| Title: Title: On Bended Knee Author: Jo Pairing: Karl Urban/Billy Boyd Rating: R Summary: Billy has to learn how to bend. Disclaimer: Not real. I made up the whole thing. Means it's fiction, yo. Notes: Written for the Furor Scribendi lyrics challenge and for Molly's birthday. *mwah*
"Coming, mate?" Billy looks up, shakes his head. "Nah, think I'll sit this one out." "Suit yourself." Dom merely shrugs, tucks his board under his arm, heads towards the water. Eyes unfocused, Billy doesn't notice the speculative look Dom throws over his shoulder. Wouldn't matter if he did; Billy's thoughts are elsewhere, on someone else. And he can't shake the memory of a crooked grin, a lazy accent, from his mind. He wonders, as he sits there, where it all went wrong. He's not sure. He thinks, perhaps, it might have been the night that...no. That's not it. To be honest, he just doesn't know. He never has. It's been a year, and he's still trying to figure it out. He's not sure he ever will. He wants to, though. More than anything, he wants to understand what happened, why they're not together now. He's starting to think that maybe -- just maybe -- it's not Karl's fault. Or, at least, it's not all Karl's fault. Sure, a big portion of it was Karl's fault. After all, if he hadn't been so damn stubbornstupid, things could have been a lot different. The last year could have been something a lot more than what it was. Really, now that Billy thinks about it again, it's not his fault at all. He was trying. But this was what Karl wanted. And so Billy had given it to him. "You need to grow up, Bill." "Grow up?" Billy laughed, looked at Karl in disbelief. "I'm older than you." "Doesn't mean you're an adult." "What the bloody hell does that mean?" "If I have to tell you, it's not worth it." "Taking the moral high road again, Karl?" "What?" "You know what I'm talking about. Every time you don't get your way, you pull this bullshit on me." "No, Billy. That's you." "What?" A moment of sheer amazement crossed Billy's thoughts. "What's me?" "Nothing. Just forget it." With a shake of his head, Karl turned away. But the look of disappointment and -- Billy shuddered to even think it -- disgust on his face, was going to stay with Billy for a long time. "I'm out of here." "When will you be back?" "I won't." "Okay, Bills. What is it?" Billy looks up, startled out of his thoughts. He's been so absorbed in memories of Karl that he didn't even notice Dom's return. But there he sits, water dripping from his hair, spiking his lashes...and gray eyes focused on Billy. "What's what?" Dom gives him a look. Gives him the look. Billy's more familiar with that look that he likes to admit. And it always makes him uncomfortable. Especially now, when he's been letting himself dwell on old, not quite healed wounds. So he looks away, focusing on the waves rolling in. "Just relaxing," Billy says, wills himself to believe it. "That's a load of crap." Dom's still looking at him, that piercing gaze seeming to bore right through Billy and see into his soul. "Really --" "This is me you're talking to, Bill." Dom waves his hand towards the small group of men still splashing in the water. "I know you better than anyone here. So give." Billy exhales quietly, the sound not quite a sigh. "It's nothing," he says, shaking his head. "Just letting my mind wander. You know how I am." "Yeah," Dom replies softly. "I do." And Billy can tell that Dom doesn't believe it. Of course he doesn't. Like he said, Dom knows Billy better than anyone here. Billy sometimes thinks that Dom knows him better than anyone alive. That's not necessarily a bad thing. It's just...damned inconvenient at times. Like now. "So," Dom continues, watching him. "You want to tell me?" "Not really." "Bill --" "Just let it go, Dommie," Billy snaps suddenly. Why is he so angry? Dom's just trying to help. But, damn it all, Billy doesn't need any help. Not with this. "Fine." And the hurt, the confusion, in Dom's voice is almost enough for Billy to call him back when Dom stands and heads back towards the water. Almost. But not quite. So Dom goes, and Billy continues to sit there. It's not healthy. Billy knows that. But there's little he can do to prevent his thoughts from constantly straying back to those last few days last summer. Or, rather, last winter, depending on how you look at it. Because it was in New Zealand, last winter, when everything got so fucked up. And now he's back. And, yes, he's going to have to face Karl eventually. After all, they have a few reshoots to do together. Peter has mentioned needing to tweak some of the Meduseld scenes. Which means Karl will be there. Billy isn't sure what's going to happen, but he does know that everyone will be watching, waiting to see if sparks fly. Something tells Billy that they might. Because he knows himself, and he knows Karl...and he knows the volatile tempers that both of them possess, buried deep within their psyches. Oh, yes, it's going to be an interesting few weeks. If only he can convince himself that it's going to be interesting in a good way. For the first time, Billy realizes that he's a little afraid to see Karl again, after all this time. But he's going to have to see Karl in the morning, both of them in costume, acting, pretending that things are fine. Christ. How in the hell did he get to this point? That's all Billy really wants to know. Or so he keeps telling himself. "He's here." "What?" Billy turns at Dom's comment, looks around. Dom simply nods towards the cameras and keeps walking. Karl. In full Eomer regalia. Looking a little older, a little more tired...and even more devastatingly handsome than Billy if remembers. If that's even possible. And before Billy can look away, Karl looks up, catches him staring. They stand like that for several minutes, eyes locked, neither moving. And a thousand memories slam into Billy. A thousand and more. It's all he can do to keep breathing. Then again, breathing has never been such a big deal when Karl's involved. Billy can recall more than one instance where Karl left him breathless and aching and wanting more. And he enjoyed every minute of it. They both did. Of course, Billy can also recall each and every time he brought Karl to his knees, made Karl cry out Billy's name. And he can clearly remember how Karl tastes, heavy and thick on Billy's tongue. It was like an addiction then. It still is, if Billy's willing to admit it to himself. He's not. He can't be. Because to admit it would be to admit that he still needs Karl. And he doesn't need Karl. He got over that a long time ago...when Karl walked out the door. But he can still remember the taste. And the broken sounds of Karl's moans when he comes. And the way Karl looks, heavy--lidded, sweaty, hair tangled, after sex. It's an image that's burned itself into his mind over the past twelve months. Then Karl turns away, and the spell is broken. Billy feels bereft, like something important has just happened, and he missed it. Only he's not sure what is was. It's an odd feeling, one he's not used to, and Billy's not entirely sure he likes it. "You okay?" Dom asks, breaking the thread of Billy's thoughts. Concern etches his features as he watches Billy. "Sure. Fine," Billy says, tearing his gaze from Karl and the man who now stands next to him. He's heard the rumors. Of course he has. All the members of the cast have. That Karl's with Marton now. Billy's not sure if he really believes it or not, but he has to admit they look good together. Happy, too. At least Karl's smiling. That's more than Billy can say for their last few weeks together. But Karl had made those weeks difficult. "Liar," Dom murmurs, drawing Billy's eyes back to him. Funny how he'd been staring at Karl again without realizing it. "What's that?" "You're a liar," Dom repeats, tilting his chin up in something akin to a challenge. And damned if Billy's going to back down. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." "Don't I?" "No." "Think I do, mate." Dom's voice is low, but it cuts through the clatter around them. "You're in love with him. You always have been." "That's rubbish," Billy says, perhaps a touch too vehemently. But he should know, right? He's not in love with Karl. He got over that months ago. Now it's just...just...Billy's not sure what it just is, but it's not love. "Is it?" Piercing gray eyes watch him closely, and Billy looks away as Dom continues speaking. "I don't think so. You fucked up, and you've spent a year wallowing in it." "I don't wallow." "Then what would you call it?" Billy opens his mouth, and then stops. He hasn't been wallowing. Has he? No, it's not possible. He starts to speak again, and the moment is lost when Dom looks up and grins. "'Bout time you showed up." "I was just thinking the same thing about you, hobbit." Billy freezes. He tries not to, but he can't help himself. Even if Karl hadn't spoken, Billy would have known he was there. He can feel the warmth coming from Karl's body, smell the light, clean fragrance of his soap. And that smell yanks Billy back almost fifteen months. "You can't use that!" "Wasn't planning on it." Karl grinned lazily, pressed Billy up against the tiles. Wet chests slid against each other, but all Billy could focus on was Karl's hand on his hip, Karl's lips inches from his mouth. "Then what were you planning --" "You talk too much," Karl murmured, licking along Billy's lower lip. "Have to do something about that." "Yeah?" Billy winced a little at the breathless quality in his voice, but there wasn't much he could do about it. "What're you gonna do?" "Make you stop talking." And Karl grinned again as he spun Billy around, pushed him back up against the shower wall. And before Billy could say anything, slick fingers were probing, stroking, easing inside. No, Karl wasn't using soap. But Billy found he didn't care what Karl was using so long as he didn't stop. "Bill?" Billy shudders out of his reverie and stares up into worried hazel eyes. Christ...how long has it been since Karl looked at him like that? Billy can't remember. But he's hit by a wave of longing and loss so intense it almost buckles his knees. Only sheer willpower keeps him standing. "Sorry, just woolgathering." Billy smiles, hopes it's believable. From the corner of his eye, he can see Dom watching him intently. But Billy doesn't look at him. He can't. Can't look away from Karl and those eyes. "Guess some things never change, huh?" Karl's grin is lopsided, sincere. "Yeah, guess not." But Billy's reply is lost as Peter starts shouting orders. Once more, another chance has passed. "Some of us are heading to the pub," Dom says, fingers busily picking glue from the edges of his ears. Billy grins as he watches. "You want to come with?" "Sure." Then they're off -- Dom still picking at the excess glue, Billy shrugging into his jacket. A night out with some of the other guys, just like old times. Billy finds he's looking forward to it, to seeing people he hasn't seen in months. He's noticed the odd glances Dom keeps throwing his way, but Billy ignores them. He's not about to let Dom ruin his evening. He knows Dom, knows he'll want to discuss Karl. And, as far as Billy's concerned, there's nothing to discuss there. If there ever was. He and Karl are over and have been for a long time now. It's time Dom just accepted it and moved on. So Billy walks in silence, not thinking about anything in particular. There's nothing really to think about. He just wants to get to the pub and have a pint or two. Relax. Enjoy himself. It'll be just like it was during filming. Lij and Sean will be there. Orlando, too. And perhaps he's persuaded Viggo to join them. Not that Billy's going to hold his breath on that one. But maybe.... And maybe Bernard will be there. Or Dave. Not that it really matters, he supposes. Just so long as they're all together and having a good time. And that's exactly what Billy's thinking as he pushes open the door and leads Dom into the pub. Then, all thoughts of everyone else are forgotten as Billy stops just inside the door, staggering forward a step when Dom bumps into his back. Karl's here. Those incredible eyes look up, smiling, and snare Billy again. "You didn't tell me he was going to be here," Billy mutters through wooden lips, still unable to move. "You wouldn't have come if I had," Dom replies. He's calm, just watching Billy. "Damn right I wouldn't have," Billy spits back, suddenly angry. How dare Dom do this to him? How dare he? "Well, you're here. Look like coward if you leave now." "Fuck you." "Nah, mate, I'll leave that to Karl." The words are delivered with a cheeky Dom grin, and then he's heading towards the table in the corner. And Billy's left with two choices: stay or leave. It's as simple as that. And no matter how mad Billy is, he just can't bring himself to leave. Not with Karl sitting there, not half a room away. With mumbled hellos for everyone, he joins them, noting absently that Orlando apparently did convince Viggo to join them. Not that Billy's paying much attention to anyone except the big man sitting across from him. Granted, he's trying to ignore Karl, ignore the way their knees bump under the table. But it's a bit hard to do. It always was. Billy's not sure how much time passes. He's only aware that the room grows hotter as he grows drunker. And that Karl's presence, like always, overwhelms him, filling his every sense to overflowing. Just like Karl always did. "What're you doing?" "If I have to tell you that...." "No, I mean what are you doing?" Billy stared down at Karl, stunned at the sight of him on his knees. There was no way that Karl was ... oh, God ... okay, maybe he was. But here? Now? With both of them still in full costume? "Shhh," Karl murmured, nimble fingers busy unlacing Billy's breeches, then slipping inside. "Ngila'll kill us," Billy said, breath catching in his throat as those same nimble fingers enclosed him in dry, calloused warmth. "Do you care?" An expert flick of his wrist accompanied Karl's words, and Billy couldn't remember what he was supposed to care about. "N--no...." Billy managed to stammer a reply even as he looked down at Eomer's blond wig. Then Karl's lips closed around him, enveloping him in wet heat and suction, and Billy couldn't even remember his own name. "Penny for your thoughts." Billy looks up to find Karl watching him. And he's got the weirdest feeling that Karl knows exactly what he was thinking. Impossible, of course, but there it is. "I, um, I...." Karl chuckles as Billy stammers. And the sound is just as rich, just as intimate, as Billy remembers. And that laugh is doing things to his body that Billy thought he'd long since gotten over. Seems he was wrong. "Your eyes give you away, Bill," Karl murmurs, just loud enough for Billy to hear him. His knee bumps Billy's again, lingering this time, gently nudging. And Karl watches, searches Billy's eyes. And Billy wonders what Karl's looking for...and just the fact that he cares makes him angry again. "Just wondering if fucking Marton is as good as fucking me was." The second the words are out of his mouth, Billy regrets them, wishes he could call them back. Every head at the table turns as Karl falls back in his seat. And there's that look of disappointment, of hurt, that Billy's seen before. He's come to loathe that look over the last year...because he placed it there. The entire group is silent, staring. Billy doesn't have to look to read their expressions. Karl's eyes say it all. As do Marton's from his seat next to Karl. "Yeah," Karl says slowly, pushing to his feet. "Guess some things really don't change." His chair bangs to the floor, and he walks away. The silent accusations on the other faces are too much for Billy, and he glares at each of them in turn. Especially Dom. "What?" "That was low, Bills," Orlando says softly, shaking his head. "He deserves better than that." "What do you know about it?" "I know enough." Now Orlando's returning the glare, leaning forward across the table. "At least I know the truth." "Yeah? And what's that?" But it's not Orlando's reply that stops Billy in his tracks. It's Marton's when he says, "Karl's not fucking me." "What?" Billy can't have possibly heard him right. It sounded as if Marton said.... "We're not lovers," Marton continues in that quiet way he has. "We never were." "You --" "Shouldn't listen to gossip, Billy. It has a way of biting you in the arse." "But I thought...." "Oh, I know what you thought. And you thought wrong." "But...." Marton seems determined to not let Billy finish a sentence. His calmness is unnerving as he sits there. "Karl was looking forward to seeing you. Thought that maybe the two of you could talk, work things out. You just squashed that idea." "I --" "Save it, Billy. Because I don't really want to hear it." And now Marton shows some emotion, looking at Billy in disgust. "Don't think the others do, either." And Billy can see that Marton's right. The rest of the group doesn't want to hear his excuses, his reasons. Except Dom. But the look in Dom's eyes takes the wind right out of Billy's sails, deflating him, causing him to slump back in his chair. "Jesus, Billy," Dom says, voice thick with something Billy can't name. "Are you ever gonna get your head out of your arse and realize that you fucked it all up with him? He tried for months to make the two of you work. But you...." Dom trails off, clearly struggling to contain his temper. Billy knows he should say something, but he's not sure what. "Dom, I --" "Shut. Up." Dom glares at him again. "Do you even realize how much Karl compromised, how much he gave of himself for you? And all you ever did was act like it was your bloody fucking due. Because you were too damn proud to admit that maybe he was right when he told you to grow up. Get over yourself, Billy. The rest of us already have." Billy stumbles through the streets, barely aware that he's left his jacket at the pub. The only thing he can focus on is Dom's voice, Dom's words tumbling around in his head. And Karl's eyes just before he left the pub. Was Dom right? Had it been Billy's fault all along? He doesn't know anymore. It might have been. After all, he's been stubborn all his life. But to think that his pride might have fucked up what was possibly the best thing he'd ever had.... Billy just doesn't know if he can accept that. He's not sure if he's strong enough. To be honest, he's not sure of much anymore. Just that he misses Karl terribly and has for a long time. But what can he do at this point? His comment earlier wrecked any chance he might have had. "You could try apologizing." "What?" "You heard me, Billy." Karl watched Billy, eyes glinting in the moonlight through the bedroom window. "When you hurt someone, even by accident, you should apologize." "But Lij...." "C'mon," Karl said, fingers sliding up and down Billy's spine. "He's just a kid. And you knew he didn't mean it in the first place." "I suppose," Billy grumbled, still unwilling to admit he was wrong. "So apologize," Karl murmured, neatly rolling Billy to his back. "And I'll make it up to you...." Billy snaps out of it to find that he's standing on the street in front of Karl's hotel. There's no recollection of walking here, but his feet must have known what his head doesn't. And that's that he needs to apologize. But Billy's feet are glued to the pavement, and his mouth is dry. He can't go up there. What if Karl slams the door in his face? Not that Billy would blame him. It's the least of what he deserves. Now he just has to go up and face the music, as his mum used to say. "Right," Billy says to himself, squaring his shoulders. "I can do this." A few short minutes later, he's upstairs, standing outside Karl's door. It takes another minute or two before he can work up the nerve to knock. Then he swallows hard as the door opens. "Oh," Karl says in a dull voice. The door starts to swing shut, but Billy puts his hand up to stop it. "Can I come in?" "Sure." Karl shrugs and turns away, trudging back into the room. Billy follows. Because, when it comes right down to it, he has no other choice. "I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier," Billy says as Karl drops into a chair. "I was out of line." "Yeah, you were." Well, then. Karl's not going to make it easy. Not that Billy expects him to. He knows better than that. And he doesn't blame Karl. "Actually, I want to apologize for a lot." Billy looks around the room, at Karl's clothes scattered here and there. Karl doesn't say anything, just sits there, watching. And Billy's at a loss for what to do or say. So he plunges ahead, hoping that something comes out right. And Karl still doesn't speak. It's like talking to a wall. Or, Billy realizes suddenly, talking to himself. Christ.... Slowly, with Karl watching, Billy drops to his knees in the middle of the floor. It was his stupid pride, his stubbornness, which fucked it all up before. He knows that now. So he does the only thing he can think of to do. And he'll just have to pray it's enough. "Karl," he says softly, eyes not wavering from Karl's startled ones, "I'm sorry. Everything before...I'm sorry for it all. I fucked up. Badly. I miss you. I want you back. I want a second chance. And I'm willing to beg if I have to." To say that he's startled when Karl moves from the chair to kneel before him is an understatement. Billy's seen Karl on his knees countless times. But never like this. "Say it again," Karl murmurs, hand reaching out, not quite touching Billy. "What --" "The first part." "I'm sorry?" Billy frowns a little, confused. "Yeah." The word is a soft exhalation, and Karl's breath caresses Billy's lips. "I'm sorry." Then, like a light coming on in his head, Billy knows what Karl's after. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." "Shhh," Karl murmurs, strong arms enfolding Billy, wrapping him in warmth. "I'll beg if that's what you want," Billy continues, voice cracking, eyes burning. "I'm sorry." "That's all you ever needed to say," Karl tells him, lips moving against Billy's ear. And Billy wonders why it took him so long to figure it out. Then, he stops thinking about all that, because he has more important things to think about. Like Karl's skilled hands slipping under his shirt. And Karl's lips sliding along his throat. And Karl's...oh. Oh. Yeah...he definitely had more important things to think about for a long time.
|