Side Effects May Include... Written: June 29 - July 7, 2003 Complete, unapologetic crackfic, and a very fond favorite. Thanks Tricky. ♥ Part 1: Out of My Head ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dom chewed thoughtfully on the last untasted pen in the house, trying to think of a seven-letter word for "speechless". His concentration was broken, however, when the flush of the toilet down the hall was followed by a crashing thud and a garbled stream of the word "fuck" in all its major conjugations. Alarmed, Dom dropped his magazine onto the sofa and strode down the hall, peering into the bathroom to find Billy sprawled gracelessly spread-legged on the tile. "What the hell are you doing out of bed?" Billy glared up at him and said, "I had to piss," with far too much petulance for someone who was sitting splayed on the floor of a Key West hotel bathroom in nothing but his boxers and a scowl, and lacking the coordination or strength to rectify the situation. Dom sighed and stooped to grasp Billy around the shoulders and haul him to his feet, ignoring the thoroughly Scottish growl of protest. He looked down at the swathe of bandages around Billy's left calf and saw a bright red splotch seeping outwards from one corner. "Fuck, Billy, you're bleeding again." Billy shrugged, nearly sending them both crashing over again. "Don' feel it." His mouth moved around the words slowly, drawing out his accent into nearly indecipherable levels. Dom grinned as he swiped a towel with his free hand. "I doubt you feel a bleeding thing, mate. You're high as a fucking kite." Lovely American doctors, he thought, and their lovely American Percocet. Billy made a noise that vaguely resembled English, and as Dom began to pull him back into the bedroom he slurred testily, "--fuckin walk, man." "Oh no you don't. I don't know how you got to the loo without breaking your head, but I'm not about to let you bust these stitches and go right back to casualty. Now stop being an arse and get your arm round my shoulder." Dom shifted his weight and staggered into the bedroom, wondering how one wee Scotsman could be so heavy. Billy seemed to be making every effort to hinder them, stumbling over his own feet and protesting in a long stream of incoherency that featured the words "let go" and "cunt" in high proportions. His leg wouldn't bear him, and he was leaning so heavily into Dom that Dom could feel the breath on his neck, the slide of bare skin against Dom's t-shirt and the flutter of Billy's lips on his throat as he murmured. Oh no the hell you don't, Dom thought, shifting again so Billy's head lolled to the other side, shuddering as that exhaled breath sparked straight down his spine and made a home in his general pelvic region. Just get him onto the fucking bed, Monaghan. Bad enough to be stuck in a bad cliché to begin with, but nigh fucking unbearable when the object of your covert lust was half-naked and half-conscious in your arms, imprinting his sweet little curved lips into the skin of your neck with nary a notion of what he was doing. Dom may have been stoic, but he wasn't a bloody saint. Percocet, his mind repeated. Percocet, Percocet, Percocet. Billy flopped down on his back on the bed with a weary groan, and Dom drew back the corner of the bandage and began daubing at it with the towel. "Well, you didn't pop a stitch, so that's good." Billy looked at him pointedly and said, "Mblee fah." Dom chuckled. "I didn't know you could speak Gaelic." Billy scowled hazily. "I said I'm bloody fine, you wanker. Leave me be." His head fell back onto the pillow like it was made of lead. Dom patted the bandage back in place and straightened with a smirk. "You are not 'bloody fine', Billy. You may not feel it just now, but you sliced your leg from knee to ankle on coral this morning, which is why you're doped up like Keith Richards and decidedly more Scottish than I have ever seen you. I could tell you a few more things about your attitude, but you won't remember any of this in a day or two, so I'm not going to bother. Now go to sleep, and don't get out of this bed again unless you call me first, yeah?" Dom leaned over to turn off the lamp. As he reached for the chain, a set of slender fingers curled around his wrist. Dom froze, hesitating a moment before following that arm over to Billy's face. Billy was looking at him with dilated green eyes, lids rolling lazily up and down as he regarded Dom from his pillow. His gaze was unfocused but hard, like he was trying to recall something important, and it unsettled Dom to the point that he swallowed audibly. He intended to pull his hand free but instead he just stood there, stooped over Billy, fingers on the lamp chain and eyes blinking into Billy's incomprehensible stare. Finally, he said, "Go to sleep, Billy." Billy's lips parted, and his eyelids slid lower till he looked at Dom from under spreading auburn lashes. His other hand spread across his chest, the tip of his forefinger brushing at his collarbone. "I see th' way you look at me, Dom." Percocet, declared Dom's brain, in big red flashing lights. Percocet, Percocet. "You're not making sense, Bill," he said. His thigh muscles squirmed in sudden familiar tension, and it was just better for all concerned if he turned and left now, thank you. "Get some sleep and I'll bring you some..." He trailed off as the tip of Billy's tongue emerged and slid slowly over one canine, leaving a glistening trail of moisture along the corner of his upper lip. Dom blinked at it, unable to look away. "You wonderin' what they taste like?" PERCOCET!! "Billy..." Billy's voice was like opium-laced honey. "C'mere." He felt the fingers around his wrist begin to pull, tugging him downward. Don't, don't, do not, he'll be fucking mortified tomorrow and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself so why are you still leaning forward? His mouth was so close to Billy's face that the words raised the tiny fine hairs on his flushed cheeks. "Billy, you're not--" "You sure?" The roll of the 'r' was swallowed as Billy turned his head an inch to the right and Dom's eyebrows shot to his hairline. His froze for a moment, stunned (hey, that has seven letters!), and then his eyes fell closed as he leaned in and braced one arm on the pillow, twining his fingers in Billy's hair. He had indeed been wondering, for quite some time now, and the revelation was just as delicious as he had imagined. Billy's mouth was as warm and sweet as his voice, open and enticing and... and... not responding quite as well as he had expected. Not moving much at all, really. Dom's brow creased as he opened his eyes and said around a mouthful of bottom lip, "Bill--?" He was answered with a soft snore. Dom drew back, flummoxed, and watched Billy's eyelashes flutter over his sleeping face. The fingers around Dom's wrist had gone lax, and they twitched a bit when Dom slid out of their grip and laid Billy's hand on his belly, where it rose and fell in slow rhythm. Dom sat there for a moment, watching him, and then smiled. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Billy's forehead, lingering over the skin. "Sleep it off, Billy," he whispered. Then he stood up and moved to find the coverlet. His gaze traveled down the stretched-out length of Billy's body and stopped dead when it came upon the one portion which was neither relaxed nor inert (though it was twitching a bit). Dom's eyes went perfectly round. Above him, Billy stirred and sighed, and somewhere in the breathy murmur Dom thought he heard his own name. Oh no you DON'T... Dom yanked the coverlet up to Billy's chin, jerked the chain of the lamp, and walked out of the darkened room. At the door he hesitated, then turned back long enough to swipe up the white pharmacy bottle from the nightstand. Back on the sofa, magazine in hand, he filled in seven letters with his chewed-up pen and tried to avoid looking at the clock on the television. The typed label of the Percocet bottle stared back at him as he waited. Four to six hours, he thought between 21 across and 14 down. Four to six hours. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Part 2 -- home