Billy and Scatty were quiet on the drive back, listening to their Italian companion talking on the phone and not looking at each other. It wasn't until they'd turned onto their road that Niccolo finally ended the call. He yawned as he got out of the car, following the others through the kitchen.
"Mon dieu, was their apartment ever tense," he sighed, trudging up the stairs. Billy nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. The Italian immortal didn't seem to notice though- quite tired, he kissed Scatty on the cheek, yawning again. "I'm going to take a shower. I'll see you tomorrow. Billy, I won't be long." Billy nodded to show that he'd heard.
Scatty touched the Kid's elbow; for a moment, they stood hearing the sound of the water running in the pipes. "Want to talk?"
"Nah, not just yet, honey," he sighed. "Maybe tomorrow…" She nodded sadly; he kissed her, feeling very absentminded, and went upstairs.
Sitting on the edge of their bed, he tried to puzzle the situation out in his head. Mac was going to go on another 'date' with Jill… What did that mean? He wanted to believe the Italian immortal when he said that these dates meant nothing, but instead he felt a rush of jealousy and that emotion was not typical for him.
And then there was his other issue… Glancing furtively at the door, he grabbed his laptop off of the armchair in the corner and started it, impatient for it to boot up. Leaving it on the bed, he scrambled into a pair of sweatpants and left his shirt off. He climbed into bed, finally hearing the beginning notes of the startup.
Cocking his head, he listened for the sound of the shower- Machiavelli was still in there. He knew from experience that despite what the Italian had said, he would likely be in there for at least a little while. Opening up the internet, he typed in the URL of a porn site that he sometimes frequented and switched off the other lights in the room for a little added privacy.
Instead of staying on the home page however, he did something unusual for him- under categories, he clicked on the icon marked 'gay', bringing up a ton of videos he'd never looked at before. Scrolling through, he picked a thumbnail showing a well-endowed Mediterranean man. He felt himself unexpectedly growing aroused- his prick twitched in anticipation- and he almost shut his laptop. He snagged his pair of headphones and put in one of the buds, giving the door another weary glance.
He found himself speeding through the beginning- even the flimsiest of pornographic backstories was taking up too much of his time- playing the video only when he saw the two men beginning to strip.
His mouth went dry the minute the olive skinned man was completely naked. The pornstar climbed on the bed, crouching on his hands and knees, his erection bobbing away from his body like a dog in heat, and his partner entered the shot, crouching behind him to give him a rim job. Wrapping his fingers around himself, Billy made an odd moaning noise that he would have been ashamed to make with any person, sexual partner or otherwise, in the room. Jerking his hand back and forth, he found that it was almost too much- he arched his back, using his other hand to flick at his nipple.
He tried to imagine what it would be like to have someone do the things that he was watching to himself, but found that he couldn't. Still, even the attempt to picture Machiavelli performing a sexual act on himself was enough to drive him over the edge, enough to make him come with loose jerks of the hand.
Hearing the water turn off, he hurriedly closed the page he was on, signed off, and threw the laptop back onto the chair. He rolled over on his side, trying his best to appear to be asleep.
He heard the door unlatch and Niccolo edge in. "Billy?" Machiavelli breathed and he made a snuffling noise. The other immortal seemed to accept this as a sign that he was asleep, for which he was very grateful; he wasn't prepared to talk with the older man, not now, not when he'd just spent the last twenty minutes fantasizing about him…
"You must have been tired. I'll tell you in the morning," he heard Machiavelli mumble and he felt a pang of curiosity- he wanted to know now, despite himself. He was just considering 'waking up' when he heard the rustle of a towel dropping to the ground and no, he was completely unprepared to talk to the Italian when he was naked, his curiosity was going to have to wait…
Machiavelli was getting dressed- Billy could hear the soft opening and closing of the closet door and the way Machiavelli's bone's popped just slightly when he stood on one leg. Being so near to him when he was knowingly naked was making Billy feel very… tight, just around his midriff and he stuffed the corner of his pillow in his mouth, fighting the urge to groan again.
Finally- it seemed to take hours- Machiavelli slipped into bed. Billy wondered what he was thinking about because instead of lying down right away, the tactician was sitting up, propped up on his knees. After a couple of seemingly endless minutes of this, the Italian finally shifted, straightening out his long legs, getting ready to lie down.
Billy almost let out a squeak when he felt Niccolo's long fingers on his side. "Billy, are you really asleep?" Machiavelli whispered. He was afraid he was going to do something stupid, like nod. He stayed perfectly still, hoping the other man couldn't tell he was still awake. "Okay… okay, Billy, good night," Niccolo sighed.
Lying down, he did the one thing that Billy had never expected him to do- he kissed the back of the outlaw's shoulder, just softly, but the Kid couldn't help it- he exhaled. Machiavelli must have been nervous- he rolled away immediately, getting more firmly on his side of the bed. He yanked the covers up around him and Billy was left to wonder if he'd made the right decision. Somehow, he felt that he hadn't.
Billy heard the exact moment when his bed companion fell asleep. His breath smoothing out, Machiavelli made a mewing sound that made the Kid chuckle despite himself.
Rolling over carefully, he looked at the Italian in the soft moonlight. He's so handsome, he couldn't help but thinking. He wondered what that kiss had meant. A feeling like hope sprang into his chest, lighting a little fire.
Lying there, he felt his thoughts drift back to the video he'd just watched. Images of Niccolo superimposed themselves on his train of thought; he could feel himself getting aroused again, a confused arousal, yes, but a definite one and he knew that what he'd told Scatty hadn't been wrong- he wanted to touch and be touched by the Italian, he wanted to know what it felt like to be pinned under someone equally as strong as himself, and to let himself be taken…
He really hoped that Machiavelli was asleep because he couldn't help it- he let a moan. His whole body arched and he gave the Italian immortal one quick glance before he pushed down his briefs, throwing them on the ground beside him. "Fuck," he whispered.
~MB~
The next morning, Niccolo found Billy nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
"Ah, Billy, don't you usually turn the heat up by now?" Machiavelli asked, sticking his hands in his armpits to warm them up. He shivered; he'd gotten used to the Kid's somewhat strange practice of dialing up the heat in the beginning of the morning and had come to like it. Now, he felt especially cold.
"I forgot… Isn't that my shirt?'
"It was… But it's warm and I'm cold so it's mine now. You can have it back in the summer."
"But I won't need it in the summer."
Machiavelli stole Billy's cup of coffee, quite blatantly in fact. "Exactly. Buy yourself a new shirt," he told the other man, feeling the surge of bright happiness that always seemed to come with teasing the American immortal. He took a sip of the outlaw's coffee, made a face, and got himself a fresh mug. Billy snatched his cup back, maybe afraid he might dump it out. "And before you get all high and mighty, aren't those my boxers?" he added, motioning to the Kid's midriff.
Billy pointed to the buzzing washer and dryer. "I didn't have any left. Did you want me to go naked?"
Yes, definitely. He coughed, his coffee going down the wrong pipe. Machiavelli held up his hands. "Fine, keep the boxers. It's an even swap."
"I'm washing your clothes too," Billy told him, handing him a plate with blueberry pancakes on it and grabbing another. "Scatty took your dry cleaning when she went for her walk too."
"How long was I in bed?" Niccolo wondered, feeling like he wouldn't be surprised if the outlaw told him they'd relocated while he was sleeping.
"We're just early risers, Scatty and me," Billy laughed. He headed upstairs and Machiavelli, shivering slightly in their cold kitchen, was quick to follow. "You like to sleep in more."
"It was very hard to leave the bed this morning," Machiavelli admitted, sitting at their dining room table. "Going from five or six layers of warmth to the arctic tundra, not very appealing."
"It's like 65 degrees, Mac," the Kid laughed. He smiled to himself nonetheless, getting up to set the thermostat. "Happy? It's at 75 now. We're going to roast our nuts."
Machiavelli was glad Billy seemed happier this morning. The American immortal had seemed rather down by the time they'd gotten home last night; he wondered if he was to blame. The switch in Billy's personality had come only after he'd hung up with Jillian. He wanted to tell the outlaw that it was nothing, that she'd called to talk about her problems with her parents, and that she desperately needed a friend, but there was something closed off on this particular topic which kept him from saying anything at all.
And then Billy had been asleep by the time he'd finished showering, and he couldn't say anything to him.
In the end, he really wanted the American immortal to just be happy. He wondered if Billy would come with him when he met up with Jill; he didn't like it when the people in his life were at odds with each other.
"Hey, Mac, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Billy."
"Are you going to start dating Jill?"
Machiavelli was so surprised he laughed a little. He stopped quickly, seeing the look on Billy's face; he wondered why the American immortal cared. "No. No, but we are going to have lunch tomorrow. Will you come with us?"
"You want me to come with you?" Billy asked, confused.
"Yes, I want you to meet her. I think you'll understand better if you knew her in person." Machiavelli touched his elbow. "She's not a bad person. She reminds me of my daughter."
"Which daughter?" Billy asked wearily.
"Primerana. Baccina was much more outgoing, but Primerana and Jill, they're rather shy. Anyways, Jill said it was helpful to her, talking with me the other day and she deserves to be happy, she's a sweet girl, so will you come?"
Billy still hesitated, but he couldn't mask his relief. "You have no interest in her?" he asked again.
"No," Machiavelli repeated, wondering what Billy's hang up could be. "You'll like her," he enticed pleadingly.
The Kid teetered for only a second more. "Okay, I'll go," he agreed.
"Good." Pleased beyond relief, the Italian reached out for his companion, cradling the Kid's face between his hands. He froze, not sure what he'd been thinking, but, giving Billy a pat on the cheek, felt that the outlaw hadn't been offended. In fact, Billy was smiling rather wistfully at him. "You should bring Black Hawk out somewhere tonight before they both kill each other," he suggested.
The Kid grimaced slightly. "He wants to go to a bar and I've had enough of bars for a while… Think there's any way to get him to go somewhere else?"
"You could try… like where?" Machiavelli asked cautiously, releasing him.
"I don't know," Billy admitted. "He's going to be hard to sway from his original plan."
"Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to go to a bar," the Italian said quietly, giving him an appraising look. "Despite all of his awful bets, Black Hawk and I actually had fun last time we went out."
"Really?" The Kid grimaced slightly. He clearly didn't want to go to a bar and Machiavelli took pity on him.
"I'll do whatever you want, William. If you don't want to go to bar, tell Black Hawk. You're a grown man," he added, unknowingly echoing Scatty's words. "Stand up for yourself. Black Hawk's your friend, he won't be upset if you are honest."
"Oh," Billy said, looking slightly upset. "Well, if you really think so, I'll try talking to him."
Machiavelli glanced at the outlaw. "Billy… you promised you'd tell me what was going on at the end of the week if you hadn't sorted it out beforehand. You're still going to follow through with that, aren't you?"
The Kid inhaled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll talk to you."
"Good." He couldn't help it; he reached over and fixed the collar of Billy's shirt. "I was hoping to talk to you last night, but you were asleep by the time I'd finished my shower." He still wondered if Billy had been pretending to sleep when he came back. The Kid normally snored, softly, but still audibly and he hadn't really last night, though he snuffled the way he did when he was dreaming.
Billy ducked his head and Niccolo felt his suspicions grow. "Yeah, I was tired."
Machiavelli felt the weariness creeping back into their conversation. "You know William, I-," but he was cut off by the doorbell ringing. "Who could that be?"
"Dunno…"
They were the only ones in the house. Scatty had gone off, for what purpose she hadn't shared with them, so glancing at each other, they made their way down the stairs to the first floor.
Machiavelli reached the door first and pulled it open. "Hello? Sophie?" he asked in surprise.
The girl they'd met on Alcatraz island all those months ago, the one they'd been on opposite sides with, was standing at their doorstep. "Can I come in? she asked.
"Of course," Machiavelli said smoothly, already concealing his surprise. "Billy… you remember Josh's twin?"
"Yeah," he said, surprise much more clearly visible on his face. "Yeah, uh, what are you doing here? Not that we're not glad to…"
She ducked into their front hall and Machiavelli closed the door behind her, reflexively sealing it with his aura. Something was clearly wrong; giving her a once over, he noticed that her clothing was ripped in several places, she looked older than when he'd last saw her- too much older for it to be the passing of the months- and with a jolt, he realized her temple was bleeding slightly.
"Call Scatty," he told Billy. "Let her know to come back." Without a word, he pressed his hand to her temple; letting his aura spill out of his hands, he healed the cut on her forehead.
"Right," Billy said slowly, going into the other room to grab his phone. "Yeah, I will."
"Why don't you come into the living room," he suggested to her. "Sophie- how did you know to find us here? And what's happened?"
"I was in a different Shadowrealm until just recently," she explained faintly. "Why do you look younger?"
"Long story. I promise to tell you eventually. But where were you?'
She shook her head. "It's not important where I was. I was looking for my brother- I know that he's not the same, but he's still my brother," she said firmly, catching a glance between the two male immortals. "I got into some trouble with a creature on the other side… so I came back through a lye gate. I came out around New York."
"But how did you know to find us here?" Billy asked, hanging up his phone after a very brief conversation.
"I didn't know what to do… So I called Nick. And he directed me down here."
"Well, you're welcome here of course, but I wonder why he didn't call us," Billy mused aloud.
"We'll have to ask him when he comes up on Sunday. Miss Sophie, would you like to take a shower-? I'm sure Scatty would be fine with you borrowing some clothes…"
"Yeah, she did say that," Billy remembered suddenly. "Sorry, forgot."
"Yeah, so why don't you take a hot shower? You can tell us your story afterwards," Machiavelli suggested, pointing her upstairs. She nodded gratefully, taking the steps slowly. "I'm going to have to postpone my lunch with Jill…" he mumbled.
Next to him, Billy brightened a little.
