AN: Hi everyone, My life has become pretty busy this past month or so. I was wondering what the general opinion was- would you like me to update on a weekly basis with shorter chapters like this one or somewhat less frequently, but have them closer to the normal length? Appreciate the feedback- sorry if it seems like I haven't been interested in updating. I haven't lost interest!


"You said that we were going to a local dance show," Billy hissed, leaning across Machiavelli to shoot an accusing glance at the Native American immortal.

"This is local and what do you call that?" Black Hawk argued, gesturing to the stage in front of them.

"This is- this is," Billy stammered, casting a glance in the same direction. "This is not what I had in mind…"

In front of them, three women danced topless, swaying and shaking to a rhythm which was apparently inside of their heads as they moved independently of each other. The red head in front of them grabbed her breasts suggestively and swung around, grinning wickedly at the outlaw. He blushed furiously and looked over at Machiavelli. "Mac? Don't you have something you want to say?"

"Nah, I'm good." Machiavelli was sitting one leg crossed stylishly over the other. He was watching the dancers with mild interest. Billy punched his arm. "Ah! I mean, this is very wrong Black Hawk. Clearly wrong. But why?" he asked the Kid. Next to him, the Native American laughed.

"These girls are… and… you know.."

"Another cogent argument," Niccolo murmured.

The Kid threw a glance over at the women before looking at Machiavelli again. The Italian immortal returned the look, a faint smile on his lips. Billy knew the older man was teasing him, but he couldn't help feeling a little… he didn't know what he was feeling, exactly. Guilty? Maybe a little. He didn't want to watch the show before him because he didn't want to be attracted to women, not right now when he had Niccolo. 'What would Mac think of me?' he wondered.

Machiavelli took advantage of a particularly loud song to lean over slightly and whisper in his ear, "Don't be so nervous. We're still human." He touched Billy's knee, perhaps feeling safe doing so with the dim lighting of the room around them.

Billy sucked in breath, feeling the Italian immortal's large hand touching his inner thigh. He covered Machiavelli's hand with his- he could feel himself getting aroused. He didn't know if it was Machiavelli touching him, the dancers, or a strange combination of both, but he felt a wave of nervousness and desire threaten to overwhelm him.

The tactician squeezed gently, ran his thumb over Billy's erection and let go again. Looking over, the outlaw saw a big smile across Machiavelli's face as he gazed up at a new set of dancers. To watch the Italian, one might think they were at an opera showing or perhaps a fashion show in Paris. He had the quiet appreciation of someone observing a piece of fine art. Perhaps the women in front of them noticed this aura of elegance because they seemed to cater to the Italian specifically in their group, largely ignoring a man on the other side of the platform who- Billy wrinkled his nose in disgust- was wearing a pair of sweatpants which didn't seem to have been washed recently.

"Which one do you like?" Black Hawk yelled in his ear, his voice somehow lost among the competing noise from the jukebox in the corner and the overall senseless beat being piped in over the intercoms.

Billy wanted to say 'none of them,' but that would only raise suspicions in his dark friend. He looked at the two women on the stage right now. A dark skinned beauty was kneeling in front of the other woman, kissing her way up the other's thigh. The girl who was standing was her polar opposite- pale, plain, and rather bored to guess from her expression… "The one who's kneeling," he said, feeling himself blush again. He hoped Black Hawk couldn't see that.

"Ah, good choice. I'm getting a drink." Black Hawk hit him on the shoulder in what Billy assumed was an affectionate gesture. Feeling his shoulder go slightly numb, Billy nodded.

As soon as the Native American immortal was out of hearing range, the Kid turned in his seat to look at Machiavelli. "Why are you torturing me?" he demanded, speaking as quietly as he could.

"Is this really torture?" his boyfriend asked. "I thought you fancied yourself a boob man."

"I'm dating you. I don't want to see anybody else." Machiavelli looked over at him; Billy could tell that he'd piqued the other man's interest. They had maybe five minutes before Black Hawk came back. "We just haven't discussed the boundaries of our relationship. I figured… I figured you wanted me faithful to you."

"Of course I do, but I don't think of things like this as you being unfaithful. I never expected you to stop watching porn or to not be attracted to other people. I just want you to love only me," Machiavelli said mildly. "Does it really bother you, being in here? I was just teasing you before. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I understand that. I mean, of course this is intriguing. It's just that," he scanned the room, "you're the only one I love. You know that Mac. I don't need anybody else."

"That's sweet Billy, really it is. But just don't think you have to change on my account. I know that no matter what, you'll be coming home with me."

Billy blinked, then broke into a beaming smile. "I will be. I wish we could have shared a bed though. How'd we end up separated?"

"I actually expected no less from this trip. Maybe it'll really make you focus," Machiavelli joked. "Here's Black Hawk," he said, grinning up at the tallest immortal. "Get lost?"

"Ha ha," Black Hawk quipped back. "The bar's three deep. And what a rip off too- nine dollars for a beer? I don't think so. Having fun, kiddo?" he asked Billy, giving the youngest immortal a little shake.

"Sure, tons of fun," Billy said sarcastically. He yawned wide and put his head on Machiavelli's shoulder. In front of them, the dancer seemed to have finally figured out what was going on with her audience. Her eyes widening, she looked interested for the first time that night. Realizing his mistake, Billy straightened up again, looking at Black Hawk with a tired expression. "I'm jet lagged Black Hawk."

"Did you enjoy it a little?" he asked, getting to his feet and pulling Billy up.

"Oh sure. Another grand adventure," the outlaw yawned. "But I'm so sleepy…"

"You know I can't believe you agreed to come," Black Hawk told Machiavelli, falling behind to walk beside the Italian immortal.

"To be fair, you didn't tell us where you were bringing us. I wasn't exactly prepared to jump from the moving car when I saw where you were pulling in. It would have been bad for the suit, after all." Billy could hear the two of them continue to banter as they approached their rental car. He climbed gratefully in the backseat, feeling the throbbing in his head finally begin to lessen as they got away from the strip club.

"Don't fall asleep back there," Black Hawk called. "I'm not carrying you back to the room." Billy mumbled indistinctly; even he didn't know what he'd intended to say with that last garble of words. He could feel himself dozing off and he sat up, trying to focus on what Mac was saying. He was fading nonetheless, drifting into a dream world where Machiavelli and him had been in love for years, had kids maybe… that would be nice, he decided. He closed his eyes.