hackthis_archive | LOTRips

Improv: crash, vice, brown, bottle, waver, gloss

LOTRips
BB/DM + various
Like You Do

Billy arrives at the hotel first, because Billy always arrives at the hotel first. He doesn't need a watch to be on time; he can just sense these things. He has a good internal clock; Dom says he’s more regular than the queen. Billy prefers not to think about the queen doing anything regularly -- but Dom though, Dom couldn't be on time if you strapped sixteen watches to his wrist with different time zones and asked him to just be on time somewhere in the world.

If he were ever on time then he wouldn’t be Dom though, and Billy’s on his second lager at the hotel bar when damp hands cover his eyes and he tenses. He’s being surrounded by the faint stench of stale fags, and his grip tightens on the damp bottle of beer as his fingers slip in the condensation. “Piss off,” he snaps.

He’s had one too many enthusiastic fan encounters.

“Sorry.” The relief of Dom’s lilt is like someone removing a rod from Billy’s spine, and he visibly relaxes as Dom’s hands slip from his face and he crashes onto the chair next to him.

“It’s not as much fun as it used to be, is it?” Dom asks, motioning for the bartender to give him whatever Billy’s having. “The paranoia and all.”

“What’ve you got to be paranoid about? At least people don’t think your buggering Elijah anymore,” Billy deadpans.

Dom’s elbow is a sharp blow to Billy’s ribs, but he ruins his mock attempt at anger by laughing.

“There is that,” Dom admits, taking a swig from the brown bottle the bartender’s left by his hand. “Now they all think I’m shagging you.”

*

"I haven't seen you in ages," Dom says around an enormous mouthful of salad as they have dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. He chews noisily, but with his mouth closed, and Billy can feel the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiles.

When they used to eat together all the time, Dom talking with his mouth full would drive Billy up the bloody wall, now it’s almost endearing.

It’s strange the things he misses about living in Dom’s pockets.

“I saw you three weeks ago,” he reminds Dom, using the sides of his fork to break the huge slice of tomato sitting in the middle of his plate. He can’t believe Dom’s so Californian now with his salads and his protein drinks and his vitamins and his yoga.

“That’s almost a lifetime,” Dom complains as he stuffs in another forkful of lettuce. “I see Elijah’s analyst more than I see you.”

Billy’s fork clatters against his plate as he glances at Dom with some alarm. “Fuck me. You’re not really seeing a shrink, are you?”

There’s salad dressing in the corners of Dom’s mouth when he grins. “Why would I need a shrink when I’ve got you for advice?”

Billy suppresses the overwhelming urge to throw his drink in Dom’s face; that’s much more Orli’s speed than his. It’s against Scottish law to waste alcohol that way, and Billy nods absently as he takes in the rest of the restaurant from their vantage point in the corner. There are a fair amount of people, but no one seems to be paying them any mind, which is nice.

If not a little off.

“…Ali?”

Billy shakes his head and blinks. “Sorry, Dom, what?”

Dom’s lips turn glossy as he licks at them and then wipes his mouth with his serviette. “I asked how you two are getting on.”

Billy’s voice only wavers slightly as he reaches for his water. “We’re good.”

Dom’s eyes narrow. “Right. Pull the other one.”

*

Dom’s rambling about something that’s happening on his show, and Billy’s listening to the best of his ability, but it’s so odd for Dom to be driving on the right side of the road… and he’s on the wrong side of the fucking car as well.

Every few seconds Billy finds himself looking downward and wondering where the gearshift is or thinking that they’re about to have an accident, and he’ll never get used to American cars.

Some days he suspects he’ll never get used to anything.

His mobile weighs heavily in his pocket, and out the corner of his eye the neon lights of San Diego are racing over Dom and the interior of the car. “Pick a pub,” Dom says, poking Billy in the ribs and nodding to the buildings they’re passing by.

“I don’t know any pubs down here.”

“You don’t have to know’em to pick’em. We’re looking to have a drink, not buy a flat. No one’s going to sack you if the pub’s not up to snuff.”

Billy can hear the smile in Dom’s voice. “When did you become so wise, Obi-Wan?” he asks, shifting in his seat and staring at Dom’s profile.

“You get stuck on an island for a little bit, and the world changes on you.”

“It’s a television series, Dom, not your life.”

The car stops at a traffic light, and Dom looks Billy in the eye. “Right now it’s the only life I’ve got.”

*

The view from the bottom of Billy’s shot glass is very blurry. “Who’s supposed to be there this year?” he asks around a yawn.

“Jude Law. Kevin Smith. That bloke from the Matrix.” Dom belches.

“Ted.” Billy wrinkles his nose and farts.

Dom makes a face. “No, the other one, Bill.”

“No, I think it’s Ted.”

“Oh well, whoever, him, yeah.”

Dom pinches his nose and makes a face. Billy ignores him.

“Right, who else?” he asks, sliding his glass across the table.

“You,” Dom says.

“Right, and you as well,” Billy pauses, “But I meant people I’d actually want to see.”

“Wanker.”

“I try.”

*

Dom’s room has a sign on the door that says non-smoking, but that doesn’t stop him from lighting a fag the minute they stumble through the door. Billy’s feeling about for the sofa as Dom’s scratching about for the lights, and he collides with the arm of the sofa as the lights flicker on.

Billy can hear Dom talking to himself as he stretches out on the sofa and kicks his trainers off.

The clock ontop of the television flashes 3:12 in the morning, and there’s a squeaking noise as the temperature in the room drops several degrees. Billy’s room doesn’t have a balcony, so this is quite nice.

He closes his eyes for a moment, but wakes up some time later to find Dom sitting on the sofa with Billy’s feet in his lap. There’s an ashtray on the arm of the sofa, and the room smells as though Dom’s been chain smoking for hours. Outside the sky is just turning light.

“What time is it?” he asks, struggling to sit up. Billy's head feels as though it’s full of cotton wool, and he feel distinctly grimy, like he’s been wearing the same clothes for too many days.

“D’you know that your eyes are the same colour as the walls?” Dom asks.

Billy blinks and takes a quick look around. “My eyes are not NHS-green.”

Dom stubs out his fag as Billy rubs at his eyes. “That’s not what I meant,” Dom starts, sounding hurt. “I mean, I meant it in a good way.”

“You always do,” Billy says around a yawn.

Dom’s very quiet. “Then why does it always come out wrong?”

“Not always,” Billy corrects. “Just a lot of the time.”

“So, why is that then?”

“Because people don’t know you the way I do.”

“And you know me better than anyone,” Dom smirks.

“Enough,” Billy corrects, rolling to his side to make room for Dom next to him. “I know you well enough.”

-end-

It's been a little while, huh? Inspired by a lovely wallpaper made for me by