Auld Lang Syne
Title: Auld Lang Syne
Recipient: ipso__facto
Pairing: Dom/Billy; implied Orlando/Billy; Billy, Elijah
Rating: Rated PG-13
Summary: Visits between old friends
***
I: Orlando and Billy
Orlando can't take his eyes off of Jack.
It's been a couple of years since he's been by. Jack was a chubby-cheeked toddler then, grasping gleefully at Orlando's sunglasses, eliciting laughter and the sorts of "Isn't he cute" commentary that Billy has become accustomed to.
This time it's different twice over. Jack's old enough for conversation, for fumbling attempts at logic, old enough to engage and demand interaction on a more thoughtful level; and Orlando is filing way experiences and encounters for his own future, to compare to his own venture into fatherhood.
"I still don't know what I'm doing, mate," Orlando says with a laugh, because Orlando always laughs, but Billy reads through it like it isn't there.
He bumps Orlando's shoulder with his own, and watches the plane of his cheek as Orlando debates eye contact. He finally turns and looks at Billy. He looks... tired. Tired and nervous and unsure and just as beautiful as he's always been. Billy feels a pang, something like nostalgia but warmer, closer to the surface.
Orlando's done well for himself. He's got a lovely lady and he'll be a wonderful father and Billy doesn't have a doubt anywhere inside of him that this child will bring him just as much joy as Jack has brought Billy's.
If it makes Billy a bit sad, if it leaves the bitter taste of regret on his tongue... well, it's Billy's own fault. Too many years, too many chances, too many times he chose to keep silent instead of speaking up. He knows there's a time when Orlando was open to it. He knows that children change a lot of things about how a man thinks.
"You'll be great," Billy says, and whatever Orlando's come here seeking is found in those words. He relaxes against Billy and finds the smaller hand with his own, linking their fingers together. It's a relic of a past they won't soon close a door on - Billy will always be here, Orlando will always know the steps to take to wind up at his door.
II. Billy and Elijah
"It's Christmas, man!" Elijah's enthusiasm is present but tempered, his grin wine but restrained. He's not the bundle of teenager energy that he was a decade ago, and Billy allows himself the a guilt-free indulgence of relief. "I'm so glad you guys made it out this year. I know Dom is, too. Man, you should have seen him the past week..."
Billy's still introspective, listening but lost in his own thoughts as well. His thoughts lead him to a conclusion that he's pleased with: Elijah has grown into someone he quite likes to be around.
Billy wants to tell him that, he wants to share that sentiment, so he does.
Elijah looks back at him, slightly confused, slightly troubled. He doesn't say anything but Billy can read it on his face and he tries to parse out what's so unsettling about his intended compliment.
He corners Elijah word the end of the night. They're outside, on Elijah's back porch, leaning against the railing. "What's the matter, Doodle?"
It's an old nickname, one Dom always favored more than Billy, but it makes Elijah smile. He shakes his head, trying for evasion, but Billy presses.
"It's just," Elijah says, sighing. He fumbles in his pocket for a cigarette but Billy bats his hand down. He's never had much tolerance for the cigarette smoke, and Elijah knows it. He gives him an apologetic smile and taps his fingers against the wooden rail they're leaning on. "Sorry, man."
"It's just," Billy prompts him.
"Back in New Zealand. Was... was I that bad?"
"Bad?" Billy frowns. "Mate, you were a kid. You were a teenager."
"I thought we had fun," Elijah says. "I thought back then..."
"We didn't," Billy says. "But I couldn't keep up with your speed. Felt like... well, felt my years, I'd say. Trying to keep pace with you and Dom and Orli."
Elijah looks at him and then smiles. "You don't have any idea how much I looked up to you, did you?"
Somehow, Billy actually... didn't. He shrugs, mildly embarrassed by the admission, and then he has an armful of warm, smoke-scented Elijah. He hugs back tightly, unafraid to pour the feelings they're entirely too manly to share into the embrace.
III. Billy and Dom
"Why Santa," Billy reaches up to tip at the cottonball tip of Dom's Santa hat. "How did you know? Exactly what I wanted."
Dom's grin is wide and ready, and his arms slide around Billy's waist with ease. Billy hugs back, presses his cold nose into Dom's neck and breathes him in. He squeezes tight, the knowledge of how much he's missed Dom hitting him like a sledgehammer. Life has them more apart than together, too many miles and years and other people making the plans they'd once had for themselves an impossibility.
"You look like an idiot," Billy says, schooling the moment into something more presentable even as still fights the weird tightness in his throat.
"I'm just celebrating the season," Dom argues, hefting his bag over his shoulder. "Now how about you take me home so I can play a proper Santa? You know this entire bag is presents, right?"
"I don't doubt it," Billy says, reaching down to grab the second bag at the same time Dom does. Their fingers brush and Billy actually sucks in a breath. Dom's eyes meet his and something sparks there. Billy licks his lips in anticipation, reminds himself that Dom's got an entire week this time, he's not rushing right away.
"Billy," Dom says, reaching out and putting a hand on the back of Billy's neck. The point of contact tingles and he knows Dom's thinking the exact same thing he is. He can see it plain as day on Dom's face, in Dom's eyes, in that brief grasp before Dom pulls his hand away.
What he doesn't have to remind himself is that Dom is single this year, that for the first time in ages there's something sparkling like promise between them. The tone of their recent emails, the phone calls here and there. They're revisiting something he'd long since thought gone, and it makes him feel like a giddy schoolboy when he lets it sweep him away.
He's not, though; he's not new, he's not inexperienced, he's been down this road before... with Dom, even. He remembers how badly it ended before but somehow years have fogged over that pain and Dom's still such a presence in his life that he can't resist it.