They reach the house Billy rented for their Christmas holiday. Dom kisses Billy's hair softly and, making no excuse because he knows Billy understands, falls immediately into bed. He sleeps for twenty hours. Billy quietly thanks whoever might be listening for this time. For a while there he truly thought Dom was going to run himself into the ground with his propensity for not sleeping and fueling himself instead with beer and scotch.

When Dom wakes up, rumpled and stained with makeup and sweat and grime, Billy gives him a towel and a bar of Ivory and directs him silently to the bathroom. He reemerges wearing a pair of Billy's boxers, spiky lengths of hair in his eyes. Billy sits up and grabs for Dom's hands when he gets close enough, then smoothes the hair back off Dom's forehead.

"Hey," Billy says.

"Mmm," Dom replies, falling forward into Billy's arm and emptying his lungs.

"Heeey." Billy sits up a bit, cradling Dom.

"Let's stay on holiday forever," Dom mumbles, warming Billy's neck with his breath.

"Alright," Billy says, smiling.