AN: Sorry for the delay! I've been working some extra hours lately. Hope everyone is pleased with this chapter- would love to know your response. Best, Lilacs and Monarda
They made a fairly odd group, Machiavelli thought, glancing around their dinner table the next day; despite this, he felt inordinately fond of each person in the room, even Black Hawk who had shoved two breadsticks into his mouth to mime a walrus. He had earned a grin from Nicholas Flamel, who was sitting across from him, but Billie told him in no uncertain terms to cut it out and Perenelle was pretending not to notice.
Machiavelli was rather surprised to find that the jazz singer and the Frenchwoman had hit it off so well; due to her caustic nature, he had to admit to himself, he thought Billie was a bit of an acquired taste, someone whom you had to get acclimated to over a series of moments. Perhaps Lady Day liked Perenelle because neither woman was very touchy feely. Yes, he decided, Billie doesn't have to worry that Perenelle is going to invade her personal space or privacy.
Scatty was on Machiavelli's right, Nicholas's left. It had been she, Billy, and Niccolo who had gotten up early in the morning to begin putting together the meal. He smiled faintly, remembering that Billy had accused her of helping only to ensure there was enough vegetarian options and she had threatened to punch him. Sometimes, they bickered like siblings, he thought privately.
Right now, Scatty was telling Nicholas about their nightly adventures of the past week. He listened in rapt silence as she told him about the soldier with the missing back of his skull and the woman who had been more afraid of them than they were of her. "But the last ones we met…" She glanced over at Billy.
Clearly the Kid had been listening because he nodded and said, very quietly, "We found some men who were in the same regiment as my father." He glanced over at the other side of the table, but the others were deep in a conversation about the American folk music period and didn't seem to be paying them any attention. "They told me that my father's spirit followed us when we moved. I don't know if he kept going though… But maybe he's with my mother?"
Nicholas nodded. "Perenelle told me this already," he confessed. "It would be exciting, wouldn't it, if you found your father? Have you ever met him?"
"No, not that I remember… He died when I was very young. My mother never spoke of him again."
"Perhaps it was painful for her," Machiavelli suggested.
"I think it was because of my stepfather. He was rather…"
Whatever Billy's stepfather was, they didn't find out. The outlaw didn't seem to have the words to describe the man; Machiavelli was left with the strong impression that his stepfather had been a fearsome presence in his early years.
"Where are you going to look next?" Nicholas asked, following the little silence.
Billy glanced quickly over at Perenelle. "Perry was pretty burnt out after this trip. Maybe we shouldn't continue…"
Nicholas looked over too, at his wife. She gave them a little wave. "She's already coming back from it. And I know she wants you to find her. I think she'd be insulted if you asked her to stop."
The Kid visibly struggled with it. "Kansas, I suppose," he said finally. "That's where we went next. I think she was happy there. We only left because she was getting sicker."
This wasn't exactly the happy conversation Machiavelli had hoped they would have. Patting Billy's knee under the table, he said, "What do people do on Thanksgiving beside eat?"
"Family arguments seem to be a fairly popular activity," the outlaw said, brightening.
"We could watch football," Black Hawk added, suddenly joining their conversation.
"Are there any other options?" Machiavelli asked desperately, making Billy laugh uproariously.
"Mostly you just sit around, waiting for the day to be over."
"Not me. I'm happy to be here," Billy said. His hand found Machiavelli's under the table. He gave it a little squeeze.
Nicholas captured the group as an audience for a long period of time, telling them a funny story about a Thanksgiving he and Perenelle had spent a long time ago, accidentally sharing a hotel with a clothing optional group. Machiavelli shook his head, covering his mouth to show some restraint, but Billy and Black Hawk were both guffawing. It made Machiavelli wish he could tell funny stories like the Achemyst did.
"What's the matter? You don't like the food? You've hardly eaten anything." Black Hawk asked Billy, suddenly focusing on the American immortal in the silence that had followed Nicholas's sotry.
"What? No, I do. I was just thinking of something else…" Letting go of the Italian's hand, Billy shoved an enormous forkful of stuffing in his mouth as if to prove that he was still hungry.
"I wish Sophie had stayed," Perenelle said, speaking to the full group at last.
"I asked her if she would. She said she was considering it. But the next day we found her bed empty… So apparently she made her choice."
"But you never said," Scatty pointed out, "where exactly she went. How do we know that something bad didn't happen to her?"
"Well, she left us a note. I'd forgotten. It's for both of us," Nicholas told Scatty. He held it for her. "She must be more comfortable around us just because she spent so much time with us this summer. It explains about what she's doing…"
Scatty took the note from him. She read it rapidly, eyes moving back and forth, following the line of text. Her mouth became a thin line. "Well… alright," she said finally, putting the letter in her pocket. "We'll respect her wishes this time."
Machiavelli wanted to know what the young woman had written, but felt that this was personal for Scathach and the Alchemyst. He contented himself therefore with sitting down next to the outlaw, who was eating his second piece of pie. Billy tapped him on the elbow to get his attention. "Want to take a walk with me? I think the Pup's getting a bit antsy."
"Yeah," Machiavelli agreed immediately. "We inviting anyone else?" he asked quietly.
The Kid thought about it. "No. No, just us, I think. There's something I've been wanting to do… and I'll lose my nerve if we have anyone with us."
Machiavelli didn't know exactly what the American immortal meant by that, but it made his insides squirm. "Okay," he said curiously. "I'm going to get my coat."
"Okay. I'll let the others know we're going out."
Breaking apart, Machiavelli made his way into the hall. The husky trotted after him, wagging his tail hopefully. He made a loud, yelping bark when the Italian immortal picked up his leash, dashing around in happy circles and making it very hard for the tall man to clip the leash on to his collar. "Hold still, puppy, or we're going nowhere," he muttered through his teeth. The dog finally sat down, though his tail was still making a syncopated thump thump thumping noise on the ground as it hit it back and forth. "There we go…"
"Are you excited?" Billy asked the dog, appearing out of nowhere. He spoke in a low croon, stroking the top of the canine Billy's head with rough motions. The Pup keened, sniffing the air with excitement.
"Here, hold this," Machiavelli said, holding out the leash. He got his coat down from the stand and did up the buttons carefully. He was sure it was getting cold by now outside. They slipped out into the nighttime.
"It's very pretty out right now, isn't it?" the outlaw pointed out happily, leading them down the street towards the park. "It's funny, Mac, cause if I had been alone I would have thought today was rather lonely, but I have you and the others and it's been a really good day today, hasn't it?" he continued, without letting the older immortal answer his first question.
"It's been a great day," Machiavelli agreed. "Even if you burned the biscuits," he teased and Billy flushed.
"I only burned half of the biscuits," he pointed out.
The Italian immortal laughed, rich and deep. "The top half, William, and the bottoms were somehow underdone. I don't know how you managed that." He beamed nonetheless at his companion, who was still struggling to defend himself.
"We had that big turkey in there, taking up all the space and the next thing I knew, they were just-"
"I'm only teasing you. It was a nice meal. Though in Italy, we serve eel on the holidays." Glancing sideways, he saw Billy make a disgusted face and he grinned again. "Maybe we won't continue that tradition," he said lightly.
"What do you want for Christmas?" the Kid asked suddenly.
"Billy, we haven't even finished this holiday."
"But I just realized- I only have a month left to do shopping for you. And for the others," he added, as though an afterthought.
"You've gotten me too much this year as it is. I don't want anything," Machiavelli argued.
They bumped shoulders, walking down the main path towards the gazebo in the middle of the park. Now and then, the Pup would stop, sniffing a lantern or bench intently. "You do realize," Billy said quietly in his ear, "that there is no way I'm not getting you something for Christmas. So, we can do this the hard or the easy way."
"How about a nice book and a pair of socks?" Machiavelli suggested, backing down in the face of Billy's ferocity.
"Just that?" Billy said doubtfully. "I don't know, Mac…"
Machiavelli realized with a start that they'd already made an entire circuit of the park once and were now half way through completing another round. "Billy, you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about…?"
"Oh. Oh, yeah." Billy had turned a pale color. Maybe that's just the street lights though, the Italian thought. Billy cleared his throat. "Hey, Mac, let's stop for a bit here, okay? Sit for a few minutes."
"Here? But we're so close to home, Billy. Couldn't we do this somewhere warmer?"
"Yeah, but… It's pretty, right here, isn't it? Let's just look at it a minute." Looking around, Billy spotted a bench slowly filling with snow. He brushed the snow off the seat with his sleeve and turned to give Machiavelli a hopeful look.
"Okay. It is beautiful right now. Just cold too, you know?"
"I won't keep you very long."
The Italian sat down on the bench where Billy had cleared it and the Kid sat beside him. The Pup gave them a funny look before prancing off as far as his leash would allow him too. They could hear him chomping at snowflakes.
"Look up at the light, you can really see the snowflakes fall there." Machiavelli glanced at his companion. "Billy?" The Kid wasn't looking at the light he'd been pointing at; he'd been watching the Italian. "You're making me self-conscious, you know that? Is my tie askew?"
That made the American immortal crack up. "No, your tie is fine, Mac. You do know that most people don't focus on those kinds of details, don't you?"
"Yes, but I'm not most people."
"No, you're not," Billy agreed. He looked over at the light. "The snow falling is very nice, Mac, but it's not really why I'm keeping you out here in the cold. I was thinking-," he faltered a little, "thinking that last week I wasn't really ready yet to tell you why I've been acting funny."
"You know, you could have told me to fuck off. It's not really my business."
"But I didn't want to," Billy said earnestly. "I wanted to tell you the truth then, just like I wanted to last night, and today, and every day in between. But I got scared."
"So, you lied? You're not in love with someone?" Machiavelli felt his head spin a little.
Billy shook his head. "I didn't lie. I'm in love with someone. Somebody incredibly important to me." He ducked his head, brushing snowflakes off his hair. He glanced at the Italian quickly. "I think I loved you from the first moment I saw you."
At first, Machiavelli didn't understand. "From the first moment-?"
"Do you like me?" Billy blurted out. He began to babble. "I don't mean as a friend, I'm pretty sure we're good friends, aren't we? I mean…" He'd looked cold before, but now his face smarted with heat. "I mean, do you love me? Like, would you date someone like me?"
Machiavelli stood frozen. He didn't know what was the right thing to say and he felt like he was panicking. "I really like you," he said dumbly. Billy ducked his head and he realized that it sounded like he was trying to let down the other man easily, but still, he wasn't sure himself if he was letting the Kid down or reassuring him. "I love you," he said quietly.
Billy met his eyes. He looked shy, vulnerable. "Yeah?"
"Why- why are you asking? What's happening?"
"I just wanted to tell you. Cause you said that I should be honest with the person I was in love with… and that's you, so I thought I would try. But you know, it's okay," Billy spoke rapidly, "okay, if you don't feel the same. I just wanted to tell you that." He got to his feet. "Are you cold, Mac? We can head back for home."
"You're in love with me?" he asked slowly, not sure he had heard the outlaw correctly. Niccolo felt like the oxygen wasn't working properly in his body- his hands and feet felt like they'd disappeared (that could have been the cold, he mused)- it felt like he was floating six inches above the ground.
"Yes, and it's stupid, so let's keep going," Billy babbled. He whistled for the husky who was wrapped around a tree he'd been inspecting. The outlaw sighed and walked over to him, grabbing his collar and walking anti-clockwise seven times to release him from his tether.
"William, there's something you should know," Machiavelli called from his place on the path.
The Kid looked up wearily. "Oh, yeah, what?"
Machiavelli smiled with his whole body. "What you said- it's not stupid. I love you too."
Billy dropped the end of the leash; luckily, the Pup was relatively well trained because he didn't bolt. Instead he yipped around their feet, looking up at them excitedly, as if he too understood the enormousness of the moment. Grabbing it up again, the Kid half ran to stand in front of his Italian friend. He skidded to a halt in front of the taller man. "You love me too-?"
Machiavelli nodded, his eyes shining. "Always."
"Why- why didn't you tell me?"
"I just assumed that you wouldn't feel the same way…"
"You assumed- you thought- I wouldn't- what? You've liked me before this?" Billy asked weakly, his words jumbled up as he tried to process what was happening.
"I've liked you for a long time," Machiavelli admitted, very quietly. "Since September. And I thought you might like me too, for a moment… but then it seemed like you didn't. Do you remember what happened in the beginning of September?"
"We moved to Philadelphia…" Billy looked at his boots, mouth silently. Machiavelli could almost see the wheels turning in his head; he felt a flash of relief. There was one mystery finally put successfully to rest- Billy hadn't remembered what had happened that night after all. The tactician had always worried that he had remembered, but was sparing his feelings by ignoring it. "What happened in September?"
The Italian turned red. "Nothing, never mind. Well…" he added hastily because Billy was staring at him, "it happened right after we came to Philadelphia. Do you remember the night we went to that club?" he asked gently. "It was for my 18th birthday."
Billy rubbed at his temples. "Not much, he admitted at last. "I remember going obviously… But I don't usually drink as much as I did that night. Why, did I do something stupid?" He froze. "Did I do something to you?"
Machiavelli put up his hands, placating the other man. "Nothing that I didn't want to happen," he admitted. Billy furrowed his brow, looking concerned, and Machiavelli thought it best to get this part over quickly. "We, ah, we kissed. And, well… I liked it," he said, turning very pink. He felt like he was losing oxygen, or perhaps blood. "I liked it a lot..."
"We kissed back in September? And we both wanted it?"
"Yes. Yes," Machiavelli said, somewhat impatiently. "I was the one who initiated it."
"Did you?" Billy asked, cocking his head.
Machiavelli looked up at the streetlight, feeling embarrassed now. "Yes, I pushed you into a wall. Maybe that's why you don't remember it? Head trauma," he joked feebly.
"What did I do?"
"You were kissing me back." Machiavelli blushed. "We would have done more, but you fell asleep… that's probably for the best. I don't think we were prepared to deal with anything more than that at the moment…"
"I fell asleep?" Billy asked, visibly outraged. "But why didn't you mention it the next day?"
"The next morning, you didn't remember it… or I thought maybe you had but didn't feel the same way… So I never said anything about it…"
"So all this time, you've known you were in love with me and you didn't say anything because you thought I wasn't in love with you," Billy surmised shrewdly. "We could have started dating months ago…"
"You weren't in love with me then," Machiavelli pointed out, laughing.
"I didn't know I was in love with you," the Kid corrected him. "But when I figured it out- at the beginning of the month- I kind of realized that I've been feeling this way about you for a long time."
"Oh." Machiavelli didn't know what to say now. He was still quite surprised.
Billy pulled him to his feet. "Let's head back home now, Mac. It's pretty cold out here." They grabbed the dog and began to make their way out of the park. Billy was quiet, holding on to Machiavelli's arm. They were almost all the way out of the park when the Kid came to a sudden halt. Jerked to a stop, Machiavelli looked questioningly at the outlaw, who was standing under another street light. "Hey, wait, Mac. I just realized- you've kissed me more than I've kissed you."
"Jealous?"
"A bit." Grabbing his hand lightly, Billy pulled him back towards him and rested his hands upon Machiavelli's shoulders uncertainly. He paused a couple inches in front of the Italian's face, but Machiavelli nodded just slightly and he smiled, tilting his head to capture the other man's lips. "I love you. I love you," he repeated, falling back from where he'd been standing on his tip toes, and he beamed.
"Oh, caro. I adore you."
"So, do you just like me or would you date someone like me? More specifically, me?"
Machiavelli was having a hard time hearing over the roaring in his ears. "You want to date me?"
"Well, yeah, querido, it's not like I told you I loved you so that I could go explore Antarctica with a clean conscience. I want to be with you. I know we already share a bed, but I want to be able to kiss you before we fall asleep and when we wake up. Don't you want that, too?"
"I want all of that."
"So we're going to date?"
"Yes, it seems that way, doesn't it?" Machiavelli smiled at the other man. "I'm just really, really surprised about all of this William. I didn't think you would ever love me the same way."
"Mac…?" Billy asked as they walked down the sidewalk towards the brownstone. "Are we going to tell the others right away?"
Machiavelli glanced to his right. "No, not just yet," he said, interpreting the look on Billy's face. "Not tonight, at least."
"Good. Not that I'm ashamed of you or anything," he added quickly. "It's just- well, it's just a surprise, isn't it? Even for us. And I don't know how Black Hawk's going to take it," he said under his breath. "He's my best friend, but I've never been this way before."
"We won't tell anyone until you're ready."
They sat apart, Billy in his armchair, Machiavelli resuming his place on the couch. Billy was beaming; when Black Hawk asked what it was that he was so happy about, he made up a story about hitting Machiavelli with a snowball. The Italian did his best to feign indignation, but he couldn't help sneaking looks with the other immortal long after the others had lost interest in them.
"I'm still tired," Billy said finally, getting up from his armchair. "All the driving. I'm going to go to bed, I think."
"That makes sense," Nicholas agreed.
"Night, Bill." Black Hawk patted him on the leg as he passed.
Machiavelli wanted to go after him, but thought it would look suspicious. He ran his hand over Scatty's arm. She glanced over at him; he smiled, wanting to tell her about what had happened out at the park, but also wanting to be upstairs.
"You look tired too," she told him.
"I'm pretty tired," he lied, speaking clearly so that he would be overheard.
"You should go to bed," she suggested. "Like Billy." There was something in her eyes that said she suspected what they weren't telling her. He leapt at the suggestion. Kissing her, he tried not to look over excited as he said his goodbyes to the others.
He wasn't sure if the Kid would be asleep when he got up to the room. Maybe Billy was actually tired and had gone to bed. He'd gotten the impression that the other man wanted him to follow, but maybe he'd been wrong…
He pushed the door open quietly.
Billy was lying in bed, reading his book. He'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, grinned when the other man crossed the threshold of the room, and tossed the book aside, onto the floor, with a loud bang that Machiavelli was sure the others would hear. "I thought you would never come up."
