Disclaimer: none of the real ones is ours, just the made up characters.
Rating: NC 17
This was originally written as a part (Chapter 4 to be precise) of Seven Rings for Seven Brothers by The Usual Suspects.
It is a collaboration between Viv and Elf+Nut, who fell in love with their characters and decided to pursue the storyline involving Billy Boyd and Nina Montesco.
WORLDS APART by VIV & Elf+Nut
Claudia: I'd like to thank: Viv, for her understanding, patience and talent. Una for her support and counsel. Writing with you has been my pleasure and honor. And many thanks to Billy Boyd, for being such a charming, sexy and lovely lad: researching on him has been a pleasure!
Viv: I'd like to dedicate my part in this ficlet to Sir Ian, who I hope never reads it, and to Claudia, who is the better part of my brain and a dear and generous friend besides. And to Una, for making Billy sound like a Scot.
Chapter One
Nick was used to the powerful Pacific Ocean, azure and vibrant and capped with foamy breakers. The Thames was grey and flat, dimpled only by fat raindrops. And it stank. Like his whole experience here so far.
He sat on a terrace overlooking the river, watching the lazy rain blur his view of the Tower Bridge to the west. He could hear movements deep in the house behind him, but Nick didn't bother to turn. A week ago, when he'd first arrived, he would have jumped up, eager to greet Ian. But now he was pretty sure it was just Billy, probably getting ready to go out for the evening. Nick curled his toes around the wrought-iron lawn furniture and frowned.
*******************
Billy strode out on the terrace and saw Nick sitting there, curled up on a garden chair. The lad looked terrible, absolutely the shadow of the lively young man that had arrived from New Zealand a week ago. Billy felt for the guy. He really liked Nick and thought he was good for Ian as well.
And Billy cared deeply for Ian. But something had gone wrong between Ian and Nick and God knew that though Billy had no problem regarding his friend's relationship, he hadn't a clue about gay couples.
But he would put his best effort into helping them. No matter what.
"Hullo Nick, what aer ye up for taenight, mate?"
Billy smiled as Nick, startled, nearly fell out of his chair. Had the lad been deep in thought, then?
"Ah, err… hullo, there, Billy. What was that, again?"
Billy stepped out onto the balcony, glad that at least it was covered. The rain smell was thick, even so.
"I was asking if ye wanted tae head out tae a bar. Ian called; he'll show up there after rehearsals. Told me tae watch out that ye didn'a get lost on the tube."
Billy chuckled, and Nick blushed, both recalling Nick's misadventures at Heathrow when he'd first arrived. Heathrow was a bit larger than Auckland's one-terminal airport. Luckily, Ian's driver had managed to track down the lad and drive him out to Ian's home.
"He called?" Nick asked. For a moment, his face brightened. Then it fell, and he slouched back in his chair. Billy watched the play of emotions, making his own guesses as to what Nick was thinking. Ian had come home late from rehearsals every night this week. And he was working with his ex, Sean, on this show. Nick would have to be an idiot not to put two and two together.
"Aye. But ye'd better get ready quick; we're supposed tae be there in an hour, ye know." Billy tried to keep his voice chipper. He had this peculiar ability to energize everyone around him, and he guessed Nick needed some energy right now.
The two men had bonded quite quickly since Nick had arrived in London, for he had met Billy in New Zealand during the LOTR filming and he appreciated the Scot. Billy understood Nick's uneasiness in London, for he felt it too. He just flew in from Glasgow occasionally, and left as fast as possible. He missed home, and so did Nick, it was plain to see. And the fact that Ian was neglecting him wasn't making things easier on the Kiwi.
Nick stood up slowly from the chair, forcing himself to smile at Billy. "Give me a moment, I'll be ready in fifteen minutes, mate." So saying, he walked into the house, trying to imagine that maybe tonight things with Ian might improve. Hey, maybe they would be able to talk ... Nick was not sure if his presence was even wanted anymore. But he would not give up; he had to talk to Ian.
*****************
She'd been in London all of an hour and a half and had survived the twin ordeals of customs and baggage claim. Feeling very proud of herself, Nina dug in her purse for her cell phone to call her brother Dante and let him know she was here.
But as she began dialing, she noted the message icon. She had a voicemail. With a deep sense of foreboding, she pressed the button and listened.
After a very sweet brotherly greeting, came "... and love, please forgive me for not calling you sooner, but the hurricane cut all communications. Make yourself at home, Bella, and I promise to be home within the week. Could you look after business for me? Ti amo, principessa, bye."
After hearing the voicemail on her cell phone, Nina felt like either throwing the stupid thing away or gathering strength for kicking her brother's ass when he returned. She opted for option B.
She took her first vacation in five years to visit her brother and he pulled a stunt like this on her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
************************
Nina was not a bartender. She'd waited tables once, years ago, but even that had been a failed experiment. Smoke made her sneeze, and she detested tequila; she was going to kill Dan if Hurricane Carlotta didn't get him first.
She watched the wait staff unlock the doors, and she felt her belly drop. Well, here went nothing.
******************
The White Swan was an elegant pub, nestled in a curve of the Thames within view of the Twickenham yacht club and Eel Pie Island. Despite the Swan's charm, Billy had never frequented the place. It was a well-known gay pub, not Billy's usual scene.
The host who met them at the entrance was young and good-looking, and he seemed to recognize Billy. His eyes widened like saucers, and Billy sighed inwardly. Gossips would be all over this tomorrow, certain that Billy's very presence at the pub meant he was gay. Idiots. Why were people always so eager to leap to conclusions?
Still, the assumption proved useful in one sense: The host gave Billy and Nick a fantastic table, in a cozy corner between the bar and the balcony. Then he winked at Billy and sashayed off, to tell all his friends.
After a few minutes, Billy could tell that the rest of the wait staff had been told who he was. He could feel them looking at him. Billy rolled his eyes around the room, avoiding the stares and whispers. Absently, he scanned the bar, wishing for a huge whisky to hide behind.
And then he paused. Odd. One waiter was leaning over the bar, probably placing a drink order for a guest. But it wasn't the waiter who'd caught Billy's attention. The bartender was female, tall, with dark hair scraped back into a ponytail. She looked like she was on the verge of either tears or homicide. She was also beautiful.
******************
Nina tried to stay focused on the drinks she was serving. She had written down a small list of the most popular cocktails to know how to mix them. But for her, every minute behind the bar of the Swan was like a year.
Royce, one of the cute guys who tended the tables, sneaked behind the bar and whispered in her ear, "We have some important guests tonight, Nina love. Table 5 is reserved and more guests are to arrive."
"Royce, love,'" she said, stressing the endearment, " I couldn't care less about table 5. Just tell me what the fuck is a vodka lemon iced daiquiri?"
******************
Nick sat down next to Billy and looked around nervously. He hoped that Ian would arrive soon. This wasn't a place where you could talk to anybody, but maybe they could go somewhere later. Or wander out onto the balcony. Hmm… yes: stars, moonlight reflecting on the river. That might be perfect.
Nick ran a hand through his long hair, noting that Billy was unusually quiet. "Shall I order us some drinks?" Nick asked, nudging Billy. He had to repeat himself before Billy finally responded. Then the other man blinked, opened his mouth, closed it again, and made a clucking noise in the back of his throat.
Finally, Billy replied, "Err, yeah. I mean no. Ah, I'm just gonnae nip over tae the bar. Would ye like anythin'?"
Nick shook his head and watched Billy stand a little awkwardly and skitter over to the bar. And it wasn't difficult to guess why he was so suddenly nervous: the eyes of every waiter in the place, and quite a few guests as well, followed Billy over to the bar. Someone must've recognized him, Nick figured. Poor guy.
haking his head, Nick glanced over to the doorway just in time to see Ian duck into the room, followed by the obsequious host, who had obviously recognized Ian as well. Nick sat up straight, watching Ian hand his coat and umbrella to the host and scan the room.
His heart leapt to his throat. His buddies in Auckland had given him some grief about falling in love with someone so much older, but they'd shut up when they actually met Ian. And how could they not? Tall and oozing with elegance and wit, Ian was enough to render any man speechless. And watching him glide across the room toward the little corner table, Nick's resolve wavered.
Of course Sean was still in love with Ian. And Sean was older, experienced and successful… everything that Nick was not. Nick felt very small and foolish, and he longed for home and solace.
******************
Nina's legs were cramping and her hands were shaking. She was used to working under stress, but a very different kind. She almost thought about drinking something herself, but she didn't drink. She sighed loudly and was considering escaping to the ladies room and wondering if there was a ladies room in a gay pub, when she noticed somebody approaching the bar.
It was a young man, with amazing green eyes and a wide, friendly smile. But Nina did not feel friendly towards anybody that night. She pulled herself together and said, "May I help you, sir?"
Billy saw the forced smile and the tired face and wondered what the hell a woman was doing there. He just said, "I'd like a glass of whiskey, straight, ma'am."
Nina's senses rang alarm to her brain as the guy said "ma'am." Nobody had called her that the whole night so far. She studied the guy closer. He had a sympathetic face, fair hair, and a pixyish air about him. Not her type, at all. What the hell, she was in the Swan, her gay brother's pub. All men here were either gay or bi. Not her type. As in, she had no type and she wasn't interested, period.
"Straight?" she murmured, reaching under the bar and hefting a bottle. She puffed a stray piece of hair out of her face and read the label.
"Yeah, straight. It means with nae ice," the man explained patiently. "And that I like girls." Nina's head bobbed up. The man was smiling. He didn't look like an asshole, but that comment had been very cheeky. Was he coming on to her? What the… but he was kind of cute. Straight, huh? Nina felt a warm blush suffuse her cheeks.
"What?" she asked. Probably not the cleverest thing that could have come out of her mouth. But hell, at least she'd managed a response. Those green eyes were captivating.
To her eternal shock and amazement, the man blushed hotly, and he stared fixedly at the polished marble top of the bar. "Ah, just a Whiskey straight, please, ma'am," he repeated shyly.
Shy? Nina almost laughed out loud. No way a guy that cute could be shy. And straight. And standing here waiting for her to get him drunk. Feeling a bit of a rush, she uncapped the bottle and poured, hoping it was scotch and not horse piss.
When she handed the glass over to the guy, she dared to smile at him and it was a cheeky, smile, as if enjoying her own private joke. "Here you go, sir. Straight, for you."
Billy was at loss for words, for the first time in a very long time. He turned away from the bar, and then looked back again. She was still smiling.
******************
Ian had already reached the table. He saw Nick and smiled at him. He really loved him, he thought. Loved him very much ... but the last weeks had been rough at work and he had not had much time for Nick. He would make it up to him, as soon as the play was on stage.
He dug deep beneath his personal exhaustion and mustered a smile. He was surprised by Nick's haunted, unhappy expression in response. Worse, when he leaned over to give Nick a hello kiss, Nick flinched away and frowned darkly. Ian had to stifle a chuckle: even in a sulk, Nick was adorable.
But obviously something had happened to upset his lover. Ian set about to figure out what it was, and then repair it. He had found over the years that maintaining a relationship often required such repair work. Tedious, of course, but necessary. And he did want this thing with Nick to be a relationship, not just a fling.
Shrugging off the waiter, Ian gestured toward the open balcony doors and smiled softly. "Step outside with me, Nicholas?"
******************
Nick followed Ian out onto the balcony. He still wasn't sure what he was feeling, but it seemed like nerves. Or maybe sorrow. Or both. Was it possible to feel both?
The rain had ceased, but it was still cloudy. No twinkle of stars, no moonlight. But the pier lights reflected off the water below, and a yellow glow hung in the humid air, just ambient light of such a large city. Nick found it difficult to breathe in London.
Ian leaned against the railing. Like many tall people, he slouched a little, making him look casual and elegant. And intimidating. Lowering his chin, Ian stared at Nick from under heavy eyebrows.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Ian asked, his voice soft and even, intended to calm. And it was working. Nick felt some of his tension ease.
"Ian... I miss you," he said, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. He was overwhelmed by Ian and the love he felt for him. Nick knew that Ian was a worldwide respected actor, very busy and dedicated to his work, an icon of the gay movement all over the world. And Ian loved his work. And those qualities and the admirable person of gentle, loving Ian were the reasons Nick was so terribly in love with him. He felt selfish, as he continued, "I haven't seen you at all in the last week, I miss you and I am not sure if it was a good thing to come over. You haven't time for me and I don't want to be a burden to you. I am sorry, love."
Ian sighed softly, and Nick saw his emotions mirrored in the gray eyes he loved so much.
"Nicholas, I am currently investing a lot of my time into the new play. But this is how it works, dear boy, and I cannot promise you that it will get much better until the play is actually on stage. I am overjoyed that you decided to come to London, but there is not much more of my time that I might offer to you at this moment. I don't want to see you unhappy."
Something inside Nick clicked, and he felt his anger rise.
"Of course you don't have time for me. And why's that, do you wonder? Maybe because you're holed up with Sean all day every day, running lines," he spat out the last two words viciously. He was a little dismayed at his own outburst, but it was too late to recall the words now.
"Yes," Ian agreed slowly. "We are, as you say, running lines a lot. That's generally how actors prepare for their roles."
Nick snorted. That voice, usually so impressive in its mildness, raked across his nerves. Ian was mocking him, condescending to a young pup who obviously had no experience in the theatrical world.
"Is it? Does role prep usually entail shagging your ex to get into character, then? I'm just a rank amateur, after all," Nick said snidely. He turned a shoulder on Ian and stared out at the murky river.
Ian didn't move for several moments. Nick knew, because every nerve in his body was aware of the tall man beside him, but he didn't dare turn back. He was crying, damn it. And he didn't want Ian to know.
After a while, Ian moved away from the railing and went back inside the Swan, without a word.
******************
It was very hard to open a locked door without a key and carrying a half-dead drunken guy on your back, decided Billy, as he started looking for the keys to Ian's house. His shirt pocket? No. His trousers? No. His jacket? Where the hell was his jacket? Billy felt like banging his head on the wall for his stupidity. He had left his jacket in the Swan.
After digging through all of Nick's pockets and finding the keys, Billy got both of them inside the house and put Nick to bed. Not in Ian's room, but in his own actually. He had been listening to Nick's ramblings throughout the last two bottles of scotch and found out, the worst way, that Nick had no resistance to alcohol. Things between Nick and Ian must have been beyond bad, for Ian had left the Swan without a word. He still wasn't home and Nick ...well, Nick was wasted and now sleeping in Billy's bed.
So Billy picked up a pullover and set out to return to the Swan to recover his jacket.
As Billy got back to the pub, he saw it was already closed, the windows of the big seventeenth century house dark and no noise coming from the interior. Billy was upset, but there wasn't much he could do. Other than maybe check for a side or back entrance before leaving.
He walked up the dark alley to the side of the house and heard a heavy door being closed and locked, followed by the sound of lonely footsteps coming his way. Then a loud angry voice said, "Give us tonight's take, lady, and we will let you leave in peace ... maybe."
He heard a calm feminine voice replying, "No way, I won't. I am armed… stay away from me."
And Billy walked faster until he reached the back entrance of the Swan. There she stood, the bartender, with a tiny can of mace in one hand. She was holding a small handbag in the other hand, as if it was a weapon. Billy realized that the woman, no matter how brave, had no chance against the three men standing in the alley with knives.
Billy tried to direct the attention towards himself. "Hey lads, go away. The lady isn'a alone. Just go."
Nina looked from the three assailants to the new arrival. Oh, it was the "straight" guy. Another butt she had to save, because he didn't look dangerous or intimidating in the least.
"Look, whoever you are, I appreciate your intention, but you really don't have to get yourself into this. I think I can handle the situation," she told Billy.
Billy felt like laughing out loud. The guys looked very dangerous and the lady was trying to protect him. That was rich.
Billy felt a sense of calm encase him as he clinically studied the layout: the main assailant was about two feet away from the lady bartender, holding a long-bladed knife in his left hand. The other two guys were behind the girl, but several feet away, near the shadows. They looked slightly less focused, but still dangerous. And they were armed. Since they were somewhat hidden in the shadows, Billy couldn't see their weapons clearly, but he thought they had knives, too.
Careful to keep the secondary players in his periphery, Billy took a step forward, dropping his left foot back and shifting his shoulders. Inhaling, he flexed his fingers; exhaling, he lined up his opponent's center. Ignoring the bartender for the moment, he addressed her assailant.
"I am giving ye one last chance tae leave her alone," he said, calmly. Not unexpectedly, the guy laughed and turned, now threatening Billy with the knife. Stupid. Such an adjustment left him face-on and unbalanced. The other two goons moved up from the shadows, flanking the bartender, so she couldn't run. Billy figured he'd have to take them out one by one.
Nina worried a bit less about Mr. Straight as she saw the way he moved and surveyed the scene. Maybe there was something more to him than met the eye. He moved fluidly, smoothly. He looked like he definitely knew what he was doing. She gripped her mace and her handbag even tighter and went over in her head what she had learned ages ago, in high school, about self-defense.
Billy saw that Bartender Lady was neither freaking out, nor fainting, and he thanked God for small miracles. He labeled the muggers in his mind as thug one, thug two, and thug three, while he tried to figure out a way to put them on the run without getting Bartender Lady hurt in the process. Billy licked his lips thoughtfully, centered his body, and anticipated thug one's lunge long before it came. He kept his elbow locked and felt the energy of the attack glance off of his expertly placed parry. Before the attacker had a chance to regain his balance, Billy shifted, bringing a knee up in the man's gut. A gurgle of surprise and pain rent the air. The knife clattered to the ground as thug one, suddenly winded, grabbed for his belly.
Smoothly, Billy bent and retrieved the knife. Balancing himself with the weapon, he turned to the other two thugs and raised a cool eyebrow.
"Who's next?" He asked, going for his best John Steed.
As if on cue, Mrs. Emma Peel, aka the lovely bartender, kneed thug two in the groin then zapped him with the mace. She looked so fearsome that Billy almost laughed. But he didn't have time: thug three was heading for her with a knife, and parry not being an option here, Billy had to attack the guy flat out.
Billy focused on precisely the distance to thug three's hand and kicked out hard. The man let the blade fall to the ground, gripping his broken wrist to his body and stepping back from Billy and Nina. Billy looked over to her to see if she was all right and saw a look of horror in her face. He sensed someone behind him and managed to duck, but a hard blow to his head still hit him, the glass from a bottle shattering around him. The blow was hard enough to dazzle him for a minute. Thug number one had managed to recover and creep up behind him. But before the thug could attack him again, Billy managed to kick out for him and the man fell hard.
The other thugs ran away and Nina saw that the man on the ground wasn't a threat to them anymore. She kneeled next to Billy, who was on the ground, and saw blood in his hair. "Damn it, buddy! You are bleeding, we might have to get you to a hospital and have the cut tended..." she said.
"No hospital, lass, not in a thousand years, ouch!!!" said Billy as Nina tended the cut in his scalp.
Nina had to smile. "All men are the same. Nothing but big babies!" Shrugging off her gentle hands, Billy tried to stand. The world tilted, and he sank back against the building, breathing hard. Dizzy. The bloody mugger must have hit him harder than he thought. He shook his head, hoping to clear it, but the dizziness only amplified. Nina touched his shoulder tentatively.
"Listen, if you won't go to a hospital, at least let me help you home. Maybe someone there can clean you up," she offered. Billy put up a hand and felt the bump at the back. It stung, and his fingers came away wet. He wasn't sure which thought terrified him more: bleeding to death here in a dark alley or going back to Ian's, rousing a still-soused Nick, and getting the Kiwi to tend his wound. But a taxi ride with the bartender didn't sound so horrible.
"Whatever ye say, Mrs. Peel," he replied. Her laughter was soft and soothing. An Avengers fan? He had to smile in reply.
"Always thought about buying myself a leather cat suit," she admitted, helping him around to the street and fishing in her handbag for a phone to call a taxi.
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