As they were shelling peas for dinner, Machiavelli was struck by a sudden and discouraging thought. Glancing around to make sure it was just him and Scatty in the room, he leaned in close. "Did I kiss you the other night?" he asked her.
"Not me," she negated.
"I feel like I kissed someone when we went to the club…" he mumbled, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. Rubbing them, he looked over at her. "Did I?"
"Oh, boy, you did."
He groaned. "Oh, no… No, don't say that."
"You did. We just can't get you drunk," she said earnestly.
"Well, who did I-? Oh no," he said, shaking his head. She nodded. "Are you kidding? I kissed him again," Machiavelli hissed in disbelief, feeling horrified. "Are you serious? What did he say to you? He wasn't that drunk that night, it's not like he's going to forget this…"
"He wasn't upset," she assured him. "He felt like he took advantage of you last night, although why wasn't completely clear… were you wearing underwear yesterday when you woke up?" she joked.
He moaned. "I'm never drinking again."
"Well, to be fair, you didn't actually think you were drinking," she pointed out. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but grin a little. She shifted her hand to cover her smile so that he wouldn't see it, but knowing him, he'd probably already noticed.
"But what did he say?"
She hesitated. "He said you asked if you could kiss him and he said yes, thinking you would kiss him on the cheek… but you didn't, not exactly." He kept looking at her. "He said it was kind of a surprise, but he laughed a little when he told me."
"But, what-"
"Billy's coming," she said, swiftly ending the conversation.
~MB~
She found him later that night to continue the conversation. "Billie and I were talking and we thought of a way to make him jealous," Scatty muttered to Machiavelli.
He was confused. "Billy told you a way to make himself jealous?"
"Other Billie. From now on we're calling her Nora," Scatty clarified impatiently. "Get dressed in your club clothes. We're going out, you and me."
"I don't really feel like going to another club so soon," he whispered in her ear.
"Don't worry, we're going to a bar." She got up herself, heading upstairs. Sighing, he complied with her order, changing back into his dress clothes and fixing his hair. He met her back down in the entrance hall.
"Mac and I are going out," Scatty called into the living room, stopping at the entrance.
Billy paused the game the three men had been playing. "You're going out?" he asked in surprise. "Where?"
"Bar. We'll be back eventually."
"Wait!" he said, jumping up. He stumbled around the coffee table and padded towards them. "You're really going out?" he asked Machiavelli, gently taking hold of his elbow.
"So it would seem," the Italian said smoothly, feeling bad for excluding his American counterpart even if it hadn't been his choice in the matter. "We'll come back," he promised. "Get some rest," he suggested, grabbing his coat from the hanger.
"Are you all going out?" Billy asked, looking behind him at the two Native American immortals.
"Nah, I didn't even know they were going out," Black Hawk drawled lazily, moving the joystick of his game controller impatiently. "Come on, I promised I'd spend the night with you. We're having fun."
"Alright," Billy said reluctantly, looking back at them. Machiavelli had to remind himself that they weren't abandoning the Kid forever, he looked so dejected. "Well, take care of yourselves. Don't… don't make any hasty decisions."
"We'll be fine," Scatty assured him. "Take your medicine at 9:00," she added, kissing him on the forehead.
"Don't forget," Machiavelli told him, clapping him on the shoulder. He pulled the door shut behind them and followed Scatty as she set off down the block. "What bar are we going to?" he asked as they headed off in an unfamiliar direction.
"We're not actually going to a bar; I just want Billy to think that. And you didn't have to lie because you didn't know."
"Oh," he said, glad that he hadn't knowingly deceived his friend. "Where are we really going then?" he asked as soon as they were out of ear shot.
Scatty didn't answer right away; she was busy flagging down a taxi. Getting in, she gave the driver Nora's address, answering his question inadvertently. "I'll explain when we get there."
Machiavelli was brimming with questions, but he knew that if she wanted to wait, she was going to wait. He did wonder when exactly it was that Billie Holiday and Scathach had laid down their respective arms and called the tenuous truce they seemed to be operating under at the present moment.
Their cab let them off in front of the jazz singer's apartment. Machiavelli stepped into the chill quiet of the night and offered his hand out to Scatty, helping her to her feet. They had no sooner paid their fare then the cab peeled away, screeching a little as it pulled around a corner and disappeared from sight.
Ducking into the alcove entrance of the dilapidated building, he pressed the button next to her fake name. She buzzed them up, the door clicking open with a wheezy sigh. Machiavelli practically had to sprint up the stairs after Scatty, who took them at her usual clip.
Reaching the top floor (Machiavelli wheezing a little and clutching his side), they made their way down the twisting hallway to Billie's door. It opened a second after Scatty's knock. Beyond manners, Machiavelli made his way past the two women and flopped on the couch.
"Make yourself at home," Billie said drily, following him into the room. Scatty brought up the rear of the group, throwing her jacket over the back of the couch.
Machiavelli looked back and forth between the two women. He put his arms behind his head, but didn't feel that he could pull of the easy going look Billy was such a natural at, and instead hugged his stomach. "Okay, girls, what's going on?"
"I didn't get the chance to tell you before, but Billy really wasn't mad about the kiss, in fact there was a lot he didn't come out and say," Scatty said, plopping down into one of Billie's chairs. "I really think he has feelings for you. He needs a push though; he's not going to get it on his own."
"And by push, you mean, me hiding in an apartment all night?"
"Nicky," he raised his eyes at the jazz singer, wondering if Niccolo was such an awful name that no one would use it, but said nothing, "you didn't see him moping around the other night at the club, but let me tell you- out of all the people in the room, he had eyes only for you." A small explosion took place in his stomach, but he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to seem over eager. "I watched him for a good part of the night and he turned down the advances of a lot of fine women. What do you think that means?"
"Means he's not in the mood for a relationship," he offered demurely.
She slapped him on the arm. "Bullshit!"
Machiavelli jumped a little- she had shouted that last word quite loudly. "If he does have feelings for me, which I don't think he does, this seems like it would be a little cruel, wouldn't it? I assume you want me to stay here for a couple of hours, making him think that I'm out screwing some poor dear at the bar. If he does like me," he said, stumbling on the phrase, "couldn't we just let him figure it out on his own? We talk every day. I think I'm making some progress. And I wouldn't want to have a relationship with him that's built on a lie…"
"Don't lie to him then. Just tell him you spent the evening in the presence of a beautiful woman," the jazz singer advised him.
Scatty snorted at this, shaking her head at her; Machiavelli wasn't sure whether or not they actually liked each other at this point- their alliance still seemed fairly tenuous. She looked at the Italian immortal. "You might not think Billy has feelings for you, but I do, and he's not going to realize what he feels without a little bit of work on your end. You can continue on the way you two have been going and yeah, eventually you both might figure it out, but do you really want to wait 400 years more for something to maybe happen?"
"But it still feels like a half truth. I don't really like lying to Billy," Machiavelli told the women nervously. "What if he doesn't have feelings for me? Then I'm just holed up here for no good reason, acting like an idiot."
"Some would say that acting like an idiot every once in a while is good for you," Billie told him frankly, rooting in her closet for something- what, he wasn't sure exactly- she continued to talk to him as she leaned in among the clothes; at one point, she disappeared from sight entirely. Scatty and Machiavelli exchanged a glance but waited for her to reappear. She finally extracted herself from several long dresses, holding a stack of board games. "What?" she asked defensively. "We going to eyeball each other for the next few hours?"
"Besides," she continued, pushing everything on her coffee table to the side with a clatter, "you're not 'holed up here for no good reason,' you're keeping me company. Don't I deserve some company sometimes?" she asked aggressively.
"Please, you've had plenty of 'company,'" Scatty argued. "I hear Black Hawk coming in at all hours of the night, you can't exactly be lonely."
"Sometimes I like the companionship of someone who isn't shtupping me," she said smoothly.
"How'd you arrange it so Black Hawk's not coming over tonight?" Machiavelli asked, interrupting their bickering. "I ask because it would be preferable to not have him wander in at any moment."
"I told him I could get my rocks off by myself tonight," she said. Looking up, she shook her head. "I was just joking," she explained incredulously. "I don't see him every night. I told him I wanted some time alone. He knows I only like people up to a certain point… besides, he's been wanting to spend some time with Billy."
Machiavelli loosened his tie. "Okay. Whose idea was it to tell me we really were going to a bar?" Scatty pointed to herself. "That was devious," he said admiringly.
"I thought so," she agreed loftily. "I'm only going to play one game with you, then I'll head back home and tell Billy you stayed to be with a lady." She sorted through the games. "Can we play Yahtzee?"
She ended up playing three rounds of the game with them, only leaving when she'd won more than the other two. Machiavelli didn't like the idea of her walking around alone at night, but upon telling her this, he had both women scoff at him. "I just want to protect you," he said indignantly. "I know you don't need my help, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to give it anyways. I can't help it."
"That's because you still secretly are a dad," she told him, throwing on her jacket. She leaned over the back of the couch to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He was quite pleased when she kissed him on the side of his head.
He stayed with Billie, playing Stratego next, then Sequence, and finally Battleship as the hours went on. While playing, he learned several new things about Billie Holiday that he mentally filed away for later: she liked to drink peppermint tea, she couldn't stand to wear socks inside, and one on one, she was much softer in character.
When she got up to change into warmer clothes, he gazed out the windows into the street below, watching people hurrying around and wondering what the chances were that Billy was looking out his window just now…
"Getting antsy?" she asked behind him, making him jump.
He smiled at her. "Rather the opposite; I think I'm falling asleep…"
"It's pretty late," she told him, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Past two… Are you going to head for home now?"
"I think I'd better," he sighed. Coming over to the couch, he grabbed his jacket, pulling it on and adjusting it so that it fell the way it should on his figure. "The walk will wake me up a little. And I will sleep well tonight."
"Did you have fun tonight?"
He was surprised at the question. It was uncharacteristically vulnerable sounding, particularly for the jazz singer. "I greatly enjoyed tonight. I didn't know anyone could be that competitive at Sequence," he told her with a shy smile. "Sometime, I'll bring Billy by and we'll have a rematch. He would enjoy the games, I think."
"Good," she agreed. She lightly smacked him on the cheek, her own patented version of affection. He thought he'd give her a kiss goodnight and then thought better of it; she was less scary now, but he knew close physical proximity would still be unwelcome and would likely provoke a negative response in her. Instead, he nodded sleepily at her and made his way out into her hallway and down the stairs.
It was foggy on the streets. He didn't know how he'd failed to notice it from Billie's apartment, but it didn't bother him in the slightest. Rather, he felt he could use the fog to his advantage.
He was surprised to see the lights in his bedroom still on when he finally walked home at nearly three in the morning. Using his aura to cloak himself, he'd managed to avoid interacting with anyone out on the streets at this hour; now he wondered why the two American immortals were still awake as he fit his key into the lock.
The living room was dark and silent. Apparently, everyone was upstairs.
Hesitating briefly outside his bedroom door, he pushed it open. "Hi," said Scatty, looking up at him from where she was sprawled on her futon. "You're back. Good." Rolling over, she went back to her book, seemingly uninterested in what else was going on in the room. He knew she was paying attention though; he could sense it.
Billy was reading himself, but he scrambled to the foot of the bed, tossing his book aside without marking the page. "Mac! I texted you and said I could come pick you up when you were ready."
"Oh, I replied to it. I said I'd be fine walking."
"I know, I got it, I just thought," Billy explained, watching Machiavelli pull his tie off the rest of the way, "I just thought maybe you'd change your mind. I didn't think you'd come back this late."
"You haven't been waiting for me, have you?" Niccolo sat down beside him on the bottom of the bed, taking off his shoes. He groaned almost indecently; walking back had given him a couple of sore spots on his feet that he hoped wouldn't turn into blisters. Taking off the garters next, he flexed his legs. "You didn't have to do that…"
Billy shrugged uncomfortably. "Scatty and I were talking until just recently. And you know I like to read before I go to bed. I was going to come get you in the car, but Scatty said she didn't know where you were exactly and she didn't want me to go out because I've got the cold, but I would have been happy to get you… Where'd you go?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but coming across as a little accusatory.
It wasn't hard for Machiavelli to fake awkwardness. Having been asked, just as he was grabbing his shoes off the ground, he froze. Stumbling over the words, he said, "just spent a couple hours with a woman I've met… we just talked for a little bit…some other stuff…"
"Must have talked for like four hours," Scatty commented, turning the pages in her book.
"…I learned a lot about her?"
"Oh, well, that's nice Mac," Billy said, retreating to his side of the bed again. He opened his mouth to say something else and floundered. "Good for you," he said at last.
Machiavelli felt bad; he opened his mouth to explain everything, but Scatty, perhaps understanding what he was about to do, punched him in the calf muscle. He swore in Italian, hopping around on one foot. Billy, who couldn't see what Scatty had done, turned around to look at the tactician. "Mac, you alright? What happened?"
"Stubbed my toe on the bed," Machiavelli muttered, limping over to the window. He pulled the blinds closed and began to change, twirling his finger around to indicate that he wanted Scatty to look away. She did so, but reluctantly, and he almost considered going down the hall to change in the bathroom like he normally did. Dressing quickly, he climbed in beside the outlaw. He swiftly changed the topic back to the outlaw. "Did you have a good night?"
"Me and Black Hawk watched one of the pre-game shows and we played some video games. It was fun. I don't get to hang out with him as much since he's been spending so much time with Billie," Billy told him. "I wish I could have gone out with you though."
"You need rest," Machiavelli said softly. He turned on his side, facing Billy and yanked up the covers. "I am sorry we left you behind though."
"That's okay," Billy said immediately, but he looked pained. "Hey, Mac?"
"Yes, Billy?"
"Ah, nothing," he negated. "Answered my own question." He grinned ruefully at the other man. "Are you still reading, Scatty?"
"She's sleeping, I think," Machiavelli said with some surprise. He actually got up to check on her. "Not faking it, she's actually out."
"Oh. Well, I think it's safe to turn out the light then."
Machiavelli sneezed. Billy turned out the light and blessed his bed companion. He called out a good night to the vampire-just in case- and turned on his side. Watching him restlessly move around in the bed, Machiavelli couldn't help it- he reached out and grabbed Billy's hand. Billy stilled, giving it a squeeze. The Italian immortal thought he'd let go, but in the darkness, the Kid hung on, not even letting go after he'd fallen asleep.
