AN: Sorry for the wait! I kept trying to split this into two chapters but it really felt like it should all go together. So it's a bit long which is good because it'll have to count as last week's and this week's submission. I have to work some overtime... Hope you like it! Feel free to submit reviews. I look forward to your constructive feedback.
"Does what we do make us seem gay, you think, Mac?"
After having read half of the book they had put it aside. They were now lying on the couch, Billy's leg thrown over Machiavelli's left leg so that they were tangled together. Niccolo considered Billy's question thoughtfully. "It certainly doesn't hide it," he said finally. "Why, you don't want to be gay?"
The Kid shrugged, making a face. "I don't know. It's just a shift, isn't it? I never thought of myself that way…"
"I have nothing against it," Machiavelli told him. "Gender is such a silly thing to worry about when you have someone you love."
"I know that. I just want to figure out where I stand before I tell anyone else. Does that bother you?"
"No, I don't expect you to know everything, all at once."
"Good." Billy wrapped his arm around Machiavelli's middle. "It's not that I'm ashamed of you or anything…"
"I know that," Machiavelli whispered.
"Are you comfortable like this? I'm not crushing you?"
"Of course not. You're like, a hundred something pounds," Machiavelli pointed out. "Billy? We are going to tell Scatty though, aren't we?"
The Kid paused. "Yeah, I think that's safe. Try getting her alone these day though." Scatty did seem to be consistently engaged these days, always accompanied by either Nicholas or Perenelle Flamel. Machiavelli knew that Billy didn't want to tell a lot of people, but felt that the Flamels of all people wouldn't judge them, being fairly strange themselves.
"It might be that she already knows," he pointed out. "She's quick like that. And she already knows that we both like each other. Apparently."
"I can't believe she didn't tell either of us," Billy said grumpily.
"Well, I made her promise that she wouldn't say anything to anyone," Machiavelli pointed out fairly. "So did you. And now we know that she kept her promise; in fact, she did a very good job."
"I guess this does explain why she's been so mad at us. We've been frustrating her," Billy surmised with a smirk. "She's known about both of us, but couldn't say anything to either."
"We better tell her soon," Machiavelli said imploringly. "Can you imagine how she'd flip shit if we wait a month to tell her. After we've both been confiding in her?"
"I love it when you use slang," Billy told him, kissing his cheek. Machiavelli hoped he never lost the swooping feeling he got whenever the Kid touched him. "We'll tell her as soon as we can get her alone. Together, right?"
"Of course. It's the only way we'll come out alive," Machiavelli figured.
They both jumped, hearing the front door being unlocked. Sitting up, Billy threw himself to the other end of the couch, and Machiavelli scooted, rather regretfully, more onto his side. He tossed the book to the outlaw, who caught it deftly, and opening it to the page they'd left off on, began to read it aloud again.
"Hey," Black Hawk called, bounding in. He squinted at them disbelievingly. "You guys been reading this whole time?"
"Nah, we've done other stuff. But we're tired man," Billy protested, setting the book aside. "We just spent the last week traveling and walking and foraging…"
"Yeah, right, foraging." The Native American snorted. "Hey, handsome, why do you look so rumpled?" he asked Niccolo.
Machiavelli stood up. "Do I? I was lying down for a little bit…" He began to fuss over his clothes, making the darker skinned immortal laugh.
"Don't listen to him, you look fine," Billie told him, coming into the room. "Mm hm, fine is the word." She pinched him on his backside, making him jump a little. Both Billy and Black Hawk were laughing at him now; Machiavelli took offense at this- both of them should have been a lot more offended on his behalf than they were.
"I'm going to change," he decided.
"No, no, you look wonderful. Black Hawk's a jerk," Billy said cajolingly.
"I beg your pardon," the brawny man barked.
"Besides, I'm hungry," the Kid begged, ignoring Black Hawk's objections. He looked over his shoulder, into the front hallway. "Where are the others?"
"The Flamels are going to ride over with Scatty and me," Black Hawk explained, sounding bored, "and Billie's going to go with you, so they stayed in the Jeep."
"Not that I'm not pleased to have you with us, but why are you coming with us and not your boyfriend?" Machiavelli's Billy asked the other.
"We picked a place to go and I'm going to show you how to get there."
"Oh, alright. Well, we'll meet you at the place then, Black Hawk," Billy called, disappearing upstairs for something.
"Wait, Billy, what are you doing?" Black Hawk called up the stairs, but there was no answer. "I thought you were hungry!" he shouted after him, before wheeling around to look at the others. Machiavelli shrugged at the Native American immortal, who sighed impatiently. He gave the two remaining immortals a half wave and turning, made his way out.
"What's he getting?" the jazz singer asked Machiavelli.
"Not a clue. Maybe a coat?" he suggested.
It wasn't remotely clear what the American immortal had been looking for because when he came back, he looked the same. "Sorry! Ready to go, though?" he grabbed his leather jacket off the back of his armchair and stepped into his boots, tugging on the tops of them to get his foot in easily. Flashing a smile at them both, he charged down the stairs to the garage. Machiavelli gestured for her to go first, then followed her down. In the kitchen, he put down a can of food for the pets before climbing into the Thunderbird.
~MB~
For safety's sake, Machiavelli had planned on sitting across the table from Billy, but when they got to the restaurant, Perenelle insisted on both the 'birthday boys' sitting together at the head of the table and, feeling Billy hold his hand under the table, he couldn't complain about the seating arrangement.
Machiavelli was, for once, struggling to keep his composure. He wanted very much to tell someone about what had happened, but looking around their crowded table, he knew he wasn't going to get a chance to be selective. He would have to tell everyone or no one and he knew which Billy would prefer. The Kid's hand squeezed his; it was rather as though he had read Niccolo's thoughts. More to give himself something to do, he took a sip of the water that had been set out at their table and looked around the restaurant they'd chosen.
It was crowded but elegant somehow. Tapestries, smaragdine in coloring, covered faded brick walls and were matched with framed pictures of what he assumed must have been the owner of the restaurant; some of these pictures were very old because there was a definite progression of age- black and white photographs showed a young man, sitting at bars and in front of a little house. These were interrupted by gaudy photos of a wedding which looked like it had taken place in the early 1980s, to judge by the hairstyles and colors. He took another sip of water, trying to calm his nerves.
"We should get you a lady for your birthday," Billie said decisively. Hearing this, Machiavelli coughed, spluttering water all over poor Scatty, who was sitting to his right.
"Sorry," he told her, but she waved him off, wiping her arm with her napkin.
"Honestly, Billie, you're incorrigible," Perenelle told her with a little laugh.
"Me or Mac?" the outlaw asked, breaking in. His hand was now exploring the inside of Machiavelli's thigh; the Italian immortal felt rather light headed, especially when the outlaw gave him a little rub. Billy sounded amused. Machiavelli was sincerely wishing that he hadn't worn his closely tailored suit as he could have used some extra wiggle room.
"Either of you. Maybe you could share her," she suggested.
"How frugal," Machiavelli said in a funny voice. He'd been attempting his normal sardonic voice, but there was a breathier edge to it than usual and it was because of this perhaps, that they all looked at him in surprise. He coughed into his arm, turning slightly pink.
"Coming down with a cold, Mac?" Billy asked playfully. He was still massaging the tactician's thigh with his thumb.
"Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by your presence," Machiavelli quipped back and he was pleased that his voice had resumed its normal matter of fact tone.
Billy grinned at him. Putting both of his hands behind his head, he stretched backwards. "Why would I want another woman, when I have you three beautiful ladies?" he asked the jazz singer.
"Suck up," Black Hawk told him.
The outlaw wrapped his arms around the Native American's shoulders. "Why would I want another person when I have little old you?" he crooned in Black Hawk's ear, laughing when the other man pushed him away. "What about you?" he said playfully to Niccolo.
"I'm too old for you," Machiavelli shot back warningly.
Billy opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to think better of it. "That's not true," he said finally, patting the tactician on the back. "Besides, we're much closer in age right now," he added, waggling his eyebrows.
"I wonder if our waitress is ever going to come back?" Black Hawk said, who seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. He peered around the room, seeming to hope to summon her from wherever she'd gone by sheer will power.
"Here she comes now."
"Shit," Billy said. He'd been too busy socializing (and fondling, Machiavelli thought) to have given his menu a proper look. He began to scan it hurriedly while the others put in their orders.
"Do you even like fish?" Black Hawk asked him after she left.
"No, I just panicked."
The Native American sighed. "You can switch with me. I'll have the fish."
"Aw, you're a life saver. Let me kiss you."
"Get off of me," Black Hawk protested, swatting at him. "You big lug!"
"It's my birthday."
"I don't care," Black Hawk rumbled back.
"Who's going to give you your birthday spanks?" Billie asked, leaning across Black Hawk and cutting him off mid sentence. "Machiavelli?" she suggested slyly, grinning at them.
"No- what- why?" the Kid stuttered, turning red faster than Machiavelli had ever seen a person do before.
"Sure, I'll just bend him over our bed when we get home," Niccolo said quietly. "Would you like that?"
Billy spluttered, but the others were laughing. They all piled on, seeming to take a lot of enjoyment out of embarrassing the normally shameless young immortal.
"So when are you going to start looking for your mother again?" Black Hawk asked Billy, finally taking pity on him.
The Kid looked surprised but grateful for the change in conversation. "Oh, I don't know. We just got back from Indiana. And Perenelle has to rest a bit, doesn't she?"
"I could be alright as early as the middle of this week," she said, sipping her wine.
"You're going to Kansas next, aren't you?" Black Hawk pressed.
"Yeah… Yeah, I think we'll try there next. She liked living there, I think…"
Black Hawk stopped talking when their waitress brought over their food. "I was just thinking that Fred might like to go with you, when you do go."
"Oh, yeah?" Billy quirked an eyebrow. "Did he tell you that? Have you talked to him recently?"
"No, but he's from that area, isn't he?"
"Sort of," Billy said dubiously. "He's from Oklahoma. It wouldn't be far from where he lived originally… Did you hear from him?"
"Nah, not since we all last saw him, but you should give him a call or something. I'll go too," Black Hawk decided.
"If you want to," Billy said cautiously. "There's no guarantee we'll find anything."
"Ah, but I want to help you. It could be a guy's adventure. Plus Perenelle," he added. "Are you going to come again?" he asked, leaning around the outlaw to talk to the Italian immortal.
Machiavelli chewed carefully before answering. "If Billy wants me to."
Billy looked back and forth between the two men. "Yeah. Yeah, I want you both to come."
"Good, we're decided," Black Hawk crowed. He threw an arm around Billy's shoulder. Machiavelli felt Billy let go of his hand again, taking up his utensil again. "What are we going to do after this?"
"We don't have to do anything," Billy said quickly. Next to him, Machiavelli added his agreement. He would have liked a little more time to relish the newness of their relationship.
The others however, seemed to have their own agenda in mind. After dinner, they all went bowling. Even Perenelle took a turn. Their group was polarized by ability. Billy, Black Hawk, Scatty, and Machiavelli were actually quite good bowlers; the others, terrible. Perenelle seemed to be afraid of falling, which made her reluctant to get the necessary momentum up. Billie ended up tossing her ball into the wrong lane and threatened Black Hawk bodily when he laughed at her.
Machiavelli was enjoying himself. He didn't know if it was because he was with the closest thing he'd had to a family in hundreds of years or if it was because the thought of going to bed with Billy tonight was making him nervous, but he was happy to prolong the experience either way. He knew that the outlaw wasn't unhappy either with the proceedings, as he was the one who insisted on the fourth game.
His stomach lurched when they finally left the bowling alley. It had been all well and good, he thought, to spend the afternoon cuddling, but he had no idea what Billy expected of him. He smiled at the American immortal, but they weren't able to talk much as they moved towards the two vehicles. Here, they split up for the first time that day. Billy was taking the Flamels back, who seemed to have been traumatized enough by Black Hawk's driving for one day. Machiavelli went instead with the girls and Black Hawk.
Black Hawk ran through three different red lights to get home before the Kid, and when he finally came up the back staircase, they had lit the candles on a very large cake and were waiting for him. Billy blushed when they sang him 'Happy Birthday' and tried to hide behind Nicholas, but Machiavelli could tell that he was very pleased.
Despite being so impatient at dinnertime, Billy seemed beyond happy to let the night linger now. It was Billy, in fact, who asked if they could do something together, perhaps play games. He was absolutely glowing; Machiavelli was a bit awestruck by the very sight of him, even though the Kid wasn't doing anything particularly amazing. When Nicholas and Scatty went to get the games out of the study upstairs, he was stuffing his second piece of birthday cake into his mouth and dancing out reach of Black Hawk, whose cake the outlaw had stolen and was now eating.
Machiavelli drew up his legs as they made a lap around the couch. Billy stuffed the last piece of cake in his mouth, let out a triumphant "Ha!" and collapsed on the cushion next to the Italian immortal, laughing and spilling chocolate crumbs on him which he picked off with an apology and ate.
"You little bastard," Black Hawk shot at him, taking a seat on Machiavelli's other side and squishing the tactician with his bulk.
"You can get another piece from the dining room," Billy pointed out without a trace of shame.
"So could you! Instead of taking my piece," Black Hawk grumbled. "That was my first piece, you big pig."
"It's my birthday," Billy said sanguinely. He leaned on Machiavelli's shoulder, grinning at both men. "Right, Mac?"
"Well, I'm not sure that…"
"See, Mac agrees with me," the American immortal said loudly over Machiavelli's diffident answer. He wrapped his arms around Niccolo's shoulder, giving him a bone crushing hug. "Mac always agrees with me, right buddy?" he asked, his face squished against Niccolo's.
There was a light clicking noise; Perenelle had snapped a picture of them. Billy overbalanced and fell, laughing across Machiavelli and landed sprawled half in his lap, half in Black Hawk's. "There's another good picture," Nicholas commented, looking over her shoulder. "Okay, Billy, cher ami, what would you like to play?"
Billy sat up with great difficulty. He looked through the pile of games with interest. "How many people do we have?" he asked, counting for himself. "Seven… that rules out some of these right away."
"Most you can play with six people," Black Hawk pointed out, throwing an arm over Billy's shoulders. "Pick whatever you want. I can always watch."
"Don't pick anything too complicated," Billie warned from her place by the fireplace. "I'm too drunk and old to learn something new."
"What do you consider too complicated? Besides bowling, I mean," Billy asked, quite seriously, though many of the other immortals in the room were laughing again, with varying attempts to hide it.
"Just pick one of the old standbys," she said, snuggling with Georgette, who seemed to like the jazz singer.
"How about Clue?" he suggested.
"Clue would be nice, dollface." She showed no signs of moving though. With a sigh, the three men on the couch pushed the coffee table closer to her. Black Hawk picked up the couch on his own, shoving it close to the fire. Scatty curled catlike by Machiavelli's side.
By the time the game ended- Perenelle won- Machiavelli was feeling too sleepy and well fed to be nervous about anything. He excused himself and went upstairs to shower, wondering if anything would happen at all. Perhaps Billy, who'd had a third slice of cake would be too comatose to want to mess around. He could imagine finding the outlaw fast asleep when he came back to their room. Realizing that he'd forgotten to bring nightclothes, he dressed again in his suit.
The room was semi dark when he came in from his shower. Billy was standing by the window, looking out at the snow falling. "Another storm, Mac," he called over his shoulder.
Niccolo took another swipe at his hair with the towel. He felt for the door behind him, making sure it was shut all the way. "Good thing I've got you to keep me warm."
Billy laughed, bright and delighted. He spun unusually gracefully on his right leg, pivoting around so that he could face Machiavelli. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, the last article of clothing he had on. The Italian thought privately that his friend- no, boyfriend, he corrected himself- seemed nervous, but surveying him, Machiavelli couldn't help but stare a little. The jeans were open at the clasp, half unzipped.
"Wishing I was a little more ripped?" Billy asked, a smile curving his lips.
"No, that would freak me out. Besides, you're hardly fat." Coming to stand in front of the slighter man, he reached with some hesitancy for him, touching his hips lightly. "I think you're incredibly handsome, William."
Billy beamed and ducked his head. He mussed the hair on the back of his head, glancing shyly at Machiavelli. "You really think that, Mac?"
"Of course I do. Although if you keep eating this volume of desserts, that might change…" His fingers trailing lower, the tactician slipped under the stiff denim. "Billy? Why aren't you wearing-?"
The Kid grinned at his surprise, seeming to be emboldened by the Italian's interest. "I thought it might be more intriguing for you if I forewent underwear today. It's been a very cold experience though."
"I bet," Machiavelli laughed.
Billy seemed a bit tentative, as though he wasn't quite sure what to say or do next. He looked like he wanted to go further, but also wasn't willing to put himself that far out there. Machiavelli decided that this time, he should take up the initiative. After all, Billy had already taken the bigger risk the night before.
"Come to bed with me," he suggested. It felt a little silly- they always shared a bed.
Billy gave him a tiny grin though. "Okay," he agreed, as if this was something special.
Machiavelli felt his stomach drop lower. "Ah," he said, as if just remembering, "and lose the pants too." He smiled wickedly. "Unless you'd like me to help you with that?"
Rubbing his nose self-consciously, the Kid nodded. It was such a slight gesture that Machiavelli felt compelled to ask for permission again, to be sure that he wasn't forcing the younger immortal to do anything he didn't want.
As the Italian began to slip off the younger man's jeans, Billy began to chatter nervously. "You know Mac, I was watching a special on the TV the other about polar bears and grizzly bears mating and how- ah-" Machiavelli had just undid the zipper the rest of the way and was beginning to push them down; Billy shivered- he felt a chill slip down his back, cold coming off of the window behind him. He sucked in a breath and continued, "How they can produce viable offspring. Some people call them grolar bears and some call the pizzlies. I'm partial to grolar bears myself-"
Machiavelli finally looked up at the American. "William," he sounded faintly amused, "Why are we talking of grolar bears?" He looked into Billy's clear blue eyes, but his hand was exploring the bulge beginning to show more visibly.
Billy was moaning slightly, revealing his front teeth. "You're making me nervous going this slow," he wheezed as if Machiavelli had cut off his air supply.
The Italian immortal smirked and kissed him once more. His fingers ghosted up Billy's front, pinching at the American's nipple, teasing him, before dipping his fingers underneath the band of Billy's pants. "You're supposed to enjoy a work of art slowly. And I think you're gorgeous."
Billy blushed crimson. His whole body shuddered as he let himself by overtaken by the Italian. He said nothing as Machiavelli pushed down the rest of his jeans, leaving him hopeless exposed, but Machiavelli was pleased to see that this blush remained as the younger man lowered himself onto the bed.
Niccolo tried not to stare at the younger man, but it was very difficult. He hadn't seen Billy completely naked ever; or the very least, he'd never been able to openly scrutinize the younger immortal. The Kid drew up his legs protectively, seemingly embarrassed by all the attention, but Machiavelli could tell that he was slightly aroused in the same moment. "I don't mean to stare," Niccolo apologized, but at the same time, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached out a hand for the American immortal, touching the muscles in his stomach.
"People just can't help but stare at me," Billy bragged lightly, laughing and falling back onto the bed. "Must be my amazing physique." He flexed his arms.
"Yes, your sculpted abs," Machiavelli agreed gravely, playing along.
Billy snorted. Machiavelli loved the way his erection bobbed slightly in time with the Kid's laughter. "No, it's all my eyes. You're clearly lost in my baby blues."
"I think everything about you is beautiful," he whispered lovingly as he climbed onto the bed himself.
"You really think that?"
"Of course I do."
"Hm… I almost believe you," Billy said, with the hint of a smile in his voice. "Come on, Mac, this isn't fair. You've got me completely exposed and here you are with like, sixteen layers on." His fingers paused on the buttons of the Italian's shirt. "Can I undress you?"
Machiavelli hesitated. Billy was younger and fitter than he was, even with his body still biologically in his late twenties. He felt that he was quite scrawny by comparison. "Sure." Billy sat up now, his body pressed against the Italian who felt both electrified and also a bit sick with nerves. The outlaw had some trouble undoing his buttons; Machiavelli was sure that the Kid had very little experience undressing other men, but he seemed to be quite happy to learn.
"I'm glad you still wear this," Billy told him, tangling his fingers around the chain of the pendant around his neck. He looked quite proud indeed when he tossed the shirt on the floor behind him. "I guess I always loved you, huh?" Leaning in, his lips sought the Italian's.
"I guess so… Billy, couldn't I just-?"
"Leave it."
"But it's going to wrinkle."
"So are these," Billy pointed out, laughing as he tugged at the Italian's pant legs. "Okay, okay. Go hang up your clothes. Get rid of these."
Pushing up, off the bed, Machiavelli turned off the lamp on his side of the room. The room was significantly dimmed by this action, which was reassuring to the tall tactician. He scooped the shirt off the ground, carefully placing it in their hamper. Stepping out of the pants, he hung these on the little rack next to the hamper and, fetching his suit jacket from before, hung both up painstakingly.
He heard a loud, dramatic sigh from the bed- Billy was getting impatient. Smiling to himself, Machiavelli moved even slower, turning gracefully to look over at the impetuous American. "Something wrong?" he said, deliberately being difficult.
"I'm going to explode any minute."
"Try not tugging so hard and you should last a bit longer."
Billy threw a pillow at him which he ducked, laughing. "Get over here," he hissed.
"I'm coming, coming." Doing it before he could change his mind, he stepped out of his shorts and climbed on the bed, feeling the chill of the night slip over and around him. He was holding his breath, glad that the low lighting gave him some semblance of privacy.
"You're big," Billy said in surprise. "Holy Christ, Mac."
"Oh, well… yeah, I guess so…" Machiavelli agreed, glancing down himself now.
The Kid snorted now, loudly. "Now you really are my Italian Stallion," he explained himself, seeing Machiavelli's questioning look.
"Oh, Billy…" But the Kid was still looking him over and he inhaled sharply when Billy touched him, reaching around to cup him in his hands. He let out a very shaky breath, letting the outlaw explore his body to his heart's content.
"Touch me too," Billy begged in his ear.
Kneeling over the younger man, he held his hand up to Billy's mouth. "Suck on my fingers." He felt thrills of pleasure when the Kid complied, taking each digit in his mouth individually. Shifting down slightly, he began to jerk Billy off, amazed that they were here and doing this.
Billy didn't seem to know where to touch. His fingers grazed Machiavelli's hips, worked their way towards the other man's erection and then touched himself. He moaned, which the Italian hastily muffled by covering his mouth, apologizing profusely. Their mutual desire was prevalent in the air, moving back and forth between the two men like an electrical current. They were both caught up in a desire to know, to explore, and to discover.
"Are you trying to tickle me?" Billy giggled helplessly as their actions became more erratic with time.
"No! I just was trying to feel where the edge of you was so I could get a better grip.I hope one of these days we learn to synchronize our movements," Machiavelli whispered to the outlaw, who was laughing.
"I hope it takes a lot of practice," the Kid whispered back. Rolling onto his side, he pulled Machiavelli down beside him. "I'm getting tired…"
"Let's stop for the night," Machiavelli suggested. "I wasn't expecting to have sex tonight. I'd- I'd like to take it slow, you know? Is that okay?" Cuddled up next to him, Billy nodded. "I thought we took a pretty big step tonight, don't you?"
"That was amazing," Billy complimented him weakly. He grinned up at the Italian, starry eyed, happy, and very well sated.
Machiavelli felt around for their blanket, feeling the chill for the first time since they'd started. He pulled it over them. "You're gorgeous," he said again, making Billy blush.
"Nah," he deflected. Kissing the other man on the cheek, he clicked off the light. "Happy birthday, Mac."
"It's more your birthday than mine," Machiavelli reminded him, wrapping an arm around Billy's middle. "I love you."
There was a little intake of air; "I love you back, Mac."
"Oh, William, you're slipping into verse…"
"Happens frequently when I masturbate," Billy joked. "Little known side effect."
"Mm, then I'll have to teach you some limericks," Machiavelli mumbled into his hair. He wanted to keep talking to Billy, to make him laugh some more, but his eyelids were getting heavy. They were both still quite tired from their trip earlier that week. He found he couldn't keep his eyes open…
