[ For a moment Steve goes still, frowning faintly into the middle distance. Two totally reasonable courses of action are in front of him. He's not exactly sure how to pick.] I-
[ But then he leans in, laying one right on Billy. Doing what he's told is the right thing to do, clearly. ]
[ He smiles, returning the kiss. ] There. See, it's fine.
[ In the back of his mind it is pretty weird that Steve took what some random doctor said that seriously, but Billy likes being able to reassure Steve, too.
He breaks away and falls back onto the bed. ] You're so tense. Come on, just lay down and relax with me for a while. [ He holds out his arms so Steve can lay on his chest. ]
[ Steve's more than happy to comply, spreading himself across Billy with a deep, relaxed sigh.
Except that he can't quite completely relax; there's tension deep down inside him that a sigh can't completely erase-- and that sets his forehead wrinkling. To make up for it he kisses Billy again. ]
[ He holds Steve close to his chest, stroking his hair. ] If all that Titanic nonsense was real, do you think you'd have run away with me if we made it to America?
[ Probably not, but it's fun to imagine a universe where they eloped together. ]
[ Steve should relax, he's been told to after all. But his hair is totally gross after not being washed for over a week and it's stressing him out that Billy's touching it.
He lets out a breath, trying to will away the tension in his shoulders. ]
What, and miss out on keeping you around as my mistress?
Give you some private lessons. [ He continues massaging Steve’s shoulders, trying to help him relax. Just because they’re here doesn’t mean they don’t deserve some nice quality time. ]
No running, though. I’d hate to have to ban you from your own pool.
That sounds alright. God, we'd have to wait like forty years before we could get a fast car, though.
[ The worst part about living in the twenties is obviously the lack of loud muscle cars. He kisses Steve on the forehead, smiling as he finally seems to relax. ]
That too. Did you see my hair? Ugh, what was I thinking?
[ Poor 1920s Billy had no cool rock stars to model his hair after. ] We could do it any time, I think. I don't believe in destiny or any of that mushy bullshit, but we could've done it somehow.
[ Translation: he absolutely does believe in all that mushy stuff where Steve is concerned. ]
Your hair was fine, okay. [ All of him was fine, to be honest. All of him's fine right now, even. Especially his neck, which Steve's lazily kissing his way down. ]
And yeah. We'd have made it work. There's always been guys who-- [ he's not exactly sure what word to use. "are like this", "are fags", "lov-- really like each other" ] --you know.
It's supposed to get better. When w- [ Steve stops himself suddenly. "When we're like fifty" isn't something he can say. Billy isn't going to be fifty. ] When it's the year two thousand or something. People stop giving a shit about it.
[ Another sigh, another press of his mouth to Billy's neck. ]
Ugh. [ He wrinkles his nose. ] I would've been old as fuck by then anyway.
[ Billy wants to be alive again, there's no doubt about that. But, even when faced with his own mortality the thought of actually getting old makes his stomach churn.
That all his rebellious aesthetic and music and cars would one day be considered the domain of lame dads and mid-life crises was too much for him. Though...if he could get old with Steve, maybe it'd be alright. ]
What, with limp hair and a beer gut bigger than Hopper's? Listening to shitty music that went out of taste twenty years ago?
[ It's weird, how something that Steve would find totally unappealing on anyone else would be okay on Billy. Steve's into attractive people. He's realised it's kind of shallow of him, but he likes likes what he likes, right?
But if he's pretty sure he'd still be into Billy even when he wasn't young and hot--
Steve realises he's trailed off without answering his own question.] I'd still be into you, I guess. [ It feels like a lot to admit. ]
God, don't even say that. [ He smiles a little. Billy always imagined himself as the sort of guy who'd be cool until the day he died, like a celebrity. He'd always be hot and fit and have great hair.
If he decided to slow down a little and stop pumping iron for hours on end, or if his hair got thinner, or if everything he was just wasn't cool in the future...if Steve was still into him, he'd be alright with that.
Damn, Billy thought, I love him.
He wasn't sure why it this, of all things, that made him realize that. They've faced death and grief and actual monsters together, but it's the thought of him in his forties with a limp mullet and a beer in one hand and Steve still looking at him like he's every bit as handsome as he was right now that makes him really sure. ]
Yeah, but I'm going to be totally hot when I'm fifty. [ Steve grins against Billy's jawline, trying to hide the flush that's appearing. ] Think like Mayor Kline, but hotter.
Let me live, Hargrove. [ He's still flushed, still pleased that apparently Billy's going to like him when he's old too. But now he's flushed and a little embarrassed. ] He's a good looking guy, okay?
If you say so. [ Billy notices the flush, and runs his fingers down Steve's cheek. ] Maybe we'd both be hot at that age and everyone would be jealous of us for another few decades at least.
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[ But then he leans in, laying one right on Billy. Doing what he's told is the right thing to do, clearly. ]
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[ In the back of his mind it is pretty weird that Steve took what some random doctor said that seriously, but Billy likes being able to reassure Steve, too.
He breaks away and falls back onto the bed. ] You're so tense. Come on, just lay down and relax with me for a while. [ He holds out his arms so Steve can lay on his chest. ]
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Except that he can't quite completely relax; there's tension deep down inside him that a sigh can't completely erase-- and that sets his forehead wrinkling. To make up for it he kisses Billy again. ]
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[ Probably not, but it's fun to imagine a universe where they eloped together. ]
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He lets out a breath, trying to will away the tension in his shoulders. ]
What, and miss out on keeping you around as my mistress?
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You'd have to let me crash at your place, then. Maybe a shack out back by your pool.
[ Because that version of Steve definitely also had a pool. ]
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Hire you as my lifeguard.
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No running, though. I’d hate to have to ban you from your own pool.
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Pretty sure my parents back there never even talked to each other. Wouldn't even have to talk to my wife. Just you.
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[ The worst part about living in the twenties is obviously the lack of loud muscle cars. He kisses Steve on the forehead, smiling as he finally seems to relax. ]
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Longer than that before they invent decent hairspray. [ Steve presses his mouth to Billy's jaw. ] But we could still do this.
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[ Poor 1920s Billy had no cool rock stars to model his hair after. ] We could do it any time, I think. I don't believe in destiny or any of that mushy bullshit, but we could've done it somehow.
[ Translation: he absolutely does believe in all that mushy stuff where Steve is concerned. ]
cw gay slur
And yeah. We'd have made it work. There's always been guys who-- [ he's not exactly sure what word to use. "are like this", "are fags", "lov-- really like each other" ] --you know.
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[ And he also knows that those guys didn't always do very well, even back in California. ]
I'd look after you. [ He leans back, letting Steve kiss his neck. ] Kick the shit out of anyone who comes by looking for trouble.
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[ Another sigh, another press of his mouth to Billy's neck. ]
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[ Billy wants to be alive again, there's no doubt about that. But, even when faced with his own mortality the thought of actually getting old makes his stomach churn.
That all his rebellious aesthetic and music and cars would one day be considered the domain of lame dads and mid-life crises was too much for him. Though...if he could get old with Steve, maybe it'd be alright. ]
Do you think I'd still be handsome?
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[ It's weird, how something that Steve would find totally unappealing on anyone else would be okay on Billy. Steve's into attractive people. He's realised it's kind of shallow of him, but he likes likes what he likes, right?
But if he's pretty sure he'd still be into Billy even when he wasn't young and hot--
Steve realises he's trailed off without answering his own question.] I'd still be into you, I guess. [ It feels like a lot to admit. ]
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If he decided to slow down a little and stop pumping iron for hours on end, or if his hair got thinner, or if everything he was just wasn't cool in the future...if Steve was still into him, he'd be alright with that.
Damn, Billy thought, I love him.
He wasn't sure why it this, of all things, that made him realize that. They've faced death and grief and actual monsters together, but it's the thought of him in his forties with a limp mullet and a beer in one hand and Steve still looking at him like he's every bit as handsome as he was right now that makes him really sure. ]
I'd still be into you, too.
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I'll make sure you do your reps every day. No reps, no beer.
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[ Yeah, Steve, he's seen you staring at him when he's all pumped up and sweaty. ]
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