AN: Hey Kim (are you sure you're not my friend in Keene, NH?)- I will of course be writing a Christmas arch to the story, but it won't come for a while because of the dramatically slow pacing of my story line! We haven't even crossed Thanksgiving yet, here ;) Here's part of a Christmas chapter though- hope it makes up for it. Happy holidays to everyone- LilacsandMonarda
"I could be wrong Billy," Machiavelli called through his scarf. "But isn't it customary to carry your Christmas tree home on your car?"
"Not when you own a convertible."
"Yeah about that," Machiavelli shouted over the wind. "We really need to get another car for the winter time. I will pay for it!"
"You don't like my baby?" Billy said in mock horror, wheeling around. The tree he'd been carrying almost smacked Machiavelli in the head and he apologized, coming closer to the Italian immortal.
"Not in the winter time," Niccolo told him sternly, eyebrows raised.
"I'm only teasing you, honey," Billy assured him. "I'll find you a safe car. Something with a big back seat." He waggled his eyebrows. "Anyways, we cut this tree in the woods behind our own property, it's not like we've been walking for miles."
So saying, he turned around and walked on jauntily, the tree dragging behind him. Grumbling, Machiavelli picked his way after the younger man, stepping in Billy's footprints, and wishing he'd worn better shoes.
The two male immortals were momentarily quiet, listening to the shower running upstairs. "What do you think happened?" Billy asked curiously, unconsciously moving closer to the tactician. He took Machiavelli's hand, still looking above them as though the answers would appear neatly written upon his ceiling.
"She was looking for Josh, but she must know what happened to him. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be…"
Billy shrugged, finally looking back at Machiavelli. "Well, look at us," he pointed out. "Hundreds of years later, we're still looking for our loved ones."
"I suppose… I wonder which shadow realm she was in though…"
"Think this is going to push us back on finding my mother?" Billy asked suddenly, softly, and he squeezed Machiavelli's fingers. The Italian ran his thumb over the scars covering the outlaw's hands and realized that at the center of his friend was a young boy who'd lost his mother very early. He opened his mouth to say that he wouldn't allow that, but they were interrupted by knocking.
"That must be Scatty," he said instead.
It was like they'd just realized how close they were standing, how they'd been holding hands. Releasing him from his grasp, Billy ducked over to the front hall, where he pulled the door open. "Forget your key?"
"No, I sealed it with my aura," Machiavelli called behind him, making his way over at a much slower pace.
"Oh."
"So, Sophie's here?" Scatty asked archly, pushing the door shut at last. Machiavelli shivered as the last tendrils of cold air seeped in under his suit. He was kind of glad that Billy had forgotten to turn up the heat this morning; in a weird way, it had forced him to get dressed early on. Otherwise, he would have been very much underdressed when the teenager (was she still a teenager?) came to their door.
They all looked up as the water was shut off. "I'm going to go up," Scatty decided, already making her way up the stairs.
"We'll wait here," Billy said faintly, making his way into the living room. He sank into his armchair. Machiavelli followed, resting a hand on the Kid's shoulder as he passed. Instead of sitting on the couch, he pulled one of the chairs by the chess table over, so that he could sit beside the younger man.
"There's no reason why this will interfere with our plans to find your mother," he said at last, thinking vaguely in the back of his mind that he would like to touch Billy again, to hold his hand or even rest a hand on his knee that was sticking out at such an odd angle, but he didn't dare, not so soon after the last time. He sat on his hands instead, wondering why sitting with the other man always made him feel like he'd been electrified.
Billy still looked a bit mournful. "Thinks so?"
"I really do," Machiavelli told him, and found that he really meant it. "You've waited long enough."
The Kid gave a him a look so charged with gratitude that Machiavelli felt as though he'd just swallowed an entire mug of coffee in one gulp. His insides warm, he leaned forward. "I want you to find her. I'm not about to let anything- or anyone- get in between you and our course of action."
"I want to find her," he agreed immediately. They could hear two sets of footsteps on the stairs. "Hey, Mac, don't forget to cancel your date," Billy reminded him softly.
"I had forgotten," he mumbled, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He punched her number in, waiting for the call to connect. He was slightly relieved when it went directly to voicemail. "Hi Jill, this is… this is Niccolo. I'm sorry to cancel on you but something came up…"
Billy listened carefully as he spoke. He watched Machiavelli's face; the Italian could feel his eyes on him and he gave the outlaw a faint smile, finally ending his message. He pushed the red circle on his phone twice, impatiently. "Sorry, Mac."
"You're not actually sorry," the Italian told him, but he wasn't angry. He gave a small smile to the other man, seeing something like fear flit over Billy's face. "I know you."
"I just-," Billy began awkwardly, but then they heard the footsteps on the stairs getting louder and he faltered. They waited for the females in total silence; wanting things to be better, Machiavelli touched Billy's elbow in supplication and felt the outlaw relax just slightly. Crossing his arms, Billy rested his hand on top of the Italian's.
Scatty appeared first, giving them a curious, searching look before she ushered in the enchantress. Sophie sat on their couch, looking at them with a keen expression on her face. Again, Machiavelli got the impression that she'd changed since the last time they'd seen each other.
"Are you alright?" Billy asked, on his left.
She nodded, leaning forward. "Scatty fixed my forehead. It was really just a scratch." She sounded faintly impatient. Her blue eyes traveled from Billy's face to Machiavelli's. "Are you two together?"
The Kid's head snapped up from where he'd been looking down at his phone. "Together?" he squeaked. "No, why do you think that?"
"Well, you're still living together and Scatty tells me it's been five months since our adventure… And you seem close." She shrugged. "Figured I'd ask."
Billy was still a faint shade of pink. He threw a quick glance over at the Italian immortal. "We are close," he allowed, "but we're not- I'm not…"
Machiavelli thought he'd save Billy from whatever embarrassment he was going through. "We're working together on a few shared projects. I was… sick this summer. Billy took care of me."
"Scatty said something about that. Is that why you look younger? Your hair is dark."
The tactician ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Yes, I…"
"He saved me," Billy interjected quickly. "It nearly killed him," he explained, speaking softly. "And- it turned time around a bit with him. He was brought back to about three years old, weren't you? I don't know why that specific age…"
"Nick and I thought it was because I had used up so much aura, my body was transformed back to where it would have been at the level that was left… We thought perhaps every person has a certain amount of aura for each stage in life." Machiavelli shrugged. He looked over at the young woman. "I age back a year every week or so. My mental capacities were always there, but physically, I couldn't take care of myself alone. So Billy's been with me."
"And you're going to go all the way back to where you were before?
He hesitated. "Nick has a spell which could stop the aging process. I might choose to stop at a younger age," he said vaguely.
"Like what age?" Billy asked curiously.
"I was thinking like maybe in my thirties." It occurred to Machiavelli that they rarely discussed things of this nature. He wondered what else the Kid might be thinking about, but wasn't saying. "Anyways," he said, redirecting the flow of the conversation, "I told you why I look younger. Why do you look older?"
She touched her face self-consciously before the mask slipped back on. "After Danu Talis, I brought the other immortals back to this world, as well as some Elders. Josh was already gone by then. So I've been tracking him." She made an irritated noise at the back of her throat. "He doesn't want me to find him, is the problem. So I've been trekking through a few shadow realms and time works differently there. Five months have passed her, but seven years passed in there…"
And that was all she would say on the matter. "I never did ask Joan how they got back," Scatty said from her place by the window. "Well, now we know. So what are your next steps?"
"I'm going back into the realm from a different door," she said stubbornly.
"How do you know that Ma- Josh is in that particular realm?" Machiavelli asked, leaning forward.
"I can still sense where he is," she said stubbornly.
"What if you get hurt again?"
"I won't. Last time I was surprised, is all."
"Wait a minute," Billy interrupted all of them. "You've gained your immortality."
They all looked at him. "How could you possibly tell that?" she asked, genuine surprise on her face.
He was searching her face, his tilted to the side as he scrutinized her. "I can just tell these kinds of things. Can't you?" he asked Machiavelli. The tactician shook his head just slightly. "I can sense it to some extent," he told the Kid smoothly. "But you see it more clearly?" Billy nodded, looking surprised.
Scathach had stood up. "You're immortal?" she said in disbelief. "You never said anything about that."
"Who- did it to you?" Machiavelli added.
"Minerva, goddess of wisdom," she revealed reluctantly. "I helped to rebuild her shadow realm."
"When did this happen?" Scatty asked sharply.
"Three years ago."
Machiavelli could see several emotions flit across the Shadow's face, not the least of which was anger. It occurred to him that Scatty really did care for the young woman sitting with them and that she perceived the changes in Sophie as a sort of affront. "Have you told the Flamels this?"
"No. I haven't been in contact with any of you in the time I've been out there."
The Italian was surprised by the buzzing of his phone- he had forgotten they had been living in a relatively normal world, so strange was this afternoon's discussion. He pulled it out- it was Jill. Sighing, he silenced the phone and put it back in his pocket.
They were all quiet, Sophie looking at them wearily.
Machiavelli was the first one to speak. "Well, you don't have to go back to your search right away. Thanksgiving is in little more than a week- why don't you stay with us? We can make room," he added, looking to Billy for confirmation.
The American immortal nodded. "Of course. You should stay with us honey. Give your body some time to rest."
"I- I can't stay here…"
"Of course you can," Billy said briskly. "You can bunk with Scatty. We're a bit short up on beds right now. But I don't want you out there on your own. It's getting colder every day, you know," he pointed out gently.
She faltered. "I suppose."
"Good. Now you should let Scatty actually take a look at you, cause I'm guessing you're injured in other ways than just what we can see."
"Yeah, I can heal anything broken," the Shadow agreed, motioning her to follow her upstairs.
"Well, that's settled. I just realized, Mac," Billy said, standing up. "Nicholas and Perenelle will be hear in two days and we don't have a bed for them. We can't rightly put them on that futon."
"Because the futon's the worst thing ever?"
Billy swatted him on the ass. "I still love that futon," he said firmly, and with a dignity most unbefitting for the occasion. "But I can't share a bedroom with the Flamels."
"That would really cut into our sexy time," Machiavelli joked, feeling very confident suddenly. "Okay, we'll have to go out and find something, I suppose."
Billy snorted. "We're going out," he yelled up the stairs. "Cut into our sexy time, honestly…"
"I assume before our latest addition showed up, you were planning on putting the Flamels in your old bedroom and pulling Scatty back into our enclave?" The Kid nodded, getting into his car. "Yeah, well we have to tap the brakes on that one. Sophie might be older, but I'd feel perverted sleeping in a room with her, even if there are two other people. She could have been my daughter in another universe…"
"She does make me feel older," Billy agreed. "And that doesn't happen very often." He laughed a little, smiling sweetly at the other immortal.
"So where are we going?" Machiavelli asked, trying to squash the feeling inside of him.
"We should just suck it up and get a new mattress for the Flamels. We can put it up in the study- I think they'll like that room. And after they go… we'll find a spot for it. I don't want to permanently turn my study into a bedroom, but we can't ask them to sleep on an air mattress either- they're old."
"They're only a hundred years older than me," Niccolo reminded him.
"Yeah, but you're not old."
Machiavelli laughed. "You have a bias."
"Of course I do," Billy agreed, turning into a promising looking store. "I love you. Sue me." He laughed nervously. Parking the car, he ducked out of the car. "Okay, Mac, we need to get a mattress which can be delivered in two days, preferably less…"
"I'm sure it's possible, we just should have planned for these eventualities in advance," the Italian commented, following Billy into the store. He watched as Billy almost immediately hopped onto the bed nearest them, without even looking at the price tag. "Comfortable?"
"Incredibly."
"You should be, this mattress costs nearly six thousand dollars… and that's the sale price."
"I don't love the Flamels that much," Billy said, rolling off of it. "Let's try… this one." He flopped face down. "Mac?" he called, his voice muffled. "Aren't you going to join me?"
"No. I don't like lying down in strange places."
Billy rolled over, crossing one booted leg over the other. "This isn't a strange place. This is Mattress World. It's practically our second home, these days." He patted the bed beside him. "Lie down, Mac."
"No."
"You'll regret not doing it."
"Somehow I disagree."
"First mattress together?" They were interrupted by a portly older gentleman who clearly thought they were a couple. Machiavelli blushed; he opened his mouth to say otherwise. Again, Billy beat him to it though.
"Yeah, we're moving in together," the outlaw said with a smile. "Just trying to get him to lie down with me."
"I'm not going to- no, Billy-," Machiavelli protested, but the salesman gave them a knowing wink and he found himself lying beside the American immortal, apologizing about his wet shoes. The man- he introduced himself as John- waved him off, showing them how they could adjust the bed to different settings. Apparently, John wouldn't have cared if they had presented as strict Satanists, so long as he could sell them a mattress.
When their enthusiastic salesman finally went to the back of the room to get a form for the mattress they chose, Machiavelli hissed in Billy's ear, "Why do you keep telling every person we meet that we're a couple?"
"It's a lot of fun, Mac. The more you protest, the more they believe we are a couple. And, besides," he said, puffing out his chest, "we're in a place of great privilege where we can't get hurt by homophobia. The least we can do is advocate for gay rights."
"By pretending to be gay ourselves?"
"Why, do you think homosexuality is wrong?" Billy asked quietly, joking but also not joking.
"Of course not, it's just that everyone within five miles of our apartment now thinks that I'm schtupping you."
"That's not true. I might be schtupping you."
"Oh, please, I'm clearly the top in this relationship," Machiavelli hissed.
They heard a delicate coughing noise. Looking up, they found that John had come back. Turning a lovely shade of red (at least that's what Billy would later describe to him), Machiavelli wished then and there that he be struck down by a bolt of lightning. No such luck. "I pulled some strings and we can have it at your apartment tomorrow," he told them brightly.
"That's awfully kind of you," Billy told him happily, shaking his hand. "We need it as soon as possible, you see." With another knowing smile, they were rung up.
Machiavelli waited to speak until the exact moment they crossed the threshold of the store and began wending their way to the car. "You have no shame, clearly."
"Nah, none."
"You deliberately led him on."
"He thinks I have great taste. In mattresses and otherwise."
"Oh my, Billy…"
"I'm sorry Mac-a-whack, I just can't help myself. And you've got to admit, that was fun."
