(no subject)
Title: A True Gentleman (19/?)
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-NC17
Warnings: AU, angst, art geekery
Summary: Uni fic.
Also available on AO3
Billy stepped off the bus to a crisp, clear night in Dom's neighborhood, walking a block or so to the old brickwork factory from which Dom's building was converted. Even from street level, he could see the bright glow from the highest windows as he found the main entrance and took the stairs to the topmost floor.
Despite what Dom and his friends probably thought, Billy was no stranger to a college party. While he was at GU, he and his friends-back when he'd actually had a circle of friends-were quite well-versed in the pub crawl and partying. Before work and his studies had entirely overtaken his time, he'd spent many a night back then drinking and staying up until dawn, as much as any other twenty-something Scotsman. Certainly not among what might have been Dom's crowd, but his own ragtag group of artists, musicians and other outcasts knew how to enjoy themselves as much as anyone else.
He could hear music muffled through the walls as he approached the door, shaking his head at how the neighbors must feel. He'd made a bit of a point to be late; Dom had told him the party would start at eight and it was now half-nine, and it was obviously already in full swing. He hadn't wanted to be the first to arrive and seem over-eager. In all honesty, he was having second thoughts about knocking on the door at all.
A young woman with a drink in-hand pulled open the door at his knock, one he thankfully didn't recognize, though it wasn't long at all before he saw familiar faces. There were students he'd shared classes with, a few he'd taught in HAA, and some he recognized simply by having passed them in the halls at the same time, day in and day out. Some smiled and said hi, others did a double-take, and still others looked through him with no recognition at all. It didn't make it any less awkward.
Orlando spotted him first, weaving his way through bodies to the kitchen-long arms held high above people's heads with four or five plastic cups cradled between his fingers-brightening when he saw Billy lingering in the entry.
"Dr. Boyd! Come here, man!" he waved him over, refilling the cups from the keg sitting on the floor in a cooler of ice, and pulling a fresh cup from the top of a stack to fill. "How long have you been here?"
"Just got in," Billy said over the music.
"Just leave your coat on the table," Orli instructed, pointing at the large heaps covering its surface. It appeared to be somewhat organized, with each coat bearing a matching coloured index card pinned to the collar or sleeve with names and addresses written on them, and each haphazard pile assigned a different colour. On the remaining corner of the table was a fishbowl full of more clothes-pins, and stacks of colored cards and a cup of sharpie markers.
"What's all this?" he asked, as he lay his own coat on the orange pile bearing addresses in Mid-Cambridge.
Orli grinned, "Ah, don't worry about that, mate," he answered cryptically, handing the fresh beer to him. Billy tasted it; a lager of some stripe. He tugged at his shirtsleeves self-consciously, adjusting the way they were rolled up to his elbows as he glanced about the place. The sheer number of people here shouldn't be surprising, but it was. This loft was a massive space from what he'd seen the previous time he'd been here, but now it seemed packed with people, some of them still wearing their mortarboards from the ceremony the day before. Above the constant beat of the music was the hubbub of many voices and laughter.
"Where's Dom?" he asked.
Orlando's grin stretched even wider, giving Billy's hair a rough, affectionate scrub, "Can't wait, eh? He's over here." He picked up the cups of beer he'd filled, rims clamped between his fingers again as he turned into the fray and held them up high once again.
Billy tried to smooth his hair back down as he followed. Farther into the flat, as Orlando wove through and dropped beers off to various friends. They passed Elijah manning a fully-equipped DJ's table while a few people danced near the amplifier. A pack of guys stood around the pinball machine, one playing and swearing at it while the rest laughed and drank; still more lounged across the two long sofas in front of the TV, which made pulsing patterns and colors in time to the beat of the music. Even more people lingered along the upper balcony railing where the bedrooms were, with a line waiting outside the bathroom. A few already inebriated guys monkeyed around on the outside of the spiral stair railing.
Dom was found bent over the pool table, lining up and taking what looked like the last shot of a game. It sank, by the way he straightened up, grinning smugly and making a pay-up gesture to his opponent, who grudgingly handed over a stack of bills.
"Dominic!" Orlando shouted over the din, hand around Billy's shoulder as he ushered him forward, "The doctor is in!"
Dom turned around as he pocketed the money, face lighting up, "Bills! You made it!" He came forward with arms spread.
"Yeah, bus took longer than I thought," Billy replied, a bit breathlessly as he returned the embrace, keeping it short and matey before he stepped back. He indicated the beer in his hand, almost as an excuse, and took another sip from it as Dom's eyes darted over him.
"You look really good," Dom grinned, switching the pool cue to his other hand to pinch at the loose corner of his collar.
"Aye well, I knew you liked this vest, so," Billy deadpanned.
"I hate this vest," Dom shot back with a laugh, briefly tugging the vee collar of it in his fingers.
Billy'd tried something a little different, and as much as it felt bizarre to have his sleeves rolled up, a few buttons undone and the tails of his shirt poking out the bottom of his sweater vest instead of properly tucked in, he'd seen people make it look good, preppy and natural even, though he'd agonized over it in front of the mirror at home more than he cared to admit. No one seemed to be looking at him like he'd dressed in the dark, though, so maybe it was fine.
He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from Dom across the heads of the people around them and into his beer. He grasped for something to say, shifting his eyes back to the crowd again, "So, this is the famed Monaghan-Bloom-Wood Party, eh?"
"The very last," Dom's chin went up in challenge, "Impressed?"
It wasn't so much what Dom was wearing that surprised him-dark washed denims with a slim-cut purple button-down instead of his usual screened t-shirts, the sleeves pushed up and wrists full of bangles-but there was something quite strange about his eyes. They seemed to pop and spark dangerously, a hundred times more stormy blue than usual. Billy had no idea what it was, but having that electric gaze on him made his pulse thump in a way he couldn't quash.
He wrinkled his nose after another gulp, trying for nonchalance. "Beer could certainly be better."
Dom tipped his head back, laughing out loud. "Right, then," he said, pushing his pool cue into Billy's free hand, "Let's play a round."
Billy raised an eyebrow with a smile, testing the heft of the cue. "I did tell you I tended bar in college, yeah? With a billiards room?"
"You did," Dom replied, choosing another cue for himself from the rack under the table. "So let's have a real game. All any of these Yanks know how to play is Eight Ball." Circling the table, he discovered the red ball in a pocket, then the yellow in another, holding them up for Billy to see. "And Orlando's shite at English rules." He grinned apologetically at another guy who was clearly waiting for a turn at the table, convincing him it would just be a quickie with a leer in Billy's direction.
Billy chose to pretend he hadn't seen the look, smirking at his shoes as he moved around to the end of the table with Dom. "Stakes?" he asked. He was all too aware of the very short supply of cash in his wallet, the large stack of twenties Dom had recently tucked into his own.
Dom's eyes shifted briefly, biting his lip as he considered, then grinned, "If you win, I'll get you something more interesting to drink than that microbrew."
Billy laughed, downing the rest of the bland beer in a go and finding a nearby end table to set the plastic cup on. Whiskey would be useful; he was going to need less nerves and more liquid courage to make it through the rest of this night as it was. "And if you win?"
Dom had set the balls on the table for the lag, chalking his cue and handing the cube to him with fox eyes. "Your call."
Well, that was just unfair. Billy brushed at the tip of his cue with the chalk, covering it meticulously to stall. But instead of waiting for Billy to answer, Dom leaned down to aim his cueball-the yellow-and asked, "First to ten, then, keep it quick?"
"S'fine," Billy agreed, bending beside him in front of the white cueball. On Dom's count to three, they struck simultaneously. The white ricocheted more favourably than Dom's, who smiled and gestured him to play on.
It didn't take long for the game to be evenly matched, to the point where they agreed to change the rules in the middle and play to twenty points, to the irritation of the kid waiting for the table. Dom was a fair player, but Billy gave him a run for his money. Or whatever else. Billy had a feeling the stakes here were less important than the thinly veiled flirting anyway; he'd get a more interesting drink out of it, at least, regardless of who won.
In the end Billy won the game by two points, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Dom, for his part, shrugged and accepted his loss all smiles, handing his and Billy's cues off to the waiting party and clapping Billy on the back, making no show of disappointment whatsoever.
"Let's get that drink." He grabbed Billy's hand, pulling him back in the direction of the kitchen. He turned to the cupboards for a real glass, then from the high cupboard over the fridge, pulled down a bottle that was decidedly not to be a part of the evening's mixers.
"Glenmorangie?" Billy raised his eyebrows. "I would have figured you for a Black Label guy." He accepted the glass and Dom's shrugged smile.
"Ah, I like my Scotch a little sweet and surprising," Dom said, turning back to him with a meaningful look that made Billy's nerves spring back up under his skin. Billy took a sip of the whiskey, which is indeed a touch sweet and a little spicy, and good. Billy hadn't had whiskey this good since his early days at that bar.
"Did you eat? Come on, have something," Dom said, pointing out the buffalo wings and sausages, pizza, crisps and veggies with a multitude of dips and other finger foods on the island to tempt him, loading up a small paper plate with wings. Leaning against the counter to nibble at one, he waited for Billy to follow suit. Might as well, he thought, grabbing a plate and a slice of pizza, and earning a smile.
"Everyone's being kind of ridiculous," Dom shook his head, laughing. "Talking about how we all have to go be grown-ups now. I think they're using this as an excuse." He pointed to the guys still hanging from the spiral stair.
"As opposed to the rest of us," Billy shakes his head, plowing through his pizza slice and lifting his shoulders. "Graduating doesn't change much, really."
"No?"
"Didn't for me," he spooned up a bit of dip from a nearby bowl to swipe onto his pizza crust. "You graduate, you get a job. It's not the job you thought you'd get straight out of the gate. You panic and wonder if maybe your degree isn't adequate enough, sign up for another semester."
Dom laughed brightly, "That's just like you, Bills. Good thing I already know my degree doesn't mean anything."
Billy finished his crust and looked at him levelly. "The Architecture one might."
Dom shot him an annoyed glare. "Don't do that, man, I've listened to it all weekend."
Billy shrugged and took up his whiskey again, considering Dom thoughtfully. Having met Dom's parents at the ceremony yesterday, however briefly, was eye opening. As much of what Dom had told him had held true, at least. Yes, his father talked down his nose to him, degraded him a bit, but there was also a very palpable sense of pride there. Billy had felt it when the man shook his hand, when he'd congratulated him on his own accomplishments, and Dom's mother had been sweet and supportive, if a little coddling. Barring that, they'd both come all the way here across an ocean to attend. Billy'd made that flight himself a few times now; it wasn't exactly a fun, comfortable holiday to get from England to New England and back in the space of a few days. Billy'd like the believe his own parents would have come to support him, had they been alive, and Gran too. He'd have loved to have Maggie and James too, if hairdressers made that sort of money. Hell, he wouldn't have minded having anyone there at all who gave a fuck that he'd made it.
Although Dom did, he remembered with a clench in his chest. "When did they leave?"
"This morning. Early." Dom finished his wings, tossed the plate in the bin and scrubbed at his fingers with a napkin, watching Billy nurse his drink. "When I drove them to the airport he never stopped talking about The Martin Centre at Cambridge, the PhD program there," he scowled. "It's like he doesn't even-"
Dom stopped mid-sentence as a chant was struck up from one corner of the loft to egg on what looked like a drinking challenge, with guys' loud voices all around taking up the call. "Sigma! Alpha! Epsilon! Sigma! Alpha! Epsilon!" Dom shouted along, pounded his palm on the countertop with the syllables of the last letter.
As a winner was declared and the noise wound down, Dom grinned at his frat brothers before returning his attention. Billy suddenly realized that Dom's shirt, while not the frat tee he'd worn around campus so often, was the same shade of purple as the SAE tees many of the partiers wore, and the scarf looped loosely around his neck was the same shade of gold as the Greek lettering.
Billy shook his head minutely at nearby lads continuing to roar and tussle to display their machismo. At least it had turned Dom's mood. "Why did you join a fraternity?"
"I dunno," Dom dropped his eyes and lifted a shoulder, his expression going a bit dark again. "Mostly because my dad expected it. He went on about leadership and character building, and how much it made him as a man, but… but it wasn't about any of that once I got here, it was all about girls and partying. At least, at any of the frats that would even consider taking me."
Billy frowned, "Why wouldn't they?"
Dom took a large gulp of his beer, raising his eyebrows, "Most of these Ivy League frats? They aren't so thrilled with the idea of openly gay members. It's a changing view, but it's slow, you know."
Billy nodded. Still, he couldn't help but remember the words of that pledge Dom had framed up in his bedroom.
"Well, Dom slapped the top of the counter again, taking Billy's empty plate and tossing it in the bin, and refilling his own cup and pouring Billy another few fingers of whiskey before he hid the bottle back in its cupboard. "Shall we mingle? That's all these things ever amount to."
Billy laughed and followed him back into the crowd, letting him lead. Somehow over the course of time, though, as various conversations picked up and fell off, they were pulled apart, and Billy'd found himself stuck in meaningless discussion with people he barely knew.
He chalked it up to the awkwardness of being at a party where he really only had one acquaintance that he'd spent more than two minutes conversing with, who happened to have many other friends besides him to entertain. The fact was that he'd honestly only come because Dom had seemed genuinely excited to have him. That Billy had acquiesced spoke volumes he wasn't sure he wanted to weigh right now. Combined with trying to shift himself into his new routine, adjusting to new schedules at both of his jobs now that his coursework had ended, as well as finally aiming headlong into his research and starting to write his opus, it was all a bit confusing. It had been easy before to push Dom to back of his mind for other more important things, but now the truth was, he suddenly had more free time than he'd had in easily a couple of years, but now that Dom was no longer a biweekly endurance he had to bear, he found himself thinking about him more often than not. It was disconcerting, and left an ache in his gut, that was there even as he watched Dom work the room.
It struck Billy just how popular Dom really was, and how well-liked he seemed to be by most anyone here. It was hard to rationalize, to a point that Billy had to wonder if anyone else had ever been picked by his lot, or if maybe he himself really had just been a sore, stressed-out bastard with no sense of humor for so long.
The girl currently chattering Billy's ear off, Jenni, had originally hooked him in with a theory about the merits of art in the advertising industry, but then she'd gone off about the romance of TV shows depicting said industry and lost him completely, considering he didn't have cable television. He nodded and hummed accordingly while she prattled on, watching Dom as he migrated through the crowd, grinning and joking and playing a good host.
"So are you and Dom together?"
Billy nearly spit out the gulp he'd just taken at Jenni's abrupt change of subject. "What?"
"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" she blurted, her eyes bugging and her own drink sloshing as she palmed his arm. "I totally just thought... because I've heard stuff, you know."
Billy glanced about for Dom again, but he'd vanished into the crowd, helped buy the fact that he was shorter than most. "What sort of stuff?" he asked, his own curiosity suspending his reason to tell her he needed the loo and walk away from this conversation.
Jenni smiled, leaning closer to him conspiratorially, as campus gossip was clearly the juiciest of subjects, "You know, stuff."
Recognizing a person digging for details from the source, Billy merely bounced his eyebrows and played along, "What stuff?"
"Okay, so, my friend Nicole said that her friend Renee, who dated Elijah for like a month last year-she said she used to watch you two in Lamont. And, like, it was obvious you didn't like each other, but you studied together, so she thought it was weird," she spoke in a rush. "And then she started wondering if Dom was into you, because he's always going for guys who don't even like him, you know? Except Orlando, but that was a million years ago."
She stopped talking long enough to down another third of her beer, leaving Billy reeling little.
"Anyway, she said she started thinking you were secretly dating, but like, maybe you weren't out, or something. And now you're here at this party, so it's weird," Jenni told him, then belatedly gasped and covered her mouth, "Oh shit, if you're not even out, that's like so fucking awful to spread around, I'm so..."
"I am," he waved it off distractedly, mostly just to shut her up, because her voice seemed to get louder the more embarrassed she was.
"Really?" she exclaimed, "Wow. I wouldn't have thought that, you're just so...so…."
"So what?" he asked, though he knew he might regret it.
"I dunno, you just so... not gay."
Billy smirked, shaking his head at that, "Well, I'm not straight."
She slapped his arm and pointed over his shoulder, "I mean, like, you're not gay like he is. Or either of the them, really."
Billy turned to follow her finger, finding Dom halfway up the spiral stair with another young man, one who was long and lanky and intensely pretty. Billy didn't know his name, but knew him by sight as one of the more outwardly flaming students on campus; knew him, in fact, because he'd seen him openly snuggled up with Dom on multiple occasions. Now, he stood there with his coltish arms draped over Dom's shoulders, Dom standing one stair higher to bring their faces on the same level, intimately close as they spoke. Dom had his hands on the man's waist, fingertips rubbing gently through the lad's t-shirt, only a few inches between their bodies. His expression was open and his smile sweet, and something cantankerous coiled up tight in Billy's gut at the sight. He took a large gulp of beer to quell it, but it tightened further as Dom raised a hand to brush the lad's red fringe back and tilted to kiss his cheek before he moved around him on his way back down.
"Jessie's like, the gayest guy on campus, besides Dom," Jenni continued loudly. "They're like... and you're not..."
"I think you need some juice or something, hmm?" Billy interrupted, "Come on."
"Wow, thanks, I'm so thirsty."
Billy ushered her towards the kitchen with a hand on her back, and just as he'd hoped, she saw someone else she knew and quickly became distracted in chatting with them. He went for the cabinets to sneak the secret bottle of whiskey out to pour himself another generous helping, then found a carton of some sort of juice to refill Jenni's cup. Now completely engrossed in a new conversation with her friend, he merely handed it back to her with a nod and made his way back in the direction where Dom had come down the stairs, skirting around a rowdy crowd of frat boys.
"No, no, no, I was there, man. Dom blew like five guys in a row, and you were one of 'em!"
Billy stopped cold, lingering on the fringe of the group, all of them wearing purple t-shirts. "It was David and Nick and Sean and Orli and you, man."
"No, it fucking wasn't!" The next guy continued to deny profusely, red in the face and laughing to near tears as a group of sorority girls giggled along.
"Dom!" the first guy hooked Dom out of nowhere, pulling him into a tight headlock and knuckling his head. "Didn't you lipstick blow Chris? That one time during Rush Week? Remember?"
The first guy jostled the other, roughly wrestling as Dom pushed his fingers through his hair with a cocky grin at the Chris in question. "How the fuck should I know, I was blindfolded, wasn't I?"
"You should have seen it, man, he was this close to shooting his wad all over your face."
"What can I say, I'm good at what I do," Dom tossed back smugly, licking his lips in a way that made Chris turn fuchsia.
"And Orli too, right?"
"Orli loved it. Didn't you, gorgeous?" Dom sidled up backwards against Orlando's front, reached his arms up and behind to hang from his neck. "Ladies, it's all thanks to me you get to see all this manflesh in the buff so often, just remember that. He's such a camera whore."
Orlando tipped down to Dom's ear to whisper something, eyes fastening to Billy's across the shoulders of their frat friends, and Dom's soon searched and blearily found him as well. Billy looked quickly away, tipped back the rest of his whiskey, and pushed through the crowd.
The thing about Dom was-and Billy had come to this conclusion after lying in bed this morning trying to come up with reasons to ring Dom up and say he couldn't make it to the party after all, but not one of them were excuses he hadn't already played-the thing about Dom was that he was irresistible. Billy could no longer resist him in the flesh. He had agreed to come here only because he had been snugged up in that damned pub booth with Dom's fingertips sliding up and down the side of his neck and his warm thigh all pressed up against his, and even with Dom making the fucking excuse for him not to come, he'd agreed to it anyway. Just to see Dom's eyes go bright, to see him smile at him like that, like the idea genuinely made him happy. On the phone it was easier, although the disappointment in Dom's tone could tug Billy in both directions as well.
And there were so many reasons why Dom was bad for him. Not least because of the things he'd just seen and heard, things he essentially had known all along peripherally. Dom got around, he was popular, and he was easy, and easily distracted. And very distracting. Bad for Billy' work ethic, bad for his emotional stability. When he suddenly slid back into Billy's space, the way the bubble he was in shrank to just the two of them was almost palpable. He almost felt like he could poke a finger into the air around them and feel some sort of shrink wrap stretch of it.
"Hey," Dom offered.
Billy shifted his eyes at him and then back to the loud group. "All that true?" he asked. He couldn't bite it back. "What they were saying?"
Dom lifted his shoulders, pushing his hands deeply into his back pockets. "It was years ago. I did a lot of stupid shit when I was pledging."
"Three years is not that long ago," Billy remarked, looking at the remnants of liquid in his glass and wishing he was closer to that bottle in the kitchen. "And Orlando?"
Dom shrugged and smiled again, looking over at the subject of conversation. "I had a crush. Who wouldn't? Anyway, nothing came of it but a really ace friend on his account."
Billy glanced at Orlando and give that an understanding smirk. He couldn't even blame Dom for that.
He sighed, watching Orlando as he appeared to be engrossed in a serious conversation with a pretty girl beside the potter's wheel. Orlando being nice to him was a brand new thing in Billy's world, something he didn't quite trust after two years worth of torment. He knew quite well it was only because Dom had told him to lay off.
"What about that other lad?"
"Eh?"
"That tall, ginger prettyboy. The one with his hands all over you."
"You mean Jessie Barnes?" Dom made an amused noise, "Harvard's Queen Tart? Bills, if it's gay, he's had his legs around it."
Billy pursed his lips, shrugging, "Not me."
Dom closed his mouth and opened it again, "No, not you." He moved a few steps closer to lower his voice. "Something I'm thrilled about, really."
"Didn't mean anything with him?" Billy asked.
Dom swallowed, "No." He flapped a hand in a hapless gesture. "Anyway it hasn't been like that for awhile, not with him or anyone else. Not since I've been after you."
"You're after me now?" Billy arched a brow. He didn't know if he meant it as a tease or taunt, and it didn't come out sounding like either.
A ghost of a smile passed Dom's face, inching closer to him. "I thought that much was obvious."
Billy shifted his feet with a shake of his head and an exhale, crossing his arms over his chest. "Even though you've had me already."
Dom's eyes widened, startlingly serious. "I don't know if I have you."
"Need the loo," Billy said, setting his glass down and leaving Dom there, pushing his way to the spiral stair and trudging up to join the queue at the bathroom.
By the time he managed to shut the door on everyone else and piss, he was angry. How dare Dom do this now. How dare he behave in exactly the manner that drove Billy up a fucking wall for two years while simultaneously morphing into the sweet, charming boy… man he'd come to know, finally accepting adulthood for what it was and would be. Could be, if he took that one extra step he so vehemently wanted to take.
He washed his hands and opened the door to another person waiting to use the toilet, and quickly shuffled out of the way with a smile. Over the loft railing looking down into the main room, he could see that the number of people had dwindled down by probably more than half, groups clustered together and the noise wavering.
The door to Dom's bedroom was half-open as he passed, the light on inside. Billy paused at it-couldn't help it, seeing Dom's sketchbook on the easel, open to a page of sketches that looked suspiciously familiar. He glanced about, seeing most people in conversation, and slipped inside. No one else was in the room, thankfully, though the bedclothes looked ruffled up from people sitting on it or God only knew what else. It looked similar to the last time he'd been in here, markers on the desks, CD cases scattered around the stereo, the Toulouse-Lautrec print hung above the bed.
The sketches on the easel were of him, in Dom's loose, quickly sketched style, and in pieces. Billy sitting on his sofa, grading papers, standing at the podium in Mort's classroom, surrounded by stacks of books in the library, glasses in hand. One large one in the lower corner of the page was just of his face, his eyes and nose, mouth and chin, and his ear, overlapping one of the other sketches, but such an easy likeness that Dom must have a photographic memory.
"Heh. Not the page I left it on."
He jumped and turned to find Dom leaning in the doorway, with a small smile on his face. Going red at being caught, Billy stepped away from the sketchbook and shoved his hands in his pockets. Dom stepped inside the bedroom and leaned on the door until it quietly snicked shut on the party behind him, eyes on Billy with a cautious expression.
"I like to think people change a bit in three years," he said, as if in continuation of what they had started downstairs. "Hell, even three months, given the right circumstances."
"Big difference," Billy said, shaking his head again. It was muddy with drink, and he wasn't quite sure what this conversation meant or where it was headed.
Dom tilted his head and bit his lip, pushing his hands in his pockets before he asked, "Are you angry with me?" His voice wasn't a confrontation; it was quiet, unsure, even vulnerable. "I mean, does it change anything? Those guys from the frat, or Jessie, Garrett-after tonight I'm never going to see any of them again. And I'm fine with that. Are you?"
Billy exhaled, his anger flaring up and just as quickly dying out. He should be, dammit, finding out Dom did all kinds of idiot things and people when he was so busy being a consummate arse-yes, he wanted to be angry. But he had no right to be. He had no right to be angry with Dom's choices that had nothing to do with him. He had no right to think he had anything to do with Dom's choices at all.
He fixated on Dom's body language-hesitant, still, almost shy, the way he didn't reach out to him, didn't touch like he always did, had done with virtually everyone else downstairs. His eyes were distracting, incandescently blue and bright, his lashes a mile long and dark and startling as they swept downward to the floor and back up, waiting for an answer Billy didn't have.
Billy took another step backward, looking at his own shoes and Dom's against the carpeting, gesturing to the bedroom door at the dwindling sounds of people and the volume of the music having been cut down by at least half. "There are a lot of kids a wee bit too pissed to drive home out there," he commented, "You might have to set some up on your sofas."
Dom's face evolved through emotions of before, dawning on sudden comprehension. "Oh, no," he explained, "We always call in a service ahead of time. They bring out vans, and we take down everyone's addresses. All the different colored cards are different neighborhoods, so everyone gets in the right car and goes home to the right place. They make sure everyone gets home safe, and we split the bill between the three of us."
Billy was both surprised and touched by that, remembering the cards downstairs. "That's smart of you. I wouldn't've..."
Dom lifted his chin smugly, coming closer, eyes half-lidded, "What."
"I wouldn't've expected that," Billy came up with quickly, then looked back up at him, "I didn't fill one out."
"You didn't?"
"No," he shrugged, "Orli told me I didn't need to."
Dom smiled, cracking back into the soft, yet heated storm of his eyes. "Bastard." The unstated intention and question weighed heavy in the air as Dom came another step closer, bringing them a mere foot apart, his eyes searingly intense.
Billy raised a hand without a thought, touching the side of Dom's face as his thumb brushed below one of his eyes, coming away with tiny flecks of black on the pad. "What did you do to your eyes?" he murmured.
Dom exhaled a laugh, "'S eyeliner, bit of mascara." He lifted a hand to hold Billy's wrist gently, as if to keep it there. "Do you like it?"
Billy's head gave another small shake, conflicting the way his hand slid along Dom's cheek, his ear cupped in the loop of his thumb and fingers as his eyes searched Dom's face. "'S weird." he muttered, blinking as Dom's face seemed to get closer and blurrier, "I'm really pissed."
A laugh rumbled in Dom's throat, "Yes, you are. You drank my good whiskey, you prick."
Billy laughed as well, leaning his forehead against Dom's cheek and letting him support his weight, feeling his arms go around him. He took a deep breath. "You smell really good."
"Yeah?" Dom's voice rumbled in his ear, and then he felt lips there, just touching, tickling and waking him up with a shiver.
"Going to take advantage of me, then?"
Dom's laugh was a purr against his skin, "You're not that drunk, Bills." He pulled back to look him in the eyes again, "And I wouldn't if you were."
"Such a gentleman," Billy pouted, draping his arms over Dom's shoulders and staring at his mouth, "I still want you to."
A tension winds in Dom's arms, either building or coming undone, Billy's buzzing head can hardly tell which before Dom's mouth was on his, searingly hot and slick and demanding as he was pulled toward the door. One of Dom's hands dropped back to flip the lock before Billy pushed him hard against it with a drunken laugh, "Sock on the doorknob, eh?"
Dom was unmoved by his humor, the glimpses of his face when Billy opened his eyes smoldering heat and razor sharp cuts of blue and a rake of anguish so startling Billy that wasn't sure how to reassemble it in his confused head. But Dom pushed him into the room, until the backs of his calves hit the bed and he tumbled down, Dom crawling over him like a hungry animal. His mouth was by turns ferocious and gentle, sucking and biting and kissing, Billy grasping at the scarf to tug it off throw it away, his hand landing in Dom's collar and and ripping down the line of buttons of his shirt. Dom pulled at the sweater vest but the shoulders, gave up and thrust his hands up under both it and Billy's shirt beneath to push them both over his head, releasing a noise against Billy's heart, once he does that sounds like he's pained.
Struggling amongst the rumpled covers, Dom dragged him up to the pillows, hands scrambling at Billy's jeans and then his own, getting both cursorily shoved down and their legs tangled. Billy let go a moan as they came together from mouths to cocks, alcohol both clouding his mind and evaporating from his skin in a strange clarity of need for this nearness, this ache he didn't know how to quell anymore except for this, to strain and push and kiss against this for as long as he'd be allowed.
"You don't have any idea, do you?" Dom grated out, and his voice had lost all of the silky, suave, easy-going nature it had for ragged, dark need as they moved and grabbed and twisted together, "You make me so fucking crazy. I can't… I can't…"
The crack in Dom's voice is what does it, what made something in Billy's chest nearly explode with emotions he's pounded down for weeks. He surged up and rolled Dom over, seeing the dazed, fiery ache of love written all over Dom's face, and kissed him with all that he had left.
Pairing: Dom/Billy
Rating: PG-NC17
Warnings: AU, angst, art geekery
Summary: Uni fic.
Also available on AO3
Billy stepped off the bus to a crisp, clear night in Dom's neighborhood, walking a block or so to the old brickwork factory from which Dom's building was converted. Even from street level, he could see the bright glow from the highest windows as he found the main entrance and took the stairs to the topmost floor.
Despite what Dom and his friends probably thought, Billy was no stranger to a college party. While he was at GU, he and his friends-back when he'd actually had a circle of friends-were quite well-versed in the pub crawl and partying. Before work and his studies had entirely overtaken his time, he'd spent many a night back then drinking and staying up until dawn, as much as any other twenty-something Scotsman. Certainly not among what might have been Dom's crowd, but his own ragtag group of artists, musicians and other outcasts knew how to enjoy themselves as much as anyone else.
He could hear music muffled through the walls as he approached the door, shaking his head at how the neighbors must feel. He'd made a bit of a point to be late; Dom had told him the party would start at eight and it was now half-nine, and it was obviously already in full swing. He hadn't wanted to be the first to arrive and seem over-eager. In all honesty, he was having second thoughts about knocking on the door at all.
A young woman with a drink in-hand pulled open the door at his knock, one he thankfully didn't recognize, though it wasn't long at all before he saw familiar faces. There were students he'd shared classes with, a few he'd taught in HAA, and some he recognized simply by having passed them in the halls at the same time, day in and day out. Some smiled and said hi, others did a double-take, and still others looked through him with no recognition at all. It didn't make it any less awkward.
Orlando spotted him first, weaving his way through bodies to the kitchen-long arms held high above people's heads with four or five plastic cups cradled between his fingers-brightening when he saw Billy lingering in the entry.
"Dr. Boyd! Come here, man!" he waved him over, refilling the cups from the keg sitting on the floor in a cooler of ice, and pulling a fresh cup from the top of a stack to fill. "How long have you been here?"
"Just got in," Billy said over the music.
"Just leave your coat on the table," Orli instructed, pointing at the large heaps covering its surface. It appeared to be somewhat organized, with each coat bearing a matching coloured index card pinned to the collar or sleeve with names and addresses written on them, and each haphazard pile assigned a different colour. On the remaining corner of the table was a fishbowl full of more clothes-pins, and stacks of colored cards and a cup of sharpie markers.
"What's all this?" he asked, as he lay his own coat on the orange pile bearing addresses in Mid-Cambridge.
Orli grinned, "Ah, don't worry about that, mate," he answered cryptically, handing the fresh beer to him. Billy tasted it; a lager of some stripe. He tugged at his shirtsleeves self-consciously, adjusting the way they were rolled up to his elbows as he glanced about the place. The sheer number of people here shouldn't be surprising, but it was. This loft was a massive space from what he'd seen the previous time he'd been here, but now it seemed packed with people, some of them still wearing their mortarboards from the ceremony the day before. Above the constant beat of the music was the hubbub of many voices and laughter.
"Where's Dom?" he asked.
Orlando's grin stretched even wider, giving Billy's hair a rough, affectionate scrub, "Can't wait, eh? He's over here." He picked up the cups of beer he'd filled, rims clamped between his fingers again as he turned into the fray and held them up high once again.
Billy tried to smooth his hair back down as he followed. Farther into the flat, as Orlando wove through and dropped beers off to various friends. They passed Elijah manning a fully-equipped DJ's table while a few people danced near the amplifier. A pack of guys stood around the pinball machine, one playing and swearing at it while the rest laughed and drank; still more lounged across the two long sofas in front of the TV, which made pulsing patterns and colors in time to the beat of the music. Even more people lingered along the upper balcony railing where the bedrooms were, with a line waiting outside the bathroom. A few already inebriated guys monkeyed around on the outside of the spiral stair railing.
Dom was found bent over the pool table, lining up and taking what looked like the last shot of a game. It sank, by the way he straightened up, grinning smugly and making a pay-up gesture to his opponent, who grudgingly handed over a stack of bills.
"Dominic!" Orlando shouted over the din, hand around Billy's shoulder as he ushered him forward, "The doctor is in!"
Dom turned around as he pocketed the money, face lighting up, "Bills! You made it!" He came forward with arms spread.
"Yeah, bus took longer than I thought," Billy replied, a bit breathlessly as he returned the embrace, keeping it short and matey before he stepped back. He indicated the beer in his hand, almost as an excuse, and took another sip from it as Dom's eyes darted over him.
"You look really good," Dom grinned, switching the pool cue to his other hand to pinch at the loose corner of his collar.
"Aye well, I knew you liked this vest, so," Billy deadpanned.
"I hate this vest," Dom shot back with a laugh, briefly tugging the vee collar of it in his fingers.
Billy'd tried something a little different, and as much as it felt bizarre to have his sleeves rolled up, a few buttons undone and the tails of his shirt poking out the bottom of his sweater vest instead of properly tucked in, he'd seen people make it look good, preppy and natural even, though he'd agonized over it in front of the mirror at home more than he cared to admit. No one seemed to be looking at him like he'd dressed in the dark, though, so maybe it was fine.
He cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from Dom across the heads of the people around them and into his beer. He grasped for something to say, shifting his eyes back to the crowd again, "So, this is the famed Monaghan-Bloom-Wood Party, eh?"
"The very last," Dom's chin went up in challenge, "Impressed?"
It wasn't so much what Dom was wearing that surprised him-dark washed denims with a slim-cut purple button-down instead of his usual screened t-shirts, the sleeves pushed up and wrists full of bangles-but there was something quite strange about his eyes. They seemed to pop and spark dangerously, a hundred times more stormy blue than usual. Billy had no idea what it was, but having that electric gaze on him made his pulse thump in a way he couldn't quash.
He wrinkled his nose after another gulp, trying for nonchalance. "Beer could certainly be better."
Dom tipped his head back, laughing out loud. "Right, then," he said, pushing his pool cue into Billy's free hand, "Let's play a round."
Billy raised an eyebrow with a smile, testing the heft of the cue. "I did tell you I tended bar in college, yeah? With a billiards room?"
"You did," Dom replied, choosing another cue for himself from the rack under the table. "So let's have a real game. All any of these Yanks know how to play is Eight Ball." Circling the table, he discovered the red ball in a pocket, then the yellow in another, holding them up for Billy to see. "And Orlando's shite at English rules." He grinned apologetically at another guy who was clearly waiting for a turn at the table, convincing him it would just be a quickie with a leer in Billy's direction.
Billy chose to pretend he hadn't seen the look, smirking at his shoes as he moved around to the end of the table with Dom. "Stakes?" he asked. He was all too aware of the very short supply of cash in his wallet, the large stack of twenties Dom had recently tucked into his own.
Dom's eyes shifted briefly, biting his lip as he considered, then grinned, "If you win, I'll get you something more interesting to drink than that microbrew."
Billy laughed, downing the rest of the bland beer in a go and finding a nearby end table to set the plastic cup on. Whiskey would be useful; he was going to need less nerves and more liquid courage to make it through the rest of this night as it was. "And if you win?"
Dom had set the balls on the table for the lag, chalking his cue and handing the cube to him with fox eyes. "Your call."
Well, that was just unfair. Billy brushed at the tip of his cue with the chalk, covering it meticulously to stall. But instead of waiting for Billy to answer, Dom leaned down to aim his cueball-the yellow-and asked, "First to ten, then, keep it quick?"
"S'fine," Billy agreed, bending beside him in front of the white cueball. On Dom's count to three, they struck simultaneously. The white ricocheted more favourably than Dom's, who smiled and gestured him to play on.
It didn't take long for the game to be evenly matched, to the point where they agreed to change the rules in the middle and play to twenty points, to the irritation of the kid waiting for the table. Dom was a fair player, but Billy gave him a run for his money. Or whatever else. Billy had a feeling the stakes here were less important than the thinly veiled flirting anyway; he'd get a more interesting drink out of it, at least, regardless of who won.
In the end Billy won the game by two points, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Dom, for his part, shrugged and accepted his loss all smiles, handing his and Billy's cues off to the waiting party and clapping Billy on the back, making no show of disappointment whatsoever.
"Let's get that drink." He grabbed Billy's hand, pulling him back in the direction of the kitchen. He turned to the cupboards for a real glass, then from the high cupboard over the fridge, pulled down a bottle that was decidedly not to be a part of the evening's mixers.
"Glenmorangie?" Billy raised his eyebrows. "I would have figured you for a Black Label guy." He accepted the glass and Dom's shrugged smile.
"Ah, I like my Scotch a little sweet and surprising," Dom said, turning back to him with a meaningful look that made Billy's nerves spring back up under his skin. Billy took a sip of the whiskey, which is indeed a touch sweet and a little spicy, and good. Billy hadn't had whiskey this good since his early days at that bar.
"Did you eat? Come on, have something," Dom said, pointing out the buffalo wings and sausages, pizza, crisps and veggies with a multitude of dips and other finger foods on the island to tempt him, loading up a small paper plate with wings. Leaning against the counter to nibble at one, he waited for Billy to follow suit. Might as well, he thought, grabbing a plate and a slice of pizza, and earning a smile.
"Everyone's being kind of ridiculous," Dom shook his head, laughing. "Talking about how we all have to go be grown-ups now. I think they're using this as an excuse." He pointed to the guys still hanging from the spiral stair.
"As opposed to the rest of us," Billy shakes his head, plowing through his pizza slice and lifting his shoulders. "Graduating doesn't change much, really."
"No?"
"Didn't for me," he spooned up a bit of dip from a nearby bowl to swipe onto his pizza crust. "You graduate, you get a job. It's not the job you thought you'd get straight out of the gate. You panic and wonder if maybe your degree isn't adequate enough, sign up for another semester."
Dom laughed brightly, "That's just like you, Bills. Good thing I already know my degree doesn't mean anything."
Billy finished his crust and looked at him levelly. "The Architecture one might."
Dom shot him an annoyed glare. "Don't do that, man, I've listened to it all weekend."
Billy shrugged and took up his whiskey again, considering Dom thoughtfully. Having met Dom's parents at the ceremony yesterday, however briefly, was eye opening. As much of what Dom had told him had held true, at least. Yes, his father talked down his nose to him, degraded him a bit, but there was also a very palpable sense of pride there. Billy had felt it when the man shook his hand, when he'd congratulated him on his own accomplishments, and Dom's mother had been sweet and supportive, if a little coddling. Barring that, they'd both come all the way here across an ocean to attend. Billy'd made that flight himself a few times now; it wasn't exactly a fun, comfortable holiday to get from England to New England and back in the space of a few days. Billy'd like the believe his own parents would have come to support him, had they been alive, and Gran too. He'd have loved to have Maggie and James too, if hairdressers made that sort of money. Hell, he wouldn't have minded having anyone there at all who gave a fuck that he'd made it.
Although Dom did, he remembered with a clench in his chest. "When did they leave?"
"This morning. Early." Dom finished his wings, tossed the plate in the bin and scrubbed at his fingers with a napkin, watching Billy nurse his drink. "When I drove them to the airport he never stopped talking about The Martin Centre at Cambridge, the PhD program there," he scowled. "It's like he doesn't even-"
Dom stopped mid-sentence as a chant was struck up from one corner of the loft to egg on what looked like a drinking challenge, with guys' loud voices all around taking up the call. "Sigma! Alpha! Epsilon! Sigma! Alpha! Epsilon!" Dom shouted along, pounded his palm on the countertop with the syllables of the last letter.
As a winner was declared and the noise wound down, Dom grinned at his frat brothers before returning his attention. Billy suddenly realized that Dom's shirt, while not the frat tee he'd worn around campus so often, was the same shade of purple as the SAE tees many of the partiers wore, and the scarf looped loosely around his neck was the same shade of gold as the Greek lettering.
Billy shook his head minutely at nearby lads continuing to roar and tussle to display their machismo. At least it had turned Dom's mood. "Why did you join a fraternity?"
"I dunno," Dom dropped his eyes and lifted a shoulder, his expression going a bit dark again. "Mostly because my dad expected it. He went on about leadership and character building, and how much it made him as a man, but… but it wasn't about any of that once I got here, it was all about girls and partying. At least, at any of the frats that would even consider taking me."
Billy frowned, "Why wouldn't they?"
Dom took a large gulp of his beer, raising his eyebrows, "Most of these Ivy League frats? They aren't so thrilled with the idea of openly gay members. It's a changing view, but it's slow, you know."
Billy nodded. Still, he couldn't help but remember the words of that pledge Dom had framed up in his bedroom.
"Well, Dom slapped the top of the counter again, taking Billy's empty plate and tossing it in the bin, and refilling his own cup and pouring Billy another few fingers of whiskey before he hid the bottle back in its cupboard. "Shall we mingle? That's all these things ever amount to."
Billy laughed and followed him back into the crowd, letting him lead. Somehow over the course of time, though, as various conversations picked up and fell off, they were pulled apart, and Billy'd found himself stuck in meaningless discussion with people he barely knew.
He chalked it up to the awkwardness of being at a party where he really only had one acquaintance that he'd spent more than two minutes conversing with, who happened to have many other friends besides him to entertain. The fact was that he'd honestly only come because Dom had seemed genuinely excited to have him. That Billy had acquiesced spoke volumes he wasn't sure he wanted to weigh right now. Combined with trying to shift himself into his new routine, adjusting to new schedules at both of his jobs now that his coursework had ended, as well as finally aiming headlong into his research and starting to write his opus, it was all a bit confusing. It had been easy before to push Dom to back of his mind for other more important things, but now the truth was, he suddenly had more free time than he'd had in easily a couple of years, but now that Dom was no longer a biweekly endurance he had to bear, he found himself thinking about him more often than not. It was disconcerting, and left an ache in his gut, that was there even as he watched Dom work the room.
It struck Billy just how popular Dom really was, and how well-liked he seemed to be by most anyone here. It was hard to rationalize, to a point that Billy had to wonder if anyone else had ever been picked by his lot, or if maybe he himself really had just been a sore, stressed-out bastard with no sense of humor for so long.
The girl currently chattering Billy's ear off, Jenni, had originally hooked him in with a theory about the merits of art in the advertising industry, but then she'd gone off about the romance of TV shows depicting said industry and lost him completely, considering he didn't have cable television. He nodded and hummed accordingly while she prattled on, watching Dom as he migrated through the crowd, grinning and joking and playing a good host.
"So are you and Dom together?"
Billy nearly spit out the gulp he'd just taken at Jenni's abrupt change of subject. "What?"
"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" she blurted, her eyes bugging and her own drink sloshing as she palmed his arm. "I totally just thought... because I've heard stuff, you know."
Billy glanced about for Dom again, but he'd vanished into the crowd, helped buy the fact that he was shorter than most. "What sort of stuff?" he asked, his own curiosity suspending his reason to tell her he needed the loo and walk away from this conversation.
Jenni smiled, leaning closer to him conspiratorially, as campus gossip was clearly the juiciest of subjects, "You know, stuff."
Recognizing a person digging for details from the source, Billy merely bounced his eyebrows and played along, "What stuff?"
"Okay, so, my friend Nicole said that her friend Renee, who dated Elijah for like a month last year-she said she used to watch you two in Lamont. And, like, it was obvious you didn't like each other, but you studied together, so she thought it was weird," she spoke in a rush. "And then she started wondering if Dom was into you, because he's always going for guys who don't even like him, you know? Except Orlando, but that was a million years ago."
She stopped talking long enough to down another third of her beer, leaving Billy reeling little.
"Anyway, she said she started thinking you were secretly dating, but like, maybe you weren't out, or something. And now you're here at this party, so it's weird," Jenni told him, then belatedly gasped and covered her mouth, "Oh shit, if you're not even out, that's like so fucking awful to spread around, I'm so..."
"I am," he waved it off distractedly, mostly just to shut her up, because her voice seemed to get louder the more embarrassed she was.
"Really?" she exclaimed, "Wow. I wouldn't have thought that, you're just so...so…."
"So what?" he asked, though he knew he might regret it.
"I dunno, you just so... not gay."
Billy smirked, shaking his head at that, "Well, I'm not straight."
She slapped his arm and pointed over his shoulder, "I mean, like, you're not gay like he is. Or either of the them, really."
Billy turned to follow her finger, finding Dom halfway up the spiral stair with another young man, one who was long and lanky and intensely pretty. Billy didn't know his name, but knew him by sight as one of the more outwardly flaming students on campus; knew him, in fact, because he'd seen him openly snuggled up with Dom on multiple occasions. Now, he stood there with his coltish arms draped over Dom's shoulders, Dom standing one stair higher to bring their faces on the same level, intimately close as they spoke. Dom had his hands on the man's waist, fingertips rubbing gently through the lad's t-shirt, only a few inches between their bodies. His expression was open and his smile sweet, and something cantankerous coiled up tight in Billy's gut at the sight. He took a large gulp of beer to quell it, but it tightened further as Dom raised a hand to brush the lad's red fringe back and tilted to kiss his cheek before he moved around him on his way back down.
"Jessie's like, the gayest guy on campus, besides Dom," Jenni continued loudly. "They're like... and you're not..."
"I think you need some juice or something, hmm?" Billy interrupted, "Come on."
"Wow, thanks, I'm so thirsty."
Billy ushered her towards the kitchen with a hand on her back, and just as he'd hoped, she saw someone else she knew and quickly became distracted in chatting with them. He went for the cabinets to sneak the secret bottle of whiskey out to pour himself another generous helping, then found a carton of some sort of juice to refill Jenni's cup. Now completely engrossed in a new conversation with her friend, he merely handed it back to her with a nod and made his way back in the direction where Dom had come down the stairs, skirting around a rowdy crowd of frat boys.
"No, no, no, I was there, man. Dom blew like five guys in a row, and you were one of 'em!"
Billy stopped cold, lingering on the fringe of the group, all of them wearing purple t-shirts. "It was David and Nick and Sean and Orli and you, man."
"No, it fucking wasn't!" The next guy continued to deny profusely, red in the face and laughing to near tears as a group of sorority girls giggled along.
"Dom!" the first guy hooked Dom out of nowhere, pulling him into a tight headlock and knuckling his head. "Didn't you lipstick blow Chris? That one time during Rush Week? Remember?"
The first guy jostled the other, roughly wrestling as Dom pushed his fingers through his hair with a cocky grin at the Chris in question. "How the fuck should I know, I was blindfolded, wasn't I?"
"You should have seen it, man, he was this close to shooting his wad all over your face."
"What can I say, I'm good at what I do," Dom tossed back smugly, licking his lips in a way that made Chris turn fuchsia.
"And Orli too, right?"
"Orli loved it. Didn't you, gorgeous?" Dom sidled up backwards against Orlando's front, reached his arms up and behind to hang from his neck. "Ladies, it's all thanks to me you get to see all this manflesh in the buff so often, just remember that. He's such a camera whore."
Orlando tipped down to Dom's ear to whisper something, eyes fastening to Billy's across the shoulders of their frat friends, and Dom's soon searched and blearily found him as well. Billy looked quickly away, tipped back the rest of his whiskey, and pushed through the crowd.
The thing about Dom was-and Billy had come to this conclusion after lying in bed this morning trying to come up with reasons to ring Dom up and say he couldn't make it to the party after all, but not one of them were excuses he hadn't already played-the thing about Dom was that he was irresistible. Billy could no longer resist him in the flesh. He had agreed to come here only because he had been snugged up in that damned pub booth with Dom's fingertips sliding up and down the side of his neck and his warm thigh all pressed up against his, and even with Dom making the fucking excuse for him not to come, he'd agreed to it anyway. Just to see Dom's eyes go bright, to see him smile at him like that, like the idea genuinely made him happy. On the phone it was easier, although the disappointment in Dom's tone could tug Billy in both directions as well.
And there were so many reasons why Dom was bad for him. Not least because of the things he'd just seen and heard, things he essentially had known all along peripherally. Dom got around, he was popular, and he was easy, and easily distracted. And very distracting. Bad for Billy' work ethic, bad for his emotional stability. When he suddenly slid back into Billy's space, the way the bubble he was in shrank to just the two of them was almost palpable. He almost felt like he could poke a finger into the air around them and feel some sort of shrink wrap stretch of it.
"Hey," Dom offered.
Billy shifted his eyes at him and then back to the loud group. "All that true?" he asked. He couldn't bite it back. "What they were saying?"
Dom lifted his shoulders, pushing his hands deeply into his back pockets. "It was years ago. I did a lot of stupid shit when I was pledging."
"Three years is not that long ago," Billy remarked, looking at the remnants of liquid in his glass and wishing he was closer to that bottle in the kitchen. "And Orlando?"
Dom shrugged and smiled again, looking over at the subject of conversation. "I had a crush. Who wouldn't? Anyway, nothing came of it but a really ace friend on his account."
Billy glanced at Orlando and give that an understanding smirk. He couldn't even blame Dom for that.
He sighed, watching Orlando as he appeared to be engrossed in a serious conversation with a pretty girl beside the potter's wheel. Orlando being nice to him was a brand new thing in Billy's world, something he didn't quite trust after two years worth of torment. He knew quite well it was only because Dom had told him to lay off.
"What about that other lad?"
"Eh?"
"That tall, ginger prettyboy. The one with his hands all over you."
"You mean Jessie Barnes?" Dom made an amused noise, "Harvard's Queen Tart? Bills, if it's gay, he's had his legs around it."
Billy pursed his lips, shrugging, "Not me."
Dom closed his mouth and opened it again, "No, not you." He moved a few steps closer to lower his voice. "Something I'm thrilled about, really."
"Didn't mean anything with him?" Billy asked.
Dom swallowed, "No." He flapped a hand in a hapless gesture. "Anyway it hasn't been like that for awhile, not with him or anyone else. Not since I've been after you."
"You're after me now?" Billy arched a brow. He didn't know if he meant it as a tease or taunt, and it didn't come out sounding like either.
A ghost of a smile passed Dom's face, inching closer to him. "I thought that much was obvious."
Billy shifted his feet with a shake of his head and an exhale, crossing his arms over his chest. "Even though you've had me already."
Dom's eyes widened, startlingly serious. "I don't know if I have you."
"Need the loo," Billy said, setting his glass down and leaving Dom there, pushing his way to the spiral stair and trudging up to join the queue at the bathroom.
By the time he managed to shut the door on everyone else and piss, he was angry. How dare Dom do this now. How dare he behave in exactly the manner that drove Billy up a fucking wall for two years while simultaneously morphing into the sweet, charming boy… man he'd come to know, finally accepting adulthood for what it was and would be. Could be, if he took that one extra step he so vehemently wanted to take.
He washed his hands and opened the door to another person waiting to use the toilet, and quickly shuffled out of the way with a smile. Over the loft railing looking down into the main room, he could see that the number of people had dwindled down by probably more than half, groups clustered together and the noise wavering.
The door to Dom's bedroom was half-open as he passed, the light on inside. Billy paused at it-couldn't help it, seeing Dom's sketchbook on the easel, open to a page of sketches that looked suspiciously familiar. He glanced about, seeing most people in conversation, and slipped inside. No one else was in the room, thankfully, though the bedclothes looked ruffled up from people sitting on it or God only knew what else. It looked similar to the last time he'd been in here, markers on the desks, CD cases scattered around the stereo, the Toulouse-Lautrec print hung above the bed.
The sketches on the easel were of him, in Dom's loose, quickly sketched style, and in pieces. Billy sitting on his sofa, grading papers, standing at the podium in Mort's classroom, surrounded by stacks of books in the library, glasses in hand. One large one in the lower corner of the page was just of his face, his eyes and nose, mouth and chin, and his ear, overlapping one of the other sketches, but such an easy likeness that Dom must have a photographic memory.
"Heh. Not the page I left it on."
He jumped and turned to find Dom leaning in the doorway, with a small smile on his face. Going red at being caught, Billy stepped away from the sketchbook and shoved his hands in his pockets. Dom stepped inside the bedroom and leaned on the door until it quietly snicked shut on the party behind him, eyes on Billy with a cautious expression.
"I like to think people change a bit in three years," he said, as if in continuation of what they had started downstairs. "Hell, even three months, given the right circumstances."
"Big difference," Billy said, shaking his head again. It was muddy with drink, and he wasn't quite sure what this conversation meant or where it was headed.
Dom tilted his head and bit his lip, pushing his hands in his pockets before he asked, "Are you angry with me?" His voice wasn't a confrontation; it was quiet, unsure, even vulnerable. "I mean, does it change anything? Those guys from the frat, or Jessie, Garrett-after tonight I'm never going to see any of them again. And I'm fine with that. Are you?"
Billy exhaled, his anger flaring up and just as quickly dying out. He should be, dammit, finding out Dom did all kinds of idiot things and people when he was so busy being a consummate arse-yes, he wanted to be angry. But he had no right to be. He had no right to be angry with Dom's choices that had nothing to do with him. He had no right to think he had anything to do with Dom's choices at all.
He fixated on Dom's body language-hesitant, still, almost shy, the way he didn't reach out to him, didn't touch like he always did, had done with virtually everyone else downstairs. His eyes were distracting, incandescently blue and bright, his lashes a mile long and dark and startling as they swept downward to the floor and back up, waiting for an answer Billy didn't have.
Billy took another step backward, looking at his own shoes and Dom's against the carpeting, gesturing to the bedroom door at the dwindling sounds of people and the volume of the music having been cut down by at least half. "There are a lot of kids a wee bit too pissed to drive home out there," he commented, "You might have to set some up on your sofas."
Dom's face evolved through emotions of before, dawning on sudden comprehension. "Oh, no," he explained, "We always call in a service ahead of time. They bring out vans, and we take down everyone's addresses. All the different colored cards are different neighborhoods, so everyone gets in the right car and goes home to the right place. They make sure everyone gets home safe, and we split the bill between the three of us."
Billy was both surprised and touched by that, remembering the cards downstairs. "That's smart of you. I wouldn't've..."
Dom lifted his chin smugly, coming closer, eyes half-lidded, "What."
"I wouldn't've expected that," Billy came up with quickly, then looked back up at him, "I didn't fill one out."
"You didn't?"
"No," he shrugged, "Orli told me I didn't need to."
Dom smiled, cracking back into the soft, yet heated storm of his eyes. "Bastard." The unstated intention and question weighed heavy in the air as Dom came another step closer, bringing them a mere foot apart, his eyes searingly intense.
Billy raised a hand without a thought, touching the side of Dom's face as his thumb brushed below one of his eyes, coming away with tiny flecks of black on the pad. "What did you do to your eyes?" he murmured.
Dom exhaled a laugh, "'S eyeliner, bit of mascara." He lifted a hand to hold Billy's wrist gently, as if to keep it there. "Do you like it?"
Billy's head gave another small shake, conflicting the way his hand slid along Dom's cheek, his ear cupped in the loop of his thumb and fingers as his eyes searched Dom's face. "'S weird." he muttered, blinking as Dom's face seemed to get closer and blurrier, "I'm really pissed."
A laugh rumbled in Dom's throat, "Yes, you are. You drank my good whiskey, you prick."
Billy laughed as well, leaning his forehead against Dom's cheek and letting him support his weight, feeling his arms go around him. He took a deep breath. "You smell really good."
"Yeah?" Dom's voice rumbled in his ear, and then he felt lips there, just touching, tickling and waking him up with a shiver.
"Going to take advantage of me, then?"
Dom's laugh was a purr against his skin, "You're not that drunk, Bills." He pulled back to look him in the eyes again, "And I wouldn't if you were."
"Such a gentleman," Billy pouted, draping his arms over Dom's shoulders and staring at his mouth, "I still want you to."
A tension winds in Dom's arms, either building or coming undone, Billy's buzzing head can hardly tell which before Dom's mouth was on his, searingly hot and slick and demanding as he was pulled toward the door. One of Dom's hands dropped back to flip the lock before Billy pushed him hard against it with a drunken laugh, "Sock on the doorknob, eh?"
Dom was unmoved by his humor, the glimpses of his face when Billy opened his eyes smoldering heat and razor sharp cuts of blue and a rake of anguish so startling Billy that wasn't sure how to reassemble it in his confused head. But Dom pushed him into the room, until the backs of his calves hit the bed and he tumbled down, Dom crawling over him like a hungry animal. His mouth was by turns ferocious and gentle, sucking and biting and kissing, Billy grasping at the scarf to tug it off throw it away, his hand landing in Dom's collar and and ripping down the line of buttons of his shirt. Dom pulled at the sweater vest but the shoulders, gave up and thrust his hands up under both it and Billy's shirt beneath to push them both over his head, releasing a noise against Billy's heart, once he does that sounds like he's pained.
Struggling amongst the rumpled covers, Dom dragged him up to the pillows, hands scrambling at Billy's jeans and then his own, getting both cursorily shoved down and their legs tangled. Billy let go a moan as they came together from mouths to cocks, alcohol both clouding his mind and evaporating from his skin in a strange clarity of need for this nearness, this ache he didn't know how to quell anymore except for this, to strain and push and kiss against this for as long as he'd be allowed.
"You don't have any idea, do you?" Dom grated out, and his voice had lost all of the silky, suave, easy-going nature it had for ragged, dark need as they moved and grabbed and twisted together, "You make me so fucking crazy. I can't… I can't…"
The crack in Dom's voice is what does it, what made something in Billy's chest nearly explode with emotions he's pounded down for weeks. He surged up and rolled Dom over, seeing the dazed, fiery ache of love written all over Dom's face, and kissed him with all that he had left.