FIC: Monkey's Paw Love Song (6/6)
Title: Monkey's Paw Love Song (6/6)
Author: vensre
Starring: Dom/Billy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The way I can imagine is not the true Way.
Notes: Beta by ali_jayne. For Puella. { 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 }
:~:
Dom is trying to draft a letter. Billy is trying to peek at it.
"No, you do not look! Why'd I have to end up with such a nosy best mate?"
"Maybe you needed one." Billy tries simultaneously to look angelically innocent and steal a glance over Dom's shoulder.
"Maybe I did. Get over there, go on! You're doing your crossword."
"All right, all right..." Billy does return to his own chair, but puts his feet up on the table and sticks out his tongue.
"Now, I will say that I've felt, hmm. Freer? Freer, since I've known you. Which doesn't mean, incidentally, that you're right."
Billy harrumphs and counts on his fingers. After a long pause full of the scratching of Dom's pencil, he says, "What's a six letter word for gay sex?"
"Sodomy," Dom replies without really thinking. Then, "WHAT!"
"That's it, thank you." Billy makes a show of filling it into his puzzle. "Leave it to a Catholic."
"Lapsed Catholic. That can't be a real question - let me see!"
Billy evades his lunge neatly. "Oh no. I don't get to see your paper, you certainly don't get to see mine."
As it happens, Dom's letter doesn't contain much of anything. Only: Happy birthday, Bill. I'm writing this out in hopes it will be easier to explain this way. Then several lines, erased, rewritten, reerased, rerewritten, and crossed out heavily. In no medium is it easy to say the things Dom needs to say.
:~:
Even having been careful of his alcohol and cake intake, Dominic feels distinctly ill when they reach Billy's house, post-party. He wishes idly for those anti-anxiety pills he used to take.
"You think I'm neurotic now, you should have known me at seventeen," he tells Billy.
"Yeah, seventeen's legal. I mean, what?" Billy has had more to drink than Dom has. He's buzzed, spazzed, and possibly other zz words. Jazzed, definitely. Fuzzed, only if hair that sticks up in every direction counts.
"I was a wreck."
"I was twenty-five. Ooh, that's not that long ago."
"Big difference to me."
"To me, too." They sprawl on the sofa, passing back and forth Dom's bottle of Fresh-Up. "I was still doing bookbinding. Almost done my limit, by then."
"Did your" - Dom lifts a hand, indicating Billy's power - "ever help you any, back then?"
"Not at work. Couldn't be obtruse..? Obvious. About it. It did help, time to time. Couple of brawls, here an' there. Makes a fantastic shield."
"I'll just bet."
"Well, you know how it is. Let on you can do something out o' the ordinary, and they're on you like witch-hunters. Fuck."
"Yeah... I'm gonna wait a while, Bill, alright? 'Till the booze clears our systems a little."
"For my present?"
"Yeah."
"I'm not drunk, you know. Four drinks does not a smashed Scot make."
"I hope not, if you're using that grammar construction."
Billy giggles, then subsides. He looks at Dom closely. "I won't hurt you over this, I swear it. I'm not going to walk away. Even if your power is to give me warts, boils, and pustules. Which it isn't. Because I've touched you before, right at the very beginning, and it wasn't any kind of awful. All I can remember is thinking I was meeting somebody important in my life, and feeling good."
Swallowing hard, Dom speaks up. "An oversimplification at best."
"Hm? How do you mean?"
"I was going t' wait to talk about this," Dom says, distressed.
"Sorry. I wasn't meaning to push you. We can wait."
"'M just nervous. But here. I actually did shop, after all that, so. Material present first."
"What is it?"
"Let me get it out of my jacket. You think I'm going to tell you before you open it? Ha!"
Billy catches the little box Dom tosses at him. It is sealed securely with packing tape and plenty of staples. He sets to immediately, and has the box open with an agility that shouldn't surprise Dom - not as the fan of Billy's hands that he is.
"A watch? A fuckin' nice watch, Dominic! Is this the precedent you want to set? And it shows two times!"
"Thought that might simplify international calls."
Billy exclaims something too Scottish to clearly interpret.
"What?"
"Wait, what's this third dial, here?"
Dom grins. "Barometric pressure."
Billy crows delightedly. He is already trying to put it on - succeeding, with an assist from an unseen pair of hands. "Is this just so I can do this when I'm bored?" He makes the dial flip around madly with his whatever-it-is.
"Pretty much," Dom says, satisfied.
"It's wonderful. It's like a present and a half. Two, even. You needn't get me anything at Christmas. Except if you really feel you must." Billy scoots over and carefully embraces Dom, who returns the hug, heart thumping. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. That was a good reaction. Think I'll have to get you something for Christmas, just to see if I can top this one."
"Good luck wi' that!"
"Ye of little faith."
"Not little faith in you. Quite a lot in you." Billy's eyes ask a question, and Dom slowly nods.
"Okay," he says, reassuring himself. "It looks quite good on you."
"I think so, too." Billy is patient, relaxed.
"Okay." Dom has a deep breath. "Okay. I tried to write it all out, but that didn't ever work. Tried to figure out exactly what I'd say and rehearse it," (Dom's eyebrows form the shape that means you can laugh at me if you want; Billy doesn't.) "but that went even worse, so I'm flying by the seat of my pants, here."
There is a pause. "You're wearing pants?"
Dom laughs. "I'll never tell! Today is for showing!"
He could swear Billy's face goes pinker at that, but doesn't stop to tease. Biting the fingertips of one glove, he draws it off, and pulls the other off with that hand. He watches his friend's eyes snap to his hands and stay there. Billy already looks shell-shocked, and Dom hasn't even touched him yet.
"This could change us," Dom tells him. "But I don't think it will, or I wouldn't be doing it."
"Understood."
So be it, then. "Hold out your hand. It won't hurt."
Billy simply complies, palm-up. His eyes track Dom's hand until one fingertip rests on his own. Dom waits.
"Mm," says Billy. "Is that what it is? It feels good."
Nodding, Dom says, "Little more?"
Billy nods, too. So Dom's fingers slowly curl into Billy's, whose thumb skims across the back of his knuckles. Fear is losing ground to a vital sort of fluttering thrill.
"Yeah?"
"Uh-huh," Billy breathes.
"Other one?"
Their hands part and change holds, fingers interlacing, two sets of palms pressed together.
"You do this sometimes," Dom says, random from nerves.
"Do what?" Billy looks shocked.
"Hold my hand."
"Oh. Yeah. I do."
"What did you think I was talking about?"
"Nothing!"
"...One of the more suspicious 'nothings' I've ever heard. You couldn't just stick with the sweet ones?"
"Heh, the sweet nothings? That wouldn't be a bad band name. It'd have to be something like 'Mr. Tongue and the Sweet Nothings'. That'd be your band. You being Mr. Tongue."
"Oh, I don't know. Think Viggo's a better candidate for Mr. Tongue. But I do appreciate the vote of confidence." Dom puts out his tongue thoughtfully, touching the tip to his nose.
Billy squirms.
Dom eyes him, with the distinct impression that something is up. Though, truly, he knows what's going on in Billy's body. Quickened pulse. Pupils dilated. Flushed skin, sweating palms, uneven breathing. Dom's heart is starting up a civil war inside him, torn between sinking and flying. He's sure Billy's hard. He has to be, but Dom's not looking - not while in the focus of his friend's full attention. Not looking, but Billy's eyes are on Dom's fingers again. Not looking, but - damn! Billy's leg is in the way; Dom can't see. Not looking again, though.
Even as his old thought patterns run in their worn-in tracks, Dom's more recent freedom is letting him look at it another way. He may be turning Billy on with other than his earthly charms, but the horrible feeling of tricking him is overlaid by a new idea: Billy chose to touch him. He chose to keep on doing so, too, and Dom can sort of pretend he's being affected by some outside force, in conjunction with whatever he might get from Dom's presence. Like, say, if Billy were watching porn. Billy watching porn, and Dom watching Billy.
He swallows a groan, hoping his own leg is in the way. What kind of porn? his mind wonders on insolently. Something quality, he's sure.
"Dom," comes Billy's voice. A curious tone, not a moan, and Dom snaps back to awareness of what's actually happening. "I would pay good money to know what was going on in your head just now."
For a miracle, instead of writhing with anxiety, Dom finds this funny. "You couldn't afford that one," he says with a vulpine smile. "Twenty pounds on Pay Per View."
Billy laughs, too. Then, unnervingly, he is disentangling his fingers from Dom's. Billy's hands don't disengage, though. He captures Dom's right hand between them, settling it in their mutual lap and stroking both sides with minute movements. Dom's panic surges, not at all subdued by the realisation that this isn't for Billy anymore, but for him. A weird feathery sensation unfolds inside him, expanding to the ends of his ears. His shoulder blades and his jaw and the backs of his knees are ringing with it.
Dom has canted forward, his eyes closing on their own. One of Billy's hands eventually leaves his, and a whisper asks, "Dom, may I..?"
Dom doesn't even need to look to lean into the touch waiting an inch from the side of his face. Billy lets out a breath as his hand moves gently over cheekbone and jaw, combs through the fringe of Dom's hair, and comes to rest cupping the back of his neck. Dom can't imagine opening his eyes, can't imagine what Billy might do from here. He can't imagine kissing Billy, as the urgency in his throat would have him do. He can't imagine sitting this way with his best friend and not kissing him.
"How long has it been?"
Dom isn't certain what Billy is asking, exactly, but any way he takes it the answer is the same. "Four years."
The grip on his hand tightens, then relaxes slightly. "What does it feel like?" And trust Billy to know how to ask this in an answerable way.
"I'm not sure what it is people feel when they touch me, not really. Just... think... it must feel something like this."
The presence in front of Dom tilts closer. Their foreheads touch lightly. ...Ohh fuck, falling--!
Dom jerks away, head snapping back. His eyes open, but he's not looking at anything, just freeing his hand, just shaking Billy off. The soft noise from Billy's throat feels like an accusation. Dom cringes against the inevitable wrist-grab.
When it comes, Billy's hands are carefully flattened against his knees. The tug is soft and insubstantial; Dom feels it tear as he wrenches his hand back, and is momentarily distracted from his panic by lingering curiosity and a different flavour of fear.
"Did I hurt you?" Dom asks, halting his frantic retreat. Billy looks amazed at that, joyfully so; Dom almost takes offense, but he doesn't have his answer yet. "Did that hurt, Bill?"
"No. It didn't," Billy says, seeming a bit dazed.
"I forgot that now 't I've told you, and showed you, I can ask questions about yours." He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he just sits still, slowly regaining his equilibrium.
"You always could."
Dom doesn't want to get into that, not just now. "What is it? Some kind of force field? Or more like invisible extra hands?"
Billy is smiling so brightly that Dom has to look away for a moment (which is just as well, because Dom is taking his own idea about extra hands to exquisitely dirty places).
"Air manipulation," he says with a touch of pride. "'S not yer run-of-the-mill telekinesis. You know how it feels slightly warm?" Dom nods. "Well, it was a hell of a lot warmer before I got the physics sorted. I actually can do it with water, too, any fluid really, but it takes a lot of effort. Liquids are much trickier."
"Wow," says Dom. His heartbeat is still rapid, but he can't quite think what he was so afraid of. "Can you move all the air away from a place?"
"Put out a kitchen fire that way once."
"I was going to say that it must've been a chore to find a vacuum to test it out in, but then I thought you must be able to make one."
"You're right about that."
Dom sort of reaches for Billy's hand, changes his mind mid-movement, and changes it again. The awkwardness is nothing to the thrill of fear rushing up his arm at initiating contact, but he does touch, just a little. After that it gets deliriously easy, Billy's fingers twining with his own.
"I don't think I've said, yet, all the things I meant to explain," says Dom.
"Eh. No rush," says Billy.
:~:
→
Author: vensre
Starring: Dom/Billy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The way I can imagine is not the true Way.
Notes: Beta by ali_jayne. For Puella. { 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 }
:~:
Dom is trying to draft a letter. Billy is trying to peek at it.
"No, you do not look! Why'd I have to end up with such a nosy best mate?"
"Maybe you needed one." Billy tries simultaneously to look angelically innocent and steal a glance over Dom's shoulder.
"Maybe I did. Get over there, go on! You're doing your crossword."
"All right, all right..." Billy does return to his own chair, but puts his feet up on the table and sticks out his tongue.
"Now, I will say that I've felt, hmm. Freer? Freer, since I've known you. Which doesn't mean, incidentally, that you're right."
Billy harrumphs and counts on his fingers. After a long pause full of the scratching of Dom's pencil, he says, "What's a six letter word for gay sex?"
"Sodomy," Dom replies without really thinking. Then, "WHAT!"
"That's it, thank you." Billy makes a show of filling it into his puzzle. "Leave it to a Catholic."
"Lapsed Catholic. That can't be a real question - let me see!"
Billy evades his lunge neatly. "Oh no. I don't get to see your paper, you certainly don't get to see mine."
As it happens, Dom's letter doesn't contain much of anything. Only: Happy birthday, Bill. I'm writing this out in hopes it will be easier to explain this way. Then several lines, erased, rewritten, reerased, rerewritten, and crossed out heavily. In no medium is it easy to say the things Dom needs to say.
:~:
Even having been careful of his alcohol and cake intake, Dominic feels distinctly ill when they reach Billy's house, post-party. He wishes idly for those anti-anxiety pills he used to take.
"You think I'm neurotic now, you should have known me at seventeen," he tells Billy.
"Yeah, seventeen's legal. I mean, what?" Billy has had more to drink than Dom has. He's buzzed, spazzed, and possibly other zz words. Jazzed, definitely. Fuzzed, only if hair that sticks up in every direction counts.
"I was a wreck."
"I was twenty-five. Ooh, that's not that long ago."
"Big difference to me."
"To me, too." They sprawl on the sofa, passing back and forth Dom's bottle of Fresh-Up. "I was still doing bookbinding. Almost done my limit, by then."
"Did your" - Dom lifts a hand, indicating Billy's power - "ever help you any, back then?"
"Not at work. Couldn't be obtruse..? Obvious. About it. It did help, time to time. Couple of brawls, here an' there. Makes a fantastic shield."
"I'll just bet."
"Well, you know how it is. Let on you can do something out o' the ordinary, and they're on you like witch-hunters. Fuck."
"Yeah... I'm gonna wait a while, Bill, alright? 'Till the booze clears our systems a little."
"For my present?"
"Yeah."
"I'm not drunk, you know. Four drinks does not a smashed Scot make."
"I hope not, if you're using that grammar construction."
Billy giggles, then subsides. He looks at Dom closely. "I won't hurt you over this, I swear it. I'm not going to walk away. Even if your power is to give me warts, boils, and pustules. Which it isn't. Because I've touched you before, right at the very beginning, and it wasn't any kind of awful. All I can remember is thinking I was meeting somebody important in my life, and feeling good."
Swallowing hard, Dom speaks up. "An oversimplification at best."
"Hm? How do you mean?"
"I was going t' wait to talk about this," Dom says, distressed.
"Sorry. I wasn't meaning to push you. We can wait."
"'M just nervous. But here. I actually did shop, after all that, so. Material present first."
"What is it?"
"Let me get it out of my jacket. You think I'm going to tell you before you open it? Ha!"
Billy catches the little box Dom tosses at him. It is sealed securely with packing tape and plenty of staples. He sets to immediately, and has the box open with an agility that shouldn't surprise Dom - not as the fan of Billy's hands that he is.
"A watch? A fuckin' nice watch, Dominic! Is this the precedent you want to set? And it shows two times!"
"Thought that might simplify international calls."
Billy exclaims something too Scottish to clearly interpret.
"What?"
"Wait, what's this third dial, here?"
Dom grins. "Barometric pressure."
Billy crows delightedly. He is already trying to put it on - succeeding, with an assist from an unseen pair of hands. "Is this just so I can do this when I'm bored?" He makes the dial flip around madly with his whatever-it-is.
"Pretty much," Dom says, satisfied.
"It's wonderful. It's like a present and a half. Two, even. You needn't get me anything at Christmas. Except if you really feel you must." Billy scoots over and carefully embraces Dom, who returns the hug, heart thumping. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. That was a good reaction. Think I'll have to get you something for Christmas, just to see if I can top this one."
"Good luck wi' that!"
"Ye of little faith."
"Not little faith in you. Quite a lot in you." Billy's eyes ask a question, and Dom slowly nods.
"Okay," he says, reassuring himself. "It looks quite good on you."
"I think so, too." Billy is patient, relaxed.
"Okay." Dom has a deep breath. "Okay. I tried to write it all out, but that didn't ever work. Tried to figure out exactly what I'd say and rehearse it," (Dom's eyebrows form the shape that means you can laugh at me if you want; Billy doesn't.) "but that went even worse, so I'm flying by the seat of my pants, here."
There is a pause. "You're wearing pants?"
Dom laughs. "I'll never tell! Today is for showing!"
He could swear Billy's face goes pinker at that, but doesn't stop to tease. Biting the fingertips of one glove, he draws it off, and pulls the other off with that hand. He watches his friend's eyes snap to his hands and stay there. Billy already looks shell-shocked, and Dom hasn't even touched him yet.
"This could change us," Dom tells him. "But I don't think it will, or I wouldn't be doing it."
"Understood."
So be it, then. "Hold out your hand. It won't hurt."
Billy simply complies, palm-up. His eyes track Dom's hand until one fingertip rests on his own. Dom waits.
"Mm," says Billy. "Is that what it is? It feels good."
Nodding, Dom says, "Little more?"
Billy nods, too. So Dom's fingers slowly curl into Billy's, whose thumb skims across the back of his knuckles. Fear is losing ground to a vital sort of fluttering thrill.
"Yeah?"
"Uh-huh," Billy breathes.
"Other one?"
Their hands part and change holds, fingers interlacing, two sets of palms pressed together.
"You do this sometimes," Dom says, random from nerves.
"Do what?" Billy looks shocked.
"Hold my hand."
"Oh. Yeah. I do."
"What did you think I was talking about?"
"Nothing!"
"...One of the more suspicious 'nothings' I've ever heard. You couldn't just stick with the sweet ones?"
"Heh, the sweet nothings? That wouldn't be a bad band name. It'd have to be something like 'Mr. Tongue and the Sweet Nothings'. That'd be your band. You being Mr. Tongue."
"Oh, I don't know. Think Viggo's a better candidate for Mr. Tongue. But I do appreciate the vote of confidence." Dom puts out his tongue thoughtfully, touching the tip to his nose.
Billy squirms.
Dom eyes him, with the distinct impression that something is up. Though, truly, he knows what's going on in Billy's body. Quickened pulse. Pupils dilated. Flushed skin, sweating palms, uneven breathing. Dom's heart is starting up a civil war inside him, torn between sinking and flying. He's sure Billy's hard. He has to be, but Dom's not looking - not while in the focus of his friend's full attention. Not looking, but Billy's eyes are on Dom's fingers again. Not looking, but - damn! Billy's leg is in the way; Dom can't see. Not looking again, though.
Even as his old thought patterns run in their worn-in tracks, Dom's more recent freedom is letting him look at it another way. He may be turning Billy on with other than his earthly charms, but the horrible feeling of tricking him is overlaid by a new idea: Billy chose to touch him. He chose to keep on doing so, too, and Dom can sort of pretend he's being affected by some outside force, in conjunction with whatever he might get from Dom's presence. Like, say, if Billy were watching porn. Billy watching porn, and Dom watching Billy.
He swallows a groan, hoping his own leg is in the way. What kind of porn? his mind wonders on insolently. Something quality, he's sure.
"Dom," comes Billy's voice. A curious tone, not a moan, and Dom snaps back to awareness of what's actually happening. "I would pay good money to know what was going on in your head just now."
For a miracle, instead of writhing with anxiety, Dom finds this funny. "You couldn't afford that one," he says with a vulpine smile. "Twenty pounds on Pay Per View."
Billy laughs, too. Then, unnervingly, he is disentangling his fingers from Dom's. Billy's hands don't disengage, though. He captures Dom's right hand between them, settling it in their mutual lap and stroking both sides with minute movements. Dom's panic surges, not at all subdued by the realisation that this isn't for Billy anymore, but for him. A weird feathery sensation unfolds inside him, expanding to the ends of his ears. His shoulder blades and his jaw and the backs of his knees are ringing with it.
Dom has canted forward, his eyes closing on their own. One of Billy's hands eventually leaves his, and a whisper asks, "Dom, may I..?"
Dom doesn't even need to look to lean into the touch waiting an inch from the side of his face. Billy lets out a breath as his hand moves gently over cheekbone and jaw, combs through the fringe of Dom's hair, and comes to rest cupping the back of his neck. Dom can't imagine opening his eyes, can't imagine what Billy might do from here. He can't imagine kissing Billy, as the urgency in his throat would have him do. He can't imagine sitting this way with his best friend and not kissing him.
"How long has it been?"
Dom isn't certain what Billy is asking, exactly, but any way he takes it the answer is the same. "Four years."
The grip on his hand tightens, then relaxes slightly. "What does it feel like?" And trust Billy to know how to ask this in an answerable way.
"I'm not sure what it is people feel when they touch me, not really. Just... think... it must feel something like this."
The presence in front of Dom tilts closer. Their foreheads touch lightly. ...Ohh fuck, falling--!
Dom jerks away, head snapping back. His eyes open, but he's not looking at anything, just freeing his hand, just shaking Billy off. The soft noise from Billy's throat feels like an accusation. Dom cringes against the inevitable wrist-grab.
When it comes, Billy's hands are carefully flattened against his knees. The tug is soft and insubstantial; Dom feels it tear as he wrenches his hand back, and is momentarily distracted from his panic by lingering curiosity and a different flavour of fear.
"Did I hurt you?" Dom asks, halting his frantic retreat. Billy looks amazed at that, joyfully so; Dom almost takes offense, but he doesn't have his answer yet. "Did that hurt, Bill?"
"No. It didn't," Billy says, seeming a bit dazed.
"I forgot that now 't I've told you, and showed you, I can ask questions about yours." He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he just sits still, slowly regaining his equilibrium.
"You always could."
Dom doesn't want to get into that, not just now. "What is it? Some kind of force field? Or more like invisible extra hands?"
Billy is smiling so brightly that Dom has to look away for a moment (which is just as well, because Dom is taking his own idea about extra hands to exquisitely dirty places).
"Air manipulation," he says with a touch of pride. "'S not yer run-of-the-mill telekinesis. You know how it feels slightly warm?" Dom nods. "Well, it was a hell of a lot warmer before I got the physics sorted. I actually can do it with water, too, any fluid really, but it takes a lot of effort. Liquids are much trickier."
"Wow," says Dom. His heartbeat is still rapid, but he can't quite think what he was so afraid of. "Can you move all the air away from a place?"
"Put out a kitchen fire that way once."
"I was going to say that it must've been a chore to find a vacuum to test it out in, but then I thought you must be able to make one."
"You're right about that."
Dom sort of reaches for Billy's hand, changes his mind mid-movement, and changes it again. The awkwardness is nothing to the thrill of fear rushing up his arm at initiating contact, but he does touch, just a little. After that it gets deliriously easy, Billy's fingers twining with his own.
"I don't think I've said, yet, all the things I meant to explain," says Dom.
"Eh. No rush," says Billy.
:~:
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