Title: Qui ne change rien, Qui change tout
Original Story: Good Luck Charm part 1 and part 2 by Cassandra - airgiodslv
Pairing: DM/EW; implied BB/DM
Disclaimer: The author makes no claims or inferences to reality or truthfulness. Moreover, this story is based upon the work of another author and recognises their creation.
Forgetting the years between thirteen and seventeen, Billy's considered himself a relatively lucky man. He's had chances some of his friends back in Glasgow would have never dreamt of, and he's taken them with both hands. And now he's found himself in New Zealand, working the job of a lifetime, surrounded by new friends, ones he wants to keep forever - ones who seem just as aware of their own luck and ready to celebrate it the way Billy likes to, as well: over a few beers, a few times a week.
It's during one of these celebrations that Billy chances to bring up the topic, quizzing the others about luck and belief in it. Dom scoffs at things like superstitions, as does Astin, but Orlando and Elijah admit readily that they're not above tossing spilled salt over their shoulders and the like, for good luck and to ward off bad. But when Billy presses for more specific information, only Orlando is forthcoming; Elijah just sinks a little into the booth and smiles into his drink.
"Go on," Dom laughs, nudging his shoulder against Billy's but grinning across the table at Elijah. "Give. You wear women's knickers for luck, that's it, isn't it?"
"Now there's a visual I didn't need," Sean sighs. "Superstitions aren't supposed to be ... shared, though. I mean, it's not lucky anymore if you talk about them, right?"
Dom's hand slices through the air, dismissive and blandly irritated "That's wishes. They don't come true and all that. And I wasn't talking to you. Come on, Elijah."
Elijah's eyes lift, then - for once not wide and pleasant or even mild, but sparking, flaring - and settle on Dom. "There's just - okay, yeah, at the beginning, whenever I start on another movie, I do something. But no, I don't talk about it. I just do it, and then it's done. One time."
"There's no and. I'm not talking about it, so let it the fuck go. It's just for luck, Dom." Elijah's lovely mouth turns a little, and no one seems to notice but Billy, who rests his hand gently on Dom's thigh, trying to keep him from pushing for more. Not that it will work; not that it matters, because Dom's already begun to lean forward, hands flat on the table and his grin turning, too, into a challenge, into something fierce.
"In pink, yeah? What size should we be looking for?"
Elijah's fingers tighten around his glass, but he doesn't blink. "Fuck you."
"Dom." Billy's voice is calm, but firm, too, and Dom slides of the booth still giggling, leaving the rest of the company quiet, for the longest time Billy could remember since they'd all met barely two months before. Only Elijah's eyes follow Dom across the room, and Billy holds his breath for a moment before releasing it in a kinder, conciliatory laugh.
"Maybe he's just forgotten what it's like to be unlucky." Billy says, but only Sean nods. Elijah's gaze doesn't move, and Billy swallows down an odd little rush of panic along with the last of his drink. When he looks up again, Orlando's disappeared and Sean is standing, pocketing his wallet and stretching, calling it a sudden night. Elijah seems to have forgotten Billy's there at all, and, swallowing hard again, Billy stands and coughs, waiting for Elijah to turn back to him.
"Maybe," he says, low and careful, making sure Elijah can hear as well as listen, "You won't need to do it here, Elijah. Whatever - whatever it is you do. Maybe - " Billy takes a deep breath. "Maybe you've been lucky enough."
Or maybe not, Elijah thinks as Billy leaves. Luck hasn't got him what he wants most here, though that could change tonight. Billy waves his goodnights in the direction of the bar and neither Dom nor Orlando looks up from their discussion, and Elijah calls Billy's departure permission, knowing it's nothing of the sort, and works his way over to Dom, his smile returning.
"Sorry," he says, shrugging. "Long week. I didn't - "
Dom clicks his tongue and smiles, too. "One more day, though, that's it. What've you got tomorrow, anyway?"
"I don't even remember."
"Must be important, then." Orlando's grins. "I'm off. Where's Billy?"
Dom huffs and turns where he stands, scanning the pub. "Fucking tosser left me here - "
"Not alone, though," Elijah says quickly. "I mean, we all know the way home, right?"
"Right." Orlando pushes his glass away, claps his hands on Elijah's shoulders and then bends to kiss Elijah's cheek. While Dom's distracted calling for the bartender, Elijah tries to move from under Orlando's grip, but Orlando just presses another kiss to his skin and shakes his head. "Don't."
"The fuck are you talking about - "
Orlando spins him, forces Elijah to face him properly, and lowers his voice as Billy had moments before. "He's with Billy. Don't."
"He's not with Billy now - " Elijah starts, and Orlando's fingers clench on Elijah's shoulders, but Elijah just grits his teeth. "He could be with me, if he wanted. It's not like I'm gonna do it again, it's not like it's gonna turn into something. I'm not - "
"In love with him. At all."
"No." Elijah wrinkles his nose, but the colour in his cheeks is high. "No, fuck that. No."
"No, not in love." Orlando says then, releasing his hold on Elijah with something like pretty disgust. "You're not that lucky."
Dom's hands are shaking because he's just had a few, that's all, and signing off on a tab is complicated in a dark pub, anyway. His nervousness has nothing to do with another complication, the fact that in a minute or two he'll be alone with Elijah, a rare enough thing that it makes the blood rush in his ears. He's not attracted to Elijah, not in the same way he's attracted to Billy, at least, but there's something - different about Elijah that lures him nonetheless. Though Billy is older and considerably wiser, inside he's still so much like Dom; Elijah is younger and smarter (smarts being different from wisdom, always, in Dom's book) and nothing like Dom at all apart from their common love of music and the video games Billy has no patience to learn. Nearly all of Elijah's life has been captured on some screen, somehow, but in none of those reels of film has there been evidence of this Elijah, the Elijah Dom already wants to call a deep, lifelong friend and maybe something better, more.
It's dangerous and stupid to even think about sleeping with Elijah, not to mention hurtful if Billy were to find out, but danger and stupidity are part of Dom's standard modus operandi, and there are ways to heal hurts. Besides, nothing's happened yet, and Dom's fucked if he's going to regret something he's not yet even done.
"Do you want to just - ?" Dom hooks his thumb toward the door, eyebrows raised in the closest thing he can manage to nonchalance. To his credit, Elijah doesn't laugh; instead he nods and finishes his drink and meets Dom's eyes with his own sweeter kind of challenge.
"I want to fuck you," he says simply. "Do you think you want to fuck me?"
They hadn't even made it fully inside Elijah's house before Dom had tried to fall to his knees and just get Elijah's dick in his mouth as fast as possible, as if blowing him would prove something to them both, as if they needed proof or reason to continue. Elijah had groaned and pulled him back up, dragging them both into the front room and knocking over an ashtray on their way down the hall.
"I want - " Dom has to concentrate now to get the words out between the flicks of Elijah's tongue and fingers down his throat and chest, pinching his nipples hard and squeezing. "Elijah. Fuck, Elijah, you've - "
"Done this before, yeah, Dom." Elijah's smirk vanishes as soon as it appears, followed by a shove at Dom's shoulders, backing him against the wall. "Maybe more than you."
Dom can't hold back his laugh, but he reaches for Elijah's face, for an actual kiss, a proper one meant to slow them down a little. "I don't know, mate, I've been - "
"So have I. I don't fucking care." Elijah's eyes glitter as his hand slips down between Dom's legs. "You still want to suck me off?"
Dom's face burns scarlet, but he's aching already, twitching in Elijah's fingers. "Yeah. I do, yeah."
Elijah nods and tugs at Dom again, moving them to the bedroom and only letting go of Dom to begin pulling his own clothes off. Dom's torn between wanting to maybe reach for him and - well, do the things he knows best, the things he and Billy -
Dom doesn't have the thought fully formed before he's on his knees for real, greedy for Elijah's dick and concentrating on nothing but the scent and taste and now the feel of of Elijah's short, brutal fingernails digging into his scalp.
The sex itself, the fucking, is fantastic - it's sharp and brilliant and everything Dom expects. And Elijah moves effortlessly from pounding into Dom's ass to just working his slick, sweet mouth around Dom's dick and then back again. Twice during the night Elijah turns Dom to his stomach and pushes at his hips, and once Elijah falls to his back and welcomes Dom inside him for only moments before they're both coming, bucking against each other wildly and laughing afterward, sweating out the alcohol and tension and finally letting exhaustion take them for a few hours.
And then, just before dawn, just bare hours after they've left a long shower tired and still half–wrapped around each other, Elijah slides down the sheets and turns Dom again, this time to dart his tongue down the cleft of Dom's ass and inside him until Dom feels like he's going to break into thousands of pieces.
When he wakes up for the last time, Dom doesn't feel what he supposes should be the shock of finding himself alone. He's grateful for the chance of another shower, one in which he can remember everything and wait for his body to move past discomfort to ease without feeling Elijah's eyes and hands on him. Dom's mind is catching up to the evening, leading him to thoughts of Billy - not entirely unwelcome thoughts, but thoughts he has to shake off in order to get out of Elijah's house without something else inside him breaking. Dom pulls on his clothes again and moves out onto to the street, already dialing for a taxi, and he's not surprised when the car pulls up beside him on the pavement, Orlando's bright smile visible through the window.
"You're late," Orlando laughs, unlocking the door. "Very lucky we find you."
Elijah's trailer door is unlocked, and he frowns at how quickly the handle spins in his hand, trying to think how tired he must have been yesterday to leave the thing open. He doesn't have long to wonder, though, because as soon as he's dropped his bag and flicked on the light, Billy looks up from the half-finished paperback he's reading on Elijah's couch and meets his eyes, reading them even faster.
"You look like hell," Billy says, calm as ever, and Elijah nods and pushes his sunglasses on top of his head.
"You're not much better. What are you doing here, Bill?"
"Thought I'd come in early," Billy sighs quietly, stretching and leaning back to leave the book face–down and opened on the arm of the couch. "It's amazing what a good night's rest will do. Not that I had one, Elijah; I'm just making what better fucking be an unnecessary point." Billy stands and stretches again, crosses the ugly, grey carpet and moves until he's close enough to Elijah that they're sharing breath. "I don't want to know. I don't want to care, but that's something else, isn't it. Is it out of your system now, Elijah? Is it done?"
It's Elijah's turn to swallow hard, and when he tries to step around Billy he's kept from doing so forcefully, Billy's hand wrapping around his arm and holding him still. "I'd like an answer, Elijah."
"Don't fucking touch me - "
"Don't let yourself think I want to." Billy's voice is colder than anything Elijah's ever heard. When Elijah's breath starts coming too quickly, Billy shakes his head and lets him go, ready to leave now. "It's over. Forgotten. But try it again, Elijah, fuck with either of us again like that and you'll find your luck's run out."
"So did you want me to ask, or were you just gonna tell me?" Orlando says, his voice just above the radio, just above the sound of his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Dom blinks and then chuffs out an exhale, peering out the window rather than look at Orlando.
"I think it's pretty obvious, mate; it's not like you didn't know I was leaving with him."
"I didn't know you'd stay."
Dom blinks again, the red flush back in his cheeks and ears. "I don't fuck and run, Orli."
"Don't say it like it's written on some tablet somewhere, Dom." Orlando rarely sounds this snarky, and his voice rattles Dom somewhat, makes him feel suddenly, disgustingly worse when an hour before he was feeling worlds better. Orlando sighs, sets his jaw firmly and steers them into the studio lot one–handed before he switches off the ignition and turns to Dom, tugging the sunglasses from Dom's face.
"You fucked up, mate. Both of you. Elijah knew what he was doing, but you didn't, so it's going to just die, here and now. Don't try to make it work, Dom, I'm telling you it's not going to."
"Fuck you." The echo of Elijah's words is strong in Dom's, and both he and Orlando back away from it, with Dom breaking first, as he's beginning to think is always going to be his fate. "Christ. Fuck you, Orli. It's not like that. It's not going to be - "
"Anything," Orlando hisses. "It's not gonna be anything, Dom." He slumps back against the upholstery, stares at the madness already surrounding the trailers, and then shoves the door open. "I'm late now, too. You and Elijah want to fuck things up for all of us any further, let us know in advance, yeah?"
It takes hours for Dom to catch Elijah alone, and that after he's rehearsed what he wants to say over and over again, catching himself once just before running the speech for Billy's suggestion or approval. Billy's shot him only the gentlest of looks since they'd found each other in Feet, whereas Elijah's settled into a tired silence typical of a final day of the week's shooting. Dom's almost found his chance when Peter takes Elijah aside, and then it's another long wait, another too–long time of pacing and thinking this through, not wanting to say the wrong thing and absolutely not wanting to believe the wrong thing.
When he finally catches up to Elijah, after breaking into a sprint down the road to the trailers to get to him, Dom feels his own smile creasing his face, matching Elijah's soft, wide, maybe a little teasing grin. They greet each other happily enough, but there's tension again, a different kind, and Dom tries to surf it like he had his first wave only a week ago.
"So, there's this club," Dom starts, one hand in his hair, and it takes him a moment to remember the rest of the sentence. "We were thinking, Billy and Orli and I - "
Elijah hums, just listening at first, but jumping in when Dom begins to stutter and lose his place again. "How about Sean? Is Sean - "
"No," Dom laughs, looking for comfort in the sound. "He's in tonight, he said. This morning. In Feet - you were listening to your music, you couldn't have heard. Just us. We could have a few drinks, or - you could come to my place. I brought back this wine, see, remember I was telling you about the tour Billy and I took -
"Yeah." Elijah's smile tightens. "Look, Dom - "
Before the words are even out Dom's face is shadowing, and there's a twisting in Elijah's gut he's never felt before. No explanation's going to fix this, but he can't just say no. And he can't ignore what's he learned from his own particular superstition, the good luck charm he's believed in and cashed in on for years - he can't call a tradition wrong, however shitty it feels now, however much it's knocking the breath out of Dom - when it's done so much for him.
"Last night," he begins again, his eyes almost as bright as Dom's. "That was a one–time thing, Dom. I don't - "
"I'm not hearing this." Dom laughs, brittle and high, nothing like his own voice.
"No, you're not." Elijah licks his lips. "But you have to, okay. I need you to hear it. I don't fuck around with co–stars. It's asking for it, Dom, it's asking for so much trouble, you don't even know."
"I'm a co-star." Dom's hands are curving into fists at his sides. "I thought - "
"We were friends," Elijah sighs, unable to keep the exasperation from his voice even as his expression softens. "We are. Dom, don't do this. It's not as bad as you think. I'm not - like, unique in this. You're gonna see it happens a lot."
"Fucking. Yeah, I think I've already seen it happen a lot. I think I made that pretty fucking clear, Elijah. What I'm missing is why."
"For luck." Dom's breath catches in his throat, and Elijah wraps his arms around his own chest in what Dom thinks is absurd defense before he continues. "It's just something I started doing. I told you, in the beginning of a shoot. It's like ..." Elijah shrugs, but not loosely. "A ritual. And it's just ... what I do."
"This is what you do for luck? You fuck your co–stars as part of a bloody ritual, Elijah?" Dom steps forward, and there's a wild hurt in his eyes when Elijah steps back, finally flinching. "Are you really that superstitious? What's it brought you, Elijah? Who did you - " Dom stops, pushes one hand to his forehead and breathes hard. "I'm not hearing this," he says again.
"I'm an actor, Dom," Elijah snaps. "I don't do it to - Billy thinks I'm fucking with your head, but I'm not, I didn't do that, Dom, I never - "
"I cheated on him." Dom hisses, silencing Elijah even though he can tell immediately that Elijah already knows, but he can't know, not the full extent of it. "For you. For fucking what, Elijah."
Elijah looks down, at his hands, at Dom's feet, at anything but Dom's eyes. "I didn't know. I mean, I did, but I didn't know it - was that important, okay. I didn't think - "
"You never fucking do."
"Oh, fuck that, Dom," Elijah says sharply, the strength roaring back up in him visibly. "You're so fucking concerned with Billy, why'd you come with me? I'm sorry. I'm sorry you think I screwed you over, and I'm sorry you didn't know what the hell was going on. But you're fucking deluded if you think I'm gonna apologize for doing what works for me, okay. I don't have time for this, Dom; neither do you. None of us has time for it, and you and Bill can pretend there's some fucking happy ever after, but I've figured it out - there's fucking, full stop; that's it, that's where it ends."
"Yeah," Dom says softly. "That's where it ends." Elijah's still revved enough that it takes him several seconds to realize Dom's gone, back down the road to the other trailers, out of willing earshot of Elijah's shout. Dom walks through groups large and small, ignores the call for lunch from the canteens and marches as if one dead to his own trailer, knowing without a doubt that he won't be alone there.
He's right, of course; Billy's pacing in the middle of the trailer, clearly waiting for him, and he doesn't hesitate to shake his head and hush the immediate, gasping run of Dom's own apologies. Dom's forgiven, instantly and silently.
Even so, Billy's embrace is cautious, somewhat chilly, and takes long minutes to warm around Dom's body, and he says nothing, waiting for Dom to stop shaking with anger and inability to express it without making things any worse. It's when Billy's fingers thread through Dom's hair slowly that Dom finally settles into a sleep Billy wishes could be longer and better, and in the silence Billy forces himself to remember that they are all lucky here, even Orlando whose luck lies with his looks, even Astin who calls himself lucky simply to have survived adolescence. Even Elijah who steals his luck with the breath from others' lungs, and even Dom, whose luck is hard–won but stolen from no one.
Billy still considers himself more than lucky enough. He has this role of a lifetime, and he has these friendships, ones he still wants to keep forever, however tested they'll be over time. And he has Dom - he has something strong enough to survive Elijah or anyone else. He has another chance to take with both hands.
This - one night of poor choices - it changes nothing, even as it changes everything. It's forgotten already by Elijah and Billy. In time Dom will forget it, too, and they'll all be the luckiest of men.