Re: Billy K/Jamie M: the Mayers apartment
Confidence was something that could be faked, and yeah, Billy had spent a lot of time faking it. Years where he was getting his face slammed into locker doors and crushing on super straight soccer players, pretending to be unfazed when his arm got snapped from being yanked up behind his back. But the confidence that oozed from his pores now was entirely earned, in his opinion, from a few more years of coming into his own - pun intended, tyvm. His grin tucked up higher into his cheek and he leaned into Jamie’s fingers twining in his hair, cat-like, and bit the corner of his bottom lip as the guy tugged at the pink strands oh so gently.
“If I based my fashion and style choices off the scene that existed in Repose, I would probably live my life in flannel and boot-cut jeans,” he deadpanned, just the arch of a black eyebrow even as his gaze drifted back down the length of Jamie’s leanness, and back up again. “Nobody wants that. It’d be like, a crime against humanity.”
He stepped closer when Jamie’s hand came up to his back, standing a little taller so that his spine bowed, curving against the weight of palm and fingers between his shoulder blades. “Just because I don’t want to talk about mine doesn’t mean I’m not willing to listen to yours,” he said, his arm coming up to snake around the back of Jamie’s shoulders. His eyes were bright, and he lifted both eyebrows. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent listener.”
He snorted, stepping closer so that his toes nudged against the arch of Jamie’s foot. “I grew up in Manhattan. Don’t go there if you hate winter. Me, I’d go somewhere closer to the equator. Costa Rica?” He tilted his head, feigning a pout as Jamie twisted out of his reach, but quickly slipping into a mischievous grin as Jamie took his wrist and led the way so that Billy followed, obedient but still looking around the decor of the apartment with interest. “Maybe New Zealand.”