monaboyd_month | Billy All Night

Title: Billy All Night - Chapter 2
Author:

dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: Adult
Summary: AU. Dom's a career-obsessed producer at a local radio station. Billy's in town to do a favor for a family friend.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Thanks to

not_a_lamb for the beta.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Based on a book I read years ago. To cover myself, I’m going to call this an adaptation.
A/N 2: I started this fic last year for

monaboyd_month and have more to share.
Previous: Chapter 1

Teaser: Billy swallows hard, and surrenders. "Okay. Pucker up, but this time, pay attention. I don't want to have to keep doing this."

Chapter 2

Dom sits numbly while Michael beams at all of them, nauseatingly confident.

"Well isn't this terrific. Can we join you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Michael pulls a chair over from a nearby empty table for Jenny before sitting down next to Billy. A little startled, she sinks down, giving Dom a wary look under her eyelashes.

Dom has to admit, she has lovely eyelashes. Actually, Jenny is pretty much stunning everywhere. It's no wonder Michael had wanted her instead. There's no point hating younger, more attractive people just because they exist. You have to wait until they do something to you to hate them. And, lest he forget, Jenny isn't the one who sacked Dom, Michael is.

Giving up, Dom smiles at the younger woman. "Hello Jenny. Congratulations on your promotion."

Immediately, Jenny leans forward, her nervousness gone, and words tumbling out in her happiness. "It's so exciting, Dom. I can't thank you enough. Michael told me it was your decision-"

Dom's eyebrows almost hit the ceiling, disappearing under a dark blonde fringe of bangs. "Oh?"

Jenny pauses. "It wasn't?"

Dom shoots a glance at Michael as if he's fish bait. "I'm really looking forward to working with Billy," he replies smoothly, glossing over the fact that he’s know Billy less than an hour. "Have you met Billy yet, Jenny? Billy Boyd, Jenny Mitchell."

Billy smiles at her as he takes her hand in his. "Nice to meet you."

Jenny smiles back, using her lashes on Billy this time. "Welcome to WCRB. You're going to love working with Dom at the station. He's-"

"So," Michael interrupts loudly, causing Jenny to jerk her hand back. "Where are you staying, Billy?"

Carefully hiding his suspicion, Billy casually leans back in his chair. "I just got into town today."

Michael then turns his gaze on Dom. "What? You haven't found him a place to live? That's not like you. You organize everybody."

What's your bloody problem? Dom muses to himself. Jealous? Good. "He's staying with us," Dom replies coolly, and Orlando chokes on his wine.

"What's wrong with you?" Michael inquires, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Nothing." Orlando smiles blandly, swallowing a cough. "Nothing at all."

Frowning, Michael's gaze returns to Dom. "You've only got two bedrooms."

"I know."

It won't hurt for Michael to think that he’s sleeping with Billy, Dom decides, barely holding back a smirk, and then looking at Billy over the top of his glasses. Come to think of it, it doesn't hurt Dom to think he's sleeping with Billy. Compact and charming Billy in shirtsleeves, a warm green stone resting just below the hollow of his throat makes a nice contrast to trim, tense Michael in a stuffy suit. In fact, the more Dom sees Michael next to Billy, the less he misses having the American around. Shagging Billy might be the logical cure for his lingering case of Michael. Sort of like using penicillin to wipe out a nasty bug that won't go away.

The analogy is certainly apt anyway.

It's then that Dom's logic kicks into high gear. He's not infatuated with Billy like he had been with Michael. With Billy, he could have an intelligent, well-planned one night stand. Then Dom's last sexual memory will be of Billy, not Michael, and Dom can get on with his life. The more Dom thinks about it, the more he likes it. As long as Billy doesn't get hung up on him, it'll be perfect, really. And even in Dom's short acquaintance with Billy, it's pretty evident that commitment is not Billy's favorite word.

Meanwhile, Michael looks from Billy to Dom to Orlando, evidently reading Dom's mind. "So who's he sleeping with?"

"Me," Dom replies, holding up his hand like a polite child, his plan now firmly in place. "Orli gets him tomorrow."

"Very funny," Michael remarks dryly.

"Not so funny for me," Orlando chimes in. "I have to wait twenty-four hours."

Michael frowns. "I don't think that's funny."

"Neither does Orli," Billy adds with a sigh, shaking his head in mock sadness, and Dom bursts out laughing, delighted beyond words that the Scotsman is there with them.

Having been following the exchange, Jenny frowns, her head finally ceasing to bob back and forth. "I don't get it."

"It's just a joke, Jenny," Michael tells her. "Not a very funny one."

Billy merely shakes his head. "You have no sense of humor, Michael. That's why your relationship with Dom didn't work, remember?"

It's at that moment that Michael decides to take offense, something that a sane man would've done much sooner. "I don't know what Dom is doing with someone like you," Michael informs Billy, looking down his nose at the Scotsman. "You're not his type. Of course, I don't know what he's doing with him, either." Michael jerks his head at Orlando.

Not surprising Billy in the least, he discovers that Dom doesn't take insults to any of his friends well, but especially not Orlando. Their close bond was immediately evident, and is ironclad when it comes to digs from Michael. Eyes narrowing, Dom snaps, "Now look..."

"I'm great in the kitchen," Orlando announces smoothly, not giving Michael the satisfaction of a reaction. "Dom loves my cooking."

"And I'm great in the bedroom," Billy adds fixing a heated gaze on Dom. "He loves my body. Between the two of us, Dom has it all."

In response, Dom glares at them both. "Actually-"

Michael snorts in disbelief." Dom doesn't like sex."

At the infuriating words, Dom's gaze moves to land on the American. "Well, actually-"

Billy interrupts to add fuel to the fire, and smiling confidently at Michael, he says, "No, he just didn't like it with you."

"Dom didn't like your linguine, either," Orlando adds helpfully, all too glad to throw in a dig or two. "He said it was rubbery."

Arching a mischievous eyebrow in thought, Billy then frowns at Orlando. "That's interesting. Dom said the very same thing about-"

"Oh bloody buggering fuck," Dom mutters under his breath, Michael’s arrogance about their sex life irritating him more than he wants to admit. All the time he devoted to Michael, and this is the result.

"Don't be childish." Rising abruptly, Michael almost knocks over the waitress who has brought their salads. "Obviously, we've interrupted, and you don't want us here. Come on, Jenny."

The three men watch Michael stalk across the room, Jenny trailing behind, throwing curious looks over her shoulder.

"Feel free to discuss my bloody sex life at any time in public," Dom growls at the other two when the waitress has left them alone. "Don't mind me."

"Don't worry. We won't," Billy replies around a mouthful of lettuce.

"I almost feel sorry for Jenny," Orlando adds, lips pursed in thought.

Picking up his fork, Dom stabs at his salad, thoughts of shagging Billy being nudged to the side as he considers Jenny. Several bites are taken and slowly chewed while he ponders the situation from all sides, and then finally breaks the silence to say, "I guess I feel sorry for her. This isn't Jenny's fault."

"She ended up with your bloke and your job," Orlando reminds him. "She has some responsibility there."

"No." Dom's voice grows more firm as his belief strengthens. "This is on Michael. Michael wanted me out, and Jenny in. And he got it. I just don't know why."

Arching an eyebrow at Dom incredulously, Orlando shakes his head. "It's obvious, Dom. Michael's jealous of you."

"That makes no sense," Dom argues, waving his fork at his friend, attempting to end the discussion.

"Yes, it does," Orlando insists, pointing his fork at Dom in return. "Everybody at the station knows that Michael's success is because of you. He likes to think that it's because of him."

Billy spears another chunk of salad. "So, if Michael shoves Dom out and puts Jenny the newbie in, everyone will know that his success is-"

"His success," Orlando finishes with a flourish. "Except that's not going to happen."

"Why not?" Billy asks, sliding his empty salad bowl aside and reaching for another bread stick.

"You eat like you're starving," Dom comments, amazed at the speed with which Billy had destroyed his salad. "Don't they feed you back home?"

"You should talk," Billy retorts, pointing to Dom's more than half-empty bowl. "I've seen locusts move through vegetation slower." He then turns his attention back to Orlando. "Why not?"

Orlando scoops up another forkful of salad. "Because the only reason Michael is a success is because Dom planned out every last second of his show. Dom even had his ad-libs on cue cards. You had to see it to believe it."

"How do you manage that?" Billy asks Dom, clearly impressed.

Dom shrugs and dips his head for a moment. "There are only a dozen or so expressions that are really useful, anyway. I just pick the card that works best. And Michael isn't that bad. In almost two years, he's never misread a cue card. Can we talk about something else?"

"Oh, that's a talent, reading cue cards," Billy agrees with a roll of his eyes. "You were with him for two years?"

"Professionally," Dom replies, squirming a little bit in his chair. "The other part, just a few months or so."

"Almost four," Orlando corrects with a grimace. "Four terrible months. Thank God for Jenny or I'd have had to kill him just to set you free. And you're right, Dom, I feel sorry for her. She's going to pay a heavy price."

"Why?" Billy asks, looking around the table for something else to eat. "What did she do now?"

"Nothing, but when everyone at the station finds out that Dom got screwed, Jenny isn't going to have an easy time of it," Orlando predicts, watching as Billy surreptitiously steals a red pepper strip out of Dom's salad bowl. "Loyalty runs deep."

Dom is suddenly afraid for a moment that Orlando might have a point. While he doesn't mind Jenny failing to keep Michael's ratings up, Dom doesn't want her to fail because everyone turns on her. Staring at his salad bowl, Dom falls silent, not seeing the food. He really doesn't need this. He needs all his energy to revive his career.

Which now depends on Billy.

Stealing another look at the Scotsman over the rim of his glasses, Dom begins to really think about Billy and the new show for the first time. Things aren't nearly as bad as they seemed earlier, because Billy has potential. After all, he's intelligent. Charming. Even occasionally funny. Dom can make him a star, he's sure of it. All Dom has to do is study him, design a format that fits him and plug him into it. Billy and his perfect mouth can take it from there.

Smiling to himself, Dom feels hope start to flow though his veins. He'll make Billy a household name by Christmas. Three months, and he'll be back on top again.

Wisely, Dom waits until the waitress brings their dinners, and then begins his pitch while Billy eats. "You're really verbal," Dom tells him, subtlety leaning in closer. "I like that. Especially in a man whose show I'm producing."

Pausing with his fork hovering in midair, Billy eyes Dom suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Dom smiles, hearty and encouraging. "I'm going to make you a star, Billy Boyd."

"The hell you are," Billy retorts, and turns his attention back to his steak.

Pulling back in surprise, Dom exchanges a glance with Orlando, who shrugs. Okay, so he'll have to be convinced. No problem. Not about to give up that easily, Dom leans in again. "Look, I know you like to do things your way, but you're starting over here in a bad time slot. And radio isn't exactly a secure career. I can-"

"No, you can't," Billy interrupts, pointing his fork at Dom. "Ian should've told you. I'm temporary. I'm going to be here five or six weeks, tops, probably not that long. I've got places I have to be by November. And this bloke I'm covering for, Urban Karl, right?"

Dom nods.

"Well, he's coming back."

Dom frowns at Billy, and even Orlando looks dubious at the announcement.

"Um, Karl's not coming back," Dom informs Billy. "He was sacked. Last we heard he was heading back to New Zealand. That's where his family is."

Billy shrugs noncommittally. "Ian knows I'm just temporary."

"So what is Ian up to?" Orlando ponders aloud, watching Dom shake his head, clearly as mystified as he is.

"He's really not coming back? Billy inquires, looking from one man to the other.

"Karl shot up the console his last night on the air," Dom explains, looking more than a bit awkward at the confession. "Literally, shot it. With a gun. He said it was talking to him and wouldn't shut up. Ian told him to get out of town before he was arrested for destruction of property."

"Maybe he just needs a wee holiday," Billy suggests uncertainly, ignoring the lump in his throat.

"Maybe he needs to stay away from stereo equipment," Orlando retorts, cutting off a piece of steak. "He's not coming back."

"So that means-," Dom begins, ready to make his pitch.

"So that means you're going to be breaking in another bloke in about six weeks," Billy says firmly. "Don't bother making me a hit. I'm temporary."

Returning to his dinner, Billy begins to quiz Orlando on the town that is his home for the next month or so, and Dom regroups. The problem isn't that Billy refuses to help Dom make him famous; he can do that without Billy. After all, Dom made Michael a success without any appreciable input from him.

The problem is that Billy isn't going to be around long enough for Dom to rebuild his career. Unless he hits the ground running a lot faster than he intended. After giving it a minute's thought, Dom's mind is made up. All right, he can do this.

And in the meantime, the news makes the penicillin project a lot more possible. If Billy's only going to be around for six weeks, Dom can have a one-night stand with him without any consequences. He's not used to having casual shags, actually, but he's almost thirty years old now, and he's not getting any younger. This may be it for a while, so why not enjoy?

Looking at the situation from all sides, Dom can't see any serious obstacles, aside from Billy himself.

"All right," Dom says aloud, and then digs into his chicken fettuccine with gusto, twirling the creamy noodles up with the aid of a spoon.

Laying down his fork, Billy looks over at Orlando. "Why do I have a bad feeling about him giving in so easily?"

"Because you're a student of human nature," Orlando tells him, a knowing grin lighting up his face.

Ignoring them both, Dom decides to put his plan into action as soon as they're finished eating. "Let's take Billy on a tour of the town on the way home," he suggests. "He should see where he's at before he goes on the air tomorrow night. It'll give him something to talk about." And he can find out what Billy's interested in and plan a program around it.

"The tour sounds great." Billy says, glancing at the bill the waitress has placed on the table and then reaching into his wallet for some money to cover his share. "But you don't need to put me up. I've got a room at a motel. Thanks for the offer, though."

Not good. Dom needs to get to know Billy fast if he's going to get the show moving right away. And then there's the penicillin plan. It'll be enough of a challenge for Dom to seduce Billy in his own flat, where he can control the situation, create a welcoming and relaxing environment. A motel room will be much more difficult, a cold and impersonal space. Dom smiles at the other man. "I think you should stay with us. You told Michael you were."

Billy shrugs. "Who cares?"

"Michael won't be mad if you're not staying with us," Dom prods gently, smiling flirtatiously. Not his best work, but it'll have to do. He's desperate.

Billy leans in close until they're almost nose to nose. "You know, I haven't known you all that long, Dominic Monaghan, but I can tell you're up to something."

"As I said, a student of human nature," Orlando adds, leaning back in his chair to watch.

"Orli will make waffles for breakfast if we ask him nicely," Dom adds, taking hold of Billy's left hand so he can't escape, not missing the warmth and sensation of strong fingers against his palm. Oh yes, shagging this bloke could cheer him right up, Dom decides. "We can talk about the station tonight. Where's your suitcase? At the motel?"

"Just a duffel bag. It's in the boot of my car," Billy replies, frowning a little. "I still think you're up to something."

Praying that his face is the picture of innocence, Dom finishes his pitch by telling Billy, "Orli puts pecans in the waffles."

"I'm probably going to regret this," Billy says with a sigh, then looks to Orlando. "What do you think?"

Raising both hands in surrender, Orlando shakes his head. "I'm staying out of this. Although we do have a very comfortable couch, and I do put pecans in the waffles." He looks at Dom. "On the other hand, I think Dom's up to something."

"They’d better be great waffles," Billy muses aloud.

"They'll be unforgettable," Dom promises.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Billy isn't used to struggling with his conscience, but then again, his life isn't usually this complex. His conscience says, 'Stay away, lay low, and don't get involved with these nice blokes.' But Billy never listens to his conscience, anyway.

He's going to do it, Billy realizes as they get up to leave the table. He's going to move in with Dom and Orlando, and pump them for background on the station, all the news and rumors that only friends will repeat to friends. It's low and slimy of him, admittedly, but Billy knows that it's a fantastic opportunity, and he's been around long enough to know that great opportunities in life are few and far between.

Just keep your hands off Dom, Billy tells himself sternly. It's one thing to use the Englishman for information; it's another thing entirely to use him for… Billy glances down at the other man, his breath catching at the sparkle in Dom's expressive eyes, and he remembers how warm Dom had been in his arms. The far too brief kiss they shared. Just thinking about Dom is a bad idea.

Waffles and gossip, yes. Dom and shagging, absolutely no.

Excusing himself, Billy digs his mobile out of his pocket to call and cancel his motel reservation. Remember, he tells himself firmly. Be virtuous.

It'll be a nice change for him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"What are you up to?" Orlando asks Dom after Billy has stepped outside to call the motel.

After pushing his chair in, Dom squares his shoulder. "I'm going to shag him." Unfortunately, it sounds pretty stupid when he says it out loud. Bugger.

"What?"

"I have a plan. He'll be like penicillin."

When Orlando looks up at him as if he's a complete nutter, Dom elaborates, warming to the topic as he explains. "Michael's just a bad habit, like a virus. All I need is an antidote. I'll shag Billy, and then I'll be over Michael."

Groaning, Orlando covers his face with his hands. "Even for you, this is a dumb idea."

"Why?" Dom asks. "It's working great so far. I don't think about Michael much at all when I'm around Billy."

"And what are you going to do to get over Billy?"

"I won't have to," Dom argues. "From now on, I'm just concentrating on my career. Billy's just a shag."

After dragging long fingers through dark curls, Orlando looks at Dom as if he's demented. "Except that you're not the kind of bloke who has casual shags. And you're already concentrating too much on your bloody career. That's how you ended up with Michael. He was convenient. Something tells me that Billy is not the sort of bloke you just forget."

"I'm not twenty-one anymore," Dom points out, now exasperated. "I'm tired of getting all wrapped up in a bloke and then trying to cope when he's gone. I want a nice, simple, short, purely sexual shag, and then I can forget about Michael. And Billy's out of here in six weeks, he said so. This is perfect."

"No," Orlando corrects, speaking very slowly. "This. Is. A. Very. Dumb. Idea."

"Listen," Dom replies, fighting back the anger that suddenly threatens to overtake his voice. "I know how dumb I am. I know Michael is worthless. I knew it when I was with him, but I kept making excuses. And now I'm bloody well stuck in this fucked up thing where I want to be with him, and I don't even know why. Haven't you ever wanted somebody you knew wasn't worth it?"

"Yes," Orlando admits with a sigh. "I imagine almost everybody has."

"Well, all I'm trying to do is get over it." Determined, Dom pushes out his chin. "Is that so bad?"

"No." Orlando rises from his chair and the sympathy in his deep brown eyes almost lays Dom out flat. "No, of course not. But Billy is . . . well . . . I don't think I'd mess with Billy. He looks like the kind of bloke who makes an impression."

"Not on me." Glancing over his shoulder, Dom spots Billy walking toward them. He looks wonderful, strong and compact, solid and fun. But not permanent. Dom could take him or leave him. Or take him and leave him. No problem.

As he arrives at the table, Billy smiles at the two men. "Let's get out of here. You can tell me all about the station. Leave nothing out, no matter how disgusting. I'm braced for anything."

"Good," Dom replies.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The three men take a quick tour of the town that Billy will call home for the next while in the September dusk, the streets unfolding before him like a set of sepia-toned postcards. There's a white filigree bandstand in the park, a narrow Main Street dotted with unique storefronts, full of character, and a city hall that looks like a glowering, gargoyled sandstone castle.

"Bless the historic preservationists," Orlando tells Billy with a firm nod. "They fight tooth and nail to keep this side of town pure. Of course, over on the other side of town, it's an entirely different story."

"But even the preservationists can't save city hall," Dom adds ruefully.

"They're going to tear down that building?" Billy asks, craning his neck to look back at the ornate structure. He's not a historic-building nut by any stretch of the imagination, but tearing down something that magnificently outrageous seems a real waste.

"I think their just going to abandon it," Orlando says with a shrug. "Too hard to heat or something. They've got a new building all planned, and there's a model of it in the basement of the old building. It looks like shite."

The car is guided around a corner, and a few minutes later, early evening continues losing its daily battle to night, causing it grow dark outside.

"What happened?"

"This is better known as Eastown," Dom explain, pointing out the window. "See? The streetlights go out, but nobody fixes them. It can be dangerous at night."

"In defense of the city maintenance department, they try." Orlando slows the car to let a weaving pedestrian cross the street. "The vandalism around here is pretty frequent."

"Not that frequent," Dom retorts. "These people get taken for a ride, all because of their economic standing."

Looking around at the peeling paint, broken steps and a derelict grocery shop, Billy tries to imagine what it was like in it's glory.

"A lot of drugs down here?" he asks.

Dom shrugs. "Probably, but I hear the best place to score is in the park."

"So much for the perfect small town."

Unable to hold it back, Dom sighs heavily. "It used to be sort of like that. A lot of family run businesses that were passed down through the generations, run by people who called you by name. Most of them are gone now, run out by the big chain shops." Peering out the window, Dom's gaze slides over another corner shop left standing empty. "You know, I don't think there are any independent grocery shops left in within the town limits."

"It's a shame," Billy says absently.

This place is certainly not a hotbed of crime, so what the hell is going on at a small radio station to warrant Ian calling in the favor of Billy coming in to play amateur detective?

One thing is for certain. Something doesn't make sense. That, coupled with the knowledge that Ian is a man notorious for getting his own way, no matter what the cost, makes Billy suspicious. Ian's most definitely up to something.

Billy is quiet for the rest of the tour, listening as Dom and Orlando talk, smiling despite himself when they come to a better part of town, full of old frames houses and big front porches. This is the kind of town Billy always liked as a lad, and for that reason, he's avoided stopping in them, on the grounds that he might stay. Take a permanent job. If things go the way they usually do, he'd be promoted, and then be in charge. Then he'd be everything he doesn't want to be.

No town is worth that. No matter how tempting.

Orlando guides the car around another corner, and a few minutes later they're in a more modern neighborhood, passing a mall that stretches over several blocks.

"There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye," Dom tells Billy, and the Scotsman finds himself wondering just how much more there is.

How much does Dom know, and how long will it take Billy to get it out of him?

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It's getting late when they get back to the flat Dom and Orlando share, having stopped at the restaurant so Billy could pick up his car. He's followed them, parking behind Orlando on a side street, the sound of traffic a short distance away. Locking the door and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Billy rejoins them, and then Orlando gestures at a three-story white brick house. "This is us. Three flats. We've got the second floor."

It's simple, but elegant in it's proportions, and Billy feels good just looking at it. "Very nice," he comments before following them up the wide stone steps and into a cream-walled hallway.

It's a great house. A comfortable one.

That, unfortunately, makes Billy uneasy. Getting too comfortable will be bad because he's leaving in November. Maybe he'd be better off in a shite motel.

"Come on up, Billy," Dom calls to him from the stairwell, his voice warm and inviting, and Billy finds himself climbing the steps without even thinking about it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Dom gives Billy a tour of their flat, starting in a relaxing, cream and blue living room with two couches, several lamps and a tall bookcase just shy of overflowing, due to an impressive DVD and CD collection. A television and stereo system is tucked into a corner by the window, easily accessible but not overpowering the room. Next is the kitchen, crisp white and stainless steel with enough room for a full-size table and a mass of cooking gear. Orlando's loo is decorated in several shades of green, and in Billy's estimation, is about the size of his last flat, with a claw foot tub about the size of his bed.

Orlando's bedroom is tastefully decorated in grey and red, and after moving down the hall, Dom shows the Scotsman his bedroom. Earthy tones of taupe and chocolate on the walls and floor, along with golden pine furniture make Billy smile, as it suits Dom perfectly. So does the unmade bed, a stack of loose papers on one of the night stands and reading material on top of the bureau. A quick peek into the loo tells Billy that Dom likes to have fun with color, too, if the rainbow of mismatched towels and cheerful rubber duckie shower curtain is any indication.

It all confirms Billy's suspicions that Orlando and Dominic are wonderful, warm, giving blokes who shouldn't be allowed out of their flat without a keeper.

"This is great," Billy says when they're back in the living room, sprawling comfortably on one of the couches. "But you two are off your heads."

"Why?" Dom inquires as he flops down on the other end of the couch Billy has selected.

"I'm a complete stranger and you invited me into your flat, showed me everything you own." Not quite able to believe it, Billy shakes his head at them both. "You're asking to get burgled."

"No, we know Ian," Orlando corrects mildly before heading towards the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

"Iced tea, please," Dom calls after him, watching Billy shift until he's facing the younger man.

"What does Ian have to do with it?" Billy asks, one eyebrow arched.

Dom wriggles down into the couch cushions, and Billy lets his mind wander for a moment. Dom is as well-upholstered as the couch. Comfortable. Far too easy to sink into and-

"Ian owns the station," Dom explains. "And nothing or nobody gets into the station that Ian doesn't know about. If he hires you, he's seen your baby pictures."

Since Ian has know Billy since before he lost his first set of teeth, that statement is far truer than Dom knows, but Billy's still not convinced. "You're telling me it's impossible for Ian to have hired a wanker? Then how did he get Michael?"

Dom chuckles. "You're biased. Michael's not so bad. He's a little insecure, and he's ambitious for his show, but who wouldn't be?"

"Me."

Orlando comes back into the living room, long fingers bracketing three glasses of iced tea in his hands. "You're not ambitious?" he asks as the Scotsman takes one of proffered glasses.

"No. I'm just here to have a good time," Billy says before leaning back and sipping his tea. It's full and rich, the tea laced with just enough lemon and sugar. Content, Billy settles more comfortably into the couch. "Besides, it's a good thing I'm not ambitious since I'm on from ten to two o'clock in the bloody morning."

In reply, Dom smiles brightly. It's a smile that Billy is quickly learning to associate with Positive Career Talk. "I admit, the time slot could be a lot better," Dom tells him. "But don't worry. I'm going to make you a star."

"No, you're not," Billy corrects, narrowing his eyes at the Englishman. The only thing that's going to save him is that he's on late enough that nobody is going to notice how inept he is. The last thing Billy needs is for Dom to draw attention to him as he makes it perfectly clear that he’s got zero experience as a DJ and then the questions will start. "Don't you even think about holding up a cue card for me. I told you. I don't want to be a star."

Orlando snorts into his glass of iced tea. "You don't have a choice, mate. If Dom wants you famous, you're going to be famous."

"Forget it," Billy tells Dom firmly. "Wipe the thought from your mind."

"We can talk about it later," Dom replies mildly. "Now, tomorrow night's your first show and I thought-"

"Don't," Billy interrupts, scowling at him. "Thinking is bad. Tell me about the other people at the station. I already know about Michael and Jenny."

Dom sits silently with his iced tea, obviously regrouping, so Orlando chimes in to fill the quiet. "Ian owns the station and theoretically runs it as the general manager.

"Theoretically?"

Orlando and Dom exchange glances. "Ian calls her his sister-in-law, though nobody is quite clear on how that works out," Orlando begins. "We don't ask. Anyway, Patty decided about six months ago that she wanted a career in radio. Ian gives Patty pretty much anything she wants, so she's basically running the place now."

Billy quirks an eyebrow at Orlando. This is news that Ian neglected to share with him. "Is that good?"

"I think so," Orlando replies. "She fired Karl."

"He thought aliens were invading the station through the consoles," Dom explains, finally joining the conversation again. "He kept announcing during his show that they were getting closer. It was actually pretty interesting if you suspended logical thought. Patty wanted him gone, but Ian said he was just being colorful."

"And then he shot the console," Billy finishes dryly.

"Yeah. Just last week. Blew the whole thing away," Dom says with a sigh. "At least we gained a new console. And we lost Karl, thanks to Patty."

"Wouldn't even Ian fire him at that point?"

"Ian's ability to ignore anything unpleasant is legendary," Orlando supplies, then rolls his eyes.

"Great." Billy takes a healthy sip of his iced tea, wishing it was scotch. If Ian can ignore somebody shooting up a broadcasting booth, the one anonymous letter that made him call for help must've been a beauty. "Anything else I should know?" he asks, returning his attention to Orlando.

They talk late into the night, Orlando and Dom filling Billy in on the rest of the station personnel, like Andy, the anal-retentive business manager who recites advertising prices in his sleep. The rest of the office consists of Orlando, his assistant, Elijah, who is responsible for the ratings and keeping all the producers informed of them, and Liv the receptionist who knows all the gossip not fit to print.

The broadcasting schedule is divided into four hour shifts. Michael starts the day at six o’clock, followed by Cooking with Peter, a solid and entertaining, cuisine-based show that’s been on the air for nearly a decade. Then there's Cate, the ambitious, chain-smoking afternoon DJ who is breathing down Michael's neck for the prime-time slot, and finally David, who's on right before Billy.

"David's show is from six to ten," Dom tells Billy. "He likes to think he's wild and crazy, but he's really a good bloke with the volume turned up. The louder the better, in his opinion. His real area of expertise is cars, so if you ever have problems with yours, ask David."

"And then there's me."

Dom nods. "Yeah, David's audience usually starts to fade about half nine, and then we had 'Urban' Karl."

It's takes of Billy's strength not to show his relief. "So at the moment, my show has a listening audience of about..."

Dom grins. "Six or seven, maybe. And they're all listening because they're concerned about the alien invasion, and they're waiting for an update."

Giving in, Billy starts to laugh. "Bloody hell. This is going to be awful."

"Then at two o'clock, there's Sean."

"Tell me Sean is normal. Please."

"Well..." Dom stops, obviously searching for the words to describe the man. "Sean is sweet. He talks about things like the power of positive thinking and visualization of your goals and personal auras, and then he plays classical guitar music and Gregorian chants and other..." Dom stops. "I can't really describe Sean. His show is very soothing, and he has his own small, but fanatically loyal following. A couple of years ago he was a completely different bloke, kinda lost, but then something happened, and now this is what he does." Dom shrugs. "I like him. Sean's got a good soul."

"But if he's got such a small following, why is he still on the air?"

"Because he's Sean. Someday, the station will be his," Dom explains. "Patty is his mother."

"So he's the heir? Then why is he on the graveyard shift?"

"Because his following is small," Orlando adds. "Patty got Ian to give Sean the two to six slot to keep him off the streets, so to speak."

Billy takes a deep breath. "So I'm sandwiched between 'Mr. I Like it Loud and Hard' and 'Mr. Good Karma'?"

"Yeah, that's about it."

It couldn't be better. Nobody will hear him.

Unable to stop himself, Billy starts to grin. "I'm in big trouble."

"No you're not." Dom leans forward. "From ten to two you've got a lot of freedom. All the really knee-jerk conservatives go to bed really early and get up with the chickens, which mean your audience, once you build one, will be open to new things. As long as you don't do anything that upsets Ian, you can say anything you want. We can do this, Billy. We-"

"No, we can't." Even though Billy hates to ruin Dom's plans, because he looks even more attractive when he's excited, trying to sell his big ideas to Billy, the fact is, Billy's not going to be a success. "I don't want to be famous. I just want a nice wee radio show for a few weeks. That's all."

Clearly disheartened, Dom shoves his glasses back up his nose. "But Bill-ly-"

"No," Billy says firmly.

Exhaling sharply, Orlando rises to his feet. "I'd love to stay and watch this, but I have to go to work and crunch numbers in the morning. Good night."

Without another word, Orlando disappears into the loo, and Billy leans back on the couch again.

"I think we should talk about this," Dom presses.

"I don't," Billy replies, but Dom does anyway, explaining at length, all the good things that will come his way if he just puts himself in Dom's capable hands.

Billy must admit, if only to himself, that Dom is a very good persuader, and under other circumstances he may have listened just because Dom talks such a good fight. But he's just temporary. He's not staying. He's not going to be a success.

Billy wouldn't mind being in Dom's hands, though. Pressed against his slender body.

Jerking his mind away from that thought, he watches Orlando emerge from the bathroom, now wearing a robe, his clothes tucked under his arm.

"Loo's free, Billy. Good night."

Orlando gives Dom a long look, shakes his head, and then disappears into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Suspicious, Billy frowns at Dom. He's abandoned his argument about Billy's career, and is now gazing at him intently, as though sizing him up. It doesn't give Billy a reassuring feeling, knowing that it's likely that Dom's about to try a new attack. "Why did Orli shake his head?" he asks.

"What?" Smiling brightly, Dom rises to his feet, and moves to stand next to Billy. "Never mind. My bedroom, as you know, is right down the hall. Want to see it again?"

"C'mere Monaghan."

Before Dom can protest, he's pulled down onto to the couch, right next to Billy, their shoulders touching, Dom's hand trapped between both of Billy's. "What are you up to? Tell me everything. Now. I can take it."

"I was going to tell you," Dom says, sitting stiff and straight. "I just wanted to be in my pajamas to do it."

"Pajamas?" Clamping down on his evil, lustful thoughts, Billy pats the top of Dom's hand. "Well, I'm sorry I'm going to miss that. Why your pajamas?"

Dom sighs heavily. "Orli thinks this is a bad idea."

"Orli's no dummy. If he thinks it is, it probably is."

"I think so, too. Forget it." With surprising speed, Dom stands up again, only to be stopped by Billy grabbing his hand again.

"Oh no, you don't. Just in case you change your mind, I need to be prepared. Are we going to cover Michael's car with shaving cream? Put hot sauce in Jenny's diaphragm?

Dom sinks down beside Billy again. "All right. I have a favor to ask."

Smiling, Billy tries to look encouraging. "Shoot." Dom looks so uncomfortable, and Billy's ready for anything.

Mustering up his courage, Dom takes a deep breath. "I want you to sleep with me."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A long moment passes while Billy doesn't say anything, and finally, Dom steals a glance at him.

In a word, Billy looks stunned.

Cursing himself, Dom tells himself that he should've known it wouldn't work. He’s just not the seducing type. Flopping back against couch, utterly defeated, Dom swallows hard, trying to find the words to explain.

"I know it's dumb, but I had this plan. I thought maybe if I slept with someone else, I'd get over Michael permanently. Sort of getting right back on the horse after you've been thrown."

Billy makes a sound like a strangled laugh.

"What did you say?"

"I whinnied."

Dom tries to fight back a smile and loses. "Wanker. You laughed. Okay, go ahead. I'll just…" The words are too dumb to say aloud, so he shuts up and shrugs instead.

Leaning back, Billy tips his head to one side. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Hesitating for a moment, Dom gives in. "Well, it's hard to explain without sounding like a complete git. Everybody at the station think Michael is God. We were working together, making the show a hit, and then we starting sleeping together. It just felt right, I guess." He wrinkles his nose in thought, causing his glasses to shift. "And he was good to me."

Dom then turns his head so their eyes meet, trying to make the Scotsman understand. "I know he wasn't impressive today, but he really was good to me. I've never been that anxious to settle down, but I thought we'd be together forever, working on the show." Then Dom shakes his head in disgust. "It was completely daft, but it's still hard to give up. And I still miss it." Pausing, Dom frowns. "But you know, I think I miss the relationship more than I miss him."

Now it's Billy turn to shake his head. "Everybody at the station thinks he's God? They must be fucking morons."

"Not all of them. Just me."

"If you're going to feel sorry for yourself, get your arse off my couch and go to your room," Billy states bluntly.

In response, Dom relaxes into the plush cushions. "You know, I'm a very good producer. I just can't handle my love life."

Billy snorts. "You and about twenty million other blokes."

"How do you do it?" Dom asks after rolling his head sideways to look at the other man.

In response, Billy grins. "Not very well. I have this commitment problem."

"You and about twenty million other blokes," Dom fires back, grinning as well. "Big deal. I bet once it's over for you, it's over. I bet you don't go obsessing about it afterward."

"No, but then I've never loved anyone enough to obsess about it."

"Well, that's just my point." Dom sits up again. "I'm not sure I loved Michael. I didn't even like Michael much towards the end, which may be one of the reasons he dumped me. But I was used to being with him, working on the show, yeah? I'm just . . . stuck in this stupid rut, and I need something to bounce me out of it."

Billy gives Dom a look that is confused, but not condescending. "So, your plan is that we shag, and then what?"

"Then I'll be over Michael, and we'd go to work."

"A short term arrangement," Billy replies noncommittally, which isn't very encouraging.

Take a deep breath, Dom tries to get back to selling the idea. "Absolutely. One night. Sex. No strings. The last thing in the world I need is another relationship." Frankly, the idea of trying to keep another bloke happy makes Dom tired just thinking about it. "I'm just sick of feeling like I'm going to throw up every time I see Michael."

"You and about twenty million other people."

Dom laughs. "No, really." He tries to be serious. "He's a nice enough bloke. Lots of people like him. His show is very popular. And he takes a nice publicity photo."

"Oh, that's important in radio."

Dom turns to look at Billy when he hears the unmistakable scorn in the Scotsman's voice. "Oh? And what do you do in radio?"

Billy tenses for a moment and then relaxes into the couch. "Well, there used to be a really late show from two to six." When Billy grins at Dom, he grins back because it's impossible not to. "Strange people call from two to six. I'm hoping the ten to two people are at least half as bizarre."

Billy's voice is low, the grin is still there as he talks. That's one of the things Dom likes best about Billy, although, there's a lot to like about Billy. Smiling, Dom leans in a wee bit closer to him. "You like bizarre? They you're going to love WCRB."

"I love bizarre. That's why I let you pick me up."

Billy looks down at him, and Dom swears he sees heat in Billy's green eyes, but then again, what does he know about men?

Before Dom can consider it any longer, Billy stands up and reaches down to tug Dom up as well. "Go to bed, Dom, so I can go to bed." A gentle squeeze to Dom's shoulder. "I'll help you with Michael tomorrow, not by sleeping with you, but now I've got to get some real sleep."

Silence stretches out between the men, their eyes locked and Billy’s fingers warm on Dom’s bicep. They share a long moment, and then it slips away before Dom can grab hold of it.

Well, that’s that.

Without a word of protest, Dom walks down the hall to his bedroom. He should've know it wasn't going to work.

Bugger.

Unless . . .

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Billy watches Dom walk towards his bedroom and tries to feel virtuous for turning him down. He does feel virtuous. He's made a great sacrifice. There's nothing he wants more than to be in Dom's hands.

In Dom's bed.

Naked.

Oh, hell.

Feeling virtuous is a lousy trade for what he's giving up.

Dom stops and then turns back to Billy, a much too innocent look on his face. "How about a much smaller favor?"

"Smaller than sex?"

"Yes," Dom says, drifting back to Billy, causing him to feel wary again.

"What?"

Dom slips off his glasses, tucks them in a trouser pocket and raises his chin. "Kiss me. So I can concentrate this time. I missed it last time, in the pub."

Running his hands through his regrettably thinning ginger hair, Billy knows his instincts are telling him to run, but Dom's standing there with those gorgeous eyes and tempting mouth, and Billy wants it. "You're really something. You treat all blokes you meet like this?"

Dom shakes his head, and Billy watches the light glint in the dark blonde hair as it swings back and forth. "Nope. You just happened to hit me on a very unusual day."

"Lucky me." Billy swallows hard, and surrenders. "Okay. Pucker up, but this time, pay attention. I don't want to have to keep doing this."

A quick nod. "Right." Dom tips his head to one side, and his eyes flutter closed as Billy brings their lips together in a warm kiss.

While Billy means to keep it brief, the softness of the Englishman's mouth as it moves against his takes his breath away. I'm in big trouble here, Billy thinks to himself, and then he stops thinking.

He feels Dom's hand on his now scruffy cheek, and Billy opens his eyes long enough to get a glimpse of long, dark eyelashes. In a word, Dom is intoxicating, and unable to stop himself, Billy opens his mouth, teasing Dom's lips with the tip of his pointy tongue until Dom opens to him, and they can taste one another. Dom's lithe body moves against Billy, and he holds the younger man close, letting his small hands slide up to Dom's shoulders and then back down to the small of his slender back, pulling his hips forward and bringing their growing erections together.

When Billy finally breaks the kiss, both men are breathless.

"Thank you," Dom whispers unsteadily as he steps back, eyes dark with arousal. "That was lovely. Good night." He continues backing away until he reaching the hall, and then turns, disappearing from view.

The moment Dom is out of sight, Billy sits down heavily on the couch, swallows hard and tries to remember where the hell he is.

He's not going to get involved with Dom. He has a job to worry about. He's going to lay low. He's not going to make waves. He's going to do his job and get out. He's going to forget about Dom and get some sleep.

Billy unbuttons his shirt before looking around for his luggage. He doesn't have pajamas, but with Dom flitting about making suggestions, he has to wear something. Shorts and a t-shirt will work. He's digging into duffle bag when Dom reappears, now wearing in a white sleeveless undershirt that hugs his slender frame and dark blue pajama pants that brush the tips of toes. His arms are laden with mocha colored sheets, a forest green blanket and a pillow.

"Here's your sheets and things," Dom says, setting the pile down on the end of the couch. "Do you need anything else?"

Billy clamps down hard on his wayward thoughts. "No. Thank you."

"Good night." For a brief moment, Dom hesitates, and then disappears into his bedroom, the door closing with a soft click.

After locating his shaving kit, Billy carries it into the loo, washing his face and then brushing his teeth with more vigor than necessary. Don't think about him, he tells himself. He gets ready for bed, concentrating on not thinking about Dom, and then he returns to the couch and makes his bed, concentrating on not thinking about Dom, and he gets into bed, concentrating on not thinking about Dom.

It's not working.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Laying in bed, Dom stares at the dark ceiling and thinks about Billy.

He was beautiful, standing there in the living room with his shirt unbuttoned. Dom has been turned on just looking at a bloke before, but certainly not to this degree. Billy's so compact and strong. Lovely. And dangerous.

If they were on television instead of radio, Dom would make Billy leave his shirt unbuttoned. Women would be clawing at the set.

And then there's his mouth. Kissing like that should be illegal. Or at least licensed. Bloody hell.

Covering his face with his hands, Dom groans. Shagging Billy wouldn't be penicillin. Shagging Billy would be like cocaine. Of all the stupid ideas he's had in his life, this is the stupidest.

Why doesn't he ever listen to Orli?

Turning on his side, Dom concentrates on not thinking about Billy.

God, he looks good. And he kisses even better.

Burying his head under the pillow, Dom tries to think about his career.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Unable to sleep, Billy rolls over on the couch. Shagging Dom would be wrong. He's emotionally vulnerable right now. By tomorrow, he'll be relieved that Billy hadn't taken him up on his offer.

Of course, by tomorrow, Billy will be insane with frustration.

It's that bloody kiss. If Dom hadn't asked for the kiss, he wouldn't be thinking about the soft, tempting sweetness of Dom's lips, how it felt to hold the Englishman so close to his body . . .

Rolling over again, Billy tries to think about the anonymous letter, and how he doesn't have a clue about what a DJ does, and how tomorrow night he'll have to do it, concentrating on everything and anything but Dom.

Dom's probably asleep by now, anyway.

It's thinking about his mouth that's the worst.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Sitting up in bed, Dom wraps his arms around his knees.

Not thinking about Billy isn't working. He's nearly breathless with not thinking about him. Dom wants him. He physically aches for him. This isn't the gauzy need he's always assumed was associated with lust. This is unpleasant and uncomfortable and will require full body contact to satiate.

And he's already said no once.

Suppose Dom just strolls out there.

And then what? Strips off his clothing? Does the dance of the seven veils? That will never work. Dom’s an average dancer at best, enthusiasm making up for what he lacks in skill. Production is his specialty, not seduction. Maybe if he makes some cue cards:

’Yes Dom, I'd love to shag you. Take off your clothes.’

Right. That will work.

Besides, Billy's probably already asleep.

Letting his head drop forward to his knees, Dom moans softy. He's never going to get to sleep.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Frustrated, Billy sits up and puts his head in his hands. He's never going to get to sleep. He wants Dom so much now, he's throbbing with it.

How the hell has this happened?

What difference does it make?

Kicking off the covers, Billy stands up.

He'll just knock on the door. Dom's probably asleep. Then he'll go back to the couch and go to sleep.

Right.

A condom and a small tube of lubricant are retrieved from Billy's shaving kit and tucked into the back pocket of his boxer shorts before he moves silently down the hall to Dom's bedroom.

He knocks softly. "Dom?"

"Come in," he replies.

Dom is sitting up in bed, long arms wrapped around his knees and hair tousled endearingly. The lamp on the night stand casts a weak glow across the coverlet bunched up at Dom's feet. "I can't sleep," he tells Billy.

"Me neither." Billy closes the distance between them and sinks down to sit on the mattress beside Dom. "You and your one last kiss." He brushes the hair off Dom's forehead, gazing intently at the fascinating blue-grey combination of his eyes. "Do you still want that shag?"

"Yes," Dom breathes, and heat flares in him, causing him to shiver.

"Thank God." Billy slides an arm around Dom's slender waist. "Move over."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Chapter 3