FIC: Crooked

TITLE: Crooked
PAIRING: Monaboyd
RATING: PG-13
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"I carn' believe the media hasn' caught word of this yet!" Billy laughed, from the kitchen, rummaging in the freezer for more crushed ice. He smiled softly to himself at the silence in response, packing the ice in a plastic bag and re-wrapping it in a towel. He took out the carton of vanilla ice cream and a spoon as well, and made his way back to the bedroom.

Dom opened his eyes and lifted his head a little, making a small noise in the back of his throat as Billy jostled the bed with his weight and handed him the ice pack. The blond took it gratefully, immediately nestling it against his swollen cheek. He managed a weak smile, and Billy smiled back.

"Think yeh could try t' eat?" He opened the cardboard carton and spooned up a little ice cream for Dom. He nodded a bit, struggling to sit up as he adjusted the ice against his face. "No chewing," Billy scolded, as Dom parted his sleep-pale lips took the spoon into his mouth hesitantly.

The younger man nodded, letting the ice cream melt on his tongue before swallowing. Billy frowned as he struggled to eat the ice cream. "Doctor says it shouldn't be too much longer before you can start eating soft foods. Yeh feelin' up to it?"

Grey eyes widened, and Dom shook his head. "Does it still hurt tha' bad?"

Dom hesitated, sucked a little more on the spoon, and shifted against the pillows, reaching for the notebook and pen on the bedside table. Billy handed it to him, and he flipped to a clean page. In his sloppy scrawl, he wrote, 'can have more med?' and turned it so the Scot could read it.

Billy frowned, but checked the digital clock beside the bed. It was eight thirty in the evening, not nearly time for his medication. He shook his head. "Not yet, babe."

Dom almost whimpered, and laid his head back down. Billy patted his thigh and got to his feet. "I'm gonna go call Ali, an' let 'er know how everythin' is. Try an' sleep, love. It'll get yer mind off it." He gathered up the ice cream and spoon, turned out the light, leaving the door cracked as he left the room.

Dom lay awake and listened to the low murmur and lilt of the Scot's voice from the kitchen. Ali was a saint to give up Billy for him; she had let him fly all the way to Los Angeles to be here to play nursemaid. He had shown up unannounced the morning of the surgery, grinning like a cat as Dom was led to the operating room. Dom had held him tight, had breathed his scent, had treasured that moment so it was the only one on his mind as they put him under.

He desperately wanted to be able to call to Billy to coax him to bed, but his doctor had told him he couldn't communicate verbally for a while without further injuring his jaw. And right now it ached like no other. All he wanted was Billy beside him, and Vicodin inside him.

He couldn't even remember why he had wanted the surgery in the first place. Evi had always told him his smile was ugly, had always shook her head disapprovingly whenever Dom had grinned her way. He couldn't recall a time when he hadn't wanted to please her. She had a bewitching way about her that had made him bend over backwards to her every command.

But the pain of the breakup was still so fresh; his heart ached more than his jaw whenever he thought of her. She had left him a text while he was in surgery. He had cried. No one had warned him, and now he had changed himself permanently for her. And she couldn't care less. When Billy came back, Dom pretended to be asleep.

He pulled off his sweater and crawled into bed beside the younger man, tucking his arm around his middle and kissing the back of his too-large ear. It made the blond whine lowly and shift a little in his sleep, and Billy adjusted the ice pack against his face. He sighed and held him close, burying his nose against his shoulder.

It seemed like forever since he'd held Dom this way. At least five years, he calculated glumly in his head; five years since that final night in New Zealand. Dom had cried, and then he had cried, and they'd stayed up all night just holding each other tight, dreading the thought of leaving each other. Life became real that night, Middle Earth dissolved around them as they finally slept; no longer Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took.

He'd heard about the surgery from Elijah. The American had thrown a genuine temper-tantrum and had gone ballistic over the phone when Billy had calmly explained that, no, Lij', he couldn't make Dom do anything, he was a grown man, no matter how stupid his decisions were.

It broke his heart to think about it now, though. He hadn't even tried to stop Dom from having the operation. He knew things had been bad between him and Evi, and somewhere in his heart he had hoped that maybe the surgery would fix things for them. It hadn't, and now Billy was bitter with self-pity. Dom's silly, crooked smile had been his favourite part about him.

Billy turned his head to kiss the messy blond hair, and eventually fell asleep snuggled up behind him.

Sometime during the night, Dom awoke, his body wracked with sobs. He nudged Billy awake, persistent with need, coughing and whimpering and shivering. The Scot sat up, blinking blearily at the clock and swore lowly. It was three in the morning; hours past the time when Dom should have been allowed his last dose of pain killers. He must be in hell right now.

Billy stumbled from the bed to retrieve the pill bottle from the bathroom, and to fill a glass with water. Shaking a few pills into his palm, he returned to Dom and sat beside him on the bed, handing him the medicine. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hold the glass, and Billy helped him hold it still to drink. When the cup was empty, he set it on the bedside table and kissed Dom's damp brow.

"I'm so sorry, love…" He squeezed lovingly at Dom's hips, his lips brushing over his temple. Dom nodded a little, clutching at Billy's back. It wasn't his fault, they had both forgotten. It seemed too much effort to write it all out. "I'm sorry…"

But Billy wasn't apologizing for just that instance. No, he was sorry they had gone their separate ways that morning after in New Zealand, was sorry things just couldn't be between them, was sorry Dom had gotten the surgery, was sorry Evi had tricked him, was sorry he couldn't always be here, was sorry they lived so far apart.

"Jus' a few more days, love, don' cry," he crooned, kissing the boy's neck, "A few more days an' you can tell me all about i'. How much yeh hate me for bein' such a cruel bastard, an' how much yer sweet, lovely face hurts." He paused for a moment to flash a quick grin at the blonde. "Cause it's killin' me!"

Dom blinked at him, rubbed at his tears, and the corners of his lips curled. It hurt, to smile with his cheeks bruised and swollen, but he smiled nonetheless, a big genuine grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and showed his now-correctly-aligned teeth. His chest shuddered with a quiet gasped sob-turned-giggle.

Billy's heart ached. He had been afraid that he'd lost that smile forever.