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Title: Where You Find It
Author: kiltsandlollies
Pairing: Billy/Dominic (implied Billy/Dominic/Elijah)
Rating: R/NC–17
Summary: Home is behind, the world ahead.
Note: Takes place during filming of Master and Commander, but I’ve played fast and loose with other events in timeline.

Dominic only rolls over when the sun is too warm on his back.

He and Billy have been circling each other all weekend, restless lions who would choose to remain cubs if it were an option. Since the initial fall into bed, the been–too–long tumble, things have been strained—oddly paced, arrhythmic enough that even Dominic, who thrives on that sort of shit, feels ready to pitch over into nothingness every time Billy makes to speak.

It’s only the second weekend in three months that Dominic’s managed to shake Elijah and escape to Mexico himself. And Billy had been pleased, at first. Had murmured down the phone all the things he planned to do to Dominic once he was there. The details pouring from Billy’s mouth had been enough to make Dominic book himself out on the first plane Thursday morning.

Why not start the party early, right?

-------------

Dominic’s never questioned Billy’s desire for her—or for himself. It’s all good, as Elijah is found of saying. And he doesn’t try to sidestep her, either. He actually likes her, and is never surprised to see her at parties or events or even in Billy’s bed at two in the morning after Dominic’s stumbled into the wrong room.

No, surprise is Billy’s area of inexpertise, and that he’s an actor doesn’t at all mean he can hide it. Especially when it’s clear he’s unprepared for Dominic’s arrival—and that he’s not alone.

When she leaves early Thursday evening (an hour and a half before Dominic’s plane normally comes in), Dominic stays behind and waits for Billy to return from the airport. He wanders through Billy’s house—quiet but for the sound of birds outside and the faint breeze—and relishes the feeling of peace.

It can’t last long enough.

-------------

Billy doesn’t waste much time once he’s home. It’s only minutes before Dominic finds himself in a bed that still smells of her, of them, and only minutes more before it’s over—at least for now.

Thursday night passes in a haze, a long cycle of talking and drinking and fucking—or trying to, anyway; more than once they give up completely, instead just resting, exhausted and slick with sweat, against one another, trying to remember why they still even bother.

I think I belong near water, Dominic says, puffing Billy’s bleached and burnt–dry hair away from his lips. On a beach. Billy’s mouth works a little at Dominic’s throat, into a smile or something else, and he laughs in the darkness.

I do, Dominic frowns, and Billy laughs again.

Any particular beach in mind?

Dominic smiles, then, and shakes his head.

I’ll know it when I see it.

-------------

Dominic’s surfing has improved over the past few months, to the point where he looks better out there than even Billy. But he’s had time to practice, hasn’t he? It’s healthier than staying home, struggling with crap scripts and scattered, spinning depression.

He catches Billy staring, peering at him with eyes that look more like green glass than ever before, now that they reflect the waters of Mexico. He’d come home from the set early, and their afternoon’s been spent in the ocean.

“Maybe you do,” Billy says, and Dominic looks up.

“Do what?”

“Belong near water.” Billy reaches for a towel and scrubs at his face and hair. “I’ve got another two weeks here, three at most.”

Dominic nods, waiting for more. Billy sits down in the sand next to him and stares at a sunset he’s seen every Friday night for three months.

“I think you should stay.”

-------------

Billy looks both older and younger here, Dominic thinks as they set out dinner and drinks on the patio behind Billy’s house. When he laughs, Billy’s face rounds out so childlike that Dominic can’t resist smiling in return. In daylight, whether surrounded by his mates or with Dominic alone, the tan suits Billy, as do the local food and beer.

But by moon and lamplight, the lines around Billy’s eyes and mouth seem deeper, and his laughter doesn’t come as quickly. Every one of his thirty–four (thirty–five, Dominic’s certain, but doesn’t have the energy or cheek to confirm) years and more is visible when he turns profile and squints, when he turns silent and sighs.

“If I stayed,” Dominic begins late Saturday night, after Billy’s friends have gone and they’re back out on the beach, bare toes curled in the warm sand, “would you come back with me?”

-------------

It’s minutes before Dominic gets his answer, and it’s one he expected. Billy might love the water as much as Dominic, but he prefers it colder, grey around its edges instead of brilliant blue.

This, then—time in Mexico, Thailand, wherever—is compromise. This is as close as they’ll get to living together again. Two weeks here, three there, always in a country neither will ever call home.

And home really is becoming the issue, isn’t it? Dominic loves Los Angeles. Its light and dark sides appeal to him equally, and the company’s not bad, either. Elijah’s around, though not as often now that Dominic’s moved house. They wake up to each other less and less, but again, it’s all good. Their friends take good care of Dominic, as far as he allows them to do so, and the waves are just as kind.

It’s home, at least for now.

-------------

Dominic aches to ask different questions, ones to which Billy will not have the answers memorized like the lines he repeats under his breath every morning as he practices with his swords, thrusting and parrying in the sand. Ones that will force Billy to look Dominic in the eye as he answers.

Dominic stares at Billy’s bedroom ceiling, at the fan spinning above. It serves as a concession to Dominic, who’s grown accustomed to air conditioning in Los Angeles. Billy claims not to need it when Dominic’s not there, and Dominic chooses not to imagine Billy’s possible relief at her cooler touch.

In any case, Billy’s out of bed already. Dominic can see him from the window, barefoot and on the beach, jeans rolled up to his calves and his t-shirt hanging loose. He looks determined but calm, as he has since Dominic arrived.

And perhaps that needs to change.

-------------

Billy’s working with only one of Bonden’s swords today, and doing so expertly. Dominic watches for a moment before he speaks, careful not to surprise him.

“Looks heavy,” Dominic smiles, advancing toward Billy with eyes shielded against the sun.

“Heavier than a foil,” Billy breathes, and it’s only when Dominic’s closer that he hears the real exertion.

“But lighter than—“

Billy’s nod is short, accompanied by another hard breath that’s clearly meant to end the conversation before it begins. Dominic swallows the rest of his sentence, but not entirely; it rests in his throat, reforming until it returns, harsher than first intended.

“Do you miss it at all, Billy?”

“I miss everything.” Billy turns, his sword pointed at Dominic and his expression fierce. Dominic waits, neither blinking nor breathing until Billy lowers the sword and smiles, less in apology than acceptance. “But not enough to go through it again.”

-------------

It’s hard for Dominic to imagine that Billy’s time in New Zealand was not as wonderful as his own. Certainly Billy has spoken the Fellowship party lines in interviews—life–changing experience, we’re all still friends, Dom’s still an idiot—but they are beginning to sound as stilted as this weekend has felt.

Dominic lets the matter rest, sinking to the sand and tucking his knees to his chest, nodding for Billy to continue his practice. Dominic focuses first on Billy’s arms, stronger now than they were under Pippin’s garb, and then on Billy’s calves, pale even after months in Mexico. When Dominic’s eyes move lower still, he can see Billy’s Fellowship tattoo, just above the bone in his right ankle.

The memories that follow are not as beautiful as the horizon behind Billy, but Dominic welcomes them nonetheless because they’re real, and because they bring more in their wake.

-------------

Billy went first, Dominic remembers.

His rationale had of course been that at least it would be done with quickly, and then he could laugh at the others. And though Billy had found the experience, well, unpleasant, he had also been proud of the symbolism and intent, and irritated—not angry, because Billy doesn’t get angry anymore, not really—by how quickly and often the others had broken their vow to never show the design on camera.

Not that he’s actually said anything to anyone but Dominic.

“You encourage it,” Billy had murmured that one night in Penrith, after Elijah had fallen asleep between them in the enormous bed no one had initially claimed—the bed that eventually held all three of them for the remainder of the holiday. “Encourage him. Fucking exhibitionists, both of you.”

At the time, Dominic had thought that Billy was only referring to the tattoo.

-------------

Billy doesn’t sleep with Elijah anymore. Well, alright, doesn’t fuck him anymore. Dominic thinks that’s a shame, because Billy fucking Elijah is one of the most brilliant things he’s ever seen or heard. The yielding silence that Billy can force on the otherwise vocal Elijah and the predatory violence that Elijah can bring out in the otherwise placid Billy—they make for a display Dominic would cheerfully describe in his best Jonathan Ross impression as wiveting.

Dominic supposes that he should feel honoured that Billy still wants him. But then there’s always been a stronger bond between them, and Dominic can’t remember Billy ever wrapping his arms around Elijah in sleep and staying there till morning. Dominic also cannot recall Elijah ever waking Billy with breathless kisses that tasted of coffee and honest, unbreakable friendship.

Those are memories only he and Billy share, and Dominic intends to build upon them.

-------------

Which isn’t to say that Elijah isn’t still connected to them in a very real way. Conversations between the three of them are deeper than they were before, and there are times of quiet, too, where once Elijah would turn the music up louder to fill the void.

Dominic can understand the impulse. The silence is awkward and too heavy now. Billy’s feeling it, too, Dominic can tell; his shoulders are beginning to sag, and his posture’s shot. After a slip that almost sends him face–first into the sand, Billy gives up, dropping the sword again and following it to sit down next to Dominic.

“I think you won,” Dominic nods, and Billy turns to him, confused. “Your imaginary duel, there. Not a scratch on you, though you’re crap when you have to move backward.”

Billy shakes his head, his smile creasing his sunburnt face, “You have no idea.”

-------------

Dominic lets Billy’s smile fade before he reaches for Billy’s hand. He’s halfway there when Billy speaks again, in a murmur Dominic has to strain to hear.

“I don’t think it’s ever been this hard. Not even in wardrobe, when we met.”

Dominic turns so his knee rests against Billy’s thigh. “Still me, though. Just a bit bigger.”

“Bit more hair, too.”

“Making up for your loss.” Dominic offers another smile. “Why so hard?”

Billy plays his fingers in the sand while he thinks, drawing stick figures and trees. “I thought we’d have to just … play nice. Get along for a year or so and then get back on the job. I just wanted the work, Dom, and look what happened—“

“Billy—“

“And what didn’t.” Billy moves his palm, shifting the sand until no trace of the drawing remains. “You’re still living it, Dom, and I’m not.”

-------------

“I just asked if you missed it,” Dominic says softly. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Dom,” Billy sighs, rising suddenly to stand. “I don’t lie to you. Show me the same courtesy, yeah?”

Dominic’s on his feet immediately, reaching for Billy’s arm and meeting Billy’s tired gaze. “I don’t. I don’t want to feel that knackered ever again. Or be that far from home—“

“You’re far enough now, don’t you think?”

“Don’t make this about Los Angeles.” Dominic’s glare is harder now than Billy’s ever seen from him. “It’s where the work is, Billy—“

“What work? You’ve done what? Two films? Both in London.”

“I like it,” Dominic grits out, feeling his hands begin to shake. “I might love it. I have a home now, Billy—“

“You have a house,” Billy says, already turning to go back inside. “You have no home.”

-------------

Dominic watches Billy walk back up the sand, but not for very long. He’s exhausted, but not in a way that means anything. The tension in his arms and back is almost painful, and the thought of surfing it out of his system comes to Dominic, then leaves just as quickly when he tries to imagine going out into this water without Billy.

He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the sun beat down on him, its heat drawing out his anger with his sweat. When he breathes deep, Dominic can feel everything lifting from him, up to and including the fears he thought he’d left behind in Los Angeles. Neither he nor Billy is exactly in the right here, he knows, and that’s fine. Appropriate. Acceptable.

Dominic’s had to accept a lot of things about Billy. Now it’s Billy’s turn to accept at least one thing about Dominic.

-------------

He takes up the sword Billy left in the sand, finding it indeed not as heavy as the swords Pippin and Merry carried into battle. Dominic tries a few moves as he walks up the beach, but stops as soon as memory threatens to overtake him again.

Dominic finds Billy kipped out on his unmade bed, on his back. The position is unfamiliar—Billy usually sleeps on his stomach, head turned on the pillow and breathing soft—and telling, too, in that Billy obviously had little say in what his overtired body needed. It makes Dominic smile to think of Billy arguing with himself to turn over, and losing the fight.

He could let Billy sleep, could let the discussion rest, too, until Billy woke. Or he could just move closer and try to remove the need for speech entirely.

It’s the easiest decision Dominic’s had to make this weekend.

-------------

His touches are almost experimental, almost too kind. And Billy’s never reacted the way he does now, shivering slightly when Dominic’s fingers work open the drawstring knot of the pyjama trousers, and letting his head tip back on the pillow when Dominic’s lips find the hollow of his throat. It’s slow and careful, like it should have been the first time, if they hadn’t been so drunk and so fucking greedy.

And what a time it was, Dominic thinks, smiling against Billy’s skin. The morning that had followed had been the only time they had woken up both thrilled and shamed to have found solace in other’s bodies, even when they could hardly look in each other’s faces afterward.

“Didn’t mean it,” Billy’s whispering above him, and Dominic grazes his jagged teeth against Billy’s stomach, effectively and pleasantly silencing him. He doesn’t want apologies or explanations.

He just wants Billy.

-------------

For once Billy seems content to let Dominic set this slow pace. Dominic imagines that Billy, tired though he may be, understands that Dominic will prove worth the effort of keeping still.

Dominic raises his eyes from Billy’s body just as he lowers his hands, pulling at Billy’s trousers, letting the fabric tease its way down Billy’s raised hips and ass, over his already straining cock. Dominic settles Billy back down to the mattress, and then closes his mouth over the head of Billy’s cock, taking him in easily.

Billy shivers again when Dominic’s hands move under his thighs, raising them so he can get closer. Billy arches up and forward, and not even the unexpected jolt, the pressure at his throat, can keep Dominic from his work. He’s handled Billy at his most rattled and worse, at his most fierce. This is just need, and Dominic swallows it whole.

-------------

Billy’s little noises of pleasure vary as Dominic changes his rhythm, and Dominic becomes aware that Billy is holding himself back, waiting for something he doesn’t even know he wants. The point is that Dominic does know, and as he pulls away, dragging those teeth again—significantly more gently this time—against the underside of Billy’s cock, Billy holds his breath and closes his eyes, a picture of pretty lust.

“Turn over,” Dominic whispers, and Billy’s eyes fly open before they fall again, heavy and dark. “Hands and knees, Billy, come on.”

Billy moves slowly, shakily, and Dominic listens for the hitch in Billy’s breathing when Dominic’s hands spread his thighs again. Dominic bends, licks a wide, slow trail from underneath Billy’s balls to the cleft of his ass, and Billy’s knees buckle just before Dominic catches him.

“D’you—“

“Yes,” Billy hisses from between clenched teeth. “Christ. Fuck. Yes.”

-------------

Dominic hushes Billy’s sudden, soft chatter and steadies him, hands firm on Billy’s thighs as he flicks his tongue over Billy’s opening. Billy pushes back immediately, and Dominic meets him, matches him and more, his tongue forcing its way inside Billy until Billy’s head falls forward and he sinks to his elbows, his whole body trembling.

“Dom, Dominic,” Billy’s gasping, and Dominic pulls away one last time and rises to his knees. He plays his fingers around Billy’s ass, but Billy shakes his head violently, muttering something like fucking now, Dominic, and it’s all Dominic can do not to shove inside Billy so hard they’ll both ache for weeks. His hands slip a little on Billy’s sweaty thighs, but they both recover enough for Dominic to rethink what he’s doing and sink into Billy, an inch at a time, until he’s as at home as he will ever be, anywhere.

-------------

Dominic waits for Billy to adjust to him, waits for him to push back again, wanting more. Billy finds his strength, and rises again on his hands, his quiet curses almost as encouraging to Dominic as his earlier cries.

“Tell me.” Dominic’s voice is guttural, but he hardly notices, too busy thrusting deep inside Billy and watching the drops of sweat fall from his forehead to Billy’s back. “Oh, fuck, Billy—“

“Now, now,” Billy whispers back. “Just—fucking move, Dom—“

Dominic cuts him off with another thrust, the roughest he’s dared with Billy, and the tremor that runs through Billy’s body hits him just as hard. He’s barely reached for Billy, barely circled his cock with slick fingers, before Billy’s coming, clenching around him and making Dominic choke on his own breath as he comes, too, violently and perfectly and harder than perhaps ever before in his life.

-------------

“Sleep,” Billy’s sighing when Dominic surfaces again, and Dominic has to smile at that. “Jesus, Dom.”

Dominic slides from Billy slowly, relishing every twitch of muscle in Billy’s shoulders and back. It’s tempting to fall right back on top of Billy and just rest there for hours, but Billy’s not likely to welcome Dominic’s weight or the heat of his body for much longer.

“It’s not even afternoon,” Dominic huffs as he reaches to the floor for the boxers he discarded last night. “Not tired anyway.”

Billy opens his eyes and smiles, shaking his head again. “I can’t move, Dom.”

“Who says you have to?” Dominic swipes at them both with the boxers, earning a snort from Billy that’s only half amusement. “I’m going to go read outside. After a shower, because I’m almost as disgusting as you.”

“You’ll come back, though.” Billy says softly, eyes closed again.

“Always do.”

-------------

Dominic’s less reading than he is writing: long, sloping lines in his journal, lyrics that have come to his head for no reason, and lists of things he’ll need to do starting tomorrow night, when he touches back down in Los Angeles.

Those things include finding a way to get Billy back to California as soon as possible—only for a visit, of course, but back nonetheless—and scheduling them both another New Year’s holiday, a subject they’ve only walked around this weekend, but one Dominic’s not prepared to let drop.

When the sun finally begins to set, Dominic turns back to the house and is surprised to find Billy standing on the porch, back in his clothes and looking refreshed—and happy.

“What are you thinking about?” Dominic asks, raising his sunglasses and eyebrows as he nears Billy.

“Home,” Billy smiles cheekily, then shrugs, nodding Dominic inside. “And dinner.”

-------------

Two and a half bottles into the night, the talking nearly stops, but the touches only slow. Dominic’s last nights in Mexico have always been hard, but tonight is both the best and worst, Dominic thinks. He sits now straddling Billy’s prone form on the couch, hands splayed on either side of Billy’s head and eyes locked with Billy’s.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Alert the press.”

“Shut it. I mean about the home thing. I think what it is, Billy—I think you might force it, like. It’s not a bad thing. Look around here—you brought your own linens, for Christ’s sake, and that’s your corkscrew, I recognize it from Penrith, because you brought it there, too, and I saw sweaters in your closet, even though you’ll never have a reason to wear them here, and—”

And you bring her to you, Dominic thinks, but does not say aloud.

-------------

Billy cocks an eyebrow at Dominic, the opposite rise to the upward turn of one corner of his lips. “And?”

“You bring home with you, right?” Dominic asks, recovering. “So you’re always there and never completely—here, I think that’s what I mean. Like I said, it’s not a bad thing. Maybe if you’d done that in New Zealand—“

“Dom.” Billy’s eyes go hard for a moment, and Dominic leans down to bump their noses together.

“I don’t need the same things you do, Billy. Maybe I’m not meant to have a home like you’ve got.”

“Don’t say that, you can’t—“

“I should have sung that bloody song. Home is behind, the world ahead—“

“Stop it,” Billy whispers, and Dominic bends down again, this time to kiss Billy slowly, gently and well.

“I’ll find it, Billy, promise. Like the beach. I’ll know it when I see it.”

-------------

Later, after Billy pulls Dominic to stand and stagger down the hall to the bedroom, Dominic inches up the bed carefully, eager to get to the good pillow first. Billy smirks, but says nothing, choosing instead to tuck himself into every open curve of Dominic’s body.

“I still think you should stay,” he murmurs, and Dominic sighs deeply, his breath again shifting Billy’s hair against his lips.

“And I still think you should come back with me, so we’re sorted, except not. Don’t think about it anymore, Billy.”

“I’m worried about you.”

Dominic tilts his head so he can see Billy’s eyes. “I’m happy, Billy. Really.”

“It’ll come, Dom. The work. I’m sure of it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Billy nods, then yawns widely.

“I’m not going to sleep with you anymore, Billy. Your pillow talk is as crap as your swordsmanship.”

“Fantastic. I can get rid of the fan now.”

-------------

The drive to the airport is easier than usual. Billy is in a good mood, if a touch hung over, and Dominic, buoyed by an hour of yoga in the morning while Billy slept through his swordfighting practice, is feeling better than he has in weeks.

“Call me when you get in,” Billy says, shoving his hands in his pockets while Dominic unloads his suitcase. “I might even pick up.”

“You’re too good to me, Boyd.”

“I am. Look, Dom—“

Dominic silences Billy again with another kiss, quick and hard. Billy’s hand flies up to his mouth as soon as Dominic releases him, and Dominic laughs.

“Think about it,” Dominic says after a moment, and Billy nods.

“And you as well.”

“Of course.”

“Really.”

“Really. Because I’m going to stop asking eventually, and trade you for someone better looking.”

It’s Billy’s turn to laugh. “Go home, Dom.”

“You too.”


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