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Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial, non-profit work of fiction under the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged or condoned by the persons whose names are used without permission.

Bohemian Like You

Author: foxtales
Original Story: Epicure by eff_reality
Pairing: Billy/Dom
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dom feels the energy even on the seventh floor of the hotel where he and Billy are staying. The city and her people are celebrating, calling to him to join them, and he bounces from bed to bathroom to check his reflection one last time.
Post-reveal Notes: This story has been lovingly combed through by elouisa, giddy_london and tigg71, with an initial read-through by dicorvo. Thank you for your thoughts and suggestions, mis amigas. I am a compulsive tinkerer, though, and any mistakes are my own.


Dom feels the energy even on the seventh floor of the hotel where he and Billy are staying. The city and her people are celebrating, calling to him to join them, and he bounces from bed to bathroom to check his reflection one last time.

"Dominic, I promise you, your eyeliner is applied to perfection."

"Why, thank you, Billy," Dom says, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"Can we go now, you narcissistic wanker? I'd like to experience Carnaval while it's still happening."

"Just because you threw on some clothes and feel like you're ready to go doesn't mean the rest of us have so little regard for our image. Beauty takes time, Boyd."

Billy laughs so hard he falls back across the mattress.

"Oi, fuck off," Dom says, running his hand yet again through already artfully dishevelled hair.

Suddenly, Billy is behind him, chin on Dom's shoulder and hands around Dom's biceps. He grins at Dom's reflection in the mirror. "You'll never be able to match my levels of sexiness, Monaghan, so stop fucking about and let's unleash ourselves on this unsuspecting city, yeah?"

Dom sticks his tongue out as Billy squeezes his biceps and steps back, giving him room to turn around. "I'll show you sexy."

"You always do," Billy quips. "Ready?"

Dom nods and they head out.


We are swimming in a sea of people, Dom thinks as he dances his way through the mass of humanity surrounding him. He can't help but move his hips to the beat of the drums - the rhythm coursing through his blood, like the sangria he's been drinking. The feeling is familiar; he'd done Mardi Gras before, had ridden the waves of thousands of people trying to occupy the same space. He feels alive in ways he doesn't reckon he could articulate right now, and grins widely before leaning over to shout, "You don't walk Carnaval, it carries you!" into Billy's ear.

When Billy shouts back that Spain suits him, Dom understands that Billy isn't as comfortable surfing human waves in order to move a few feet forward. It was Elijah who Dom had shared the joy and adrenaline of New Orleans with, not Bill, and Carnaval made Mardi Gras seem like a bowling club luncheon. He studies his mate for a moment, interpreting body language and facial expression, which tell him so much more than words ever could, and sees that Billy is not yet done for the night. He reaches out and wraps long fingers around Billy's upper arm, squeezing before pulling him closer.

"Come on, then," he says with another wild grin as they dive back into the human current.


"Has it got enough glitter, do you think?"

"It's star dust, you git."

"Star dust."

"Where's your sense of fantasy and romance, Boyd?"

"Back in New Zealand."

"Well, that's the fantasy part sorted anyway."

"I'm Scottish, Dom. Romance is optional."

Dom laughs delightedly, bumping his hip against Billy's. "Stick with me, Boyd. I'll set you straight."

"I highly doubt that," Billy deadpans, his eyes twinkling with affection and laughter.

Dom looks down at the mask in his hands, knowing he has to have it. Not only is it perfect in the most garishly purple, green and sparkling glitter-coated way, but he can tell Billy likes it even though he'd probably rather drink one of Elwood's Miller Lites than admit it. Billy isn't buying a mask of his own, so Dom decides that he will wear his for them both tonight.


Dom is still recovering from the surreal hilarity of receiving a beer salute from a man in a giant condom suit when he notices the pirates - four young, handsome men, wearing tight clothing that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. More to the point, he notices one of them noticing Billy. He can't quite hear what the pirates are saying amongst themselves--he manages to catch the words ojos and culo though he doesn't know what they mean--but he knows an appreciative look when he sees one. God knows he's given and gotten enough of those over the years.

"Hey, what did he say to you?" he asks, nudging Billy's shoulder. It had to have been good judging by how amused Billy looks right now.

"Something about my eyes," Billy says, not quite looking at Dom when he answers.

Billy's obviously leaving the best part out, and Dom is briefly disappointed because he can't think of any reason why his mate wouldn't share the joke. He thinks about calling him on it, but another tangled clump of humanity is upon them, and Dom moves out in front of Billy so they can all get around each other. For a little while, Billy makes no move to catch him up.


The sky is lightening by the time they stumble into one of the food tents. Billy slumps in a seat, his feet on a neighbouring chair ensuring Dom will have a place to sit when he returns to the table. Everyone left is in the tents seeking refreshment, Dom thinks as the line moves sluggishly. He's completely knackered, but it's been an incredible night and he has his best mate waiting for him back at the table. Tired as he is, his blood is still singing from spirit and song. And Billy.

He finally manages to liberate a heaped platter of churros y chocolate from a colourfully dressed server and treats her to a wink and a smile before turning to head back to the table. Billy is sitting with his chin in one hand, the other hand limp on the table, palm up, fingers curling loosely inward. Dom smiles down at him, gentle and soft, before kicking the chair out from under Billy's feet.

"You're a fucking menace, Monaghan," Billy complains as he pushes himself upright in his own chair.

"You love me anyway," Dom says, grabbing one of the churros and dipping it in the sauce after he's set the tray on the table. He rights his chair, sitting down and humming in delight as he chews and swallows the first bite. When he looks at Billy, his mate is watching him intently, head cocked as if considering something. He still hasn't touched the food. Dom dips the next bit of churro into the chocolate sauce and holds it up, a signal to Billy that this is how one might gain sustenance in this instance. "Que rico," he says, rolling the 'r' around his tongue like a sip of fine wine before popping the treat in his mouth.

He expects Billy to laugh and call him a ridiculous ponce or maybe to roll his eyes because Billy knows more Spanish than Dom does, even if his accent is shite. He certainly does not expect Billy to lean across the table and kiss him. For one long moment, he is completely frozen, unable to process that the mouth against his is Billy's, but then it hits him that Billy is kissing him, and he smiles, opening his mouth and welcoming the sweep of Billy's tongue. He is more than willing to take and enjoy whatever Billy wants to give him.

"Looks like Spain suits you, too, mate," he says breathlessly as Billy finally ends the kiss and settles back into his chair.

"Si," Billy replies, laughing as they share wide grins across the table.


Translations: culo - ass

ojos - eyes

Que Rico - How delicious


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