Note: Ficlet written while at work -- another attempt to break that writer's block. The beginning just popped into my head and I took it from there. Then most of it got accidentally deleted, so this is a second try.

Dom was pretty sure that watching Billy play pool shouldn't make him think of sex. One's best mate was not supposed to give a guy a boner. There was a rule or something against it, written down somewhere in the Handbook for Straight Guys.

Only it was hard to keep thinking 'straight' through the haze of one (or two, or three) too many beers when Billy's jeans were stretching enticingly over his ass as he lined his queue up for a shot -- and how come Dom had never noticed how nice Billy's ass was? How extremely grabbable?

Of course, Dom knew that Billy was handsome and charming -- he had seen his friend scoring with the prettiest fangirls often enough to be aware of it. But he had never been able to actually understand those women, especially when they ended up choosing Billy over Elijah or Orlando.

Until tonight, that was.

Tonight was obviously the night when Dom Monaghan, actor and womanizer, turned into Dom Monaghan, actor and luster after his best friend's ass. Wasn't he a bit old to change his sexual identity?

But a long good look at Billy (who was currently stretching to work out some kinks in his neck and causing his shirt to ride up and expose several inches of bare skin in the process) convinced him that no, it wasn't too late. Because Dom wanted nothing more than to touch that strip of pale skin, to slide his hands up and around Billy's slim torso, feel the warmth of his skin and feel him shudder beneath his touch...

Umm, yeah.

Dom shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Unfortunately this roused Billy's attention and Dom found himself fixated by those darn green eyes, that seemed to have developed the ability to turn his knees to jelly.

"Everything okay, Dom?"

Oh, fuck -- not the accent! Didn't Billy know what it did to people? For example, make their stomachs drop and give them all kinds of naughty mental images?

Yep, Dom had most definitely turned into one of Billy's fangirls. And that was bad. Very bad.

"Earth to Dom? What's up, mate? Come on, you're starting to scare me!"

Dom needed to get out of there, and quickly, because how was he supposed to keep the rules of the Handbook for Straight Guys when Billy was standing in front of him, all concerned and so damned close that Dom could smell him, for Chrissakes!

Talk, he had to talk, so he could get away and come to his senses -- preferably with the help of Miss Palm.

"I'm okay -- just too much to drink and too much running around on set... Think I'll go home."

Without waiting for an answer, Dom waved at Billy and started to walk out, trying very hard not to run. He'd have to explain this to Billy the next day, probably by lying his ass off, but for now he just wanted to get out of there, away from Billy's green eyes, warm smile, minty smell, and sexy body.

Only that Billy seemed to have other plans, because just as Dom breathed a sigh of relief at getting away before he completely lost control and made a move that could only end in disaster and humiliation, Billy caught up with him.

"Dom, you git -- you forgot your jacket! I don't know what's the matter with you tonight, but I'm going home anyway, so I'll just come with you..."

And because Dom couldn't think of a sane argument that would make Billy leave him alone, he found himself in sharing a cab with the person he had wanted to get away from. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, grateful that Billy didn't attempt conversation -- but the cab seemed awfully small, he could feel Billy's body heat over the middle seat.

All of which made Dom all kinds of uncomfortable and he crossed his hands in his lap and started thinking unsexy thoughts -- "My mom scolding me, Peter yelling at me, shooting in the freezing rain, Feet at four in the morning, Billy's bedhead at four in the morning, fuck!" -- until they arrived at his house.

Dom was so relieved that he practically jumped out of the cab, yelled "Good night, Billy, see you tomorrow!" and dropped his keys because he was in such a hurry to get inside. That was when Billy bumped into him, who obviously had not taken the cab to his place but had gotten out.

Dom almost jumped out of his skin at the contact, a full front-to-back bodycheck that gave him all kinds of ideas he shouldn't have. And oh. He stared after Billy, who now opened the door with his own key, and was looking at Dom expectantly.

"You coming, Dom?"

He did have to say something suggestive like that, didn't he, as if Dom's own imagination was not active enough already -- and how was Dom supposed to survive having Billy in his house? Dom was still staring, mouth dry and pants tight, unable to move.

"Are you going to stand there staring all night or do you plan to do something about it?"

Billy's voice again, and his eyes were glittering. He was leaning against the doorframe and smirking -- and slowly Dom realized something important: It had not been a pen that had poked him into the butt just now.


Dom could suddenly move again, and grabbed Billy's shirt, pulling him inside, his brain obviously having shut down. That was the only explanation why he did this and then let Billy kiss him, already breathless and openmouthed. There was most definitely a rule against that in the Handbook for Straight Guys, but Dom couldn't bring himself to care, not when his hands were slipping beneath Billy's shirt to explore that patch of skin seen earlier, and so much more.

Billy's skin was smooth and warm beneath Dom's touch,his body hard and compact against Dom's, and identity crisis suddenly not so bad anymore.