And though the truth may vary
I totally said I was going to bed earlier but this demanded to be written. The OOC is so bad I'll probably have the fanfic police knocking on my door sometime tomorrow...
-----
Billy loved a great number of things, that was something that even war couldn't change. He loved the first sip of coffee in the morning, the smell of hot asphalt after a summer rain, cheap pizza and cheaper beer-- but most of all, he loved the feeling of being useful. That was the reason he joined up, to fight for and protect his country. After things had gone bad, the feeling was still there, only clouded by a vague feeling of worthlessness. A nagging emptiness that Billy hadn't ever felt before.
So, when Barney Ross came along, he jumped at the chance. The man was someone to be admired, someone Billy would gladly lay his life down for. The two talked, sometimes, and Barney would always listen to him; even when he drew up inside of himself, back to a darker time. The older man never judged, never criticized the his decisions, even when he was at his worst.
As the weeks flew by, he could feel an attachment growing; a small flutter in his stomach when Ross would openly praise him, or the off-handed comment to one of the other men about his shooting skills.
By the time they finally got together for another beer, Billy had turned into a nervous bundle of nerves and hormones. The afternoon was freezing cold, the sky a thick blanket of gray clouds, a picture that almost certainly promised snow by nightfall.
When Barney arrived at his apartment, his nose was red and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Billy smiled at him, stepping aside to allow his friend entry. The words that passed between them were casual, things he would probably forget later.
An hour went by, then another, and another.
"So I tell her," Barney is grinning, trying not to spill his beer. "I tell her, bitch, I'm not ah' fuckin' gardener!"
Billy covered his mouth with his hand, stifling musical giggles, "You did NOT!"
The older man leaned back into the couch, pushing a stray chip bag to the floor. "I did!" His grin is crooked, and one eyebrow is cocked.
"Oh, man, now I know why you're never hooking up with any of the ladies from the bar!" Billy clutched at his stomach, wiping a tear from his eye. "Even Gunnar left with someone!"
"You better watch that mouth of yours, kid," Barney socks him gently.
"O-Okay, just so long as you don't tell any more terrible hook-up stories!"
There's a pause, "you're the one that wanted to hear them!"
Billy looks up, finding Barney reclined, his eyes closed. He looked younger, his muscles were relaxed, and his lips were turned up in a slight smile. He considered all of the things he could say, all of the things he could do... If he got just a little closer, he could feel Barney's body heat, smell the tiny amount of cologne he knew the man had smeared behind his ear-- but, he stayed where he was, one hand hovering just above the lapel of the other man's jacket.
Outside, the dim hum of the backup generator trying to start and failing is the only warning the two get before the room is plunged into almost complete darkness. The windows rattle slightly as the wind picked up, the storm had apparently decided now was the perfect time to visit.
The sound has Ross jumping slightly, his body hyper-alert to every sound in Billy's tiny apartment. "Fuck," he says.
"Relax," Billy feels around for his cell phone, flicking it on and illuminating the space around him in a faint blue glow. "It's just the power."
What should he do...? The question warred inside of him as he searched for some kind of answer that wouldn't sound creepy.
Before he could properly formulate some kind of sentence, Ross was grabbing at the phone in his hand. Their fingers brushed and he felt a chill run up the length of his spine, a cold tendril of not-quite pleasure.
"...Kid. Hey," Barney looked worried.
"Uh, yeah?" He released his grip on the phone, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"I said, do you have any candles?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. I do. Sit tight," Billy made a vague gesture and stood, albeit unsteadily.
The candles were in the cupboard above the sink, and had he not been slightly inebriated, they wouldn't have been a problem to reach. Billy wobbled slightly, his brow furrowing as he pressed up on his tiptoes and tried to find the handle. Several times it morphed into jelly and slid from his grasp, leaving him grunting in aggrivation.
After a few minutes of struggling and a few choice words, he felt a hand cover his own, pulling the door open with a creak.
"It's a goddamn universal law," Barney said, "you can't open shit when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," Billy whined.
He followed Ross back to the living room, watching as he flicked a lighter open and lit each candle. The room wasn't much brighter, but it was enough so that neither would trip and snap their neck, or brain themselves on the kitchen table.
"S'better," Barney's voice was gruff, the rumbling of it made Billy's palms sweaty.
With a slight stumble, Barney plopped back down onto the sofa, patting the spot next to him. He might have said something about the room being cold, but Billy didn't hear it; he was too entranced by the half-lidded gaze and sleepy smile.
"Gonna get yourself into trouble, Kid, lookin' like that," Barney mumbles.
Billy yelps as he's pulled into a clumsy embrace, and takes a few minutes of moving around to find a comfortable position. His head is resting against the older man's strong chest, his body curled into the warmth below him. He feels Barney tug the blanket from the back of the couch down to cover them and makes a happy sound.
"Lookin' like what," He asks, tilting his head up.
"You know exactly what," Is the rough answer, there's something desperate in Barney's eyes that he'd never seen before.
He doesn't get to analyze it for long before he's being pulled into a painful and poorly aimed kiss.
-----
Billy loved a great number of things, that was something that even war couldn't change. He loved the first sip of coffee in the morning, the smell of hot asphalt after a summer rain, cheap pizza and cheaper beer-- but most of all, he loved the feeling of being useful. That was the reason he joined up, to fight for and protect his country. After things had gone bad, the feeling was still there, only clouded by a vague feeling of worthlessness. A nagging emptiness that Billy hadn't ever felt before.
So, when Barney Ross came along, he jumped at the chance. The man was someone to be admired, someone Billy would gladly lay his life down for. The two talked, sometimes, and Barney would always listen to him; even when he drew up inside of himself, back to a darker time. The older man never judged, never criticized the his decisions, even when he was at his worst.
As the weeks flew by, he could feel an attachment growing; a small flutter in his stomach when Ross would openly praise him, or the off-handed comment to one of the other men about his shooting skills.
By the time they finally got together for another beer, Billy had turned into a nervous bundle of nerves and hormones. The afternoon was freezing cold, the sky a thick blanket of gray clouds, a picture that almost certainly promised snow by nightfall.
When Barney arrived at his apartment, his nose was red and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Billy smiled at him, stepping aside to allow his friend entry. The words that passed between them were casual, things he would probably forget later.
An hour went by, then another, and another.
"So I tell her," Barney is grinning, trying not to spill his beer. "I tell her, bitch, I'm not ah' fuckin' gardener!"
Billy covered his mouth with his hand, stifling musical giggles, "You did NOT!"
The older man leaned back into the couch, pushing a stray chip bag to the floor. "I did!" His grin is crooked, and one eyebrow is cocked.
"Oh, man, now I know why you're never hooking up with any of the ladies from the bar!" Billy clutched at his stomach, wiping a tear from his eye. "Even Gunnar left with someone!"
"You better watch that mouth of yours, kid," Barney socks him gently.
"O-Okay, just so long as you don't tell any more terrible hook-up stories!"
There's a pause, "you're the one that wanted to hear them!"
Billy looks up, finding Barney reclined, his eyes closed. He looked younger, his muscles were relaxed, and his lips were turned up in a slight smile. He considered all of the things he could say, all of the things he could do... If he got just a little closer, he could feel Barney's body heat, smell the tiny amount of cologne he knew the man had smeared behind his ear-- but, he stayed where he was, one hand hovering just above the lapel of the other man's jacket.
Outside, the dim hum of the backup generator trying to start and failing is the only warning the two get before the room is plunged into almost complete darkness. The windows rattle slightly as the wind picked up, the storm had apparently decided now was the perfect time to visit.
The sound has Ross jumping slightly, his body hyper-alert to every sound in Billy's tiny apartment. "Fuck," he says.
"Relax," Billy feels around for his cell phone, flicking it on and illuminating the space around him in a faint blue glow. "It's just the power."
What should he do...? The question warred inside of him as he searched for some kind of answer that wouldn't sound creepy.
Before he could properly formulate some kind of sentence, Ross was grabbing at the phone in his hand. Their fingers brushed and he felt a chill run up the length of his spine, a cold tendril of not-quite pleasure.
"...Kid. Hey," Barney looked worried.
"Uh, yeah?" He released his grip on the phone, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"I said, do you have any candles?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. I do. Sit tight," Billy made a vague gesture and stood, albeit unsteadily.
The candles were in the cupboard above the sink, and had he not been slightly inebriated, they wouldn't have been a problem to reach. Billy wobbled slightly, his brow furrowing as he pressed up on his tiptoes and tried to find the handle. Several times it morphed into jelly and slid from his grasp, leaving him grunting in aggrivation.
After a few minutes of struggling and a few choice words, he felt a hand cover his own, pulling the door open with a creak.
"It's a goddamn universal law," Barney said, "you can't open shit when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," Billy whined.
He followed Ross back to the living room, watching as he flicked a lighter open and lit each candle. The room wasn't much brighter, but it was enough so that neither would trip and snap their neck, or brain themselves on the kitchen table.
"S'better," Barney's voice was gruff, the rumbling of it made Billy's palms sweaty.
With a slight stumble, Barney plopped back down onto the sofa, patting the spot next to him. He might have said something about the room being cold, but Billy didn't hear it; he was too entranced by the half-lidded gaze and sleepy smile.
"Gonna get yourself into trouble, Kid, lookin' like that," Barney mumbles.
Billy yelps as he's pulled into a clumsy embrace, and takes a few minutes of moving around to find a comfortable position. His head is resting against the older man's strong chest, his body curled into the warmth below him. He feels Barney tug the blanket from the back of the couch down to cover them and makes a happy sound.
"Lookin' like what," He asks, tilting his head up.
"You know exactly what," Is the rough answer, there's something desperate in Barney's eyes that he'd never seen before.
He doesn't get to analyze it for long before he's being pulled into a painful and poorly aimed kiss.