Drowned Ice Cream

When they were drunk at the pub with a bunch of the others, Andy watched how Billy flirted with all of them. Somewhere along the road, he had turned into a melancholy drunk and he brooded over his beer, trying to watch Billy’s every move while also attempting to hold a conversation with Sean. It wasn’t working. Billy was sitting very close to Orlando and his hand kept straying to Orlando’s upper arm, his shoulder, his chest even. Perhaps Billy wasn’t flirting, perhaps that was just -Billy-. Andy hadn’t thought of that before and he wasn’t sure he liked that thought. Because that meant …

“Be careful, mind.”

Andy turned his head. Instead of Sean, Viggo was now sitting next to him.

“Huh?”

“You be careful. Mind you look after him – he was my hobbit first.”

Andy wasn’t sure exactly what Viggo was referring to, but he felt sure it was important, that he should be filing that away for future reference.

“Billy?” Of course they were talking about Billy, but Billy was what?

Viggo looked at Billy, then back at Andy. Andy took a stab at being comical.

“Popular misconception, that.”

“Yes?”

“He’s not -really- a hobbit. None of them are. They’re -real- folks, just like you and me. Human -beans-. Just a tiny weeny bit smaller than the regular size.” This had gone on long enough, Andy thought; Viggo wasn’t taking it, he wasn’t biting.

“Oh yes?”

He was toying with him, the way Viggo does. Him and his stupid sober self and his ability to string together coherent sentences.

“Oh yes.” Oh shit, Andy thought, what was he saying, and was that Billy getting up to go? Andy had to get out of there. He had to get away from Viggo’s gaze. The pub seemed unmanageable, too loud, too dim – not something Andy was able to cope with at all. Not while he was –

Outside, the fresh night air had an instant sobering effect. He looked up at the sky, surprised to see it such a clear, strong navy.

“You going my way, are you?”

It was Billy’s voice, and as a dark shape approached Andy, he could make out Billy’s face. And Billy’s smile and Billy’s eyes, all turned towards him.

“I could be.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Billy linked his arm into Andy’s, steadying him as Andy made to turn and look at Billy.

“Viggo wasn’t bothering you, was he?”

*

Later, Billy was serious and quiet. He was tracing a scratch on Andy’s skin with the tip of one finger and his eyes. The cut barely broke the surface but blood had risen up surrounding the graze just below the skin. It looked more dramatic then it really was, but Andy had that effect sometimes.

“Elijah, was it? Or Sean?”

Andy smiled and watched while Billy’s eyes stayed fixed on the scratch.

“No–“

“It was Pete, wasn’t it?” Billy’s eyes flicked up to meet Andy’s.

“Just the rocks.”

“Ah. The rocks.”

Billy’s voice was still quiet. Andy didn’t know how much of this he could take. He didn’t know how long he could bear to be this still, but he didn’t know if he could, you know, move. It was unusual for Billy too, to be this immobile. The air seemed different between them. Andy felt like his body was barely containing himself, like all of him was -right there-, at his skin. And he was amazed his skin was holding him in and that his body was allowing a pause such as this.

Billy’s finger was still touching the graze on his arm. He slowly moved it across Andy’s skin, just the tip of one finger. Billy’s eyes were on his moving hand. He was preoccupied, Andy felt sure; he couldn’t really be that interested in Andy’s -skin-. Could he?

Later, one of them breathed on the other’s neck and made him shiver.

Later still, Andy drew blood, or nearly did. Billy looked at him, his eyes close to the bed covered, his face turned inwards towards the pillow.

“We’re even now,” he said.

Billy left the scent of him for Andy to find for days afterwards. Only the scent – the blood remained just below the surface. But the scent was more than enough.


–END–