White Christmas

Recipient: foxtales
Author: hobbitgwen
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG
Summary: For Dom, the grass is always greener... or is the snow is always whiter?
Story Notes: just wanted to thank foxtales for this, it was the first monaboyd I've written in a while, and it came right at the most ideal moment. It has proved most cathartic, so thank you.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to blackbird_song for the beta and the britpick. :)


Dom had been staring idly out of the window for a while now. His hands tapped against the ceramic of his mug, steam rising and coiling in translucent ribbons. He shifted, resting his temple against the cold glass.

Billy slid beside him on the couch. From this angle, he could see the way Dom's too long, falsely blond hair curled pale against the deep red cushions. Billy extended a dexterous hand, letting it rest against the cuff of Dom's jumper.

"What is it, Dommie?" he asked, keeping his voice soft above the dull roar of the fire in the grate.

Dom shrugged. "It's not anything, really."

Deftly, Billy picked some lint from Dom's sleeve. The jumper was worn, blue threads ragged from wear, the collar pulled loose from age, falling away from his throat. The hollow between his collarbones stood out starkly above the fabric.

"It's ironic," Dom mumbled, his eyes following the path of an errant snowflake as it drifted past the pane. "Remember last Christmas?"

Billy nodded. "It was the wrong season, I seem to recall."

"Exactly. A green, New Zealand Christmas. And I missed my white Christmas."

"I know."

For the first time since Billy had pressed the mug of tea into Dom's hands nearly twenty minutes ago, the younger man looked at the older one. Billy could feel Dom's eyes mapping his face, the intensity of his gaze tracing the angles and lines of it. He got the feeling Dom hadn't looked at him this carefully in a long while.

"And now I miss New Zealand." For all that Dom was looking right at him, Billy could feel an irrational distance gaping between them.

Sighing with a mix of affection and decision, Billy reached out, his hand twisting over Dom's wrist and pulling him closer.

Dom moved without complaint, silent even when Billy took his mug, placing it gently on the coffee table before sliding his arms over the other man's shoulders. Dom came willingly, settling his nose in the crook of Billy's neck.

"That was a good Christmas," Billy commented after a moment, his smile getting lost in Dom's hair.

Dom's voice came out tinged with slight humor. "Only because I'm brilliant."

"Only because you're tricky and sly."

Dom buried himself deeper into Billy's embrace. "Mistletoe is always brilliant. Much like me." His words were jovial, but beneath them rested weight, and his body was tense in Billy's arms.

"I don't know about brilliant, but it certainly worked." Billy combed his fingers through the overgrown fringe of hair that fell over Dom's neck and around his ears. "I wouldn't have made the first move, that's for sure."

Dom hummed, a passive response that had more to do with Billy's actions than his words. The lines of his body began to relax, softening under Billy's hands.

Billy contemplated Dom's melancholy. It had been hard on all of them, leaving New Zealand, not only the island's place on Earth, but to them, in time. Astin had joked, once, that when they returned to their native homes it would come full circle, there and back again. Billy couldn't help but wish the stories continued: there again, this time to stay.

Coming home from New Zealand, both men had taken much smaller jobs, Dom skirting between a few independent films while Billy returned to his roots in the theatre. For Billy, it had been a refreshing change of pace, a reawakening of his inherent sense of drama and performance. For Dom, who had always strived to be more and go farther, it had been confining and suffocating. He had told Billy, once, that it was like the Lord of the Rings had thrust him several large steps forward, and then the real world proceeded to shuffle him a dozen steps back.

Sometimes, even Billy wished they could go back to the place where the Shire hills had hidden them, kept them close like kinsmen and made them love like family. But even though he knew they could, physically, travel back whenever they chose, the bubble had been shattered. It was as if the airplane carrying the fellowship had smashed through the dome of New Zealand, and the rest of the world had seeped in through the hole. Time could no longer ignore that place.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Billy focused again on Dom, and discovered his hands had been roaming over the younger man's back, sliding over shoulder blades and vertebrae, kneading the tension from his muscles. Dom had gone completely pliable; a rag doll slumped along Billy's front.

Sliding his knees up to frame his lover's body, Billy tapped at the top of Dom's shoulder. The other man let out a half disgruntled mutter. Billy tapped again. Woozily, Dom lifted his head, gray finding green.

"Look around," Billy only half asked, his accent thick.

Dom did, eyes scanning Billy's lounge. He took in the small Christmas tree in the corner, nearly snowed in by the gifts beneath it. Flames crackled in the fireplace, casting orange shadows on the stockings hung above. Dom's handmade paper snowflakes twirled on their strings gently, spread across the room wherever Dom had insisted they be taped to the ceiling. On the coffee table sat his tea, still about half full, cooling alone, made exactly the way Dom liked it without him having to say a word.

"It's not so bad, is it?" Billy asked, pressing his mouth languidly against Dom's temple. "That whole white Christmas thing."

Billy knew he didn't need to say the rest. Dom always understood. It's not so bad, here with me.

Dom shook his head, a slow smile spreading over his features. "Not bad at all."

The doorbell clamored through the relative quiet of Billy's house. Untangling themselves, they went to the door together. Billy gave Dom's hand a squeeze, and was content with the pressure Dom returned.

As Billy opened the door, he was greeted by a booming "Merry Christmas!" from what looked like half of the fellowship. Laughing and shoving, the tangle of warm, friendly bodies pushed its way into the house.

Across the crowd, Dom caught Billy's eye and smiled.


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