To Heal All Wounds

The Show

The point was that Eddie and Billy made a stunning pair, Steve decided as he kicked his feet up on the cooler Billy brought out earlier in the afternoon. Billy's easy confidence as he worked while Eddie learned alongside him. Eddie kept going to clean his hands on the fabric that had been abandoned and ended up with smears of dirt and grease all down his torso, only noticing it after the fact with a very sad sounding, "oh." It was adorable, and Steve had to almost sit on his hands to avoid going over and making a fool of himself. Near the end of the lesson, Billy clapped Eddie on the back with a handful of grease, leaving a splattered handprint square between his shoulder blades that Eddie complained about having to clean off himself.

"Well, you let us know if you need any help with the scrub down, then," Billy cooed with entirely too much sugar in his voice. Eddie only flipped him the bird and retreated back to his RV to gather his things and make his way to Wayne's trailer to get ready.

"Where you headin'," Billy gruffed from his door as Steve turned to make his way back to his car. Which was where Steve gestured wordlessly, and then to the half-shirt in his hands that Eddie had loaned him. Billy only raised his eyebrows and smiled, all teeth and glee and easy, friendly edge.

"You still need jeans that don't scream money," Billy drawled as he leaned on the frame of his door, ankles crossed like he wasn't casually striking the most stunning figure Steve had ever seen. "And you might as well change here, since nothing you need is back at Chez Harrington and you were going to pick me up anyway. Save some gas." He pushed off the frame and tromped into his RV, shouting for Steve to follow which, of course, Steve did. Steve found himself following directions more and more easily nowadays, so long as they were spoken from pretty pink lips or devilishly dimpled mouths.

Billy was more graceful than Eddie about searching for what he needed, deftly picking through what storage the RV provided until he came up with a pair of faded jeans. He smiled again when Steve took the offering, his sparkling teeth sitting benign behind his lips, and yet... Steve could sense a trap. Could see it in the set of Billy's hips, the position of his feet, and the angle of his shoulders. He could see it in the shine of his eyes and the quirk of his brows. And Steve, like the lovesick fool that he was, walked right into that trap, all smiles and whispered, "thank you"s.

Billy yanked on the jeans as soon as Steve tried to take them, sending him stumbling forward until both of their arms were trapped between their chests, breath held for Billy's next move. Steve's heart thrashed in his ribs, sending blood and adrenaline toward his cheeks and down between his legs. Billy reached up with his free hand to push Steve's forgotten sunglasses into his hair. Without the protection of dark lenses, Steve felt horribly exposed, subject to Billy's heated inspection, his own pupils were blown wide as they scanned Steve's face and throat for... something...

A dashed line in the shape of a mouth with typewriter script reading "bite here," perhaps.

Billy leaned forward, smile gone meaner in a way that made Steve's lips spark and tingle. The hand that had lifted his sunglasses traced the outline of Steve's jaw with gentle knuckles, making Steve shiver. Billy saw and grinned all the meaner for it. He leaned forward again, lips still parted in the terrible, horrible, wonderful smile that Steve wanted to lick off his face. And he almost did. Even parted his own lips to answer Billy's movements, certain that this would be the time that Billy kissed him. That this would be the time that they made contact. That he'd been teased enough over the last few months. That earlier in the day, when Steve first arrived and they'd done this same song and dance, Billy had finally had his fill of cat and mouse and he'd close the distance.

But then he pulled away, shoved the jeans into Steve's chest hard enough to make him stumble back, and goaded, "told ya forever ago, Stevie. Plant your feet," with an infuriating, endearing, playful little lilt to his voice. All mockery and sugar and spice and everything terrible.