They got to the cabin after it was dark, so Machiavelli wasn't sure what the outside of the building looked like. It was roomy on the inside though, from what he could see from looking in the windows. He climbed up on the porch after Billy, following so closely that when Billy stopped to unlock the door, he smacked into him. "Sorry," he apologized, rubbing his nose.
"Well, here we are," Billy said, dropping the bags on the ground. He sneezed. "Ah, dusty."
Machiavelli looked around, letting his eyes adjust. Directly in front of them was a steep staircase leading to a second floor. He was a little surprised that there was a second floor at all; most cabins seemed to have one level. To his right was what looked like a mud room, leading into a hallway that doubled as a pantry. To his left was a living room. The TV in the corner seemed out of place, he noted. At the very back of the cabin was what must have been the kitchen. He could make out the ghostly outline of a table. He looked up at Billy, who was leaned against the stair's handrails, watching him. "I like it in here," he said, smiling.
"Good," Billy grinned back. "This is where I sometimes spend my summers."
"Is that why you have a TV?" Machiavelli asked, entering the living room area. He pulled off a sheet covering one of the couches. Billy nodded. He turned on a lamp by the windows so they could really see the room. "Is it all set up?"
"Sure is," Billy drawled. "We could watch a movie if you want. Got a lot of them," he said, indicating a series of shelves by the window. Machiavelli slipped around the furniture and began to work his way through the shelves, pulling out a few possibilities. Finally, he grabbed the one of his choosing. "What did you find?" Billy asked, taking it from him. He looked up sharply. Machiavelli nodded happily.
"Our first night in a cabin in the woods and you want to watch The Shining?" Billy asked incredulously. He turned on another lamp behind the couch and then set about the room, pulling the shades down in the window.
"You don't want to, Billy? What are you, scared?" Machiavelli asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. He bounced on the couch. Small puffs of dust came off of the couch and he sneezed. He jumped off of the couch again and came to stand before the American immortal. "Don't worry, Billy, I'll keep you safe."
Billy shook his head. Putting his hands on his hips, he sized up the Italian. "Don't you think it's going to scare you, Mac? You're just a little boy."
Machiavelli shook his head. "I love The Shining," he said. His eyes glowed. "I've seen it at least a dozen times. It's a great psychological thriller. See, that's not scary," he commented, turning on the movie. The opening scenes came on. "It's just a couple of elevators and chairs," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
Billy shrugged. "I suppose we'll play it by ear. It's just too bad we don't have popcorn." He settled down on the couch next to the Italian. He turned off the lights as the movie began.
~MB~
Nearly two hours later, Billy switched the light back on. It was a touch difficult with Machiavelli clinging to his side, but he managed. He turned off the movie with a click and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. It landed with a loud clatter than made the Italian cry out. Billy instantly felt guilty. There was a moment of silence which the outlaw eventually broke.
"You're shaking, Mac," Billy said, wrapping his arms around the boy. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to watch that movie. Are you going to be able to sleep tonight, sweetheart?" He rubbed at the boy's back.
Machiavelli slowly let go of Billy. He shifted back onto his side of the couch and tried not to hug his legs to his chest, though instinct was telling him that this was good idea. "I'll be fine," he said shakily. "It just seemed scarier than it usually does." He patted his chest, feeling his heart thump loudly. He took a deep breath in and let it out again. "I'm okay now."
Billy didn't look like he believed the Italian, but he let it go for the moment. The young immortal fastened the front and back doors and checked all of the windows on the first floor. Machiavelli listened to the other immortal putter around the cabin. "Okay," he said at last. He held his arms up. He waited. Finally, he looked over at Billy. "You may put me to bed now."
Billy laughed and put his hands on his hips. "What's wrong with your legs?" The outlaw didn't stop what he was doing, just continued to clean up the room.
Machiavelli pouted a bit. He was just about to drop his arms when Billy gave in. The American came over, picked him up under the armpits, and hefted him up. Machiavelli wrapped his legs around Billy's waist. "Okay, Mac, we'll put you to bed now," Billy told him, grabbing the boy's suitcase from its place by the back door. The outlaw took the stairs in his usual fashion, two at a time. Entering the Italian's room, Billy shifted him over to one hip and pulled the blankets down with his free hand. He dropped Machiavelli somewhat unceremoniously into his bed. The Italian shifted upwards slightly. The Kid then pulled the blanket up to Machiavelli's chin and tucked him in tightly.
"Could you tell me a story, Billy?" Machiavelli asked. The boy's eyes were on Billy's face, imploring him to stay a while longer. The thought of being alone in this strange place scared him more than he would like to admit.
"Well, I'm not very good at telling stories-"
"-that's okay," Machiavelli pleaded desperately.
Billy smiled and pulled a book from the front pouch in Machiavelli's suitcase. "I'm not very good at telling stories, so I got a book for you from the store before we left. I guess I saw you coming." He handed the boy a slim book. "The woman at the store helped me pick it out," he said shyly, letting the Italian look the book over. The front cover had a cartoon drawing of a man and a stegosaurus in a hot air balloon. Script on the basket of the balloon spelled out the title 'Fortunately, The Milk'.
Machiavelli scooted over in the bed so that there was more room. "Get in with me, Billy," he implored. He patted the space beside him.
"Sure." The Kid settled in beside Machiavelli so that they could both see the illustrations. It was a funny, fast paced book which made the boy giggle and peek at the next page before Billy could flip to it. Within an hour, they had finished the book.
"I liked that book," Machiavelli said sleepily. "It was silly."
Billy struggled out of bed. He helped shift the kid back towards the center of the bed. "Want the light on?" he asked the Italian. Machiavelli resolutely shook his head. "Okay." Billy kissed him lightly on the nose. "See you in the morning."
~MB~
"Billy?"
"Hmm?"
"Billy, please wake up," Machiavelli pleaded. He tapped the American roughly on the face and Billy awoke with a start.
"Mac?" Billy sounded confused. He sat up and switched on the light on his bedside table. The sudden wash of light revealed a trembling Machiavelli. "What's the matter?" The American checked his alarm clock. It was a couple of hours later than when he had put the boy to bed.
"Can I sleep with you tonight, Billy?" Machiavelli begged. He sounded scared. "I keep hearing things outside my window."
Billy opened up his blankets and Machiavelli gratefully climbed in. "I thought that movie was a bad idea," Billy mumbled into the Italian's hair. He threw an arm around Machiavelli. "Shh, Mac, there's no need to cry."
"I'm not crying," the Italian immortal mumbled, pressing himself close the warmth of the American's body. "I'm not scared either, I just…" He couldn't find the right words to defend himself. "I'm not crying," he repeated firmly.
"It's okay," Billy interrupted. "I understand." He didn't say anything else, just let the Italian snuggle close to him. Once Machiavelli's trembling had stopped, Billy turned out the light. He lightly stroked the boy's side and kept up a constant soft murmur. "You're safe now, baby. Nothing's going to harm you."
Machiavelli felt much safer. Billy exuded confidence, warmth, and aftershave. "Sorry, Billy," he mumbled. Nestling into his side, the Italian fell back to sleep.
Billy stayed awake long after Machiavelli fell back asleep. Inexplicably, he felt tendrils of fear grow in his stomach. In the dim light of the moon, the outlaw could just make out the small delicate features of the Italian's face and he tried to memorize each feature, imprinting it firmly in his mind's eye. As guilty as it made him feel, he knew that he had allowed the Italian to get scared so that he could comfort him in the end; it made him feel needed. But he also knew that Machiavelli was growing up and fast. Soon Mac wouldn't need him like this anymore and Billy would be alone again. The thought chilled him to the bone.
