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Title: Splintered
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: R for le potty language.
Note: This follows Collide, I think. for slightlytricky and magickalmolly. There is angst here, yes, but something more, too. *loves*


It comes as no shock to Billy that Dominic, once asleep, likes to stay that way for as long as possible. Billy left him hours ago to go for a walk, do some shopping and to just be—away for a little while. Away from Dominic’s messy little house with its untidy kitchen, his messy little bedroom with its untidy sheets.

He’s not angry with Dominic. Far from it. He’s not even sad anymore, now that he’s discovered there’s something to be done for Dominic and—better—discovered that he’s the one to do it. Billy’s been teased before over his tendency to hover around Dominic, but now, after all the calls and letters, all the unsubtle hints, Billy knows he was justified in his earlier actions, and if he’s irritated with anyone, it’s himself—for throwing his hands in the air after the last pickups and leaving Dominic to his churlish habits.

For leaving Dominic, full stop.

He can fix this, just as he’s fixed things in the past. Granted, it’s not Dominic’s heart that’s broken at the moment—it’s most of his life, a life already somewhat splintered and held together by Corona and leather and hair gel—but Billy still has no doubt in his abilities.

He crawls up the side of Dominic’s bed, bearing gifts of several different kinds, and smiles when Dominic turns over to his stomach, releasing nothing more than the sleepiest of sighs.

“Don’t wake up,” Billy whispers. “Don’t spoil this for me.”

::

Already, Billy’s tumbled Dominic from bed and into a shower, and convinced him that Parliaments are not part of a complete, nutritious breakfast. But while Dominic has accepted Billy’s suggestions and care, he hasn’t said very much. That alone would ordinarily make Billy nervous, especially after Dominic’s earlier slurred confession of love and more—but for now, Billy’s content to allow Dominic his silence,

Silence makes it easier for Billy to draw Dominic’s sheet up to the back of his thighs, to see the hard, tanned muscles there. The weaker Dominic’s heart and mind become, the stronger his body seems, at least to Billy’s keen eyes. Dominic’s legs are lean now from running, from the martial arts and yoga, and while Billy’s not found occasion to test that strength in any but the most pleasurable ways, he smiles to think that one day he’ll race Dominic again—and he may even let Dominic win.

Billy’s hands stroke up Dominic’s calves now, warm and smelling faintly of tea leaves. He knows he doesn’t have long before Dominic wakes under the attention, but he can’t find it in himself to rush things. The oil feels good on and in between his fingers, and he tries to transfer that feeling into Dominic’s skin with slow, certain movements.

When Dominic stretches beneath him and makes to turn over again, Billy presses one hand to his back and shakes his head.

“Y’don’t listen, do you, Dom?” he smiles. “Just this once, I’m letting you rest.”

::

Dominic settles back down, resting his head on crossed arms, on the smashed and wrinkled piece of covered cotton batting he calls a pillow, and Billy waits for his eyes to close again. When they do not, Billy frowns and resumes his work, trailing his fingers up the back of Dominic’s knees. Dominic shifts, a breathy laugh escaping his lips, and Billy’s frown disappears, just like that.

When his hands splay, moving to Dominic’s thighs and kneading harder, slower, Billy thinks that he might be receiving more comfort from this than Dominic. After all, Dominic doesn’t appear to be getting hard, doesn’t appear to be sweating just a little. Billy swallows and tries to concentrate—tries not to wish himself back into Dominic’s body so soon, however much he wants it, and however much Dominic would welcome him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, softly, and Dominic hums, a peaceful sort of noise, but doesn’t elaborate. Billy’s fingers press harder, and Dominic sucks in air between his teeth before Billy apologizes. “Didn’t mean to—Dom, this morning … you told me something—“

“That I loved you,” Dominic murmurs. “I did. I do.”

Billy swallows again, nodding though he knows Dominic can’t see it. His hands rise, this time slipping underneath the sheet to rest on the curves of Dominic’s ass. And he can hardly breathe now from the warmth coursing through him, the speed of his own blood.

“Billy,” Dominic whispers, but does not move. “Billy, talk. Say something.”

::

Billy inches up the bed, straddling Dominic but keeping his weight above Dominic’s body. There’s heat trapped between them now, overwhelming and yet just right. Billy leans down to brush his lips over the tip of Dominic’s ear, then to his neck, before he speaks.

“You’re ill, Dominic,” he sighs. “I think … I think you need a friend more than a lover, and I can’t—I don’t think I can be both, not after this morning, not after last night—“

“Last night, what—“

“I’m going to fuck this up,” Billy says, and the words rush from him. Dominic moves, spinning beneath Billy like a trapped, feral cat to face him with wide, bright eyes. Billy remains still, propped on his hands and knees, keeping himself from falling onto Dominic with a desperate need he thought was Dominic’s, not his own.

“You really think I’ve lost it, don’t you?” Dominic says, understanding and hurt at once. “Think I don’t care anymore what I’m doing or who I’m doing, is that it?”

“Dom, no—"

“Do you believe everything you hear, Billy?” Dominic’s voice is thinner now, brittle, just on the edge of fierce. “Everything you’re told? How dare you not just ask me, instead of—" A hard breath, and when Billy moves to crawl backward, away from Dominic’s anger and his eyes, Dominic catches his arms and holds him fast.

“I didn’t ask you come and fix me,” Dominic hisses. “How fucking dare you think you could.”

::

“I’m sorry,” Billy whispers, struggling in Dominic’s grasp. “I thought—before—"

Dominic shakes him then, not viciously, but hard enough to quiet Billy completely. Dominic stares him down until there’s no fight left in Billy, and Billy thinks suddenly that he was so incredibly wrong, that he wouldn’t dream of testing the strength of Dominic’s heart like he does Dominic’s body.

“I never called you,” Dominic continues. “And I didn’t make you come here. I hardly spoke to you at the parties this time, Billy, after what you did on fucking camera, on tv—and I fucking left you alone because you’re the most untouchable fucking person I know, and you show up now—"

“They asked me, they told me—"

“And I fucking end up in bed with you, when I said never fucking again, and I tell you the truth, your damn truth, and you think that making me eat and drink and shower’s going to make everything right? You come here and fuck me and sing to me in my fucking sleep because they asked you to? Because Elijah thinks I’m going to drive off into the ocean someday? Because Sean’s waiting for me to walk into the wrong party and leave through the back door on a fucking stretcher? Is that what this is about?”

“No, no—"

“I hate you,” Dominic says, and it’s the clearest he’s sounded since Billy arrived. “And I love you enough to not fucking care that I do.”

::

His hands fall from around Billy’s arms, and Billy falls, too, scrabbling wildly to get away. Dominic stills him again, this time more gently, but Billy can hear and feel their hearts beating much too hard, much too fast.

“You never come because you want to,” Dominic whispers. “You never come just for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy says again. “I wanted to help you.”

“Why can’t you just—" Dominic sighs. “Fucking hell. Get out, Billy. Just go.”

“No, never.”

“Then stay for me,” Dominic says hotly, sitting up and dislodging Billy from his perch. “Not because you want to fix me. I’m going to smoke, and I’m going to drink, and I’m going to sleep all fucking day if I want. This is who I am, and if it’s not enough—if I’m something you need to fix, Billy, then I don’t want you here.”

“I want to stay.” Billy ducks his head, face flushed, his hands in small, tight fists. “Y’can do what you like, Dom. I want to stay.”

It’s minutes before Billy looks up, waiting for Dominic’s anger to rise again—or for his exhaustion to make this discussion over at least temporarily. Dominic meets his eyes and reaches for Billy’s hand, uncurling his fingers one by one and pulling him closer, until they’re back against the mattress and in slow, familiar motion.

“I’m sorry,” Billy whispers, and Dominic stops him with another breathless kiss.

“Don’t talk anymore,” he says gently. “Don’t spoil this for me.”


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