AN: Thought I ought to post the new chapter in honor of Machiavelli's birthday today. He's getting older in the story too! Hope everyone is still enjoying this. ~LilacsandMonarda

They ended up watching Howl's Moving Castle, which was appropriate as they had just finished the book. Machiavelli had not so secretly loved both of them, but for different reasons. Now that he was looking older again though, he felt that he should be a bit reserved, so he tried to contain his enthusiasm. He ended up reading the book over again under his bed covers at night, when the other immortals went to bed.

He couldn't completely assume the role of adult yet though as Billy still insisted on taking care of him. Though Billy allowed him growing freedom again as the days went past without incident, he was still relatively sure that the American immortal was keeping an eye on him.

What he couldn't know was that Billy was experiencing his own share of conflicted emotions. The growth that Machiavelli went through as time went on did not go unnoticed by the outlaw, who both yearned to see the older Machiavelli again and dreaded him growing up at the same time. This left the young man with some amount of guilt because the Italian's illness took away a lot of this confusion. With Machiavelli not feeling well, he was able to take care of him without reserve. But this too, would come to an end.

"Want to come into town with me?" Billy asked one afternoon.

Machiavelli, who had been cooped up at the cabin for almost a week now, jumped at the occasion. He scrambled off of the steps and pushed his feet back into his sneakers, hurriedly tying them up. "Where are we going to go?"

"I just thought you might like to spend some time somewhere besides the cabin," Billy said, popping open the passenger side door for Machiavelli and sliding smoothly around the end of the car to the other side. "We could go anywhere."

Machiavelli thought it over. "Let's go out to eat. We can decide from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Billy said, flashing a smile as he revved the engine. "You know one of these days, we'll have to teach you how to drive."

The Italian immortal groaned a little. "I thought you might have forgotten about that." Now as he approached adulthood again, the idea seemed less appealing.

"Nope! You're going to be great at it too."

Machiavelli glanced over to see Billy. The American was smiling broadly. He envied the younger immortal's carefree attitude. Billy had one hand on the wheel and his other hand thrown over the car door. Clearly, he was not concerned with anything at that point of time.

"Like what you see?" Billy joked.

Machiavelli realized that he must have been staring a bit at the American. He faced forward again. "Yeah," he said very quietly. He hoped that Billy hadn't heard him.

"I think when we go into town, I'm going to get you a notebook," Billy said thoughtfully.

"Why?"

Billy shrugged. "I just think it would be good for you. Get all your thoughts out." He looked over at Machiavelli with a funny expression. "Don't have to if you don't want to, of course."

"It couldn't hurt," he answered shyly.

~MB~

Machiavelli banged his leg on the footboard of his bed the first moment he woke up the next day. He cursed a little and gingerly maneuvered his way out of the covers.

Sitting on the side of his bed, he realized that he had really shot up in the middle of the night. He hadn't experienced a growth spurt like this since his body had been really little. It was again unsettling for him, especially since his body had been changing at a relatively slow pace for the past couple of weeks.

Stepping in front of the full length mirror in his closet, he squinted at his reflection. The clothes he had been wearing were now ridiculously too small and he pulled them off, momentarily getting stuck in his shirt. Undressed now, he couldn't help but stare at himself, glad his body was finally beginning to look as it had.

He was now much taller, angular, and his features were hardening into their adult form. Beyond that, he was glad to begin to look more as an adult in other regions of his body. He hoped this marked the end of his acne, emotional outbursts, and embarrassing nightly emissions. He stood up against the wall where Billy had been marking his height. He was now at least half a foot taller.

At last satisfied with his appearance, he began to root around for clothes. He found a pair of jeans which had previously been too long for him; they fit rather well now. Having been unable to find underpants that didn't cut off circulation in, well, important areas, he zippered the pants shut very carefully. None of his shirts were long enough for his torso now, so he wandered across the hall to Billy's closet.

He hesitated only briefly before he began to rifle through. He considered stealing some of the American immortal's underwear as well, but after pulling open the drawer, was confronted with more than he was prepared to deal with and shut it just as quickly. He wandered over to the closet instead. At the very far right hand side, found two button down shirts. One was white with light blue lines and the other, a dark purple. He pulled the white one on, tucking it in as he left the room.

"Billy! Guess what," Machiavelli called happily. He thumped down the flight of stairs quickly and nearly ran into the front door. He skidded into the kitchen, glancing at Perenelle, before coming to a stop by Billy. The American was laying under the sink, and from the scattered tools are him, Machiavelli guessed he was either trying to fix something or dig a small tunnel.

"What's up?" Billy's voice sounded oddly hollow. It echoed slightly against the basin of the sink.

"I measured myself this morning," Machiavelli said happily, bouncing on the soles of his feet.

Billy gestured at him with a wrench, staying under the cabinet. "Remember, Mac, size doesn't matter."

"It does when I'm taller than you," Machiavelli retorted.

"What?" Billy banged his head coming out of the cabinet. He gingerly rubbed his forehead where it had hit the woodwork. The Italian pulled him to his feet, impatient to show off. "Oh, no, no, no. How could this be? You're 16!" He gestured to Perenelle who was very carefully keeping a straight face. "This isn't fair," Billy muttered to himself. He put his hands on Machiavelli's shoulders which were now at the same level as his own. "And isn't this my shirt?"

Machiavelli looked around. "So this is how you see the world. Interesting."

Scathach came into the kitchen. She glanced at the two male immortals, then did a double take. "Wow, you grew a lot."

"I know, it sucks," Billy mumbled. He pushed the Italian down into one of the kitchen table chairs and sat beside him. The American put his head down on the table.

Machiavelli stroked the top of Billy's head and did his best not to make eye contact with either of the women. He knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from laughing. "Cheer up," he said to the American. "You knew this was going to happen at some point. I am much taller than you as an adult."

Billy grumbled under his breath but picked his head up. "I thought maybe when you were a kid thought, I'd have half a chance." He shook his head at the Italian. "I'm going back to fixing my pipe."

"I'm sorry, Billy," Machiavelli called. He turned back to the women and leaned forward. "Am I old enough now that we can get me some suits? Cause if I outgrow them, we can always give them to Billy." He cocked his head at the string of curses that suddenly came from beneath the sink. The Italian grinned despite himself. "Please?" he asked the girls.

"He's going to outgrow it and I don't need any suits," Billy called.

Machiavelli flapped his arms around a little in outrage. "All men need suits," he said, sounding scandalized.

"It's his birthday, Billy," Perenelle said soothingly. "It can't hurt."

"Yes!" Machiavelli beamed, having won. He grinned happily down at Billy who shook his head at him but his stern expression was belied by the crinkle of his eyes.

Perenelle patted him on the shoulder, getting up from her spot at the table. "Grab something to eat and we'll go." She headed out the backdoor, presumably to gather whatever stuff she needed.

Scatty shook her head. She grabbed a piece of fruit and wandered out again.

"Ah, by the way, Billy," Machiavelli lowered his voice and knelt beside the other immortal. He leaned over the American, who had to stop fiddling with the pipe to look at him questioningly.

"What's up, Mac?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear," the Italian whispered, checking over his shoulder again to make sure they were alone.

Billy sat up and banged his head against the cabinet again. A small stream of blood trickled down his forehead and he looked a little deranged. "What?"

Machiavelli swiped away the blood before it could stain Billy's shirt. "I don't have any that fits anymore," he said, gesturing to his body. He realized that he was kind of straddling one of the American's thighs and he quickly moved over.

"Why didn't you just take some from my room? You've already got my shirt." Billy pulled himself up and started for the stairs. Machiavelli followed him up.

Machiavelli blushed. "I was going to, but then I went in your drawer and…" He trailed off, gesturing at the drawer.

"What's the matter? The jock strap? You don't have to wear that," Billy commented, pulling a pair of briefs out. He tried to hand it over to Machiavelli, who took it reluctantly. "Not the jock strap, huh?" Billy guessed correctly, interpreting the look on his face. "What then?"

The Italian plunged his hand into the mess and came out with a rather skimpy leopard print thong. He held it between two fingers and raised his eyebrows at Billy. "This yours?"

"Joke gift," Billy defended himself. He refused to look embarrassed. "You want to criticize me, you'll end up wearing that. Go change."

They heard Perenelle call from downstairs. Machiavelli hustled to the top of the stairs, handing Billy the thong as he rushed past. "Be right down." He looked back at Billy.

Billy saluted him. "Have fun kid."

"Bye!"