A Squee by Any Other Name

Jul 22, 2004 13:15

d+b
34.639 words
five parts


[prologue.]

Ever since puberty hit him, full-force and right between the ears, Dom had this problem. It wasn’t serious and he didn’t need to take medication or anything of the sort. At least, he didn’t think he had to. He never saw a doctor about it, but sometimes he thought maybe he should.

The first time it happened was with Shelley Fisher. Dom thought she was cute, and one day in science class, she sat next to him and ruffled his hair, then she-she kissed him on the cheek! Well, poor Dom was so surprised, and nobody had ever done that to him before (besides his mum, but Shelley made it seem like a completely different gesture somehow), and Dom…

Well. He liked to refer to it as a paroxysm when he felt smart. Just plain spasm sufficed for most of the time.

This is what happened: Dom’s heart detached from his ribs and shot through his body like a pinball. It hit his arms, so his hands flew up to his face and sort of shook because there was so much energy in them and nothing to grab a hold of. It hit his knees, and thank the lord he was sitting down! It hit his face, of course, and quite mercilessly at that-his eyelids pinched together and he smiled hugely, like a loony, and even that wasn’t enough! So he had to bite his bottom lip and wrinkle his nose, too. The worst part, though, was the noise. Little Dom couldn’t help it; indeed, he didn’t even feel it coming.

It sounded like a girl.

Not just any girl, but a really excited and just this side of insane sort of girl.

Well, upon witnessing Dom’s paroxysm, Shelley Fisher got this funny look on her face that made Dom think she’d never want to sit next to him again. He looked around at the rest of his classmates-they were all giving him the same look.

Dom folded his skinny arms on his desk and hid his face in them. He didn’t know how that spasm had come about, but he vowed never to let it happen again.



[one: heart in your throat.]

When Dom met Billy, he’d known that something was… strange. Too bad Billy wasn’t a girl, Dom thought, because then Dom could categorize him more easily. With girls, there were (1) the sexy ones, (2) the friendly ones, and (3) the ones Dom didn’t want to have anything to do with. With males, however, there were only two categories: (1) nice guys and (2) dickheads.

That day, upon meeting Billy, the two of them went to lunch at The Crazy Lounge. Billy got up to go to the loo at some point; when he came back, Dom noticed the little tuft of chest hair peeking out from the opened collar of Billy’s button-down. Dom couldn’t tell if the shirt had been opened at the top like that before, but he did wonder how he could have missed it. What an intimate detail: there was Billy Boyd, sitting right here in front of Dom, happily chattering away and failing to acknowledge this hair completely, even though it blended in perfectly with the up-and-down shadow of Billy’s bobbing chin and the back-and-forth rustling of the shirt that framed it.

Before Dom knew it, he was spazzing out, eyes shut, hands shaking up in front of his face, smiling stupidly-and making The Noise.

For the first time in nine years.

“Are you alright?” Billy asked, holding his knife and fork above his plate.

Dom blinked and dropped his hands to his own silverware. “Sorry. I’m slightly epileptic.” Dom had never been diagnosed, but that had to be it, so that’s what he told those who inspired these fits.

“Fantastic, yet another strange trait you have. D’you have to take anything for that? Like, medication-wise?”

“No,” Dom smiled, because now he knew exactly how to categorize Billy. “It’s not serious. Potentially embarrassing, but, you know, as far as seizures go I got off pretty lucky.”

~

After a week had passed during which Dom had spazzed at Billy at least once per day, he’d figured out how to suppress The Noise. For this, he thanked every deity he could think of. Dom was good at acting like he wasn’t embarrassed; but even so, he could only take so much. He wondered if Billy noticed that this paroxysm phenomenon only happened in his presence. Dom thought probably not, unless Sean and Elijah talked to Billy about it behind Dom’s back, but Sean and Elijah didn’t seem like the sort of guys who’d do that kind of thing.

So far, the spasm-inducing things had been subtle, so Dom didn’t think Billy had noticed he caused them. These reasons just happened to be things like how close Billy would sit to Dom in dialect training, or the way Billy wore a pink shirt one day, or the sound of Billy’s voice when he talked about… well, anything, really.

But the day inevitably came when Dom couldn’t control The Noise. Billy had just said something funny as hell about badgers and spoons-he had Dom in stitches.

Then Billy’s laughter died down and he chuckled out the sentence: “Oh, I wish we were gay.”

Dom felt it coming. He really did. Then Billy said, “We’d be perfect for each other,” and out it came.

The Noise.

Along with the shaky hands and squinched eyes (squinched face, really) and general idiocy of every other spasm Dom had ever lived through.

When it ended, Dom left his head buried in his hands and the surrounding alone-togetherness of Dom and Billy in Billy’s living room expanded to epic proportions. Dom knew he was doomed this time. He waited, still as a stuffed animal, for the verdict.

“…Dom?” it came, floating in a light lovely Scottish tenor. “Did that make you uncomfortable?”

Dom realized Billy was giving him a way out-really, he did-but instead of saying yes and banning what could potentially be years of jokes on the subject (which would probably be on Dom’s behalf), Dom said “No!” and looked up at Billy right next to him on the couch. “Of course not, you cunt. I wish we were gay.”

Billy studied Dom’s face for a moment, not even urping up a giggle at Dom’s use of the word cunt (which had recently been proclaimed The Funniest Word Ever); Dom couldn’t meet the stare, so he let his eyes hop around-Billy’s ears, pointed at the tips like an Elf. Billy’s upper lip, sticking out like a very adorable baby-no, no, too cute; Dom tensed and looked up at Billy’s hair, light brown and soft. Dom wished his own hair would grow back more quickly.

“Are you?” Billy asked. He shifted slightly away, and Dom was sure it was unconscious because Billy shifted in his seat all the time when he was uncomfortable.

“Am I what?” poor Dom responded at the exact same moment he realized that he was making Billy uncomfortable. Billy had to have read the cause of that last spasm correctly, which was bad. Very bad.

“Gay. Are you gay?”

And why oh why could Dom do nothing save gape stupidly at Billy for a full five seconds? He counted them in his head, even: one praying mantis, two praying mantis, three praying mantis, four praying mantis, five praying mantis. Then: “Nuh-no! No.” He opened and closed his mouth once silently. “I’m, ah-not gay.”

It wasn’t really fair, Dom thought, how generally pathetic this conversation was. If this kind of stuff was going to continue happening around Billy-and Dom knew it would because Billy would always be cute enough to spaz out at-then Dom was going to have to buck up and quit being so awkwardly shy. Thus, before Billy replied, Dom threw in saucily, “Unless you want me to be. I accept cash or cheques.”

It worked like a charm-the tension vaporized and Billy deadpanned, “Forgot my wallet. Take a rain cheque?”

~

The very first covert operation on set was, of course, all Dom’s idea. Billy was more or less dragged into it by the collar, but once Dom laid out the plans (which involved fruity shower gel, extremely waxy crayons made for use in the bathtub, and human hair), Billy was in, and Billy had no (well, actually, Billy had several) complaints. In fact, Billy refined the plans, as he said, “so that they’ll actually work.”

See, Dom had thought that they could use the supplies specified above to sabotage Viggo and Orlando’s trailer. Billy told Dom that the problem with that was “you can’t do it on the inside.” Billy insisted that was too predictable, and that they had to rig it up on the outside, somehow. That way, more people would see, and Dom and Billy decided very early on that they wanted everyone to see.

The two of them waited for the appropriate time to sneak back to the trailers while everyone else was still filming. Dom took care of the shower gel and hair; stuck the soap on the door handles and the fold-away stairs (and the inside handle, too, for good measure). The hair, though, he arranged on the ground just under one of the tires, so that it looked like an animal had been run over. He squirted some cherry shower gel over it and put two pebbles in where he thought eyes should be.

Billy handled the bathtub crayons. He had criticized Dom for buying such “lame and tame” (and yes, Billy did actually use those words, one right after the other) supplies for a prank, but Dom said Billy could buy next time, and that for a first prank-the prank that starts the war-you can’t do anything too drastic, because you’re not paying anyone back for playing any pranks on you.

In truth, Dom was paying Viggo and Orli back for making fun of the way Dom ‘spazzed out’ like a girl around Billy, but hell if Dom was going to tell Billy about that.

Anyway, Billy wrote all kinds of lovely Scottish obscenities along the outside of the trailer that Dom was sure even Orlando had never heard. Dom certainly hadn’t, and how on earth could Orli know more than Dom?

When Billy finished, he tugged on Dom’s Merry sleeve and brought him around to the front side to see his crowning achievement. “Lookit that. You think it’ll stick?” Billy smirked and crossed his arms, admiring his work.

It said, in huge (albeit short) blue letters, “CUNTEBAGO”.

Dom laughed so hard that Billy had to catch him around the waist. “I thought so,” Billy grinned, and led them to cover.

“I didn’t know you were such an old pro,” Dom wheezed. He clasped his hands and bent his knees, offering a boost for Billy to climb on top of the make-up trailer.

Billy hopped onto Dom quickly, foot in his hands, then stepping up to his shoulders. “You’re lucky you’ve got such a great mentor, now. It’s embarrassing how horribly you woulda failed without me.”

Once Billy reached the roof, he flattened himself against it and held his hand down. Dom grabbed it and scrambled up the side, using the windowsill as purchase briefly. “You’re my,” Dom grunted as he climbed, “partner, now, Billy.” And he made it up top with little fuss, lying himself down next to Billy to watch for the inhabitants of the newly christened Cuntebago to return. “I’ll learn all your tricks and then far surpass you in talent and execution.”

“Is that what you do to all your teachers?”

“Yeah. ‘S’quite boring, after a while.”

Billy nudged his shoulder against Dom’s. Part of Billy’s foot was brushing against Dom’s calf, but Dom thought it must be the hobbit toes, in which case Billy wouldn’t know they were touching. “You won’t get bored with me, young man. And I will never allow you to surpass me in anything.”

“I think I did pretty well with the fake road kill under the wheel, there. I think that surpasses you. In pretty much every area.”

“Even looks?”

Dom nodded.

“Ohh, worse than road kill. Gotta look into that face lift.”

People began trailing back from the sets, and Billy announced that he spotted Orlando and Viggo. “Enemies approaching at six o’clock.”

“That’s ten o’clock, you smarmy barmpot,” said Dom with a shoulder-shove of his own.

“I know, I just wanted to see if you’d look.”

They went from soft murmuring to silence and waited for their victims to discover their fates.

Orlando and Viggo stepped up together-Orlando started pacing and talking right away, though one couldn’t really categorize it as talking. “OhmygodViggo-lookatthis-whatthefuck-doyouknowwhodidthis?”

Viggo, on the other hand, stood there and admired the handiwork of the crayoned ‘CUNTEBAGO.’ He began to laugh, and when Orli stopped long enough to read it, he joined in.

“Dom? Billy?!” Viggo called, the question of where are you hiding inherent in his tone. “We know you did this!”

“We do?” Orli asked. “I mean-yeah! And we’ll kick your hobbity little-”

“Shh,” Viggo conspiratorially said to Orlando, then murmured something too quiet for Dom and Billy to hear. Several cast and crew members began to inspect the Cuntebago, as well, and after a moment or two, nearly all of them wheezed with laughter.

Orlando nodded once, then turned to step into the trailer.

He slipped on the shower gel and fell on his arse.

By this time, Billy had buried his face in Dom’s shoulder in quiet mirth, and Dom went right ahead and shoved his own face into Billy’s wig. “Okay,” Dom whispered into Billy’s ear, “fine! Next time, you do all the planning. Looks like they’re already plotting against us.”

“Right,” Billy said right back into Dom’s ear. “We shall remain undefeated until the end of filming.”

“End of time is more like it,” Dom insisted. He bit the tip of Billy’s ear and tugged until it came off, and then Dom suddenly realized that was quite a ridiculous thing to do, even to Billy. “Oops,” he said around a mouthful of foam ear.

Billy pulled back just far enough to look at Dom in the eye, then Billy darted in-at Dom’s mouth, mind you-and grabbed the ear between his teeth. Thus began a tug of war.

Back and forth, sideways and back, twisting, shoving, pulling, gnawing. Until Billy apparently felt he needed more leverage with his teeth, so he let go for an instant when the tug was in his favor, and chomped back onto the ear so close to Dom’s face that their noses bumped.

Unfortunately, Dom had a spasm and, somehow in there, managed to completely lose the ear.

~

After Dom’s nana died, he didn’t have a single paroxysm for two weeks. It wasn’t that he was all that depressed, and it definitely wasn’t that Billy was any less adorable/cute/insert mushy adjective here. In fact, Billy truly shined during those two weeks with more love for Dom than Dom would have thought possible for a slightly homophobic man to have towards a friend who was not gay, no, but obviously bi and obviously extremely attracted to Billy.

Dom felt he had adequate reason, then, to buy Billy a gift. Something nice. He could call it a late birthday present. After all, it wasn’t Dom’s fault he hadn’t known Billy in August. It took Dom a few days to pick something out, but once he knew, he told Billy to come to his flat about half an hour after Dom left the trailer. That gave Dom plenty of time in which to purchase a bottle of cologne-The Curve, Dom’s favourite-from a department store that had closed five minutes before Dom got there. But they hadn’t locked up yet, and since Dom knew exactly what he wanted and was probably frighteningly enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, they let him in. He had it gift-wrapped, even, and it sat in the front seat with him on the way home.

Billy was already there; had let himself in and sprawled comfortably on Dom’s couch watching Star Trek.

“Oh, hey, Dom! Everyone’s already at that pub by Sean’s, d’you wanna get going?”

“Yeah!” Dom said, shutting the door with his foot and tossing his keys onto the counter. “I have to give you something first, though.”

Billy clicked off the telly and turned to sit on one of his feet as Dom came around and parked himself on the sofa. Dom very suddenly felt like this gift was a bad idea, but didn’t take it back when Billy grabbed it-mostly because Billy looked like it was Christmas, and like he was five. “What’s this for?” he asked, ripping it open as he spoke. “Late birthday? Early Christmas? Just because you love me?”

“Just because,” said Dom lamely. Then remembered he wasn’t supposed to be lame anymore, but this time he really couldn’t help it because now Billy had opened the box and discovered the cologne and-

Smiled the real smile, the one that’s not this-is-strange-and-unexpected-but-I’ll-pretend-I-like-it-anyway. “How did you know?”

“Know… what, you out of cologne?”

“Yeah! So what does this smell like…” And the real act of trust, then, was that Billy sprayed it on without smelling it first. “Mm, that’s quite good, isn’t it? Thank you, Dom!” He stood and offered his hand.

Which Dom took instantaneously, of course, and it led him straight into a hug.

And Billy. Smelled. Like. Fucking. Heaven.

So there was the spasm; Dom shook and leaned heavily on Billy when his knees gave for a second, and he wasn’t sure whether he was glad Billy couldn’t see his face and hands, because it probably felt just as embarrassing as it would’ve looked. But Dom stubbornly held onto his dignity (and Billy) and said, “Thought you could use a new smell. You know, besides the uniquely Billy I-haven’t-used-indoor-plumbing-in-any-form-for-a-week scent.”

One final squeeze and then came the end of the hug. Billy said, “I wish we were gay,” while still close enough to smell, and Dom’s knees buckled, he made The Noise, and he very nearly (but not quite) fell to the floor.

But he did fall in love.

~

The next logical step, then, was obviously to seduce Billy. Dom pictured a scene in his head: backing a Pippinized Billy up against the side of the trailer outside, giving him the bedroom eyes and slowly licking his lips before he settled his fake fat against Billy’s stomach and spoke hotly into his hobbit ear.

For some reason, this didn’t seem all that plausible to Dom. Usually, if Dom got that close to Billy, Billy was laughing. He’d probably say Dom’s breath tickled.

Dom tried to ignore that he’d really probably say ‘get the foock ahwffa me.’

But Dom knew it was worth a shot. Better to get it out of the way now than five years down the road, when their friendship was too constant to change. Billy was, more than anything, an appallingly kind person. If he didn’t reciprocate, Dom knew Billy’d get over it before he could say paroxysm. If Dom asked, Billy would probably never even think of it again. They could be the best of friends their entire lives, probably. And Dom liked that idea; of becoming Billy’s best friend and reserving that niche for himself. He wondered how close he was already.

By the time Billy drove Dom home on Thursday night, Dom had been constantly trying to work himself up to the point where he could talk about this whole I’m-sort-of-in-love-with-you issue for three entire days, but the much sought-after Right Moment continued to elude him. Now Dom found that he couldn’t seem to speak as much as he would’ve liked. Because the end of this particular car ride had proclaimed itself the Right Moment, apparently, thus tossing Dom’s ability to make conversation out the window and running it over several times with a steam roller.

Billy pulled up outside Dom’s flat. Neither of them had said anything for a full minute. Dom made no move to get up.

“Dom? You okay? Need a swift kick in the rear to cheer you up?”

Dom couldn’t think of anything to do with his hands, so he unbuckled his seatbelt and fiddled with the metal catch, his vision tunneling so far that he couldn’t really see anything. “I,” he began in a high-pitched voice, “have something to tell you.”

He looked up at Billy, then, and could tell that Billy knew what he was going to say, and that Billy did not reciprocate. “Yeah?” Billy said anyway, because that’s just what he was. Nice.

“I, um. I’m sort of attracted… to you. And. Yeah.”

Billy blinked.

“Just thought you should know,” Dom mumbled.

Billy blinked again, in his concerned and empathetic sort of way-Dom swore nobody else could blink like that-and Dom realized Billy had flattened himself against the driver’s side door. “Yeah, I kn-… Thanks for telling me.”

Dom nodded at the seatbelt catch.

Billy laughed softly. “Do you still need a swift kick in the rear? This is the part where you get out of the car and rebuild your ego, you cunt.”

“Oh,” Dom said, for he had forgotten that he had to leave. Good, then. It would be good to leave, because this was scary, in here, right now. “Yeah, I’ll just.” He looped the seatbelt off his shoulder and opened the car door. Stepped out, just like that. But he did linger before shutting it and walking off, because what if Billy… Dom didn’t know what Billy might do, but just… what if?

Billy did indeed do something; he leaned down across the seat so Dom could see him, and he said, “I love you, mate. I really do kind of wish we were gay, you know.”

The automatic response system in Dom dredged up a smile; and it was a real one, too, but Dom sure as hell didn’t know where it had come from. “Yeah, I know. You’d be all over me, then, wouldn’t you, Bills?”

“You know it.” A smile, then: “Goodnight, Dom, I’ll see you in the morning.” He sat back up, out of sight.

Dom pushed the door shut and walked into the building without watching Billy drive away. Up up up the stairs Dom went, down the hallway, to the door with the crooked numbers.

Approximately ten minutes later, Dom’s phone rang.

“You’re my best mate,” Billy said as soon as Dom picked up.

And, well. In spite of himself, Dom had a silent paroxysm.

~

[two: a.]
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