you were like, twelve or something.”
“Yeah,” another girl piped up, “And when we did insects a few weeks ago, he said you could name any bug out there, and you’d make up stories about them when you were little.”
“He still does that,” piped Billy, “I heard him tell one to a little girl who was afraid of her garden pond. She calls him the Dragonfly Man. And when there was a spider in the bathtub, he scooped it up sweet as you please in his bare hands, and took the little bugger outside. Mind you, we live on the sixth floor.”
The girls cooed and chattered while Dom scanned the dwindling crowd for his father. He spotted him with his mother, still chatting with friends. The flashy girl looked from him to Billy and back. “You’re flatmates, then?”
“Something like that,” Matt answered for him with a wink. The girl merely grinned and winked back, tossing a few more jibes about football teams with them before leading the group off elsewhere.
“My god, Matt,” Dom laughed, “Corrupting Britain’s promising youth since 1972. If that gets around-”
“Let it get around,” Matt rumbled, ruffling Dom’s hair to absurdity, “None of these kids care, you know. They’d think Dad was cool if he had the cojones to admit it. Beside, I bet if that lot saw you two macking like you were in the hall earlier, they’d all go damp in the knickers. ‘Specially dressed up all sharp like this, I’d plant one on you as well. Here, Bill, give us a kiss,” Matt puckered up at Billy as they made for the entry.
“Too far, man,” Dom laughed, putting himself between them, and shoving Matt off into the end of a pew, and taking Billy by the shoulder. “That’s mine.”
“Ooh, possessive, are we?” Matt leered, jogging to catch up and rubbing his hip. “Excellent. Make Dad wonder if you’re the top, that’ll have him squirming.”
Did his father really speak about him to his classes? Even as late as a few weeks ago, when surely he knew Dom would be bringing Billy on this holiday? Did he speak often about memories he remembered to be happy ones, things a father would take pride in?
Dom could not help but keep his arm right where it was around Billy’s shoulders as they reached his parents, matey, but for the way his fingers kept straying into the fluffy curls at Billy’s neckline. Austin smiled and laughed among his friends and fellow teachers, and even when he looked in Dom’s direction, it did not waver.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rating: NC-17 over all (PG-13 most chapters)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Warnings: Sequel to BTS, AU, angst. In this universe, Dom is a NYC social worker. The nature of his work may be a touchy subject for some people.
Feedback: is loved.
Summary: It’s human nature to bury our secrets. The fear lies in digging them up.
Chapter Notes: Little mysteries.
Sunday, December 24th
9:03am
“I’m only saying,” Aureen stood at the sink, tidying the kitchen after breakfast, “You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he was a young man when you were just a boy. And that was in the eighties when… well, when we didn’t know things we know now.”
Dom rolled his eyes, “We’re not stupid, Mum.”
He picked another flower out of the bouquet that had arrived from distant aunt that morning, cutting its stem to fit a somewhat short Christmas vase his mother had dug out of a cupboard. From his seat at the table, he could just see Billy out the living room window, squatting by the motorbike parked on the curb with Matt, who was pointing at various bits of the engine and apparently discussing them at length. His dad had gone somewhere, which was fine by him, given the topic of conversation.
“I know you’re not stupid, I taught you better than that,” his mother said calmly. “You’re sure, then, he’s been tested as well?”
“We both had it done a couple of months ago, we were at the doctor’s anyway,” Dom answered, “Besides that, they had mandatory health checks for the cruise line’s crew, once a year at least. He had it done then.”
“Well, that’s good to know. It’s just worrying, him growing up so fast. I’d call him very lucky,” she said. “You just wouldn’t remember, Dom, back then people were scared. Us in the medical community especially, since we didn’t know what we were dealing with. Your father-”
“My father thinks I must have caught being gay like it’s a disease, so his opinion is irrelevant.”
Aureen put down the dishtowel and turned to face him with a huff, “I was going to say, your father spoke against all the fear-mongering and hatred it caused, particularly in the church. He realized like most science-minded people did that there must be more to it than people assumed, and he was right on that occasion. He can separate proven facts and his own personal beliefs, Dom, you of all people ought to know that. He’s always been an open-minded man.”
“Right, I forgot, you and him and the rest of the Flower Children,” Dom scoffed, “It didn’t touch him back then, did it? It’s all sunshine, daisies and someone else’s problem until it’s your son bringing home a boyfriend.”
“You’ve been spikes out since you got here, I might add,” she put her hands on her hips, “You’ve never been so quick to lip, that was always Matt’s way. It’s no wonder Austin doesn’t know what to make of you. It’s one thing to know you prefer the lads and another to see it, you know. Give him time to settle with the idea, Dommie.”
Dom nearly sniped back again, but held it and dropped his eyes back to his work, picking through the uncut flowers. Aureen sat down beside him at the table, gathering the stems he’d already done and starting to arrange them in the vase. Looking out at Billy again, he was calmed by the sight of him, smiling and casual, comfortable in his skin. That Matt and Billy had immediately taken to each other settled him a bit, and made this entire trip the slightest bit easier.
Matt gestured to the bike, wiping condensation off the seat, and after several shakes of his head and shrugs and smiles, Billy himself straddled it. Looking at all the gauges and fiddling with the shifter by his foot, he looked awkward and silly and completely out of place. Billy looked far more at home on the rail of a ship then he’d ever look on a slick black bike.
“God, but you are twitterpated, aren’t you?”
“I’m what?” Dom choked, laughing abruptly at such a ridiculous word, though he’d been caught out with an ogling grin on his face, his cheek propped on his hand as he gazed out the window.
“You are!” his mum teased, tossing a broken bud at him, “You can’t keep your eyes off him for more than five minutes, can you? Mind you, he’s not bad looking. A bit plain is all, but what a voice, and he’s so charming. I don’t blame you, really.”
“Mum!” His cheeks and ears were surely flaming by now, but he could still see Billy, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows even in the misty morning, having switched places with Matt from the bike and now standing with his feet balanced and sure, his face thoroughly attentive.
“Mattie likes him. And he adores you, that much is obvious,” Aureen continued, “Even your father can’t avoid seeing that.”
Dom ducked his gaze back to garden snips, even as warmth flooded him. Two out of three, then. He wondered how much more charming Billy would have to be to melt the ice that was his dad.
“There’s a… Oh, I don’t know, a sadness about him, though, isn’t there?” she wondered quietly. “I suppose that’s why you’re so mysterious about him. When we talked while you were sleeping yesterday... he seemed positively stunned that you’d have him at all, as if he’s done some great wrong. Poor thing. He must have been so scared and lonely.”
“What did you talk about?” Dom asked, unable to contain his curiosity, “Before we met, I mean. What did he tell you?”
“Well, he mentioned his parents’ accident, of course, and going off on his own, living on the streets and working odd jobs. He talked about a guitar shop he worked for, which I guess is why he’s settled in at the place he’s at now, right? Same sort of thing. And, let’s see, he told me about a mate and him getting jobs on that cruise ship, and that was where he’d been up to when you met each other.” She eyed him carefully, “Why? Is there something else I ought to know?”
“It’s not really my place to say,” Dom lifted a shoulder, snipping the last flower stem, “He’s not had it easy, that’s all. I didn’t expect he’d tell you much more than he told me at the beginning.”
“Is there more to tell?” she asked, arching a brow.
Dom met her eyes briefly and nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
“Well, I guess I’m not really surprised at that,” she looked out at the two of them through the window, “It’s no wonder he and Matt get on. Your brother’s got more than enough in his head that he won’t tell his own mother,” she looked worrisome, fluffing the finished bouquet and pushing it to middle of the table. “You just take care of him.”
Dom, chuckled, shaking his head, “He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”
“Of course he is,” she said, “But I’ll tell you a secret about the wandering sort. They need to be reassured they can have nice things. Especially something as nice as a person who loves as hard as you, Dommie.”
She stood up and collected her purse and coat, “Now, I’ve got a few more things to get at the shops, hopefully they’re not all closed yet.” She ruffled his hair as she passed. “Try not to murder your father before I get back, hmm?”
7.:20pm
“What sort of Midnight Mass is at eight in the evening? I intend to have strong words with the dean of the church about this, you know, maybe even draft a letter to Archbishop Wots-His-Name. Clearly they’re all screwed up on the time sweet baby Jesus was born, and that’s just not on.”
Dom snorted at Matt’s diatribe - which could be heard throughout the house - while he knotted his tie and smoothed his suit in front of the bedroom mirror. He was hardly looking forward to sitting on a hard pew for however many hours it would take to get through, but like his mother could be heard patiently explaining, the time was so all the students could be taken home and put to bed at a decent hour.
Austin had reappeared before Aureen had returned from her last minute shopping, and unsurprisingly, he’d made a point to keep to himself while Dom spent an enjoyable several hours kicking around an old football with Matt and Billy in the back garden, using a pair of rhododendrons as goal markers. When the winter drizzle started back up, Matt annihilated Billy and Dom as a team at chess, even with Dom carefully ignoring Matt’s distraction techniques and doing all the strategizing. Austin made a brief trip through the room to the kitchen when Aureen had returned and Dom helped her with dinner, but had nothing to say. In fact, apart from overly polite displays of table manners, they didn’t exchange a word all day.
Twiddling his rings with a last glance in the mirror, he stepped out into the hall. Through the open door to the guest bathroom, Billy was finishing up as well. Having given up on combing his now somewhat unruly hair into its old sleek fashion on the ship, he’d instead roughed it up so it stuck out in all directions. He wore the suit Dom had bought for him in their first few days in New York, a rather versatile black three-piece with just the subtlest hint of pinstriping. Though tonight, Billy had done away with the waistcoat and instead paired a black shirt with an evergreen silk tie.
“Happy Christmas to me,” Dom said, raking his eyes up and down the sight before him. Imagination and memory be damned, Dom did sometimes forget how edible Billy could be when he got dressed up.
“What, this old thing?” Billy grinned, pocketing his hands and striding into the dim hall toward him, looking cocky and decadent from his perfectly shined shoes to his playfully spiky hair. “Not quite MI-6 standard, though.”
“You’ve obviously gone rogue. You’re doing deals with the highest figures in the Russian Mafia now.” Dom gave him a little push into the wall, leaning in to inhale the scrubbed clean scent of him, and whisper darkly against his freshly shaven jaw, “I could just rub off on you right here.”
Billy rounded his brows innocently, keeping his own voice low, “Like you did in the Harrods men’s after they fitted this, if I recall correctly?”
Dom slid his hands around Billy’s waist beneath the jacket and grinned hotly against Billy’s neck, remembering.
“Not always such a good boy, then,” Billy murmured provocatively. “What would Matt say?”
“He’d take every bit of piss out of me,” Dom laughed, then gave a wanting little growl, tugging on the tie. “Christ, you’re sexy in this.”
“Look who’s talking. Make that noise again, I love that noise.” Billy tilted his mouth up to beg a kiss, and Dom obliged both requests.
When a figure darkened the end of the hall in their peripheral vision, Billy retreated back slightly, but Dom hooked a hand round his nape to prevent him getting away, and went back at his lips. Nipping with teeth and delving for a longer taste beneath toothpaste, he got a melty noise from the back of Billy’s throat, and felt triumphant at the way his body rose and fell between his own and the wall.
“I don’t care if he sees,” he breathed against Billy’s mouth and glanced rebelliously to the end of the hall, where the shape of his father retreated without a word. They’d been behaving since they got here, but if his dad needed to see what made him happy, then he might as well get an eyeful. He was seriously considering saying they’d stay here alone after all, and see how open-minded his dad was about the implications behind that.
“Okay,” Billy whispered, sneaking another quick kiss, “Tease. Get me all hot and bothered and then make me sit through church, that’s not very nice at all.”
“Naughty. I’ll get nothing but coal this year.”
“Oi, you two quit groping each other and let’s get this over with,” Matt’s voice called loudly, his own shape appearing at the hallway. “I’m not wearing Dad’s old trousers, Mum, for the last time. God doesn’t mind jeans. He’s very fond of jeans, otherwise old Levi Strauss would never have been so successful. And did you know, Levi is also another name for the great Saint Matthew, after whom I believe Yours Truly was named? It’s true!”
They emerged from the hall at this latest bit of trivia, Billy’s mouth appearing recently beestung and Dom feeling unapologetically smug about it, looking straight at his father. Austin appeared deeply interested his keys.
“Dom, you paid attention in Bible Study. Tell them about old Matthew.”
“He was a tax collector, your Sainthood. Not especially well liked,” Dom grinned. Matt wore an un-ironed button-down, untucked over worn jeans, a beaten pair of Docks and finished with a tweedy sort of blazer and a newsboy cap over tousled hair, and still he managed to be freakishly good looking. “Mum, you will keep your eyes on the young impressionable girls? It’s so easy to fall from grace.”
“Christ, look at you,” Matt drooped theatrically at Billy, “Who knew a pikey could shine up like that?”
“Said pot to kettle,” Billy replied airily, examining his nails.
“Dad, you’ll want to keep your eyes on the alter-boys, you know how corruptible they are at that age,” Matt sniffed.
“Enough, you two, for heaven’s sake. Let’s go.” Aureen herded them all towards the garage.
11:24pm
Dom politely broke away from the group with whom his mother was chatting. Mass was over but many people still remained in the pews or otherwise mingling at the entry where there were festive biscuits and muffins and donations of sorts set up by various of the school’s clubs. The church itself was wasn’t huge, though larger and older than the ones he remembered from his own schools in Manchester. Matt could already be seen doing some sort of magic trick with a coin, surrounded by a group of twittering schoolgirls.
Billy, who had excused himself to the loo, was found in a quiet alcove, studying a stained glass window.
“Your brother’s up to no good,” he said, when Dom stepped up next to him.
“I saw that,” Dom grinned, “He needs one of those remote control shock collars. Down, boy.” He mimed pressing a button and making an electric zapping sound in Matt’s direction.
“Is Catholic Mass always that long?”
“No. But it always seems like it is,” Dom pocketed his own hands and stood just close enough for their elbows to brush. “Why? Does your arse hurt?”
“Yes,” Billy laughed quietly, “I’d forgotten. Gran used to drag us to church, especially after Mum and Dad died. Was one of the things we came to blows about before I left. She thought it was good for me, thought it would ‘give me direction’, is what she said. It did that, all right. Any direction but Glasgow.”
Dom kept his eyes on the window, “That was the Scots church?”
“The Kirk, yeah,” Billy grinned, glancing around surreptitiously, “Hostile territory, this is.
“Once, when I first ran away, I went to St. Andrews Cathedral. I had that old notion of sanctuary, you know, from the telly. I thought a church would take in anyone, no matter what you’ve done. Of course, the pastor was very kind, chatted with me for a bit and then went off and brought me something to eat.” Billy chuckled quietly, “He made a mistake though, left me alone when he went to answer the door when the coppers had arrived, nice and quiet-like. I suppose he intended them to scare me a bit, take me home and teach me a lesson.”
“But you already had a record by then,” Dom put in.
“Aye. Knew my way around the police long before that day. I heard them before they got to me. Barely got away out the back. Stupid naïve idea. Taught me who you can trust. Who you can’t, really. I was a lot more careful after that.”
Dom looked around, being sure no one was within hearing range. “The last time I remember confessing, the priest told me flat out, God hated queers, and all sorts of horrible things would happen to me. ‘What would my father think?’ he asked. Scared the shit out me, really. Basically destroyed everything I’d ever been taught to believe in. And that was right before we moved. Dad found a new school, new church, everything. I thought the priest had told my dad, and he uprooted me because of it. Took me a while to figure out it wasn’t like that, it was nothing more than a salary thing. And for some reason it made it that much worse.
“It’s weird, being back,” he reminisced, pocketing his hands and looking back up at the sparkling window, “I haven’t been scared or angry about this stuff for a long time. I’ve hardly even thought about it for years. But I can’t believe in it anymore. The rest of it, I mean.” He scrubbed a hand through the back of his hair, laughing a little, “That priest... I suppose he thought he was saving my soul, and instead he managed to put me off the whole thing.”
Billy met his eyes, “I don’t think it’s wrong to be ourselves, Dommeh, no matter who says so. But as for the rest of it,” he looked back up at the window and shrugged, “You know I never set much store in following the rules. Whatever makes people believe what they believe in, that’s all fine and good, if it gives them purpose. But it’s too big for me. I don’t understand it and I don’t want to, I just want to live my life.”
“Me too,” Dom said. “I just… I just wish Dad would see it like that.”
A pair of arms encircled both of their shoulders, and Matt’s face inserted itself in their midst. “I sense a far too serious discussion between my two favourite homosexuals and the birthday boy,” he nodded up at the depiction of Jesus on the window.
“You are definitely going to hell, Matt,” laughed Dom.
“Absolutely,” Matt beamed, steering them back around to the pews, and the group of students he’d been entertaining, “Fifth or six circle, at least, but hey, I’ve made my peace with that. Ladies, this is my kid brother. Say hi, Dommie, it’s only polite, they think you’re quite adorable, don’t you?”
The girls giggled madly. “You’re Mr. Monaghan’s son as well?” asked one of them.
“I suppose,” Dom glanced around for the Mr. Monaghan in question. “Is he your science teacher?”
“Yeah,” she answered, “He’s funny. He talks about you all the time.”
Dom fish-mouthed at her a bit. “He… he does?”
“Yeah, he says you work with kids in New York,” the girl eyed him up, clearly this clique’s leader, her hair stylishly bobbed and her dress flashier than most of the girls behind her, “He says you support Man U like he does, the slag. Said you wanted to play professional, but you got hurt when you were like, twelve or something.”
“Yeah,” another girl piped up, “And when we did insects a few weeks ago, he said you could name any bug out there, and you’d make up stories about them when you were little.”
“He still does that,” piped Billy, “I heard him tell one to a little girl who was afraid of her garden pond. She calls him the Dragonfly Man. And when there was a spider in the bathtub, he scooped it up sweet as you please in his bare hands, and took the little bugger outside. Mind you, we live on the sixth floor.”
The girls cooed and chattered while Dom scanned the dwindling crowd for his father. He spotted him with his mother, still chatting with friends. The flashy girl looked from him to Billy and back. “You’re flatmates, then?”
“Something like that,” Matt answered for him with a wink. The girl merely grinned and winked back, tossing a few more jibes about football teams with them before leading the group off elsewhere.
“My god, Matt,” Dom laughed, “Corrupting Britain’s promising youth since 1972. If that gets around-”
“Let it get around,” Matt rumbled, ruffling Dom’s hair to absurdity, “None of these kids care, you know. They’d think Dad was cool if he had the cojones to admit it. Beside, I bet if that lot saw you two macking like you were in the hall earlier, they’d all go damp in the knickers. ‘Specially dressed up all sharp like this, I’d plant one on you as well. Here, Bill, give us a kiss,” Matt puckered up at Billy as they made for the entry.
“Too far, man,” Dom laughed, putting himself between them, and shoving Matt off into the end of a pew, and taking Billy by the shoulder. “That’s mine.”
“Ooh, possessive, are we?” Matt leered, jogging to catch up and rubbing his hip. “Excellent. Make Dad wonder if you’re the top, that’ll have him squirming.”
Did his father really speak about him to his classes? Even as late as a few weeks ago, when surely he knew Dom would be bringing Billy on this holiday? Did he speak often about memories he remembered to be happy ones, things a father would take pride in?
Dom could not help but keep his arm right where it was around Billy’s shoulders as they reached his parents, matey, but for the way his fingers kept straying into the fluffy curls at Billy’s neckline. Austin smiled and laughed among his friends and fellow teachers, and even when he looked in Dom’s direction, it did not waver.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO