"Pandora's Box" - PG, BB/DM

[unautremonde]

Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: PG
Summary: Wherein Dom fights curiosity a lot, Billy's obviously in need of luck, and Pandora should never have opened that damned box.
Disclaimer: Not true. Well, except for the bit about Pandora. Rumor has it she really did open that box. Stupid git.
Author's Note: Improv written for the lj community contrelamontre. Challenge was: quote must be included ("You can not miss what don't exist," The Divine Comedy), not actual words but at least the idea, and socks too. 45 minutes time frame.

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Pandora's Box

Each friend represents a world in us,
a world not born until they arrive,
and it is only by this meeting
that a new world is born.

Anaïs Nin

---

The way Dom saw it, Billy was Pandora’s Box.

Pandora had been a sorry git, giving in to unhealthy curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, of course, and apparently it had done a lot worse to Pandora and her fellow humans. The bloody woman hadn’t known what had been hidden inside the box, yes, but she also shouldn’t have been curious about it. Before the damn lid was lifted, there was a whole lot of stuff no one had ever missed. Now, though, they couldn’t even conceive of life without diseases and death. A great deal of good that sodding woman had done them all.

Dom wasn’t Pandora. He wasn’t even remotely like her. He wasn’t a woman, for one, and he wasn’t so curious about things that he couldn’t keep a lid on them. He knew he was missing out, not even aware of what might lay under the lid of Billy’s game face, but he also knew that what he didn’t know could not hurt him.

And so, he wasn’t going to ask.

He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t.

No.

“Bill?”

“Aye?”

“What’s with the socks?”

Damn. So much for self-restraint, then.

Billy smirked. Self-satisfied bugger. It must have been evident Dom was trying not to show any emotion, and Billy must have realized that Dom really didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to ask, as a matter of fact. Maybe Billy would know to give an answer to put an end to Dom’s curiosity, then. Like… that he’d borrowed the socks from Liv because it was cold and all his stuff was still in the laundry. Or something. That would make sense. Dom liked things that made sense.

“They’re my lucky socks.”

Ah. Now that, that didn’t make much sense at all. Because first of all, why would Billy need lucky socks? And second of all, who had ever heard of a pair of mismatched, one striped, one with polka dots, lucky pink socks? Dom cursed under his breath. That answer certainly wasn’t helping his sudden nosy streak.

Why? Why, why, why? Why mismatched? Why pink? Why lucky? Why socks?

Dom didn’t ask. He did however spend the rest of the evening staring intently at Billy’s feet. And entirely missing everybody else’s knowing smirks.

---

Billy… Billy had come to the pub wearing the most god-awful pair of pants ever. Really really ugly pants. At least, Dom found them very ugly. Which didn’t necessarily mean Billy didn’t look good in them. If Billy could look as good as he did in a kilt, there was no reason he couldn’t look good in a pair of tight-tight-chequered jeans.

Still. Those pants were ugly. Dom really wanted to know why on earth Billy had chosen to wear this particular outfit tonight.

Then again, Dom didn’t want to know. Because he really didn’t want to wonder about the answer, wonder about the outfit, spend all evening eyes riveted to Billy’s… uh… legs, and he also really didn’t want to be so fixated on Billy. He supposed that couldn’t be helped, though. Not when Billy kept wearing strange articles of clothing to their various outings.

Dom kept watching.

Those jeans were ugly. Very very ugly. Uglier than ugly, even.

“Dominic?”

Dom felt his cheeks suddenly heat up at Billy’s puzzled tone. He guessed he’d been staring a bit too intently. He squeaked.

“Y… uh… yes?”

“What are you staring at, lad?”

Uh. Billy’s jeans? Billy’s… uh… legs?

“Your… uh… your…” waving helplessly at the ugly chequered pants, “they’re…” couldn’t say ugly, what if those were Billy’s favourite jeans? He wouldn’t appreciate the comment, for sure. “They’re choking you.”

Oh shit.

Billy looked at Dom with an amused smirk and wiggling eyebrows. Dom’s cheeks were burning so hot, he must have been lighting up the whole place.

“They’re my lucky pants, Dom.”

Figured.

Dom spent all evening with his eyes trained on Billy’s crotch.

---

This. This had to stop. Dom had to stop his eyes from always searching Billy when they were out together, and Dom had to stop his mind from always wandering back to Billy and his puzzling outfits.

Not that there was any reason apart from said puzzling outfits for Dom’s mind to be always full of Billy.

First, there had been the socks. Silly pink mismatched things that Billy had labelled lucky. Whatever.

Then, there had been the ugly ugly chequered pants. And the outrageous swirly psychedelic jacket that not even the most flaming of pop stars out there would have dared wearing. The tacky peace and love necklace, the ever so tacky and jingly bracelets… as well as a couple more weird things Billy had adorned over the past few days.

Dom couldn’t stop thinking about those things, couldn’t stop thinking about Billy’s strange behaviour. Couldn’t stop thinking about Billy.

He was becoming obvious, too. He’d spent Friday night staring at Billy’s nipples clearly visible through the ridiculous flimsy excuse for a shirt the man had been wearing. Not that Billy’s nipples held any particular attraction. They’d just been there. Dom was sure he hadn’t been the only one tempted to stare.

Dom had constantly had to remind himself of Pandora and her unhealthy curiosity to keep from asking Billy too many questions. He did not want to know.

Billy’s answer had been the same every time, anyway. Those are my lucky bracelets, Dom. This is my lucky jacket, my lucky shirt, my lucky whatever… Dom had the sneaking suspicion that Billy might have been playing him for a fool.

Dom was no fool. Dom could resist temptation. Dom was, after all, not Pandora, and was going to keep a lid on his brand new Billy obsession.

“Hey.”

Talk about the wolf…

Dom couldn’t help it, he felt his eyes bug out, his mouth fall open wide, and he might even had felt a little drool running down his chin. Billy just stood there and smirked.

“Uh… Billy?”

And yes, his voice had gone a little squeaky. But really, what was that about? Why was Billy not wearing the ugly pants, or the shirt or… anything but what he was currently wearing? Not that he was wearing anything extravagant… quite the opposite, really.

Dom looked Billy up and down, desperately hoping to find one weird, unusual piece of clothing. Had Billy taken the lucky socks out again? But no. Those were nice tight jeans, this was a nice plain white shirt,… this was a nice plain hot Billy.

Dom swallowed.

And then… then… something caught his eye. Something almost invisible, just the trace of a shine, a little something that drew stares to Billy’s lips.

Billy was wearing lip-gloss.

Billy was wearing lip-gloss.

Dom felt frozen in place, eyes glued to Billy’s mouth.

Billy sat down, cramming himself on the couch next to Dom, entirely ignoring the empty chairs across from him. Dom tried, really tried to ignore the sudden heat, the closeness, the glint in Billy’s eyes… his eyes still couldn’t leave Billy’s mouth, though.

Billy made himself more comfortable, one arm thrown casually over the back of the couch, fingers resting lightly on Dom’s shoulder. He bent down slowly, breath drawing so close to Dom’s own mouth that he could almost taste the lip-gloss.

And then, then… oh, yeah. Raspberry flavoured. Nice.

Dom couldn’t contain the small moan when Billy’s lips left his mouth. He opened his eyes slowly to stare into Billy’s smiling face. He licked his lips and smiled in return, tasting raspberry and Billy on his tongue.

“Bill?”

“Mmmm?”

“What’s with the lip-gloss, then?”

Billy chuckled, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“It’s my lucky lip-gloss.”

Dom laughed into the following kiss.

Fuck Pandora, then. Or. Not Pandora. But yeah…


THE END