AN: Thank you Emma for pointing out the formatting was all wrong- don't know what happened there. Hope everyone is enjoying this fic. Cheers, Lilacs and Monarda
Machiavelli felt like he'd just barely fallen asleep when he was being shaken awake again by the American. Indeed, when he checked his watch, he realized that he'd been asleep maybe five or six hours at most. "Billy?" he groaned.
"Sorry, Mac, but we've got to get home. It's Thanksgiving in two days! I couldn't stay in bed any longer... we've got to see if we can get the girls to leave."
Feeling rather crumpled, Machiavelli lay unmoving on his side, watching Billy pacing around the room. "I'll try to get up," he moaned at last, stretching his long legs and twisting onto his back. Despite what he said however, he lay there until Billy came over and leaned over him, looking expectant. "Sorry, sorry… I'm coming," he mumbled.
Wrapping his arms around the tactician's torso, Billy pulled him into a sitting position. "I'll get your shoes. I laid out a suit for you."
Machiavelli looked to his side. The outlaw actually had picked out a suit for him alright, light gray, and with a button down shirt and tie too. Pulling the outlaw's faded sweatshirt over his head and dropping it at his side, the Italian immortal got to his feet slowly. "Billy? What's with the sudden rush?"
Billy looked up; Machiavelli saw that close up, the Kid looked just as tired as he felt. He shuffled his feet. "Dunno… I just felt all restless. You can sleep in the car, Mac, I'll drive," he said pleadingly. "I just wanted to get home. I want to sleep in our own bed, you know? This one's not that comfortable… it's too small…"
"Okay," Machiavelli agreed, scrubbing at his face. He bent over to do up his socks and garters before stepping into his suit pants. Moving around him, and getting in his way slightly, Billy scooped up his nightclothes and squashed them into his bag. "Ready," Machiavelli told him a few minutes later, still blinking quite a bit and not really sure what was going on anymore.
"Good," Billy said, sounding relieved. "Hey, Mac," he added, grabbing both bags and leaving their room, "do you remember what we were talking about last night?"
The Italian didn't answer immediately. Taking measured steps down the rusty stairs leading to the first level, he considered his options. It was much harder to be honest in the bright early morning light. "I recall it," he admitted finally.
Billy looked both relieved and worried somehow at the same time. Leaning half against the door leading to Scatty and Perenelle's room, he cast an anxious glance over his companion. "I was just… a bit emotional last night. You don't have to worry about what I said."
"Billy, I was never worried about what you said. I do honestly love you very much," Niccolo said quietly.
A whole range of emotions crossed Billy's face, changing too fast for Niccolo to catch or understand them. "Good," he said finally. Then, with a slight turn, he knocked on the door.
A moment's pause. Then, "you're up early." Scatty blinked at them, pulling the door open and letting them in the room. "Perenelle," she called over her shoulder. "The boys are here!"
"How is everyone awake right now?" Machiavelli said, sitting heavily on their couch.
"Perenelle and I went to bed as soon as we got home," Scatty said, sitting beside him.
"You went to bed?"
"I get tired some times. Especially when we trek through the wet and cold of the countryside."
"Mac and I were up for a couple of hours, talking," Billy broke in.
"I only fell asleep at six," Machiavelli said, now leaning on the Shadow. He closed his eyes. He heard Billy shuffle his feet again and knew that the American immortal probably felt guilty. Normally, he would try to avoid making the other immortal feel bad, but right now he was too sleepy to think about the feelings of others, especially of the one who had woken him up so prematurely. Beside him, Scatty shoved his head not particularly gently off her shoulder and got up again. He felt the cushion fall a little without her there. Leaning his head back, he thought he might be able to fall asleep again if he tried.
"I'm a little anxious to get home," he heard the outlaw confess, presumably speaking to Perenelle or Scatty. "Are you feeling well enough to make an attempt?"
He had to open his eyes again; he couldn't listen to the conversation properly without also seeing the others. Scatty must have nodded or something because she didn't answer out loud. Perenelle had gone into the bathroom; the door was shut but he could hear the shower running. Billy chose to sit beside him, much closer than he had to be, and bounced his knee restlessly.
Trying something daring, Machiavelli took the other man's slightly smaller hand in his and tangled his fingers around Billy's. The Kid leaned on him. Niccolo bit back a smile. They looked up at Scatty who was giving them a questioning look but she gave them a little wave when she saw that they had noticed her and began to pack up her things.
It took them awhile to actually get going. They gave Perenelle the front seat again. Machiavelli thought privately that she didn't look up to traveling just yet, but she hadn't complained. He was crowded in with Scatty; he wondered vaguely how they'd managed to acquire more stuff in the few days that they were in Indiana- perhaps it was the dirty laundry or the hasty retreat, but there seemed to be more stuff jammed in around him.
The Frenchwoman fell asleep as they pulled out of the little town they'd been staying in. For miles, they said nothing. Occasionally, Billy would glance back through the rear view mirror and catch the Italian immortal's eye. This was always accompanied by an awkward, somewhat embarrassed grin which Machiavelli could only imagine he was reciprocating.
Perenelle woke up as they entered Ohio. Already, the sky had darkened to a deep cobalt blue. The blue hour was upon them. It was chilly in the car and she stretched and coughed slightly. "How are you feeling?" Billy asked her kindly, glancing over repeatedly as if he was trying to assess her.
"Alright," she said, but she shifted in her seat and Machiavelli could tell Billy wasn't convinced.
"Hungry?" he asked her.
There was a pause. "Yes, actually I am," she finally allowed.
"Scatty? Mac?"
"Let's stop somewhere," Machiavelli agreed. "Especially as we're passing through a big city right now. We might not have many options if we continue back into the countryside."
"Okay, I'll find a place." They ended up eating at a little pizza place on the main road, many families and young couples around them, talking loudly. Outside of the car, Machiavelli saw that Perenelle now looked distinctly sick. He was just debating mentioning this to the Kid when Billy beat him to it. "I think we should stop for the night," he said, watching Perenelle from his side of the table. "We made some progress and we can do the rest of it tomorrow, if we don't start out too late or make many stops. You need some actual rest," he said firmly, anticipating an argument. "I shouldn't have asked you to move this early."
"It would be nice to sleep in an actual bed," she agreed.
"Good. We'll eat something and then I'll find us a hotel. We'll stay somewhere nice tonight."
They all ate rather quickly. The Frenchwoman looked rather relieved when Billy got up to pay. He took her hand as they walked back to the car, and she looked quite pleased really when he opened her door for her. "You're a good gentleman," she told him, patting his cheek wearily.
"Why, thank you," he intoned with a wicked grin.
Scathach was looking down the road, hanging on to a sign post and leaning out to see farther. "There's an actual hotel chain down there," she told Billy, pointing. Joining her, he peered into the gloom. "There, see the sign?"
"Yeah, okay."
He booked them two double rooms. They crowded into the one intended for the females, Scatty and Machiavelli staying back while Billy settled the sorceress in for the night. "Are you alright Perry?" he asked her.
"Fine. I'm just going to need to rest for a while," Perenelle told him, sitting faintly on the edge of the bed.
Billy hovered in front of her, clearly worried. "What can I do to help you? You name it, I'll do anything."
This earned him a little smile from the Frenchwoman. Caressing his face, she smiled at him, then patted him on the shoulder. "Nothing, mon caille. I just need to sleep for a while. I was thinking the three of you should do something fun. It'll be hours before I get my strength back, I think."
"I didn't know that it would take so much out of you," Billy told her softly, ignoring her suggestion. "I wouldn't have asked if I'd known."
"William, it's not that big of a sacrifice. I'll be tired for a day and then I'll be okay again. Don't you worry about me for a minute," she said firmly. She waited; he nodded finally. "Bien. Now let me sleep." She lay down.
Ducking down, Billy kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Perenelle."
"I'm going to sleep on their couch tonight, so I don't wake you," Scatty said, her hand on the door. Perenelle nodded and they left her, pulling the door shut securely behind them. "We might as well watch a movie," she added, leading the two men down the hall. "There's a theater two blocks down."
"How could you possibly know that?" Billy asked, running to keep up with the two others who walked much faster than he did.
"I observe, Billy, something you might consider from time to time."
"I pay attention to what matters," he argued pleasantly, sliding into the elevator just before the doors shut. "Right, Mac?"
"Absolutely."
Scatty scowled. "Niccolo would agree with anything you say. You're his favorite."
"Is that so?" Billy asked, grinning up at the tall man.
"There are some things I wouldn't agree to. Especially if you said them."
"Like what?" the outlaw asked flirtatiously.
Machiavelli feigned deafness. Glancing at the sign announcing which movies were playing, he tried to find one that didn't involve a lot of high speed chases, wasn't intended for children, and didn't involve pandas. He didn't think he was setting very high standards, but he still didn't necessarily love the resulting selection.
"Let's see that one," Billy said, seeming to pick one at random. Dashing ahead, he bought three tickets and also an enormous bucket of popcorn. Watching him, Machiavelli almost wished he hadn't worn a suit today. He was sure that even if by some miracle Billy didn't end up spilling that vat of butter on him, they were hardly entering into the cleanliest of places.
It wasn't an awful movie, he reflected, but his thoughts were definitely not focused on the screen in front of him. The seats in the theater were tiny and cramped- they'd obviously been built long ago- and Billy had managed to convince him to prop his legs up on the seats in the row before them. This wasn't what was distracting him however; most of his attention was tied up around the close proximity of the outlaw. He was so close to Billy that he felt he could taste the man's aftershave instead of just smelling it.
Once, Billy had leaned over to whisper something in his ear about the plotline and his lips had brushed against Machiavelli's ear. The tactician had nodded, flushing horribly, and agreed without knowing what the Kid had said or, to be honest, what was going on in the movie. Thirty minutes later, he could still feel the thrill of the outlaw's warm breath on his skin. It was hardly helped by the fact that Billy seemed to be talking to him more than even what was usual, a steady stream of words said in a light tone. It was lucky, Machiavelli reflected, that there weren't very many people watching this film because someone would have surely complained by now and then Billy would have to stop. As on edge as the Kid's prolonged attention was making him, he wanted desperately for it to continue.
Scatty alone seemed to be watching the film.
When the movie was finally over, the night had spread out above them, white stars embroidered on a vast swatch of navy. "Americans do love their happy endings, don't they?" Machiavelli commented, linking arms with Scatty as they stepped out of the movie theater into a lightly falling snow.
"That's because we're a very optimistic group of people," Billy said enthusiastically. He dashed forward on the sidewalk and slid a little, grinning broadly.
"But in real life there aren't happy endings really, cause life doesn't just suddenly conclude when everyone's happy and the situation is perfect. Life's messy," Machiavelli countered, not sure why he was fighting Billy on this.
"No, but life doesn't end until you die and I think most American film producers want to leave things on a positive note without just fast forwarding to the part where everyone's dead."
"Of course, for us, life never ends," Scatty broke in. "Does that mean we're never going to get our happy endings, Billy?" she asked, also challenging him slightly.
"We're all going to be happy and it will never end," he said firmly. "We're just going to keep on being happy because we should be."
"Oh, Billy," the Italian immortal sighed, but he felt a surge of affection and love fill him up to the brim of his very being. They watched Billy scoop up snowballs, which he tossed at the lights. "Who wouldn't be happy, if they spent their life with you?" he called to the Kid, who looked at him with bright eyes.
"You really think that?" Turning, he tossed his scarf over his shoulder again, and slipped and slid his way back to their side.
The other two immortals stopped, Machiavelli reaching out to brace Billy in case the Kid began to fall. "Of course I think that." Billy's raw happiness took his breath away. It was almost too much for Machiavelli- he didn't see how the outlaw let so much of himself out for others to see.
The tactician's praise seemed to fill the younger man with a certain sense of bravado. Billy gave a little running start and slid across the slushy ice of the sidewalk, grinning madly. "You're going to fall," Machiavelli warned him, hanging back as he watched the younger immortal.
"Not," the Kid countered gleefully. Turning around to look at the Italian, a looking of dawning comprehension lit up his features.
"Don't you dare!" Machiavelli called, realizing what was on the outlaw's mind, but too late; turning gracefully, Billy pushed off, his legs churning madly for a minute before they gained traction. The next minute, he had launched himself at the Italian, who tried in vain to get away.
Hurtling into the taller man, Billy threw his arms around Machiavelli's shoulders, knocking him back into a large pile of snow. It took forever for them to fall back, Machiavelli thought, and yet there was no time to prevent what was happening. One moment, he'd been standing, minding his own business and then the next moment, he was lying, looking up at the stars and Scatty was laughing at him from where she'd ducked the outlaw's attack. "Oh, William," he mumbled.
Billy was laughing too now, his face buried in the Italian's chest. "Mac! You were right! I did fall a bit!" And snickering, he pushed himself to his feet. "It didn't end at all as I expected," he said, holding out a hand for the other man. "You were supposed to catch me."
"And how was I supposed to know that?" Machiavelli argued, not taking his hand, but continuing to lie in the snowbank.
Billy wrapped his arms around the tactician's slim waist and pulled him bodily to his feet, heaving slightly because of the differences in their statures. "I don't know, I just thought that you, our great strategist, would be able to throw off such an easily foreseeable attack."
"Here, Niccolo," Scatty said at last, catching her breath. "You have snow all down your back." She began to beat the snow off of his shoulders.
Billy was still grinning wildly. He offered a thoroughly insincere apology, reaching out a hand for the Italian and touching his arm. "Sorry, sorry," he said repeatedly, but he was laughing. Machiavelli tried to look stern, but his companions were both so happy, he couldn't say anything to change their mood. Shaking his head, he quirked an eyebrow at Billy as they began walking again.
Holding onto his arm, Billy walked beside him. Machiavelli felt electrified, as if a current was running down the Kid's arm and up his own. "Come on," he said at last. "Scatty might not feel the cold, but I certainly do."
Billy let go of the taller man and swept Scathach up in his arms. Despite her protests, he spun her in a circle. "I'm cold too. You're awfully lucky, Scatty."
"Put me down," she ordered. The Kid sat her down on her feet, but held her close. She let him do it for a full half minute before pushing away with a very cat-like manner. She gave him a small smile though. He slung one arm over her shoulder and slipped the other around Machiavelli's waist.
"I hope Perenelle's getting a lot of sleep," he said. "So we can finish going home tomorrow."
~MB~
It took them much of the day to get back to Philadelphia. The snow that had started the day before had picked up overnight, which was making it much more difficult to see the road. The Thunderbird was obviously not built to deal with snow of this quantity, and Machiavelli had the suspicion that Billy was more concerned for its welfare than their own. He was very glad that there was no one else on the road. They wouldn't have to worry about dying, but he felt that nearly everyone else should stay inside.
Perenelle suggested nearing two o'clock that they pull off and find a hotel room, but Billy was quite determined that they were going to make it back for the holiday. Machiavelli had sided with the American because he knew how much Billy wanted to have a proper Thanksgiving with all of their friends and Scatty abstained from choosing a side, thus they kept going, though Billy agreed to keep to the side roads.
It was a great relief to finally pull up in front of the Kid's brownstone. "Let's just leave the laundry for tomorrow," Machiavelli suggested, clambering out of the backseat and stumbling on legs that had been cramped in a confined space for too long.
"Sounds like a plan. Wonder if they're going to be waiting for us," Billy mumbled, climbing the front steps and fitting his key into the lock. He turned the doorknob and pushed through.
Machiavelli, just behind him, heard the clattering of nails on the wood floor and the next second, Billy was bowled over by their very excited Husky, laughing as the canine licked every part of his face. "Aw, puppy!" he said, pushing his way into the hall. The Pup danced around on his hind legs, resting his front paws -and thus most of his weight- on Billy's shoulders.
"We're back," Scatty called into the house, squeezing past both of them with one hand on Perenelle's arm.
"Hey," Black Hawk came out of the living room, beaming at the little group. "We expected you back a while ago. Did you find anything out?"
Billy didn't answer right away. He gave the Pup a few more kisses on the muzzle before pushing him down onto the ground. "Sort of. We didn't find her though. So all we really know is that she's not in Indiana."
Machiavelli thought it was strange that Billy said nothing about finding out about his father, but said nothing either, reserving that right to the American immortal. Scatty and Perenellle pushed past them, heading into the living room where he could hear Nicholas and Billie, but he stayed with Billy and Black Hawk.
"You okay, kid?"
"Just tired," Billy mumbled. He leaned against Machiavelli's shoulder. "So are you, aren't you?" he asked, looking up so that he could see the Italian's gray eyes.
"Terribly tired," he agreed.
"Going to bed?" Black Hawk asked, pulling Machiavelli away from the American immortal and towards the living room.
"Not yet. I want to see everyone."
Scatty was telling Nicholas about their trials and tribulations when the three male immortals came into the room. Billie Holiday was in the Kid's armchair but he dropped onto the loveseat without complaint. Looking tired, he curled onto his side, rather catlike.
Niccolo nodded to Nicholas and sat on Scatty's other side. He struggled not to yawn.
"Where's Sophie?" Scathach asked finally, and glancing around, Machiavelli noticed the girl's absence for the first time.
"Gone," Nicholas said carefully.
"Gone?" Billy said in disbelief. "Where'd she go? Tomorrow's Thanksgiving."
"I know but we didn't exactly have the chance to stop her. I woke up the morning after you had left for Indiana and there was a note by her empty bed. I don't think we've heard the last of her yet, though."
"I suppose…"
