fic // through being cool (young avengers, billy/teddy)
Title: through being cool (ficmeme!prompt)
Fandom: Young Avengers (Billy/Teddy)
Rating: PG
Words: 1359
Notes: for atti and riko. written originally as a response to Billy's capetastic stroll through suburban New Jersey, it never got finished until atti prompted this on the B/T PDA ficmeme. it kind of works. apologies to devo for stealing the title.
When Teddy Altman meets Billy Kaplan for the first time, one of the first things he notices is that he’s just not cool. He fidgets too much and his shoulders are slumpy and for some reason, Teddy gets the impression that every time he looks at Billy, Billy in turn tries really really hard to disappear into the vinyl booth around them. And when that doesn’t work, he resorts to what seems like trying to down himself in his soda, straw-first.
It makes Teddy want to kick Billy in the shin underneath the table and tell him to quit it already. But Teddy’s certain that’s not the way these things work.
So instead, Teddy just smiles some more the way he’s taught himself to smile. He pushes his plate halfway across the table and offers Billy a french fry instead.
…
If there’s one thing Teddy knows about it - it’s how to be cool. Or at least, how to pretend to be cool. Turns out there’s a huge difference after the fact, but only if they catch you pretending.
Teddy knows all about it because it’s hard not to when it’s been the single most important thing in his life ever since middle school. Which, Teddy knows, makes him sound kind of pathetic, but that was kind of the point in the first place.
If anybody were to ever ask Teddy, he’d joke and say pretending to be cool was his superpower.
But in the end, nobody does. So Teddy just keeps it to himself.
…
The first time Teddy sees Billy’s costume, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is: “Square Enix called, man. Vincent Valentine wants his cape back.” Which is enough to get Billy’s eyes to narrow and his bottom lip to threaten something which may or may not turn out to be a pout.
Teddy knows that he’s totally asking for it, so he’s not really surprised when Billy takes a step forward, muttering something under his breath and flicking one hand out like a stage magician about to produce a rabbit. Billy’s trick - Teddy thinks - is way cooler, as his fingertips spark blue light and crack with static electricity and the air pressure around them seems to drop as Teddy’s eardrums go wonky for a moment.
He can’t tell for sure if Billy’s doing it on purpose, but right about then the edge of his cape suddenly catches air and billows out - broad and red and melodramatic in a way that seriously demands a musical cue. And it’s unfair, Teddy thinks, that Billy can manage to make something as stupid as that damn cape suddenly look so accidentally badass.
“What was that, Altman?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow harmlessly and craning his neck to offer up an ear. Somewhere behind him, Eli begins yelling at the both them to stop; a mom pushing a stroller nearby gasps and then hurries away.
Teddy has half a mind to tell Billy exactly what it is that he’s thinking, that maybe he’s superhero material after all, but in the end Teddy just smirks and throws both hands into the air innocently and says nothing nothing, you win.
…
They’re sitting around playing video games and gorging themselves on junk food and day old pizza when Teddy realizes for the first time he actually likes Billy Kaplan. Which is kind of weird, considering the fact that the last guy Teddy liked was Greg Norris and for all the things that Billy is, the one thing he isn’t, is Greg Norris.
Billy’s awkward and way too into sci-fi for his own good and cynical in ways that makes Teddy double over and laugh and laugh because oh god it’s so true. Billy’s not charming. He’s not practiced. He just is, and as far as Billy seems to be concerned, that’s just fine thanks. It’s not something that Teddy is used to. But he likes it anyway.
Nowadays, Teddy finds himself saying more and more: “You are such a loser, Bill.” The irony of which isn't lost on him, since Teddy’s pretty sure that (if that’s the case) liking Billy makes him a loser too. Probably a bigger one, in fact. The grand poobah of losers.
But then Billy rolls his eyes and flicks a Cheetoh at his head. Teddy grins stupidly back in a way that seems to accept this whole loser fate pretty openly. And it's strange, because not being a loser has been Teddy's mission statement for the past couple of years.
Fuck it, he thinks and shoves his hand wrist deep into the crinkling plastic bag with retaliation in mind. And for the first time in what seems like ever, Teddy feels (honestly and truly) that he doesn't really care about stupid shit like that anymore.
…
The word “why” is the only thing Billy Kaplan manages to murmur in between the first and the second time he and Teddy ever kiss. Teddy can tell the moment he presses his lips against Billy’s, that he’s bound to say something, and just in case, Teddy brings one hand up to hold fast to the front of Billy’s t-shirt - just in case his fight or flight gets it all wrong and attempts to run and hide. There’s a voice - a very loud one, in fact - in the back of Teddy’s mind that keeps reminding him of that possibility as his makes a sound against Billy’s mouth which may or may not be a request to kiss him back.
But if there’s one thing Teddy knows by now about Billy, it’s that - underneath all his neuroses and double-thought, beneath his sarcasm and his eye-rolling and his slightly-too-big bubble of personal space - Billy Kaplan is fearless. Teddy knows because, out every little thing he likes about Billy Kaplan, Teddy likes and admires and is painfully jealous of this thing the most.
And if Billy Kaplan isn’t scared of being beat up after school and Kessler and all of his little-dick-syndrome bullshit, and if Billy Kaplan isn’t scared of his powers, of how they’re not concrete or have proper shape and don’t really seem to have any limits (at least not yet), then Teddy wants to believe that Billy Kaplan isn’t scared of him either. Or this, or the idea of them.
Eventually, though, Billy’s hands come up - pausing against the front of Teddy’s shirt for a moment in hesitation before his forearms tense and he pushes once, forcefully. It’s not nearly enough to move Teddy backwards, but the gesture is clear and difficult to ignore, so Teddy pulls away and braces himself against the back of the couch - his brow pinching.
“Why are you doing this?” Billy asks quickly - looking expectant and not entirely unlike he’s about to throw up all over Teddy’s couch - and the first thought that flashes through Teddy’s brain is so simple and so stupidly obvious that Teddy actually hiccups out a laugh before clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the next one.
“Bill,” Teddy says from behind his hand and shakes his head like this whole scenario is kind of ridiculous (which it sort of is). His hand drops down and then reaches out between the both of them before clamping over the rise of one of Billy’s shoulders which are raised up in apprehension near his ears. Teddy presses down gently in the hopes that it will help relax them, which it does for a moment, before they go tense again. “I like you. A lot. I-“ Teddy shrugs and feel awkward and flounders for a moment. “-I think you’re cool.”
“Oh,” Billy says, the anxiety in his face slackening just a hair before falling away into realization. The bridge of his nose goes pink and then red, making him look all freckly and younger than he did a minute ago.
“…oh.”
And then Billy’s hands aren’t pushing anymore, they’re pulling - on a fistful of Teddy’s shirt and a handful of Teddy’s hair, and somewhere between upright and not-so-much-anymore, Billy laughs against Teddy’s mouth.
He laughs and he laughs and tells Teddy quietly: “…yeah, I think you’re cool, too.”
Fandom: Young Avengers (Billy/Teddy)
Rating: PG
Words: 1359
Notes: for atti and riko. written originally as a response to Billy's capetastic stroll through suburban New Jersey, it never got finished until atti prompted this on the B/T PDA ficmeme. it kind of works. apologies to devo for stealing the title.
When Teddy Altman meets Billy Kaplan for the first time, one of the first things he notices is that he’s just not cool. He fidgets too much and his shoulders are slumpy and for some reason, Teddy gets the impression that every time he looks at Billy, Billy in turn tries really really hard to disappear into the vinyl booth around them. And when that doesn’t work, he resorts to what seems like trying to down himself in his soda, straw-first.
It makes Teddy want to kick Billy in the shin underneath the table and tell him to quit it already. But Teddy’s certain that’s not the way these things work.
So instead, Teddy just smiles some more the way he’s taught himself to smile. He pushes his plate halfway across the table and offers Billy a french fry instead.
…
If there’s one thing Teddy knows about it - it’s how to be cool. Or at least, how to pretend to be cool. Turns out there’s a huge difference after the fact, but only if they catch you pretending.
Teddy knows all about it because it’s hard not to when it’s been the single most important thing in his life ever since middle school. Which, Teddy knows, makes him sound kind of pathetic, but that was kind of the point in the first place.
If anybody were to ever ask Teddy, he’d joke and say pretending to be cool was his superpower.
But in the end, nobody does. So Teddy just keeps it to himself.
…
The first time Teddy sees Billy’s costume, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is: “Square Enix called, man. Vincent Valentine wants his cape back.” Which is enough to get Billy’s eyes to narrow and his bottom lip to threaten something which may or may not turn out to be a pout.
Teddy knows that he’s totally asking for it, so he’s not really surprised when Billy takes a step forward, muttering something under his breath and flicking one hand out like a stage magician about to produce a rabbit. Billy’s trick - Teddy thinks - is way cooler, as his fingertips spark blue light and crack with static electricity and the air pressure around them seems to drop as Teddy’s eardrums go wonky for a moment.
He can’t tell for sure if Billy’s doing it on purpose, but right about then the edge of his cape suddenly catches air and billows out - broad and red and melodramatic in a way that seriously demands a musical cue. And it’s unfair, Teddy thinks, that Billy can manage to make something as stupid as that damn cape suddenly look so accidentally badass.
“What was that, Altman?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow harmlessly and craning his neck to offer up an ear. Somewhere behind him, Eli begins yelling at the both them to stop; a mom pushing a stroller nearby gasps and then hurries away.
Teddy has half a mind to tell Billy exactly what it is that he’s thinking, that maybe he’s superhero material after all, but in the end Teddy just smirks and throws both hands into the air innocently and says nothing nothing, you win.
…
They’re sitting around playing video games and gorging themselves on junk food and day old pizza when Teddy realizes for the first time he actually likes Billy Kaplan. Which is kind of weird, considering the fact that the last guy Teddy liked was Greg Norris and for all the things that Billy is, the one thing he isn’t, is Greg Norris.
Billy’s awkward and way too into sci-fi for his own good and cynical in ways that makes Teddy double over and laugh and laugh because oh god it’s so true. Billy’s not charming. He’s not practiced. He just is, and as far as Billy seems to be concerned, that’s just fine thanks. It’s not something that Teddy is used to. But he likes it anyway.
Nowadays, Teddy finds himself saying more and more: “You are such a loser, Bill.” The irony of which isn't lost on him, since Teddy’s pretty sure that (if that’s the case) liking Billy makes him a loser too. Probably a bigger one, in fact. The grand poobah of losers.
But then Billy rolls his eyes and flicks a Cheetoh at his head. Teddy grins stupidly back in a way that seems to accept this whole loser fate pretty openly. And it's strange, because not being a loser has been Teddy's mission statement for the past couple of years.
Fuck it, he thinks and shoves his hand wrist deep into the crinkling plastic bag with retaliation in mind. And for the first time in what seems like ever, Teddy feels (honestly and truly) that he doesn't really care about stupid shit like that anymore.
…
The word “why” is the only thing Billy Kaplan manages to murmur in between the first and the second time he and Teddy ever kiss. Teddy can tell the moment he presses his lips against Billy’s, that he’s bound to say something, and just in case, Teddy brings one hand up to hold fast to the front of Billy’s t-shirt - just in case his fight or flight gets it all wrong and attempts to run and hide. There’s a voice - a very loud one, in fact - in the back of Teddy’s mind that keeps reminding him of that possibility as his makes a sound against Billy’s mouth which may or may not be a request to kiss him back.
But if there’s one thing Teddy knows by now about Billy, it’s that - underneath all his neuroses and double-thought, beneath his sarcasm and his eye-rolling and his slightly-too-big bubble of personal space - Billy Kaplan is fearless. Teddy knows because, out every little thing he likes about Billy Kaplan, Teddy likes and admires and is painfully jealous of this thing the most.
And if Billy Kaplan isn’t scared of being beat up after school and Kessler and all of his little-dick-syndrome bullshit, and if Billy Kaplan isn’t scared of his powers, of how they’re not concrete or have proper shape and don’t really seem to have any limits (at least not yet), then Teddy wants to believe that Billy Kaplan isn’t scared of him either. Or this, or the idea of them.
Eventually, though, Billy’s hands come up - pausing against the front of Teddy’s shirt for a moment in hesitation before his forearms tense and he pushes once, forcefully. It’s not nearly enough to move Teddy backwards, but the gesture is clear and difficult to ignore, so Teddy pulls away and braces himself against the back of the couch - his brow pinching.
“Why are you doing this?” Billy asks quickly - looking expectant and not entirely unlike he’s about to throw up all over Teddy’s couch - and the first thought that flashes through Teddy’s brain is so simple and so stupidly obvious that Teddy actually hiccups out a laugh before clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle the next one.
“Bill,” Teddy says from behind his hand and shakes his head like this whole scenario is kind of ridiculous (which it sort of is). His hand drops down and then reaches out between the both of them before clamping over the rise of one of Billy’s shoulders which are raised up in apprehension near his ears. Teddy presses down gently in the hopes that it will help relax them, which it does for a moment, before they go tense again. “I like you. A lot. I-“ Teddy shrugs and feel awkward and flounders for a moment. “-I think you’re cool.”
“Oh,” Billy says, the anxiety in his face slackening just a hair before falling away into realization. The bridge of his nose goes pink and then red, making him look all freckly and younger than he did a minute ago.
“…oh.”
And then Billy’s hands aren’t pushing anymore, they’re pulling - on a fistful of Teddy’s shirt and a handful of Teddy’s hair, and somewhere between upright and not-so-much-anymore, Billy laughs against Teddy’s mouth.
He laughs and he laughs and tells Teddy quietly: “…yeah, I think you’re cool, too.”