Re: Carriage House: Atticus & Billy
“And I’m used to guys with a hard spot for them, hmm? Must be why it throws me off my game.” They were both teasing now, Billy armed with more of a lazy smirk and a brief glint of mischief in his eye. He’d meant what he had said earlier about not wanting to make Atticus uncomfortable with the flirting, but if he was going to get called a brat regardless - even as a joke -, well. He could give it kind, even if this time it was more of a passive comeback, lulled as he was into contentment by a full stomach and the tingle of alcohol in his blood.
Billy was quiet again for a moment as he shifted around until he was crosslegged with his back against the couch, considering that little four-letter clarification that made such a difference. He thought about some of the other conversations he’d had with Atticus when he asked about home, why he couldn’t go back, and how Billy was always so quick to correct him. Except this time, the difference wasn’t a matter of won’t, was it? Not exactly.
“Shouldn’t,” he amended, reaching out to set his empty wine glass down on the coffee table and wiping off the last traces of condensation on his palms against his pant legs. His head tipped back to lean on the armrest behind him, so he could meet Atticus’ gaze where he was standing above.
“I guess that’s a better way of putting it. Just…” he trailed off long enough to glance at the ceiling, thinking about this place and its haunts, and the fact that Atticus had been honest about them, if not exactly forthcoming. Even though he didn’t have to be honest, could have denied it all. “I mean that it’s dangerous. For them, not for me. That I’m dangerous, around other people.”
While Atticus was clattering around the kitchen with the dirty plates and pots, Billy just closed his eyes for a minute. Sank into the warmth of this moment, with his belly full, licking over lips that he imagined still tasted like butter even though he’d carefully wiped them clean with a napkin. Enjoying the cooler breeze buffeting in from the place where the door was still propped open, and the way that the silence filled the room. (The music had stopped at some point, because of course Atticus still listened to tapes, and the boombox that was definitely older than Billy himself had just clicked off at the end so that there was only the quiet crackle of underlying static in the air.)
His eyes opened upon Atticus’ return but he didn’t lift his head, relaxed as he was in the moment. “I don’t mean about the teacher thing, although I still think I’m right. But if these are the same people who want to mess around with Casper and friends, then yeah. I’m sticking with morons.”
But his smile was gentle, and the answering hum was a happy one. “Of course. Thank you, that was awesome. You should really let me help clean up, though. Once I can stand.”