AN: Thank you, everyone, for the kind comments. I do enjoy hearing about what parts of the story you like. I'm sorry for the delays- I'm a terrible person! Lately, I've been reviewing all of my extra writing material around this story (I tend to write chunks of the story as they come to me and work them in later) and I'm seeing how I can put it all together so it's taking a little bit of time since there are a lot of different ideas/paragraphs/story lines/etc.
Except for his activity late last night, Billy slept for hours. He'd slept all the way home and Scatty had been the one to carry him up the stairs. Getting back well after dinner, they'd put him in bed, Black Hawk pulling his jeans off but otherwise leaving him alone.
The next day was something similar. If Mary hadn't forewarned them, they would have been somewhat alarmed- he slept through breakfast and lunch and they weren't sure if he was going to join them for dinner until he slipped into the dining room at quarter to six.
"Nora, you came to dinner," he observed happily, sitting down at his customary spot next to the Italian immortal.
"My second day in a row of being here."
"Is it?" Black Hawk asked in surprise.
She nodded. "Scathach invited me over- you guys weren't back yet." She looked at Machiavelli. "What's this I hear about you having a date?"
Machiavelli shifted under her gaze. "It's not really a date."
"You're going out to dinner with some chica."
"Well, I wouldn't call her 'some chica'… She's just someone I'm doing a favor for."
"This is some girl he met when you dragged him off to that dirty old bar," Billie said accusingly, shooting daggers at Black Hawk.
Black Hawk stole a biscuit from the platter in front of him. "What's wrong? I think it's good for him."
Billy's stomach made a grumbling moan of a sound; clutching it, but not looking slightly embarrassed, he said simply, "I'm hungry."
"That makes sense," Machiavelli said evenly, sliding his plate in front of the outlaw and portioning out another plate for himself again. Billy doesn't care at all that I'm going out with this girl, he decided. He smiled faintly at the American immortal, piling more food in front of him. "You never ate last night. Oh, but don't eat so fast," he admonished, exasperated. "You're going to make yourself sick."
"He always eats like that," Black Hawk said, poking Billy in the side.
"Mm, it's the first time I've enjoyed food in a month," Billy defended himself, unabated. "Damn cold messed with my taste buds. Everything tasted bland…"
"Yeah, about your cold," Billie called to him. "How does an immortal get pneumonia?"
"Carefully?" he suggested jokingly.
She shook her head at him. "Unbelievable. A gaping stomach wound this summer in a shitty moist environment and you sprang right back. But a couple of scrapes on your arm and suddenly you're Typhoid Mary."
"Did anyone ever meet Typhoid Mary?" Machiavelli broke in, unable to contain himself.
"She was before my time."
"I avoid the contagiously infirm."
"I was hanging out with some buddies in Mexico around that time."
"I was with stupid here." Billy punched Black Hawk in the shoulder for that last comment.
"Four American immortals and not one of you can add to my information files," Niccolo sighed. He took a sip of his wine. "I didn't realize until just now that I was grievously outnumbered."
"You have been ever since we said goodbye to the Flamels," Billy pointed out.
"But I didn't notice it until now. Damn," the Italian immortal swore. Throwing one arm over the back of his chair, he made a face at the Kid, who smirked back at him, pure ebullience written in every feature of Billy's handsome face. Machiavelli watched him joking around with the others and wished that he could reach out and touch the younger immortal, even to just hold his hand, but he didn't dare. He didn't know if Billy would want that, especially in front of the others.
Billy was all warmth and sinew, so young still in the way he saw the world and how he interacted with it. We're not always so similar, Machiavelli thought, forcing himself to look at the world with the same objective indifference he'd always used as his lens in the past. I would do him a disservice in the long run, to continue to harbor feelings for him.
"Mac, you're not listening to me," Billy chided, somehow knowing as he always did that Niccolo was a thousand miles away.
"I'm sorry, William, I was just thinking… What did you say?"
"I was just saying that I was surprised you never caught my cold, these past couple weeks of me being ill. It seemed like you got sick constantly when you were little."
"I am kind of surprised myself," he admitted. "But I think you were more susceptible to your illness because you'd been hurt so severely right before. I didn't really get hurt this summer, not with you taking care of me."
"I'll be back in a bit guys," Black Hawk interrupted. He put his plate on the sideboard. "I just remembered something upstairs…"
"Okay. You coming back?"
"Yeah, yeah, soon. Don't wait for me."
"I'm going to go get us dessert from the kitchen," Billy decided, pushing himself out of his seat.
"I can help you," Machiavelli volunteered quickly, seeing the looks the female immortals were exchanging; he knew that they'd been talking about him before dinner and it looked like now they were going to go after him at last.
Unfortunately, Billy wouldn't hear of it, making him no help to the Italian immortal. "Nah, nah. Mac, you've been waiting on me for weeks. Sit down. I'll get everything. That's why we have the dumb waiter!"
"Oh, but Billy…" he trailed off. Sighing, he faced his accusers. They waited until they could hear the Kid's footsteps disappearing down the steps to the basement. As soon as they heard him opening cabinet doors, Machiavelli rushed to cut them off. "You guys told me to make him jealous," he offered meekly. "I'll go out with this girl. You should be happy."
"But we've been talking about it and we don't think you're doing it to make him jealous," Scatty said bluntly. Next to her, Billie leaned forward and nodded in agreement. It was truly a thing of wonder, watching the two of them work together on a common goal, even if it was a goal which conflicted with how he was feeling at the moment.
He winced. "Well, you can see for yourself. He's not jealous at all. I don't think he really cares. I'm thinking that this is all rather pointless…"
Scatty grabbed his hand. "Niccolo, why are you giving up?" she whispered, checking to make sure the Kid wasn't coming up the stairs yet. "You've seemed happy, these past couple of days. I thought you had a plan, but that's not it."
"I am happy. I have friends that I love dearly. I have a good relationship with the people around me. That's more than I ever thought I'd have."
"But couldn't you be happy without giving up? Wasn't that the goal?"
"Well, maybe I'm happy because I've given up. For months now, I've been fighting what I'm feeling because first I didn't believe it of myself and then I thought I could change Billy… I can't. I don't know… It's just something I woke up, thinking about this morning. But I can be happy as his friend."
"Can you?"
They heard the rumble of the dumbwaiter, and Billy's quick step on the stairs. "I'm so glad to be myself again," he said immediately, skidding into the room. He grinned at them.
"Black Hawk still isn't back down here?"
"Perhaps he found a way to be otherwise occupied," Billie suggested lightly. Getting to her feet, she helped take the tray from Billy.
"More for us, that fucker. That literal fucker," Billy said loudly, seeming to take great delight in his pun. "Scatty, why do you look sad?" Coming around the table, he pulled her to her feet. "Let's eat in the living room. We have a nice living room, we should live in it."
He threw an arm around Machiavelli too as they stepped into the other room. Billie had already taken the lead, pushing her way into the other room. "I picked up a new record for you," Scatty told Billy, surprising him.
"Did you? You shouldn't have done that," he said, but he followed her over to the bookcase, looking very interested. They put it on, Billy inspecting the cover of the album carefully. Scatty sat beside him, eating ice cream.
Nora grabbed Machiavelli by the collar and pulled him over to the other side of the room. She continued to whisper their argument in his ear. He nodded politely, inclining his head as she spoke, but he felt that he wasn't making a mistake, so it largely went over him in waves.
"I'm going to see where that big buffoon went," Billie told them, apparently giving up on changing Machiavelli's mind, at least until they got him without the Kid in the room. "He's been gone for almost a half hour now."
"Okay," Machiavelli agreed. "Tell him to come back down- we should do something as a group. I think Billy misses Fred already," he added quietly.
Billie glanced over at her similarly named companion. "Yeah, he's coming on strong tonight. Perhaps he senses that he's losing you," she suggested caustically, jabbing him in the side. She started to leave.
"Nah, he'd probably be relieved," Niccolo murmured.
The jazz singer backed up again, having almost left the room. "Don't give me that," she hissed, starting the conversation anew. Shrinking away from her, Machiavelli regretted all of his life decisions up to this point. She swelled like an angry goose.
He gave up. Jerking his head towards the stairs, he followed her halfway up where they had a whispered conversation. "Everybody and their brother notices it, so clearly I'm no good at keeping this a secret," he whispered. "Billy's not an idiot, and he can't possibly be that oblivious, so it's likely that he's feigning blindness to spare my feelings. Why not let him, instead of blowing up my relationship with him?"
"Oh, you know he's not like that. Even if he didn't feel the same way, he'd probably be flattered. You should know how much he looks up to you."
"I don't think it works that way with men," he told her, shaking his head. "There's a bit of a difference between admiring someone and wanting them to-"
"Yes?"
"Never mind," he said quickly, flushing slightly in the darkness.
She sighed. "Why now, though? You haven't given up after months of pining after him," she pointed out, poking him again in the ribs.
He held his chest, warding off further attacks. Why now? He wondered himself. Images of Billy reaching out his hand, of Billy looking back for him, fleeted through his mind. They were as close to it as they ever could be. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But I've lost all my friends and family. I've often thought I would never be close to anyone, ever again."
Nora leaned back. "I don't know what to do with you," she admitted.
Machiavelli dropped down a step, sensing an end to the conversation. "Sorry," he apologized with a little smile.
"What'll it take to convince you?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. There are still rebellious parts of me that balk at the thought of my own homosexuality. How could I ask Billy…?" He shrugged. "Grab Black Hawk and bring him down. I feel a bit blue, all of a sudden."
"I'll try, but he's acting funny too, these days. Men… they say women are hormonal," she mumbled, heading up the stairs.
Machiavelli returned to the living room. "Where'd you go?" Billy called, stopping mid-dance to look over at his tall friend.
"We're organizing a search party for Black Hawk," Machiavelli said smoothly. "What on Earth are you doing to our Scathach?"
"He's trying to recreate the dance from the end of Dirty Dancing."
"Dirty Dancing… was a movie?" he guessed.
Billy stopped to gape at him. "Mac, you have some serious holes in your movie knowledge. He also hasn't watched the Titanic," he told Scatty.
"He doesn't know chick flicks like you do," she said, shaking her head.
The Kid scowled. "They are not chick flicks. There were lots of men at both, when they came out in theaters."
"And were all of these men crying into their lacy handkerchiefs?"
Machiavelli couldn't help but snicker. "Why do we spend so much time with such mean women, William?"
Billy looked over Scatty's head at him. "Are they picking on you, too?"
"They are indeed. Nora keeps jabbing me in the ribs," he added, rubbing at his chest again.
"Aw. Want me to kiss it?" Billy offered. Machiavelli gave him a quizzical look and the outlaw shrugged. "Sounded creepier than I meant to. I'm sorry. So, watch this. Scatty stands like this and I cross the stage-"
"The stage?" Machiavelli asked doubtfully.
"Are you trying to put me in the corner?" Billy asked, puffing out his chest and grinning at him with lazy bravado. "Nobody puts Billy in a corner!"
"How long was I away?" the Italian immortal asked finally, watching the two of them dance through something they'd obviously practiced before.
"I don't know; you were out there for like twenty minutes. I found my Righteous Brothers record and the rest is history."
"I guess so," Niccolo said, intercepting Scatty. "Have you ever seen Top Hat? That's a good movie. I'll show you how to do it."
"Who would have thought you were a good dancer?" she commented, letting him take the lead as she adjusted to the new steps. "I think, personally," she continued, "that we should just give up on seeing Black Hawk and Billie again tonight. Who knows what happened to them?"
"They're probably having sex," the American immortal predicted. "It's been a couple of days for the big boy. That's too much for him. At least it won't affect us. We're having fun," he commented, watching them dance. One song came to an end and he put a new record on, adjusting the speed.
Hours later, the two men excused themselves. Billy led the way upstairs. "I should take a shower before going to bed, it's been a couple of days. I feel pretty gross."
Machiavelli nodded. "Could I go in first, though? I just have to pee."
"Oh, sure, Mac. I've got to get my night clothes anyways…"
Niccolo went into the room, flicking on the light. Immediately recognizing what he saw, he backed back out. Billy gave him a strange look, having not quite made it down the hall in the spans of time it had taken for all that to happen. "Mac? You okay?"
"Yeah, uh, sure. I just wouldn't go in there," Machiavelli said quickly.
Billy tilted his head. "Why?"
"Well, they're- things are- just don't."
The Kid ignored Machiavelli's stammering. "What's going on in here?" He pushed through the door, and the Italian felt he had no choice but to follow him back into the room. "Oh, come on! Again?" Billy said. "Why always in my bathroom?"
Black Hawk and Billie broke apart, the Native American looking uncharacteristically sheepish and Billie, indifferent. "You didn't own the last bathroom we were in," she pointed out. She threw her pants at him.
Billy brushed them off impatiently. "But why not go up to the bathroom on your floor? Why ours?" he argued, studiously ignoring the fact that this was a very awkward situation unfolding.
"Well… we were coming back down again and then… we decided to make a brief stop. Sorry, kid," Black Hawk mumbled. "Sorry Niccolo." He fastened his pants shut again with deft fingers and edged out of their bathroom. He stopped a couple of feet away. "I was actually thinking of spending the night over at Billie's for a couple of days, starting tomorrow. Then you won't have to see… this sort of thing. Sorry, Mac," he apologized again.
"That's alright. I just have to…," Machiavelli trailed off, still a little unsettled from what he'd seen.
Billy waved Machiavelli in. "Well, the room is at last unoccupied. We can commence to do what we were going to do."
"You make it sound like we were going to do what they were just doing," Niccolo pointed out.
Billy laughed. "Yeah… Hey, Mac?" he said. Machiavelli was unprepared for Billy to edge into the bathroom after him and went to do up his pants again. "No, don't worry about it, I won't be long. I just… are you interested in that girl?"
"Which girl?" Machiavelli asked, bouncing on his heels. He really had to pee now.
"You know… the one you're going to dinner with. You can pee in front of me, you know," he added.
Machiavelli reluctantly shifted so that his back was to Billy. "I'm not interested in anyone," he said defensively, unbuckling his belt.
"But you've…" Billy coughed. "No one?"
Machiavelli thought of the night they'd just spent. Billy had insisted on pulling out the record player and they'd spent the night dancing. It hadn't been so bad…except... Once, when Billy was really hamming it up, doing an elaborate waltz, Scatty had looked across the room to where he'd been sitting at the window seat. He'd mouthed the words 'I can' to her and she had shaken her head just slightly. "No, no one. I'm lucky to just have friends after all these years alone."
~MB~
Scatty looked up as Billy came back in the room. "Feel better?"
"Oh, much."
"You couldn't have gotten dressed before coming back to us?"
He kissed her on the cheek before loping over to the closet. "I put on briefs, I'm not totally naked."
"Oh, come on, you're just about," she pointed out. She started changing into her nightclothes herself, leaving Machiavelli sitting on the edge of the bed between them. He glanced around him, unable to find a direction to look where he wouldn't see… something.
"Is Black Hawk really okay with the way things are with Billie?" Machiavelli blurted out now that the three of them were all safely shut away in their room. He'd been wondering it all night and now that Billy was back, he had to know.
Scatty paused, half undressed, to look over curiously. "I was wondering that too," she said, fixing Billy with an unwavering stare.
The Kid looked between them, fixed his jaw, and made a slight hissing sound as he drew air over his teeth. "I really don't know," he admitted. "He does actually love her, I think, but she doesn't want an actual relationship- you know, beyond sex- and he gets hurt and then he brushes it off. They've done this three or four times before, in the time that I've known them…"
"But what happens, they start getting close and she cuts it off? Why does he keep coming back?"
Billy shrugged. "Black Hawk's a smart guy, but I think every time this happens, he thinks it's going to be the time that's different. And who knows? Maybe he doesn't want any more than what he's getting now."
"Hmm, I think that's sad," Machiavelli couldn't help but say. Hanging up his suit jacket, he loosened his tie, slipped it off, and put it carefully away. He began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it out of his pants. Not hearing anything from his companions, he turned around. "What?"
"Are you actually changing in here with us?" Billy said interestedly.
"You never do that," Scatty added.
Machiavelli looked up, like a deer in the headlights. "Well, I could go into the bathroom…"
"No, Mac, it's fine," Billy laughed. "You just usually are so modest."
Feeling like a fish out of water, Machiavelli began to rebutton his shirt, then stopped and undid them again. "I could go into the bathroom," he said again, not knowing what to do.
"Now, you've done it, you made him self-conscious. You broke him," Scatty told the Kid. She stepped out of her pants and tossed them over to the laundry basket.
"Me, you're the one salivating." He ducked when she threw a pillow at him. "Hey!" he laughed.
Glad the attention was off him again, Machiavelli quickly undressed the rest of the way, leaving his boxers on, but discarding everything else. He dove under the covers before either of them could make any other comments about his physique.
Billy climbed in beside him, tugging the comforter up around their necks. "S'cold," he murmured. He sighed softly. "We don't have to sleep just yet, if you still want to talk, Scatty," he called over to the red head. Knowing that Billy was probably watching him, if inadvertently, he tried not to watch her walk around the room, but it was very hard not to when she was clad only in bra and panties.
He turned over so that he was on his back and glanced at Billy. The Kid had also been watching their female companion and blushed slightly, but a nod from the Italian immortal seemed to reassure him.
Scatty climbed onto the foot of their bed and sat cross legged. She looked like she was going to say something to them, but closed her mouth again without a word. "You two look like you belong together," she said finally.
Machiavelli smiled sadly. He shook his head just slightly at her and she wanted to say more, but one glance over at the outlaw, still somewhat awake beside him and she closed her mouth, but not without giving him a meaningful glance.
"Could you have the kind of relationship that Black Hawk and Billie have?" she asked Billy.
"No," he said immediately. "I've had relationships that were purely sexual before. I need to be in love." He sat up slightly. "Aren't you cold, Scatty?"
"I don't feel the cold the way you humans do," she reminded them. "So, do you want a deeper relationship?"
"I don't know Oprah," he laughed. "We're immortals- it's not like we get a lot of choice in the matter. Anyone we might fall in love with, we'd lose. Put a blanket on at least, Scathach."
"Are you sure you don't want to ogle me some more?" she asked tartly.
"I'm sorry, it's just that you're semi naked and well… pretty. We're not neutered, you know," he added, indicating himself and Machiavelli.
"Mm, keep me out of this, Billy…"
"You were staring too," the Kid protested loudly. "This wasn't just me, this was you too."
"Scatty knows I'm not attracted to her in that way," he demurred. "Maybe you should date Scatty."
She slapped his leg. "Are you crazy? Billy thinks of me like his sister, didn't you hear?"
"That's true, that's true," Billy agreed heavily. "At least, mostly a sister."
"And am I your brother?"
"Mm, I don't know. Black Hawk's my brother. You're my…" But Billy didn't have the word to say what Machiavelli was, apparently, because he trailed off without answering the question. "You're special."
