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Title: You're A Map Of A Place Maybe Someday I'll Go Ch. 7/22
Author: Pip
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: this chapter PG-13, NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Don't know 'em, never met 'em, this is all lies.
Feedback: Would be treasured beyond pearls.
Archive: Not without permission.

A/N: Thanks to fitofpique and elmathelas for the brilliant betas, and to buckle_berry for the fabulous Britpick. This fic would not be the same without you three, and I thank you from the bottom of my squishy little heart.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

First posted June, 2006

The following morning, a bright cool Tuesday morning in Glasgow, Dom woke with a start to find Billy, already showered and dressed, sitting cross-legged on the end of his bed, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Billy. What are you doing?" he asked hoarsely.

"Did you know you twitch your nose while you sleep?" Billy answered conversationally. "I don't know why I've never really noticed that before. I guess I've never watched you long enough."

Dom's forehead wrinkled. "How long have you been watching me?" he croaked.

"About half an hour."

"What?" Dom lifted his head.

"Every five minutes or so, your nose twitches back and forth. You look like a little rabbit."

"Get off my bed!"

Billy smiled. "Maybe I should call you Peter."

Dom groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow. "It's way too fucking early for this."

"Peter Rabbit," he explained.

"I know what you meant, Boyd! Why are you torturing me like this? What did I do to deserve such cruel abuse? You couldn't even bring me a coffee, could you?"

Billy grinned, gestured with his cup to the nightstand by Dom's head.

Dom rolled his head to see the mug sitting there. "It'll be cold by now," he grumbled.

"No it won't," Billy said mildly. "I just poured you fresh five minutes ago. It should be the perfect temperature."

Dom dragged himself to a sitting position, picked up the mug, and took a tentative sip.


"It's all right," he muttered, taking a large gulp.

"Git," Billy chuckled. "It's perfect, and you know it."

"You didn't answer my question," Dom said grumpily. "What are you doing?"

"Watching you sleep. Thinking," Billy said in a normal voice, but his eyes flickered down for an instant.

"Oh." Dom was at a loss. "How--how are you think--I mean, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, fine. The hangover is a distant memory. Well," he amended dryly, "Not distant enough really, but it's gone and I'm feeling much, much better, and today is the day for me to make it all up to you."

"Make what up to me?"

"All of it. The less-than-stellar welcome." Billy looked at him directly, even as he coloured a bit. "The lack of food, the washing, the state of me. Sitting with me while I puked. Letting me warm up in your bed. Being so quiet and soft and careful when my head was splitting open. All of it."

"Billy, there's nothing to make up--" Dom began, but Billy cut him off, shaking his head.

"Yes, there is. And yes, I would do all that for you, too, but I also know you'd feel exactly the way I do, afterward. But first things first," he said, suddenly brisk. He threw his little mobile phone at Dom. "It's just after nine. Call your doctor in Manchester and ask them to request your records. We need to get you that inhaler, if only for my own sanity."

Dom stared at him. "Can I wake up a bit first, please? Maybe have a shower?"

"Nope. Call first. It may take a while to get the records. Then you can shower, and then we'll have breakfast, and then we'll go."

"Go? Go where?"

Billy smiled, hopped off the bed, and strolled out of the room.

"Boyd? Boyd!" Dom yelled.

No answer.

Dom sighed, and flipped open the phone.

By the time he wandered into the kitchen, also showered and dressed, Dom could smell something glorious wafting out and through the apartment. "Bill, what are you making, it smells absolutely fantastic--"

Billy turned from the stove and smiled. "Good. It's blueberry pancakes, and there's bacon and toast as well. Do you want more coffee?"

"Definitely. No, I'll get it. Wow, when you say you want to make up for something, you really go all out, don't you?" Dom poured fresh coffee into his mug.

Still smiling, Billy shrugged. "I really owe you."

"No, you don't--"

"Shut it and sit down. Bacon?"

"Yes, please." Dom sat.

Dom leaned back, groaning. "God, that was good, Bills. I'm going to make you cook me pancakes every day."

Billy swallowed the last of his breakfast and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee. "You'd get tired of them awfully fast."

"It'd take me years to get tired of them," Dom declared.

"Years? Think you'll be around that long, do you?"

Dom mentally kicked himself, but Billy merely huffed a little breath and looked pensive. Dom cleared his throat, gripped the seat of his chair, and took a chance. "And when I get tired of pancakes, we'll switch to waffles."

Billy slowly lifted his eyes to meet Dom's. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"Not waffles?" Dom softly asked. "All right, then. French toast it is."

Billy rose to his feet and headed past him for the door.

Dom hung his head, cursing himself, wondering why he kept doing this, why he felt the need to keep pushing, why couldn't he just leave well enough alone. He obviously wasn't helping, and maybe Ali was wrong about him being the one Billy needed to talk to, he-- Dom started when a light hand stroked the back of his head, down to his shoulders, played with the silver chain sitting just under the neck of his t-shirt, and then his shoulders were being gripped by two hands and Dom thought maybe what he'd said hadn't been so bad after all.

And something about Billy's fingers at Dom's neck reminded him of something, and a second later he remembered. "I never did give you your prezzies."

"You're right," Billy said, and the calm in his voice reassured Dom even more. "I've been dying of curiosity."

Dom snorted. "You have not. You'd forgotten all about them until just now."

"Not forgotten, just temporarily misplaced the memory." Billy let him go, and walked out of the kitchen again. "Where are they, in your room?" he called from the hallway, heading in that direction.

"Hey, get back here!" Dom exclaimed, following him. "You can't just go rooting about in my kit!"

"I never said I was going to!" Billy protested, and when Dom entered his room he found Billy nowhere near the bags lying on the floor by the dresser, but rather stretched out on his stomach on the bed, chin propped on both hands, a pert grin on his face. "So what did you get me?"

Dom stood at the foot of the bed, glaring at him, arms akimbo. "You know, a little gratitude might be nice. I carted these halfway around the world for you, and all you can do is lie there and ask what I got you?"

"Gratitude? But I don't know what it is yet. How do I know if gratitude is appropriate?" Billy asked, looking up at him with wide-eyed innocence.

Dom narrowed his eyes. "Elijah taught you that look, didn't he?"

He laughed. "God, no. I had this perfected years ago, Dom. Worked a treat on my teachers."

Dom retrieved his carryon and sat on the bed, confidently saying, "Gratitude is appropriate, believe me. These are the best prezzies anyone's ever brought you after three days of sleep deprivation and a twenty hour trip."

"Why does that make me nervous?" Billy rolled on his side to face Dom and propped himself up with one elbow.

"I don't know, why does it? Now, I should have done this the second I walked through the door, but I'm afraid I had other things on my mind, like where the hell was a bed." He pulled the garish purple and pink and white plastic lei from his bag and draped it over Billy's head. "Aloha, Bills."

Billy grinned. "Aloha, Dom."

Dom chuckled. "Next. I think we should find some sticky tape and plant this darlin' right on the dashboard of your car." He pulled out the tacky hula doll with her green plastic grass skirt and mini coconut-shell bikini top.

Billy threw back his head and laughed out loud, then rose to sit cross-legged in front of Dom, taking the doll from him. "She's the most tasteless, gaudy piece of kitsch I've ever seen. I fucking love her." He fingered the strips of plastic that formed her skirt. "And so authentic, really."

"But sadly, she's not anatomically correct." Even as Billy snickered, Dom carried on blithely. "I looked for one that played ukulele music, but I couldn't find one."

"A tragedy," he said solemnly.

"Absolutely," Dom agreed. "So that was Hawaii. Then in Chicago--"

"What about L.A.?"

"What? What about it?"

Billy blinked at him and wrinkled his forehead sadly. "Didn't you get me anything in L.A.?"

Dom couldn't help but laugh at him. "Like what? Sunburn? Botox? Maybe some breast implants?"

Billy looked down at his chest as if considering it. "Nah," he finally said, "I'd look silly with breasts. Although maybe I could use the implants as paperweights or something."

Dom burst out laughing. "I can just see it now, 'Billy, where's that contract? Oh, that--it's under that breast over there.'"

"Yeah, I guess if I was leaving them out in the open, I'd have to make sure they were tastefully covered with pasties."

"Tassels!" Dom crowed, and fell backwards on the bed, and Billy laughed loudly.

It was several minutes before Billy was able to--a trifle breathlessly--say, "Okay, okay. God, you're such a troublemaker, Monaghan. Get on with it."

Dom struggled to sit upright, still snickering. "I'm the troublemaker? Oh, I like that. Maybe I won't give you the rest of them after all."

Billy gave him a shove. "Aw, come on, Dom, gimme my prezzies."

"Say please," he admonished, grinning.

"Pretty please."

"Ooh, nice improvisation."

"Thank you," Billy said proudly. "Now, really, what did you bring me from L.A.?"

Dom stared at him. "Personally delivered greetings from your dear friend Elijah."

"Oh, that's nice. Thank you," he said happily.

"You worry me sometimes, William Boyd." He shook his head sadly.

"Good, it'll keep you on your toes. So next was Chicago."

"Next was Chicago. Now, I hope you realise I had three hours to kill, and I was absolutely bloody knackered. That being said, the first thing I bought was that book for on the plane--"

"Which I want to read later," Billy said. "See what all the excitement was about."

"It's--you fucking wanker, you just want to know what left me contemplating a trip to the toilets!"

"Well, if it was that good ... " Billy leered, and then dropped it. "And after the book shop?"

"I bought myself a t-shirt." Dom pulled it out.

"I am Wonderland," Billy read out loud. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know. I just liked it."

"Makes you sound like an amusement park."

Dom laughed. "Well, I am fun for all ages."

"That sounds vaguely illegal." Billy grinned at him. "You bought me a t-shirt too, didn't you?"

"Oh, you know it, Bills." Dom took the folded-up t-shirt from his bag and passed it to him, letting him hold it up and shake it out.

"All That Jazz," Billy read in a rather faint voice. "Dom."

"Yes, Billy?"

"It sparkles, Dom."

"Yes, Billy."

"There are rhinestones on this t-shirt, Dom."

"Yes, Billy."

"You're such a twat, you know that?"

Dom grinned widely. "Yes, Billy."

Billy started to shuffle off the bed. "Thanks, Dom, these are brilliant--"

"There's one more."

"Another one? You spoil me."

"And don't you forget it. Here, I picked this up in the duty-free for you." Dom pulled out the bottle of whisky and handed it to him.

Billy took it. He stared at it. He stared at Dom. "You're taking the piss, right?" he asked in disbelief.

"No--I really did get it in the duty-free," Dom said innocently. "Why, you don't like that kind? Maybe I should have got the Jack Daniels after all. I'll pick some up the next time--"

"Dominic Monaghan, you bite your tongue right now," Billy demanded, sounding disgusted. "I can't believe you, buying Scotch in America and carting it all the way over here--and it's not even a really good Scotch, I might add--when we could walk around the corner and buy a gorgeous Macallan single-malt older than you are, one that would make you come in your pants at a mere whiff, make you fucking expire from the ecstasy of a taste of that smooth, spicy, oaky, rum-butter dark liquid gold. They don't call it the 'water of life' for nothing, you absolute daftie, and I can't believe you actually ... " Billy suddenly trailed off, sighed, then resignedly said, "And that's exactly what you were going for, wasn't it?"

Dom let loose the amusement he'd been completely holding in, his eyes watering from the effort, and laughed delightedly. "That's beyond what I could have hoped for. Priceless, that was. Ah, Bills, bless you a hundred times over for being turned on by whisky, because that really was quite arousing, especially the bit about me coming in my pants, and as for your description of the whisky itself, well ... "

Billy's neck flushed, but he casually asked, "Was it better than the book?"

"Oh, most definitely, I mean, it had the advantage of your lovely accent, didn't it?" Dom was more than happy to play along, even as he wondered how much further Billy would go.

"I see. So it was the description in a Scots accent that did it for you?"

"Completely. The way you say 'rum-butter dark liquid gold'? You could tape that and sell it on the porn market."

"Good to know, in case the acting thing doesn't pan out," Billy said, his voice the oddest combination of mirth and desire and fear.

"It's always good to have something to fall back on," Dom agreed, and nearly choked on how that sounded, to his oversexed brain, anyway.

Billy blushed to the roots of his hair. "Well, if the book left you contemplating a little five-card stud and that was better than the book, I guess I'd better give you a bit of privacy, then, yeah?" He turned his back on Dom as he climbed off the bed.

Dom snorted a laugh. "Billy, don't--"

"No, no. I won't stay for the floor show. We have to leave soon, though, so will ten minutes be enough for you? Well, five would be better, so would it help if I said rum-butter dark liquid gold again?" He walked out the door.

Shaking with laughter, not to mention being hard enough that a quick wank sounded invitingly tempting indeed, Dom yelled, "I hate you, Boyd."

Billy's voice sounded remarkably similar to Dom's as he called back, "Don't worry. I hate me, too."

Twenty minutes later, Billy checked over his shoulder and then pulled his car out of its parking spot. Dom was settling in to the passenger seat, sunglasses on, playing with Billy's digital camera, and there were bags of food and bottles of water and Coke in the back seat.

"Would you just tell me where we're going?" Dom asked again for the fourth time.

"Nope. I doubt it would mean anything to you even if I did tell you. Up the coast, is all you need to know."

Grumpily, Dom took a picture of him with the camera, making sure the flash was on.

"Dom! Not while I'm driving in the city, you twat. At least wait until there's no other cars around for me to crash into, yeah?"

"Fine. You take all the fun out of everything, you know."

Billy grinned. "I know, I'm such a spoilsport, aren't I?"

"Terrible. You know, Glasgow is one effed-up city," he said conversationally.

"It is not!" Billy protested. "What the hell makes you say that?"

"Your roads and motorways--completely bollocksed up. There is no rhyme or reason to them whatsoever. I mean, look, that sign says that's an exit to the SECC, which I happen to know is miles from here."

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

Dom snorted. "I've been here before, Bill."

Billy considered. "Well. I will admit that our road signs leave a bit to be desired. But really, the city is quite logically laid out."

"Logical?" Dom hooted. "About as logical as saying Rangers won the Scottish Cup because you had a good shag."

"Sadly, I think the last time Rangers won the Cup was about the time I last had a good shag. Lazy wee bastards."

Dom was surprised by the laugh that bubbled up inside.

Billy glanced over at him. "That was an odd noise. Having another asthma attack, are you?"

"Just laughing at you," Dom grinned.

"Oh, I'm glad you find my moribund sex life so humorous. Glad I could entertain you."

"Awww," he teased. "Poor desperate Bills."

"I am not desperate," Billy said haughtily. "I am merely patiently awaiting the right time."

"Oh, really," Dom challenged. "And when is the right time?"

"I'm hoping much sooner rather than much later."

Dom's eyes flashed to Billy's face, but Billy was calmly checking the rear-view mirror, then over his shoulder before changing lanes to pass a slow-moving car.

"Billy," Dom asked, suddenly serious, "Are you just playing with me now? Because earlier--and now--"

Billy shook his head. "No, Dom. I'm not playing with you. I'm not. I'm trying to--" He stopped, not knowing how to continue.

"Trying to ... ?" Dom asked, but then he suddenly snickered and looked out the side window.

"What are you laughing at?" Billy sounded a shade testy.

Dom shook his head. "No. You'll kill me." He snorted again.

"Out with it, Monaghan."

"You're trying to figure out how to change lanes."

"What? I just did change-- Fuck. You're such a cunt sometimes, Dom," Billy muttered.

"I didn't want to tell you, but you made me," he said defensively.

"Stop trying to be subtle, you're not good at it."

"I'm sorry, but I happen to think that works on several levels, actually. If you don't like it, then you tell me--you're trying to what?"

Billy changed gears a little more ferociously than he needed to, and there was a grinding noise from the engine. "Fuck."

"Take it easy, Bill."

"Don't fucking tell me to take it easy," he snapped.

Dom looked down, bit his lip, and then sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Billy, I don't mean to push you. Just--forget I asked, all right? I don't want to ruin what's supposed to be a relaxing trip. I'm sorry, I promise I'll leave it."

They were both silent for several long minutes, Dom facing away and looking out his side window, fingers of one hand worrying a ring on the other. Billy seemed to be concentrating on navigating the slowly diminishing traffic as they worked their way out of the city.

When they finally found some open space on the A82 and Billy was able to relax and put his driving skills on auto pilot, he quietly said, "I'm trying to ... pick my way forward, on a path I can't see. And I'm not even sure where the path ends up, you know? So when I hit a fork in the road, all I can do is hold my breath and close my eyes and go whichever way feels right and hope I'm not walking off of the edge of a cliff. And it's hard. And it's ... it's familiar and foreign at the same time, which doesn't make sense, but--"

"Yes it does," Dom interrupted softly, still looking away from Billy.

Billy paused, then said, "Yeah, I suppose it does in a way. So, I keep--keep having to choose a direction to go in, when the path forks. And sometimes I have to ... sort of retrace my steps, even if I think I am going in the right direction, you know? Just back up a bit and look at where I am and decide yeah, this is the right way, and then push on a bit more. And when I push on, when I get a bit adventurous, that's when I--well, like earlier. I'm sorry if it's been fucking with your head, Dom, I never meant to do that. I spent the two weeks before you arrived pished, clinging to one spot, and now I'm just trying to ... move."

"It's okay, Billy." Dom finally turned his head to look over at him. "You haven't been fucking with my head, not really. You've caught me by surprise once or twice, though," he said with a little smile. "I'm glad you told me this, it--it helps to know what you're doing, it gives me a bit better idea what's going on. But you're going to have to tell me what you want me to do, because ... " It was Dom's turn to trail off, and Billy glanced over.

"Because what? I mean--I mean, I don't know what I want you to do--"

"Because I ... I don't want to--shove you down a path you don't trust. I don't want to make you back up, I want to ... " Dom flushed painfully.

"What, Dom?" Billy asked softly, looking intently out the windscreen. "Please. What do you want to do?"

"I want to--fuck, this is going to sound like sentimental twaddle, but I want to be there waiting for you every time you take a step forward. So you're going to have to tell me what to do, how--how did you put it?--how adventurous I can be with you. Because I don't want to get carried away and gallop forwards like I always do only to find I'm pushing you back or, God forbid, over that cliff. Do you know what I mean, Bills?"

He was silent for a moment, but finally Billy said, "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's a little tricky, because you're really rather shite at speaking in code, whereas I am very, very good at it, but I think I see what you're getting at."

Dom stared at him for a second, and then huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Wanker."

"Says the man who finds 'rum-butter dark liquid gold' a right turn-on," Billy grinned again, and the change on his face was extraordinary.

"Okay, wait a minute, just wait--before we get carried away again," Dom insisted. "I mean it, Bills, I don't want to push you. So if you start to feel like I am, if you need to take a few steps back, or you want me to get out of the way, you have to tell me, all right? You have to say something, because sometimes you're exceedingly hard to read, and sometimes I'm just incredibly thick."

Billy looked at him fondly. "No, you're not, Dom. You're really not. But all right. If I need some room, I'll just ask you to back up a bit, okay? Not back off, because that sounds hostile, but I'll ask you to just back up a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah," Dom said, relieved. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Good." Billy paused. "Can I go back to getting carried away, then?"

"By all means. Don't let me stand in the way of you being zany."

"Zany?" Billy hooted. "Good God, where did you dig that relic up from?"

"I happen to like it," Dom stubbornly said. "I think it should be brought back into regular usage."

"Okay. You give that a shot, and let me know how it goes."


"Yes, Dom?"

"Where are we going?"

"Well, right now we're on the A82--"

"Yeah?" Dom perked up, thinking Billy was finally going to tell him.

"And then we're going to the A83."


"Okay, okay," Billy smiled. "From the A83, we'll head to ...  bugger, what's it called?"

Dom looked over at him suspiciously.

"Oh, that's it," Billy said cheerfully. "The A816."

"Fucker. Absolute fucker."

Chapter 8