Re: The Neighbourhood: Billy/Alex
All that he cares about is that Alex accepts the hug. His arms go around the guy's slender frame and he, Billy, feels the weight of so many months of unspoken stress that unclenches from around his own heart and filters into the way that his arms link behind Alex's back. The physical contact thing? That's always been a part of his life, second nature; he comes from a tactile family. Shit, he used to climb into his baby sister's bed every night for the first four or five years of her life. Besides the bite of pizza he's able to take, he's also warmed up by the squeeze of Alex's ribcage against his own - and that's saying something, for a guy who runs perpetually hot with the shimmer of ozone and petrichor that curls out from under the cuffs of his bomber and wreaths around the twin yin and yang dandelion puffs of their hair.
"Totally spooky," he nods, deadpanned except for the wicked angle of one black brow arched towards his hairline. He has no idea what Alex is thinking about the wishful siblings, obviously, although it wouldn't exactly be the first time that Billy two-stepped through the coals of awkward familial awakenings thanks to a biological bastard of a father who was only around long enough to fuck some lives up. He steps back and to the side once Alex makes it up to the kitchen island that has been almost entirely engulfed in overflowing pizza boxes. "Oh yeah, I'm thinking a milkmaid-style braid crown since your hair is basically the colour of cornsilk," he says after swallowing his crust and grabbing a plate this time, pretending to keep the grasp on his foregone manners for the sake of a guest.
"It's truly criminal." A shake of his head so that his hair flips across his brow, and it's not clear if he's talking about the shirt of Alex's tragic lack fo knowledge about the film. "Hello??" Incredulous, balancing half a dozen different slices on his plate while he circles around to the fridge and yanks the door open. "Beer, BTW?" Gesturing at the selection of cans that line the bottom shelf, from PBR to the fancy craft IPAs with psychedelic neon smatterings of artwork that are supposed to depict their ability to get one fucked up in a fancy way, he's sure. "I'm not even going to try and explain it, just -"
He sets the plate down long enough to pull the trailer up on his phone, turning it horizontal and balancing it on the island with its extended pop socket so that Alex can watch the majesty and Billy goes about picking another beer. Something with a higher percentage, but not so hoppy that he's going to have trouble washing down the slide of mozzarella and cheap grease. He doesn't miss the stilted way that the guy tries to return the affection; he appreciates the effort, regardless. "I mean, that's fair. I'm totally capable of earning the love for a lot more reasons."
A grin, after the trailer's over. Waiting for the guy's reaction while he slips his phone back into the pocket of his sweats, balancing the plate and the beer and whatever drink Alex has picked out, if anything, before he angles back across the open plan of the first floor towards the couch that is capable of holding the both of them and probably a half dozen other guys splayed out, if it ended up being that kind of night.