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It wasn't that the couch was uncomfortable or ugly, smelly or even particularly old. It was that he didn't know where it was from. It'd just sort of shown up in his apartment one day without any warning or explanation. Dom had been sitting happily upon it at the time, though, watching some sports program. He'd immediately perked up when Billy came in. "Hey, Billy!" he'd said. Nothing about the previously non-present couch he was sitting on, nothing to ask Billy about his day. Nothing, even, about what he was doing at Billy's flat, or in Glasgow, for that matter. "Umm, what are you doing here?" he'd asked, because if Dom could rudely skip the preliminaries, so could he. "I'm moving in," Dom had informed him cheerfully, bouncing up from that couch and pointing at a couple of bags Billy had previously overlooked -- due, of course, to the fact that they were hiding beside the couch, where Billy's favorite chair was supposed to be. The chair, by the way, was sitting forlornly in the doorway to the kitchen, and Billy could practically swear that it managed to look reproachful. "Moving in?" he'd repeated, mouth hanging open stupidly. "Yep. Won't it be great?" Dom had asked. Rhetorically, Billy supposed, since Dom continued right on without a pause for Billy's response, which most likely would have been more open-mouthed shock, anyway. "I got this great sofa-bed at a secondhand furniture store because I knew that you only had the one bed." And Dom had gestured to the couch as if there was some possibility that Billy had managed to miss seeing the monstrosity. "Great," Billy had agreed weakly, because even though he wasn't particularly fond of surprises or secondhand furniture, seeing Dom was always great. "That's just what I thought you'd say," Dom enthused, then grabbed Billy and pulled him into a boisterous hug. "This is going to be so fun!" With that, he'd led Billy to sit on the sofa, which didn't seem to be lumpy or stained or have any springs sticking through. Billy had sniffed experimentally, just in case.
Dom could sit and lie on that couch in about a million and one different positions, Billy discovered. Sometimes he'd watch TV upside-down, with his face turning bright red from the rush of blood and his laughter while his head hung over the side. Other times, he'd do weird yoga positions on it, which didn't look comfortable no matter how many times Dom assured him they were. Then there was what seemed to be Dom's favorite position: flat on his back with one foot on the floor while he tossed the other leg over the back of the couch. Splayed out like some manipulated blow-up doll, it seemed to be a position designed solely to direct all attention to Dom's crotch. Not that Billy cared, or even noticed, really. Because he would only sit in his favorite chair, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the TV or on Dom's face if they were talking, while Dom made himself very comfortable on that couch. According to Dom, it was the most contradictory couch in the world, though. Because even though he seemed wonderfully at ease on it during the day, he insisted that the pull-out bed was the most torturous device he'd ever lain upon. It hurt his back, he said. And that's how he ended up sleeping in Billy's bed every night, sprawled out all over the place, limbs flung willy-nilly, while Billy could only attempt to hang on to one tiny corner of the mattress. And though Dom was quite the sound sleeper, Billy had the challenge of falling asleep while Dom rolled around and murmured in his sleep and decided to use Billy as his human teddy bear. They woke up practically every morning with their legs entangled, facing one another, and Billy really should have seen it coming. Because, yes, he eventually woke up to find that he was spooning Dom. Proper mortification was probably in order, but he was too fucking tired for it. Instead, he'd yawned and patted Dom on the cheek when he got up and headed for the bathroom. So he'd been okay. He could live perfectly well with Dom, even if it meant that he could never ever look at the couch, especially not when Dom was on it, he wasn't safe in his own bed, and he constantly had to resist the urge to grab Dom and start snogging him. But he was doing just fine. Until, that is, a day about three weeks after Dom had shown up unannounced. Billy had gone into the kitchen to get some tea, and when he came back into the living room, there was Dom in his favorite couch position. Quickly averting his eyes from, what else?, Dom's crotch, he'd said, "Here's your tea," and given it to Dom before settling back into his own chair. He'd felt Dom's gaze. He very determinedly didn't return it. But when Dom's cup and saucer had clattered down onto the coffee table and Dom had let out a muffled scream, Billy'd had to look over, wide-eyed. Dom was (thank God) sitting up, arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at Billy. "Did you not want tea?" Billy asked, lost. "Tea? Tea?!?" Dom demanded, voice loud and agitated. "No, I bloody well didn't want tea! Do I have to wear a damn sign or something? One that says, 'Fuck me, Billy!' in all-capital, neon, flashing letters?" "Uh, what?" Dom's eyes had blazed. "I want you, you idiot!" Then he'd grabbed the front of Billy's shirt and kissed him, quite soundly. With lots of tongue. And it was only natural progression that they ended up on the couch, naked and sweaty. It hadn't seemed uncomfortable, and Billy said as much to Dom. "Oh, that," Dom had said. "Well, of course it isn't. But I had to have some excuse to sleep in your bed, didn't I?" Billy had seriously considered getting that couch bronzed. Only, after what they had just done on it, coupled with the fact that he didn't know where it had been before they got it, he was pretty sure it was more in need of a good disinfection. END
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