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A partridge in a pear tree: All Apologies

“And here I thought you’d be tired of climbing trees by now.”

Billy’s voice is very amused, and Dominic doesn’t even bother to look down from the branches in which he sits. In fact Dominic something ten miles beyond tired, but not of sitting in trees. After spending the day in Penrith hunting (or in Dominic’s case, failing spectacularly at hunting) with Billy, Elijah and more of their friends than he’d anticipated, he’s earned the right to a little peace—and a little time to, well, apologize to nature, Dominic supposes, for the ruckus they all caused.

For someone as instinctively competitive as Dominic, the day should have been fantastic. But from the first moment he’d raised his rifle, Dominic had felt unsettled—not exactly wrong, but not anything close to right—and he’d rarely raised it again. Elijah had faired better, but not by much. Billy had bagged a few birds, of course, but then—Dominic thinks with a touch of vague bitterness—when does he not?

“It’s quiet now, Dom,” Billy says, and his tone is definitely gentler, aware of how quickly Dominic had left their party of many to climb and roost in one of the enormous trees behind the rented house. “Will y’be coming down soon?”

Dominic thinks of the Christmas he abandoned at home with his family to be with Billy and Elijah. He remembers things like the snow in Berlin and the sound of church bells ringing. Yesterday had been glorious: just the three (out of four) hobbits drinking slowly and talking more so all afternoon and evening before opening gifts. And then they had stumbled into bed together—strangely enough, and for the very first time, just to sleep.

Everything seems different now. Not, perhaps, in a bad way, but different.

“Dom?” Billy whispers, his hands now braced against the tree as he looks up into the leaves, focused on Dominic’s silhouette in the fading light. “Dom, would you talk to me, please?”

“Did you get what you wanted for Christmas, Billy?”

Dominic can see Billy’s slight frown even all the way up here, and hear the breath Billy takes before he answers. “I did, yes. You?”

“Almost everything.”

“Almost.”

“Mmm.”

“Dom, today wasn’t … I didn’t expect all those people, really. It just sort of happened under me, and it’s hard to tell people to—I don’t know, fuck off—on Boxing Day. Some of them had nowhere to go, and some of the others were trying to get away from everything as much as we are. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a good friend, Billy. Don’t apologize.”

Billy heaves a sigh, one that Dominic knows means they aren’t finished with this discussion, but Billy’s too tired to argue at the moment.

“Dom, it’s really getting cold now, come on, I’ve got a good fire going—“

“Billy, shut it, just a minute, hang on—“

Dominic rises up suddenly like a cat on the branch he’s been straddling, peering up beyond the leaves to the sky. It’s gone abruptly blue–black while he and Billy have been talking, and Dominic can hear the sound of birds chuffing so near. Another few seconds and Billy hears it too, holding his breath to wait for more.

“Come up,” Dominic whispers, waving Billy upward. “Hurry, come on. Up.”

Billy scales the tree haphazardly, made slow by the darkness and by the two glasses of whiskey he’s already consumed tonight. His pace seems to take him by enough surprise that he doesn’t resist Dominic’s offer of help to clear the last criss-crossed nest of branches, and when Dominic holds him steady against the trunk and points toward another group of trees close by, Billy smiles and hears the noise again.

“Partridge,” Billy sighs. “Apparently we missed a few.”

“Good,” Dominic says sharply, and Billy raises his eyebrows. “I mean. Yeah, I mean good. No need to be greedy and all that.”

“No, of course not.” Billy looks carefully at Dominic, gauging his mood and trying a little too hard, in Dominic’s view, to ride the wave of it. “Look, Dom, I know today was hard for you, but if you’d said something we could have shut it down earlier, you know. Come home and moved everyone out before the sun went down—“

Dominic shakes his head and smiles, pleased that nature seems to have accepted his apology. He leans down a few inches to press his lips to Billy’s and savour Billy’s response—a slow weakening of words and legs and will.

“Where’s Elijah?” Dominic whispers, his tongue flickering over Billy’s already swollen bottom lip.

“Asleep, I left him asleep, in front of the fire … Dom. Dominic. We can’t do this here—“

“Never said we were going to,” Dominic laughs softly. “You’re a lot fucking louder than a partridge in a pear tree.” Billy’s eyes snap open wide, and Dominic kisses him again soundly, ignoring the protesting scuffle of Billy’s shoes against the branch beneath them.

“You’re not expecting anyone tomorrow, right?” Dominic breathes in Billy’s ear. “No boys from the pub? No girls from the village?” Billy’s eyes have fallen shut again, and he shakes his head silently. “Good, and I mean that, too. I want to stay in bed, Billy. All night and at least half the day. With you.”

“Elijah—“

“Elijah’s got a pair of eyes and a right hand,” Dominic whispers again, and Billy releases a shattered little breath. “He’ll manage.”

“I thought—“

“What did you think?” Dominic’s smile is fierce, but his eyes are very gentle. Billy tries again, and this time the words are clearer.

“I thought you’d be tired of, of just me. Of just us. By now.”

Dominic touches their foreheads together and just lets them breathe for a moment before answering. In Billy’s eyes he can see the snow in Berlin, and in Billy’s hushed panting he can hear church bells ringing.

“Well then you thought wrong, didn’t you, mate? So very wrong.”


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