writing_thuri: (Merman)
[personal profile] writing_thuri
Author: [livejournal.com profile] thuribrandybuck
Author's Email: Thuri at GypsyPyrates dot com
Website: http://www.in-the-shire-reckoning.com/
Pairing(s): Dom/Billy
Rating: Series is G -- NC-17.
Summary: Preparations being made
Disclaimer: Yeah. This is sooooo not true.
Warning: AU
Authors Note: Yet another alternative universe.
(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven) (Part Eight) (Part Nine) (Part Ten) (Part Eleven) (Part Twelve) (Part Thirteen) (Part Fourteen) (Part Fifteen) (Part Sixteen) (Part Seventeen)



Dom crawled back to bed, and Billy's arms, trying to forget Elijah's words, forget the trip home he'd have to take, forget that Billy's responsibilities seemed likely to part them, if his own didn't. Forget everything but the brine salt smell deep within Billy's skin.

He managed a good job of it, too, for the next few days. Nearly a week passed, and neither of them mentioned the trip again, though Dom secured the tickets. Which produced an interesting twist, finding a last name for the mer.

They spent hours, on a Scottish clan website, pulling up one hideously garish tartan after another, giggling over the names. But finally they found one Billy liked the sound of that had a tartan ridiculous enough to keep Dom happy. And so Billy Boyd he became.

Other than that, though, they made love, and talked, and shagged, and played video games. And watched movies. Dom found a small video store, in town, and managed to rent all his own films–and TV shows, since Hetty'd just come out--without blushing too horrifically. The bored clerk behind the desk merely glanced at them, though, and shrugged. "You look a little like that kid, you know," she said, handing him the box.

Dom sighed. "Yeah. I get that a lot."

And once home, they had a marathon.

Billy was fascinated, drawn into all the films. But to Rings most of all, of course.

"Your ears look good, pointed," he'd observed, at first, earning a pinch. And had continued to comment on various bits, as it went along. He agreed that Merry didn't have nearly enough scenes, that Legolas was definitely a ponce, with the hots for Aragorn, and that Pippin was adorable. The last caused a shadow to cross Dom's face, and he sighed.

"Have I said something wrong?" Billy asked, shifting a bit.

Dom shook his head. "No. Just . . . Trev's got his own life now. We don't hear much from him, anymore," he said, shrugging. "He wants to get away, from being known as a hobbit for everything." He shrugged. "Guess I can understand, but . . . we'd all gotten pretty close, during filming. Now he's married, has a kid on the way, I think, and we only see him at big events, where the whole cast has to be there."

"I'm sorry," Billy replied, kissing him tenderly. He didn't understand all the dynamics, but . . . "Were you lovers?"

Dom laughed softly. "You're good. Yeah, we were. Figured Merry and Pip must've been, too. Had a lot of fun, during filming . . ." He sighed, and shrugged again. "Oh well. I'm better off, now."

Billy wasn't sure what to make of that, but kissed him again, settling down to watch as Merry and Pippin were separated.


A day or so later, Billy disappeared for the afternoon. Dom wasn't too worried--after all, he had to go home occasionally--but found it nearly impossible to distract himself in the mer's absence.


Billy, for his part, fetched the bag of Scotch pearls he'd brought up with him the day before, and headed to the small, fairly hidden shop in the village. It didn't look like a shop from the outside. Didn't look like much of all, a rundown cottage near the end of town. But he knocked, hoping the information he'd gotten was good.

"Aye, I'm coming, I'm coming," came the voice from inside. The door opened, and a grizzled old man peered out. "What can I do for you, lad?"

Billy blushed a little. "I'm here . . . Um. Ian sent me to you," he said at last.

A frighteningly bushy eyebrow raised, at the mention of the mer. "You'd better come in. So, what is it you're needing? Clothes, a home, papers? I can fix it for you however you need, have doctors swearing they birthed you themselves. Long as you keep yourself dry, o'course."

Billy sagged a little in relief, to hear he wouldn't have to explain. Ian had said he wouldn't, but still . . . "I need papers. To be able to leave the country, on a plane."

The old man didn't blink an eye. "How soon?"

"A week?" Billy bit his lip.

Again, no change of expression. "Where'll you be going? Will you be wanting dual citizenship, or just the standard Scottish?"

Billy blinked at him in surprise. "Er. Both. America, and here."

"You've got the pearls?"

He handed the sack over, watching as the old man went through it. "All right. Help you fill out a few things, take some pictures . . . Have it all sorted for you in four days. Maybe five, if things snag up. Come back then, and you'll be a member of her royal majesty's populace. And a technical yank, too, though the git leading them is no prize." He stretched, looking Billy over. "Aye, you look like your father, William," he said, the name coming out in mer song, and making him jump. "He never asked me for papers, though."

"He had less reason to leave," Billy replied simply.

He smiled. "Hope she's worth it," he said, standing. "Come along to the back, we'll get you a full human life worked out. How do you fancy being a plumber?"


Dom was in the bath, when Billy returned. He smiled, hearing the soft splashes from the bathroom, and shed his clothes through the house, already thinking of how good the water would feel on his itching skin.
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