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Dom ran his fingertips over the smooth skin of Billy's back. It always amazed Dom that he could--as long as he kept it light, kept it gentle--could touch Billy to his heart's content while Bill slept. He was so, so tired, poor man, and his fatigue left him virtually dead to the world.
Dom traced the corner of Billy's shoulder blade where it angled out because he'd fallen asleep laying awkwardly on his arm again. He reached across, gingerly circled Billy's forearm with his fingers, and slowly, cautiously pulled it out from under him until it was simply lying beside him, and wouldn't cramp or go numb.
Before laying down again, Dom dropped a soft kiss on Billy's lower back, the skin luminescent in the light of the full moon that shone in the window. The curtains had been pulled when they came to bed, but as soon as Billy was out cold, Dom had gotten up to open them, precisely so he could see that ethereal, otherworldly light upon the sleek body laying next to him.
Dom laid his head on his pillow, and fell asleep with his thoughts fixed upon the crisp lines of a moonlit Billy.
Dom woke slowly, feeling an odd patch of heat on his chest. What was that? Surely he was too young for a heart attack. Besides, that was supposed to be numbness, not heat, wasn't it?
He cracked open his eyes and looked down. Not a heart attack, then. Morning sun, bright and strong and warm and turning his skin golden. But he was tired, and the dark sounded so much nicer, for just a little longer. He carefully eased away from Billy, then staggered out of bed and over to the window to draw the heavy curtains again.
Twilight descended on the bedroom, and Dom's scratchy eyes breathed a sigh of relief, so to speak. He nearly smiled at his early-morning flight of fancy, and crawled back into bed, rolling over to kiss Billy's dusky shoulder and close his eyes. Sleep returned with a plummeting sigh.