fic: Till it Bleeds Daylight

[kiltsandlollies.livejournal.com]

Title: Till it Bleeds Daylight
Rating: R
Summary: A reunion in and of itself, during the Toronto Empire reunion interview/photoshoot.

Dominic’s discovered over time that there are things for which no amount of hellish email thread planning can prepare you, and one of those things is Billy’s mood upon arrival anywhere but on his own home soil. Billy can be counted on to be polite—always, even when the energy it sometimes takes seems to cause new grey to sprout from his temples in real time as Dominic watches—but not for much else. When they meet on holiday, Billy’s rested and chipper, chirpy, even, to Dominic’s often simultaneous disgust and amusement, but when he’s away from home working–but-not–really, he can be more churlish than anyone might guess. Anyone who hasn’t known him as long as Dominic has, anyway, or hasn’t seen that guard of politeness drop into something Dominic’s always found far more interesting.

It’s because of the work–that’s–not–really–work that Billy’s the last to arrive for the long day they all have ahead of them now, sitting, standing, posing, and prattling for Empire’s reunion special. He tumbles in with bag in one hand and coffee in the other, a pair of ridiculous sunglasses hiding eyes that are squinting anyway from the day’s glare. Dominic’s the first to see him from across the room that’s been prepared for Round Innumerable of what Dominic’s been calling Hot Hobbit Foursome Action—always initial-capped, never in the italics he’d seen used in email reply, Elijah, or set as an acronym, SEAN—and he leaps from his chair to envelop Billy in an embrace that makes Billy grunt in feigned annoyance before Dominic feels him sagging and stands straighter, bringing them both back to full height and strength.

“Ready?” Dominic asks him, his grin wide and fierce, and Billy’s shoulders drop before his smile rises, and he nods.

::

There’s none of the mellow fashionable flurry Dominic expects to how they all stumble and slide into the more formal clothing both Dominic and the photographer had demanded they bring with them; instead, it’s almost boring—Elijah and Dominic simply nod in approval at each other’s lapels and trousers while Sean shakes his head and tells them with his typical barefaced honesty that they all look like they’ve actually grown the hell up. Billy snorts into his collar as he works the buttons of his waistcoat closed, and because it’s the privilege of the oldest who finally looks it, the others ignore him at first, and then Dominic suddenly really doesn’t; he’s too busy doing the polar opposite of ignoring, in fact nearly absorbing Billy from where he stands several safe feet away. Billy looks, well, good—good enough that Dominic just comes right out and licks his lips like no one else is in the room and Elijah whoops like a disturbed crane and skips out of the room allegedly for a cigarette, if cigarettes came wrapped in knowledge and noisy laughter.

Billy feels the weight of Dominic’s stare after a minute but doesn’t flinch from it; he’s moving into the sort of gear that has never not thrilled Dominic, and when he turns his head and smiles at Dominic, throwing the challenge back at him, Dominic takes a deep breath and sets his smile thinner, tilting his own head as if asking a question he hasn’t said aloud in almost a year and going a little pale when Billy answers it just as silently. Dominic recovers quickly and purses his lips, giving Billy the full well-wait-a-minute treatment, and then Billy laughs, raucous and loud and pleased with them both as Dominic turns on his heel and walks out.

::

However much Dominic’s determined not to think about what’s just happened, what might happen, it’s not really something he can control, any more than he could control exactly what everyone would wear, exactly what they would listen to as they strutted behind the warehouse or slumped around the table in their tired finery. When Dominic’s occupied talking with the photographer, Elijah slips behind him and forwards the next song on Dominic’s mix; when Dominic’s kneeling to tie his shoes, Billy brushes past with his coffee and spills an amount of it onto their feet and then just laughs when Dominic sighs. It’s all meant to keep him off-kilter, Dominic decides, and then decides too to just roll with it, and let the shoot happen as it will. Behind the camera Sarah relaxes, smiling and encouraging now that Dominic’s been poked into enjoying himself as well as directing them all, and the photos come faster, easier; better, too, Dominic knows.

The crew positions them, splitting them into different twosomes as necessary to get the right balance of shots. When the need arises for solo portraits, whoever’s on the block is given space and time to enjoy it while the others stand back, smoking, drinking, texting or taking photographs of their own. Sarah promises them a host of outtakes, especially the ones in which they haven’t been able to hold a serious expression and so are softly blurred messes, and she hums in concentration as she lines up her last shot of Billy. Dominic reads the situation, reads Billy, too, and then stands to Sarah’s side, lifting his chin in that challenge of a little while before, and then suddenly it’s there, Billy’s expression exactly what Sarah needs, and Dominic has the grace to not actually thump his own chest in triumph.

::

Elijah’s the first to really coo over the table and banquette; he moves inside and across the seat to settle down and wait like a kid for the others to join him. A bottle is thumped down in front of them once they’re seated, and four pairs of eyes flash around before three of them lock as one set on Billy’s. Billy takes his cue and does the pouring, as ever both enabler and alarm system, knowing best how much they can safely enjoy. The stuff’s not what they’d normally go for, but there are beers in the mock-trailer waiting for them later. This is more a prop, or at least it’s meant to be, but then this stylist has never worked with them before, and couldn’t know how little respect they’d have for just holding glasses, like; just pretending to be drinking, when they’ve made an art form of it in reality. Even Sean knocks back a second as the camera clicks, as the crew seats them in different positions, different roles.

Dominic never ends up next to Billy for more than an undecided moment; there’s always the buffer zone, most often of Elijah. Billy doesn’t protest; he’s starting to look tired again—they all are, but Dominic’s not spending time looking at anyone else—and it takes a particularly filthy joke to wake him up, to set that smile of his on fire before Billy ducks his chin and stares at the table like it’s supposed to give up some secret.

“So we need like ten minutes,” Elijah suddenly says, and cameras drop, crew members go still. Elijah’s smiling, though, fingers twitching in the air. “And to get the fuck out of these suits.” Motion carried, everyone exhales and stretches and moves, Billy probably fastest of them all.

::

It’s almost always the same questions, but now they’re burdened with having to dredge up different answers, more so by the need to hold back some things they wouldn’t have before, because there’s so little they haven’t shared, so much they sometimes wish they could take back. Things get a bit awkward when they talk about how often they see or hear from each other, but they get past it, and a slightly reinvigorated Billy displays a unusually shocking and, for Dominic at least, hugely enjoyable lack of propriety whenever he opens his mouth, distracting the interviewer who might have been expecting someone a bit more cuddly, more mature. Dominic loses count of how often all four of them fall out laughing, at Billy as much as with him, and he loves it, just absolutely loves watching Billy so fucking on like he’s never been in any interview Dominic’s been part of.

Ninety percent of this will never make it into the magazine and they know it, so they rip one another mercilessly, stretching jokes thinner than the fabric of Elijah’s more comfortable shirt and passing bottles around, all the stoic, hardass faces of the other photos melting into ruddy joy. The camera doesn’t stop whirring, and for that Dominic’s stupidly grateful; he wants to see this, too, this inane, overwhelming collapse that’s never been professionally recorded but happens every time they’re all in a room together, whether it’s a happy occasion or one of their increasingly rare interventions. When the interviewer shows his palms and leans back in his chair to start winding them down, only Dominic seems to notice, and it takes more strength than he wants to admit to get the others to acknowledge it, too.

::

After the last photo’s been taken and the last question’s been asked, after they’ve thanked everyone and handed Sarah the bottle they’d managed not to open, the four of them circulate slowly around each other, finding something kind to say, some touch not made in jest or for anyone else’s benefit. Billy and Sean huddle for ages, leaving Dominic with Elijah long enough for the two of them to reach a point where before they might’ve started getting antsy, restless and ready to move to the next bar, the next toy, the next anything. They’re all older now, and when Elijah looks over Dominic’s shoulder and smiles at the ancient half of the their four-planet universe comparing iPhone photos, it’s with understanding more than eye-rolling, and when Dominic follows Elijah’s stare it’s with the knowledge that there are only moments to go before the planets realign.

Sean yawns first, a signal obvious enough that they all laugh, and then he stands, moving to catch Elijah gently by the scruff and walk them both away for a scolding-that-isn’t, a goodbye that can’t ever actually be. Elijah goes willingly, happily even, and Sean fucking beams as he pulls Elijah tight into his side and they disappear.

Billy’s too lazy to shift or sigh to get Dominic’s attention, so instead Dominic turns around and just stares at Billy, relaxed now in the banquette like he never was when the cameras were going. Billy’s yawn is longer than Sean’s, leaving him boneless when Sean’s had seemed to energized him, and Dominic clenches his fists a little before he takes the next steps necessary, back to Billy.

“Ready?” Billy asks him, slurry and soft and tired, and Dominic feels his face flush hot and dark before he laughs and tries not to sprain something nodding.

::

For once Dominic’s careful to do this slowly; until several minutes pass there’s the chance Sean and Elijah might return, and not just to collect their things. But there’s also Billy, about as haggard and in need as Dominic’s seen him in the past few years, certainly as much as he’d been the last time they’d done this, in the back of Dominic’s shitty rental car in the middle of the longest, hardest, late December night of Dominic’s life, and he’s had a lot of them to compare.

Billy’s restless around him, pulling at Dominic’s complicated zippered hoodie thing as Billy describes it, twisting the fabric in his hands. Dominic shucks it, wincing when it hits the floor and all those zippers clatter, but Billy doesn’t notice or doesn’t care; whatever he’s had pent up all day is releasing itself all over Dominic now, and Dominic loves it, loves being one of only two people able to get Billy to this point. The thought of that other person forces itself into Dominic’s mind, however hard he tries to push back, and he rises up on his hands above Billy, who stares up at him like Dominic’s lost his mind.

You don’t sleep with married people, Dominic reminds himself of his longstanding internal promise, but doesn’t actually say it; you don’t fuck around with their lives like that. Billy shifts beneath him, face flushed now, too, in what Dominic recognizes from experience as that rare mix of fear and anger Billy doesn’t let anyone else see, doesn’t let Dominic see if he can help it.

“Dom,” Billy says hotly, and Dominic blinks, shakes his head and starts to speak, but Billy grits his teeth and pulls him down and just says please like it’s the last word he’ll ever get out.

::

It’s one of the rarer invitations Dominic’s ever received, one of those things Billy just doesn’t say unless he has to when they’re together. Dominic’s got Billy’s jeans half-opened before he stops again, wondering just what Billy’s asking for here, just what’s worth cheating on someone for, what Billy needs, what’s worth risking a lot more than they ever have before, it feels like, for—well, for Dominic, who’s suddenly not sure he’s worth that kind of effort.

“If you don’t stop thinking, I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Billy says quietly, his eyes at half-mast and his smile very thin. “And if you believe I haven’t done the thinking for both of us here, you’re fucking wrong.”

“Both of us,” Dominic murmurs, but his hands are moving again, tugging at Billy’s jeans, and Billy raises his hips in weak assistance. “Just both. Because it’s not just—both of us, Bill—”

Billy nods ferociously, pulling Dominic back down again, nearly tipping him off Billy entirely. “If you believe I did all that thinking myself, you’re wrong there, too. We all would be.” Billy closes his eyes fully now and tightens his grip on Dominic’s arms even as the rest of his body gives in, to exhaustion and more. “Dom, please—”

Second invitations are rarer still, and Dominic knows what they cost Billy; more, he knows what it feels like to offer them himself and experience that agonizing wait for the acceptance or rejection. The briefest thought that he could stop this, could walk away right now with the clearest possible conscience makes itself known, but Dominic pushes that to one side, too, and takes Billy at his word, believes that he at least knows what they’re doing and understands why. Dominic will get there soon enough.

::

What’s clear is that they’re not going to actually fuck; there’s not enough space to make that comfortable option and neither of them is much inclined to move. Now that Dominic’s stopped thinking for a moment, Billy takes over as much as he’s able, pushing his hands inside Dominic’s trousers and laughing darkly when Dominic arches his hips against Billy’s and gasps, his body’s memory of Billy’s touch back at full force.

Dominic’s not as easy as he looks, though; he knows how to play Billy, too, and he brings them both up to sit so that he can get Billy’s shirt open and then off, leaving Billy’s chest bare for the sort of sensory overload admiration that makes him twitch and Dominic grin fiercely again, before he pushes Billy back down and sets to work harder than he has in a while, leaving marks and trails and signs and fucking wonders, thank you, all proof of what all that thinking will get you.

And it’s fantastic, brilliant, perfect just like this; it’s everything Dominic remembers from the last time and every time before that he’s capable of remembering. Dominic’s never bought into the idea that there is one person with whom you utterly and completely fit, but Billy’s the closest he supposes he might ever come to that, and the feeling’s been mutual for longer than Billy’s admitted, maybe longer than Dominic has, too. It’s also messy and stupid, dangerously so, and they both know and feel it, which makes it maybe even more perfect in Dominic’s head, where nothing pretty ever lasts or feels right, never leaves the right kind of mark. This, though, this is right even at its most wrong; this is right even though they’ve both chosen at different times to make it anything but.

::

Dominic’s skin feels scraped raw after several minutes, scored wherever it’s moved against Billy’s body, and Billy’s feeling it, too, he knows; Billy’s short, roughened breaths are going softer, longer, forming words now when Dominic reaches between them and lets his fingers wrap around their cocks and stroke, first far too gently and then maybe a little too hard. Billy tips his head back, opening his eyes for a moment as if in warning, as if Dominic needed that warning after more than a decade of learning Billy this way on and off, a little more every year even when those years had sometimes passed with little to none of this.

Dominic laughs, then lowers his head to brush Billy’s lips with his own, listening for the catch in Billy’s breath as he pulls away and Billy arches up for more, more he gets a little of before Dominic thinks he can try to draw this out a little for himself, do a little bit of that thinking and make Billy look him in the eye before he lets them both get what they need here. Billy reads him as well as Dominic reads Billy, though, and there’s only a certain level of Billy’s dilated, greedy stare Dominic can handle before he breaks first, and he reaches that level quickly, biting his lip almost until it bleeds before Billy’s hand joins his own between them and, well, everybody wins.

“You complete fuck,” Dominic gets out before he collapses, feeling Billy’s weak nod in acknowledgement against his hair. “Bastard. Complete fucking fuck.”

Billy nods some more, says something cheap and quick about Dominic’s way with words, and then there’s nothing for a long while but the sound of shocked breathing going soft and happy and nearly still.

::

Things being what they are, they will eventually have to leave this trailer, and not just because it’s fucking stifling in here now. It, too, was just meant to be a prop, and they’re absolutely no way the stylist could have known what little respect Dominic and Billy have shown almost every trailer they’ve occupied. Dominic’s hand feels sweaty, fingers still curled around the flannel of Billy’s discarded shirt, and he wrinkles his nose a bit against Billy’s chest, too, wondering if this was such a brilliant idea after all, however easily both promises and bodies were broken. When he starts to move—when he’s the first to move, for once—Billy catches his arm, making Dominic look up and frown in concern. Billy’s eyes are barely open, but he looks hunted, almost, cornered, surprised to find himself there but nowhere near the point of actual panic or fight.

“This is going t’get a lot uglier if you don’t let me up,” Dominic says, keeping his smile at just the right level of cheek, but Billy shakes his head, beyond all that bullshit and expecting Dominic to feel the same way, too. “Did we just fuck up, Billy? Because it’s not like it’s the first time.”

Billy shakes his head again, then rasps it out. “Wouldn’t be the last, either. No. No, we didn’t. We’d know, yeah? I think we’d know.”

“You would. I don’t know anything, not about you. Not now.” Dominic knows his smile is more genuine now, knows Billy knows it, too. Billy doesn’t respond, though, and Dominic inches up Billy’s side again, pressing his forehead against Billy’s cheek. “At some point I’m gonna stop breaking promises because of you.”

“Some point,” Billy murmurs, and Dominic nods. “I can live with some point.”

“But not without me.”

::

Now Dominic just flat out grins, waiting for Billy to do the same. “I was serious, though,” he says. “I thought we were done with this, so if we’re not, or if this was some—one-off to go with all the other really intelligent one-offs, I’m good either way, but the smoke signals aren’t working well as they used to, and I actually need to know that, more than I need to know whether we’ve really fucked up. Again.”

“Right.” Billy starts to sit up and falls again. “Look, I was talking shite and you know it. I wouldn’t have done any of this, Dom, I don’t have the energy for it anymore; you were talking about people throwing flowers and I just can’t even get my head around that. I wouldn’t have done this if I hadn’t wanted to see you, if I hadn’t fucking cleared it first for you and your fuckin’ promises, if I hadn’t—”

“Okay,” Dominic cuts him off, not really wanting to hear more, and Billy rubs his hands over his face, groaning behind his fingers, the sound gusty and exhausted and beautiful to Dominic’s ears. “Billy. We can’t stay here. On any level, like. We have to just—go, now. Somewhere. We’ll work out the rest of it later. Just answer me one thing now, yeah?”

“Anything.”

It’s Dominic’s turn to snort, his derisive privilege, too. “Yeah, no, ‘anything’ doesn’t really work for us. Just one thing for now.”

“Just the one.” Billy nods. “Right.”

“Ready?” Dominic asks, grinning and quietly enough that he wants to believe Billy may not have heard it, but Billy’s chest rumbles with more of that laughter he doesn’t release this time until he has to, around the word he hasn’t said aloud once today till now.

“Yes.”

::

Whatever Billy might tell you, Dominic’s no idiot, and he knows the mess is a lot less perfect when it has to be cleaned up, especially when one doesn’t have a lot of help. Billy’s gone boneless again, looking at Dominic with a beatific but just all-too-tired smile as if he’d love to be of use here, but things don’t always happen the way we’d like. Dominic rolls his eyes, huffs and stands up, aching a little more from feeling cramped than from actual exertion, and looks around for something to tidy up, as it were, finding nothing handy but that shirt of Billy, and his consideration of it is maybe the one that could get Billy moving again, reaching out quickly to snatch the flannel from the jaws of sloppy misery, if not actual death, and throw a handful of rough napkins Dominic’s blandly horrified way.

“Shut it. You’ve used worse.”

“The strangest thing is that it only happens that way with you.”

Billy touches a hand to his still bare chest, his smile positively saintly now, and what Dominic’s not used of the napkins flies through the air back at Billy, who catches what he can and takes his time easing back to his feet, cleaning up, just breathing and stretching and sighing while Dominic rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, suddenly eager to get out and into the fading daylight. “Where are you off to?”

“Work,” Billy says simply. “Press. Little press, local. Then I’m just going to—I don’t know, see one of these films or something. One of them that’s not mine. Tired of looking at myself, let’s be honest. Or maybe I’ll go this place I found on Front and Church, this little basement jazz place. You?”

“I actually—” Dominic grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve got dinner. With Elijah.”

“Course you do.” Billy’s laugh is kind, not in the least bitter.

“You were invited.”

“Course I was. No, Dom, go. Look,” he sighs, then meets Dominic’s stare firmly, but still with a smile. “Have breakfast with me. I know a place here.”

Dominic nods slowly. “Send me the address, I’ll be there. If you’re lucky I’ll even be awake.”

“I can’t get much luckier, can I? I don’t think it’d be fair at this point.”

“At this point.” Dominic laughs, then nods at the shirt balled up in Billy’s hand. “Too fucking right it wouldn’t. Get dressed, Bill. You’ll frighten the children if you go out like that.”

Billy shakes his head, but pulls the shirt on anyway, starting for the trailer’s door and turning back to find Dominic hot on his heels, almost thoroughly in his space.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Dom—” Billy starts it as a question, then tapers it off just in time, and Dominic nods again, understanding more than Billy’s ever going to be able to tell him out loud.

“Be ready,” he says quietly, and Billy nods, too.

Comments

[rubyelf.livejournal.com]

There's so much NOT said here, and so much uncertainty but also knowing each other so well, and the way they challenge each other and communicate without words... love it.

[grey-wonderer.livejournal.com]

I liked it. It was all forbidden and messy and unexplained. Oh, and very hot. : )

[carribbe.livejournal.com]

This is just beautiful. I love it!

It's complicated and simple all at the same time. They are hopelessly caught up in each other - one lives just under the skin of the other - still, and always.

Thank you for this very clever and steamy encounter. I hope there are more... :)

[glass-moment.livejournal.com]

Oh, wow, this was just gorgeous. I'd been hoping that someone would do something based on the reunion shoot! I love the tone of this, the way the writing just feels kind of dark and hurty and urgent without ever being over the top soppy angst. All the history and the things left unsaid! I really like this take on their future (er, present).

[juke-box-dive.livejournal.com]

This is really gorgeous, intense and aching in all the right places. I particularly loved your language in the first part and here: "Some point," Billy murmurs, and Dominic nods. "I can live with some point."

"But not without me."

Yes. It may have been from Dominic's POV but it was all about Billy, which I can frankly get behind.

[msilverstar]

This was too much to take in the first time, and now I want to quote every damn line. Gorgeous and wrenching.

[piratesorka.livejournal.com]

I didn't notice who the author was before I began reading then halfway down I began to think it read like something Kiltie would write and LO! So it is.

You are just so amazing. You peg these two with such deliciousness.