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Title: Collide
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: phffft.
Author's Note: Inspired by
"Collide" by Howie Day.
There’s
the screaming, first. Billy’s not accustomed to such a reaction to the
combination of his voice and a guitar. Then there’s the physical and
emotional realization in the morning that he perhaps sang a bit too
much, too loud, too everything.
But the worst thing about having sung in public a few times is that now
it’s come to be expected,
as if Billy’s suddenly become the One Who Sings. Billy supposes there
are worse fates—he could be the One Who Never Shuts Up, or the One Who
Smokes Too Much.
Or the One Who Does All Three.
-------------
Billy la–la–mmmoohs
his way through a few quiet vocal exercises, careful not to wake
Dominic beside him. It’s warm in here, Billy thinks, and while he’s
conscious of the sun streaming through Dominic’s window, Billy knows
the real source of the heat is Dominic himself, specifically his legs,
tangled up in Billy’s—effectively trapping him though Billy has no
plans for escape.
Dominic’s breathing changes, becomes shallow and soft, and Billy pleads
with anyone listening to let him sleep, because Billy is not
ready to face this, not just yet.
And perhaps not for a very long while.
-------------
Billy’s
not ready to face a great deal, actually. Certainly he’s not ready to
leave Dominic again. They had no time at the Oscars for more than the
lightest, least damning conversation, and then there were the parties,
during which he and Dominic both sang to the tune of those screams, and
the chat shows he handled alone.
He returned to Glasgow for
ribbon cutting and gladhanding—both things he does well—but, being the
One Who Sings, Billy knew he would be home less than two weeks before
he was called back to Los Angeles, to sing once more.
-------------
The
One Who Smokes Too Much occasionally leaves messages regarding Dominic
on Billy’s answering machine, messages punctuated by sighs that are
meant to sound long–suffering, but in Elijah’s flat drawl just set
Billy’s teeth on edge.
Think you’d better come out here, Billy. Think you’d better stay.
So
Billy’s been out for a little while now, going to things like that
ridiculous video game party—amusing, yes, for about an hour, but
clearly more Dominic and Elijah’s thing, their set, than Billy’s.
It’s a working holiday, Billy rationalizes to himself, though
he’s not certain which parts are more work.
-------------
Dominic
murmurs something in his sleep and moves closer, his warmth nearly
suffocating Billy. Billy brushes his lips across Dominic’s forehead—an
old, early morning gesture Billy has had neither time nor chance to
unlearn.
Dominic’s face is shadowed by stubble and smeared
eyeliner. He smells and tastes of Parliaments and night–sweat. Billy
closes his eyes and inhales, memorizing this Dominic in the hopes that
the next time he finds himself here, Dominic will smell and taste
clean, new, different and yet the same.
That Dominic’s face will light up again for something more than the
next night out.
-------------
It
does not go unnoticed by Billy that Dominic is never the one to call,
to ask him to return to Los Angeles. The One Who Never Shuts Up is
quick to point out that Dominic is too busy making impressions all over
this city to beg for Billy’s presence, his comfort, even when he most
needs it.
What Astin does not have to say is that Billy is
constantly on Dominic’s mind. Dominic himself makes that clear every
time they share a meal, a laugh, a bed.
And Billy sometimes wonders exactly who is meant to be comforting whom.
-------------
Neither of them are at the best right now.
Yes,
they are doing well enough professionally—better than might be expected
for a pair of interchangeable backup hobbits—but Billy is beginning to
feel his age, and Dominic has long since begun to look his and more.
Still,
while they have not risen to the physical and emotional heights Dominic
still wants—needs—they have also not fallen to the depths and doubts
Billy once feared. Stars reserve the right to not shine on occasion,
and this day—this night, perhaps the rest of this week—is one such
time.
-------------
Billy watches now as Dominic’s eyes
flutter open, closed and open again, and he touches their foreheads
together in a gentle bump, a nudging, grudging acknowledgement of
mutual care. The One Who Does All Three laughs—a dry, cracked sound to
match his dry, hot breath—and bumps back in return, another unlearned
gesture that sends them both sweetly back in time.
“You and I
collide,” Dominic murmurs, and Billy nods, only half–understanding.
“No, we do. You’re everything I’m not, right, and I’ve become
everything you hate—”
“Dominic—”
“And here the only time we bump heads is like this.”
-------------
“Pretty sure I don’t follow you, Dom,” Billy sighs, not long–suffering
at all.
“You do, though, ‘cause I don’t go unless I know you’re going t’follow—”
“You’re
talking crap,” Billy laughs. “Not even poetic crap, either. And you’re
not five minutes awake. This is some kind of record—”
“I love you, Billy. How poetic d’you want me to be?”
Billy inhales again, this time in surprise.
“Give
us a song,” Dominic whisper–coughs, his head falling back to Billy’s
shoulder. Billy catches himself mid–mental argument and smiles as
Dominic’s eyes slide shut.
And the One Who Sings, does.
-------------
Hours
later, Billy wakes again to find himself tangled with Dominic. The One
Who Never Shuts Up and Smokes Too Much and, yes, Sings is just too
heavy, too sleepy for Billy to push away.
Billy has plans for
when they do eventually rise from this bed. Shove Dominic into the
shower, force more than coffee down his throat, make love to him on the
nearest beach. But when Dominic stirs again, Billy readjusts both his
schedule and body, falling upon him.
Give us a song, Billy thinks as he descends. Collide with me
a little more.
And Dominic does.
-------------------
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