Dom has stopped waiting for Billy to emote. Onscreen it's not a problem but in real life Billy is more difficult to read than Pippin. Pippin wears his heart on his sleeve; Billy has his tucked away in a pocket somewhere. But tonight, this New Year's Eve, he's unsettled. He fidgets until they're on the beach and away from the Fellowship.

"What's up, Bills?"

Billy leans into him, crossing their wrists. "So noisy in there." He breathes. "Missed ya, wanker."

Dom grins, letting the inside of their palms drift together. "Yeah?"

"Said so, didn't I?"

"Missed you, too." Fingertips trip, one two three four, and a thumb across the back of Billy's hand. There are goosebumps there. Dom smiles. He can time this; he has the seconds and the motions that correlate with those seconds so deeply imprinted on his muscles that he can—

And there's Billy turning, and there they kiss as if they've never kissed another human being before. It's always like that. So easy, the way their mouths fit. When Billy sighs like that into his mouth, when Billy's arms hesitantly come up to circle his hips—fuck all if Dom's feet don't leave the bloody ground.