Chapter Text
BILLY
He was so happy he swore he’d float straight up into a cloudless New York sky…if Teddy Altman weren’t there to hold his hand.
And wow, wasn’t that a crazy thought? After everything they’d been through—pining and hoping and having and losing and, hey, why not?, yet more pining—here he was, lips still warm from Teddy’s kiss, skin throwing off sparks from Teddy’s shy smile, hand going embarrassingly clammy clasped in Teddy’s fist.
Their fingers were even threaded together, thumbs brushing with every step like they just couldn’t help themselves; Billy was in love.
He winced at that thought and looked away from Teddy’s curious glance, hoping to hide the blush that crept its way up his neck. Yeah, no. No, it was way, way too soon to think like that, right? There were— He was pretty sure there were steps to this sort of thing. Hanging out and hooking up and going steady or, or, something. Some kind of progression between Hi, I want to make out with your face to Hi, I want to spend forever making out with your face.
At least, Billy was pretty sure there were supposed to be steps, but it seemed like he was always tripping blindly around, still in the closet to pretty much everyone but Jamie and holding Teddy’s hand as they walked from the park toward his house.
To hang out. Maybe in his bedroom. A bedroom with a door that locked and a bed and an anxiety-inducing golden opportunity to kiss and kiss and kiss some more.
And give Teddy a first-hand view of what a complete dork Billy really was.
And maybe meet his parents. And brothers.
Oh God.
“Oh God,” Billy moaned quietly. This was going to be a disaster.
Teddy cast him another glance. “Everything good?” he asked.
“Sure,” Billy said too-quickly. The clasped fingers that had been so incredible a few seconds ago now felt awkward. Not wrong, but not natural, either. It suddenly seemed as if everyone they passed was looking at that point of contact and thinking…what? That he was gay? That he was seeing Teddy? That he was in the first blush of his first relationship, where even twining his fingers through another boy’s was enough to send his heart racing? None of that was wrong; why should it bother him to let them think it?
But it did. It made him feel weirdly exposed, as if he’d left practice wearing nothing but his tights.
He glanced down at his feet, watching their clasped hands out of the corner of his eye—hyperaware of the way their fingers fit together like dovetailed wood. Teddy’s hand was so much bigger than his, broad and strong where Billy’s was slim and dexterous. It shouldn’t have been such a perfect match.
But then, Billy mused on a shallow breath, that could be said about so much between the two of them.
Teddy lightly cleared his throat. “So, uh,” he said, breaking the increasingly heavy silence. “You say everything’s good, but I’m not exactly sure I believe you. Not that I’m calling you a dirty liar or anything,” he added quickly when Billy looked up. His expression was so carefully relaxed that it had to be a front—Teddy was nothing if not a master at cloaking his thoughts, feelings, angst, but Billy had spent the last few months learning to read him with the devotion others spent picking up a foreign language.
Maybe it was a foreign language, in a way. It was Teddy’s language. And even if he wasn’t fluent yet, he knew that subtle shift of his gaze, the faint twist of his mouth. Teddy was freaking out, too. Billy just wasn’t sure whether Teddy was freaking out because Billy was freaking out or if Teddy’s freak-out was completely divorced from Billy’s utterly ridiculous freak-out. Or, you know. Whatever.
Either way, Billy had to say something. They hadn’t gone through everything they had just to stand next to each other and work themselves into a sea of doubts, and fear and…
And deep breath and go.
“No. I mean, yes: I was being a dirty liar,” Billy said. He squeezed Teddy’s fingers tighter when it seemed like Teddy might pull away. Letting go was for quitters, and Billy had fought too hard to get to this moment. “I was just…hands. You know?”
“No,” Teddy said slowly. His eyes never left Billy’s face. “I’m afraid I’m not following, but, um, I’d like to. Maybe we could start with complete sentences?”
God, Teddy was perfect. Sassy as all hell, but perfect. Billy swayed toward him, letting their arms knock together all the way up to the shoulder. An elderly woman in a pink track suit smiled as she passed them, eyes dropping down to those conspicuously clasped hands before she met Billy’s eyes again.
“That,” Billy whispered, glancing at her over his shoulder. The word JUICY was splayed in big block letters across her rear. “That’s what I mean.”
“I could let go if you’re not comfortable.” Teddy’s offer was low and earnest, but Billy just gripped his fingers tighter, shaking his head. That wasn’t the point. “Or not. I can not. You know, I’m starting to think it’s good I’m the one with super-strength right now.”
Billy blew out a breath and tipped his head toward Teddy’s. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, sorry. I know I’m being a spaz. It’s just…weird.”
“Holding hands?”
“Yes. I mean, that too.” He tried hard to find a way to put all the riotous emotions into words. This was Teddy; he could tell Teddy anything and know he wouldn’t be judged, or mocked, or left behind. If their whole fight and reconciliation had taught him anything, it was that he could trust the strength of this thing they had, no matter where it took them. “It’s just, anyone who walks by can see what I’ve, uh, wanted so badly for so long.” He squeezed Teddy’s fingers, telegraphing the unsaid. “I’m not even out to my parents yet; it’s surreal that some hipster in an artistically slouched fedora knows more about me than they do.”
A faint blush was working its way slowly up Teddy’s cheeks, unfurling by degrees. Billy wanted to reach up and trace its progress with his fingertips…his lips. He wanted to catch his fingers in golden hair and be kissing Teddy again. “Oh,” Teddy said, and gently squeezed Billy’s fingers back. The low thrum of anxiety was beginning to fade from his voice again. “Yeah, I get that. It feels weird for me, too. Good-weird, though. To be me while I’m doing it,” he added at Billy’s questioning noise.
“To be you?” Billy scrunched his brows together. “Um…who else would you be?”
Teddy gave a one-shouldered shrug, pausing as the light changed. They were just a couple of blocks away from Billy’s brownstone. Any minute could lead them pass Jamie, or Sam, or one of the other neighborhood kids. Maybe his parents on their way back from Andy-and-David’s scrimmage. “I dunno,” Teddy said, thumb sliding back and forth, back and forth along the ball of Billy’s thumb. His eyes were fixed forward. “With Greg? Pretty much anyone else.”
“…I’d really like to punch him again,” Billy decided. He smirked when Teddy gave a startled laugh, impulsively lifting their threaded fingers to press a kiss to the point where they were woven together. “Right on his stupid Greg-the-Asshole mouth.”
“I hadn’t realized you were so violent,” Teddy said, but he looked so bashful and pleased, as if the idea of Billy leaping to his defense wasn’t a given. As if it were some kind of wonderful surprise. As if he might not even think he deserved it.
Which, fuck that. “Usually, I’m not. I’ve always been more of the run away or scrunch up really tight and hope they don’t notice you sort. Comes from being a natural bully-magnet,” he added, pleasure blooming at the way Teddy growled low in his throat at that. The way Teddy came rushing to his defense all those weeks ago was painted clear across his lids. It was funny, Billy mused, the way neither of them was very good at standing up for himself, but the moment someone else was in trouble…
The moment Teddy was in trouble…
Yeah. He’d really love another shot at Greg the Asshole, even though he knew he’d keep his distance, considering what he’d done to the other boy the last time they’d gone toe to toe. “I’m okay with being violent for you,” Billy added in an undertone, after the silence had stretched almost too long. “I’m okay with being a lot of things for you.”
“Billy,” Teddy began, voice soft and broken-open, and Billy had to keep his face turned away. If he looked at Teddy now, met those blue eyes and that earnest face, there’d be no stopping himself: he’d find his way back into his arms right in the middle of the busy street. And he was prepared for a lot of things, but coming out so visibly to his entire neighborhood wasn’t exactly at the top of his list. Yet.
So instead, he cleared his throat and slipped his hand free. “Come on,” he said, jogging as the light changed. “My house is just ahead.”
It was a beautiful summer day, the heat just strong enough to beat between his shoulder blades. Overhead, leaves shivered in the breeze, casting mottled shadows across the sidewalk. In the corner bodega, one of the stock boys was listening to Mexican rap and humming beneath his breath as he refreshed the wall of flowers. Their smell was heady and sharp: rose and iris and tulip and carnation all blending together with the stink of the street and the sizzle of someone’s backyard cookout.
Billy stopped in front of his house.
“So,” he said, turning back to face Teddy faux-casually. Teddy had his hands in his pockets (away from temptation? Or was that just Billy’s overactive imagination at play?), blond brows faintly arched in question. “We’ve been here before.”
“We’ve been here before,” Teddy agreed easily.
“But we’ve never been past here before.”
There was a complicated series of expressions visible on Teddy’s face, there and gone again like minnows in shallow water. “No,” he agreed, voice perfectly even. “I haven’t.”
There was a strange weight to those words—strong enough that Billy almost asked what he was thinking. He bit his lip at the last moment, however, swallowing back the question. He was stalling enough as it was. “So, uh… Abandon hope all ye who enter here? Seriously,” he added quickly. “Your apartment is awesome and your mom is pretty much the coolest. My parents are weird and my brothers are pure evil. If you’d rather save yourself the hassle of dealing with them, we could, you know, go somewhere else.”
Anywhere else. He wanted Teddy to meet his parents and see his room and be pulled completely and irrevocably into his life, but at the same time, he wanted to shield Teddy from what was sure to be a game of Twenty Questions from his mother, and the maddening annoyance of his obnoxious kid brothers, and his dad being his dad, and, well, all of it. All of the crazy Kaplan crap. The conflicting desires were pulling him this way and that, enough to have his heart racing and his thoughts pinballing inside his head.
Teddy just smiled and tipped forward onto the balls of his feet, hands still in his pockets but body leaning close enough that it was almost all Billy could do not to reach up to cup his face and bring their lips together here, out in the open, standing on his stoop. God. “I’d really like it if you wanted me inside,” he said.
Billy was fluent enough in Teddy-ese to catch the way he worded that. Not, I’d really like to go inside but I’d really like it if you wanted me inside. The subtle distinction changed so much; to Teddy, it meant everything.
“I really want you in my life,” Billy breathed, reaching out despite all reservations to tangle his fingers in the front of Teddy’s tee. The way his breath stuttered, his eyes went all hooded, made Billy’s pulse thunder off out of control. His knees actually felt weak; he’d always thought that was a figure of speech. “All parts of it. I…like you.”
“I like you too,” Teddy murmured, head tipping forward—and it was impossible not to brush their mouths together at that, soft and sweet and achingly brief: a perfect moment. A promise.
Then Billy pulled back and let out a stuttery breath before he could lose himself in Teddy. “Okay,” he said, trying to bridge the moments together. To pull himself together. He pasted on a crooked grin. “Come on in, then—but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Teddy affected a grave nod. “Consider me suitably warned.”
“Remember you said that when Dad is quoting Proust.” He turned, digging into his pocket for his key, and unlocked the door. They stepped inside, and that last separation between his home life and this thing with Teddy was broken down, edges gone blurry and indistinct. Billy watched as Teddy nudged the door shut behind him, then very obviously looked around, curiosity writ clear on his face.
Wondering what Teddy saw, Billy looked around with him, almost as if this were his first time too.
Stark white walls with tasteful pictures hung at regular intervals. Wainscoting in dark wood to match the long-ago refurbished floors. The half-moon table by the door was some kind of antique, a blown glass bowl (for keys, sunglasses, metro cards) giving a surprising pop of blue.
That was pretty much the whole house, Billy realized as he lead Teddy through the living room, family room, dining room, kitchen, then up the steps to the second floor hallway. Earth tones and neutrals and tasteful, subdued furnishings with the occasional surprise—all well-crafted, likely expensive, and organized to within an inch of their lives.
It contrasted wildly with Teddy’s little apartment, all colors that should have clashed and bright, happy chaos. And yet as Billy gave his quick tour, he didn’t feel like either came up short in the comparison. He remembered a time in the first flush of his crush when the beige-and-white walls had seemed so boring contrasted with the rainbow of Teddy’s life. Now, forced to see it all with these new eyes, he appreciated the comfort it afforded. The quiet, meditative touches. The certainty that everything had its place no matter how strange and out of control and frightened it may feel.
…and he should probably stop over-empathizing with furniture before things got weird.
“And our tour of the Kaplan residence concludes with this stunning display of geekery,” Billy said, throwing open his bedroom door and stepping aside to make way. He looked down impulsively, bashful, but when Teddy stepped into the room—into his bedroom—Billy couldn’t help but watch.
It was small but comfortable. A full-sized bed was pushed into one corner, sheets tangled at the foot, pillows dropped on the floor. The dresser was overflowing and his desk was a mess—but of course, Teddy’s gaze was flying instead over the posters pinned to his walls, his ceiling. There were so many they nearly overlapped in places.
Replica vintage Captain America recruitment propaganda sat cheek-and-jowl with pin-ups of She-Hulk bench-pressing a tractor. The Avengers posed for an awkward group shot around the husk of Doom’s bots; Falcon practically leapt off a 3-D triptych; and Iron Man offered a sarcastic thumbs up on a large signed promotional glossy.
It was the bedroom of a devoted fanboy, and even though Teddy was an Avenger too—even though he knew Teddy was just as geeky beneath his unbelievably cool exterior—it was instinct for Billy to turtle up a little in reflex as he waited for Teddy to make a full circuit of his room.
“Well?” Billy prompted, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders up around his ears. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Teddy said with a slow grin, “that my boyfriend is such a nerd.”
The word, softly spoken, was like an electric shock; Pavlov’s dogs howling in pleasure in his head, and wow, wow, wow. Hearing it like that made it all so fucking real. “What?” Billy managed, sounding strangled, dying to hear it again.
Boyfriend. Boyfriend. He had a freaking boyfriend. In his bedroom.
Take that, twelve-year-old him. God, his mind was blown.
“I meant that in a good way!” Teddy was quick to reassure him, reaching out with both hands but not quite making contact. “It’s awesome; you’re awesome. I didn’t mean—”
“Not that,” Billy said, knocking aside Teddy’s quick reassurances with a strangled laugh. He was being stupid, but whatever, who cared? He felt too good to try to hide it, and if anyone would understand, it’d be Teddy. (Which made him feel weightless in its own incredible way, because yeah, Teddy got him the way no one else ever would.) “What, what you called me. Um. Just now.”
Teddy paused, head tilting. “Boyfriend?” he said slowly, and Billy’s heart gave a near-painful lurch. “I mean…you are, aren’t you? You said it first, and I just thought…. Um. Unless…you changed your mind?”
Billy shook his head.
“Is that a no, you don’t want to be, or no, Teddy, of course you are?” Teddy’s brows were knit together. He looked so adorably flustered, and he was Billy’s boyfriend. The word was like a key turning a locked door inside him, releasing years of frustrated yearning he'd bottled up as he'd watched people his age pair up, break it off, find pieces of themselves in someone else, and someone else, and… God, he’d been so jealous. All these years, he’d wanted that too.
Teddy’s expression was caught somewhere between fond exasperation and concern. “You know,” he said, “I’ve never been jealous of Professor X before, but I could really use telepathy right now.”
“Boyfriend,” Billy said, as if that clarified anything.
“Yes,” Teddy said.
“You really are my boyfriend,” Billy said.
“Yes. If you want me to be.”
Slowly, joy bubbling up like an irrepressible laugh inside him, Billy began to grin. “Cool beans,” he said before reaching out and tangling their fingers together as if it was just that easy.
Because it was. For the first time in his life, it was.
Teddy laughed, a little breathless, and squeezed Billy’s fingers. “You’re strange,” he said, reeling Billy in against the broad heat of his chest. “I like it.”
“You’d better like it,” Billy said. This close, he could see the flecks of green and gold in Teddy’s eyes. He could feel the even gusts of his breath against his upturned cheeks. They were holding hands and standing chest-to-chest with barely a sliver of sunlight between them. “You’re stuck with me for pretty much forever.”
“Oh noes.” Teddy’s mouth was close to his, head tipping forward bit by bit.
Billy rocked up onto the balls of his feet, face tilted back in clear welcome. His tongue flickered out to wet his bottom lip, and Teddy’s eyes dropped to follow; heat unspooled suddenly, sloppy and greedy and incredible at the low noise Teddy made in response. “Poor Teddy,” Billy managed. His voice was strangled. He was flushed and starting to get hard. He thought maybe he should have been embarrassed by how easy it was, but…
But he really wanted Teddy’s mouth on his again. Maybe Teddy’s hands on his hips. Or. Under his shirt? Yeah. Yeah, wow, shirts were really overrated and, “Um, why aren’t you kissing me right now?”
Teddy laughed and dropped Billy’s hands to—oh hell yes—lightly grip Billy’s waist. They were so big and Billy’s hips were so laughably skinny that it felt as if he could span his waist easily; his thumbs brushed down, hooking in the hoops of his jeans, and Billy very nearly moaned. Oh God, he was on fire. “Pushy,” Teddy murmured, then swallowed whatever Billy might have said with the warm press of his lips and the scalding hot swipe of his tongue.
Billy gasped, lurching up at the sudden spike of arousal. He’d wanted Teddy from pretty much the first time he’d laid eyes on him, down in that dingy second hand store—dressed in grey-and-black stripes, music blaring between them, a dimple flashing at the corner of his mouth as they pretended not to check each other out.
Teddy. Teddy, before he’d known all the complicated, crazy, awesome, contradictory, brilliant layers of him. Before he’d known how sweet and dorky and wonderful he really was.
Just Teddy Teddy Teddy thrumming through his brain, his dreams, his blood and body and—
“Oh,” Billy gasped into Teddy’s mouth, rising up onto the balls of his feet. He dug his hands into Teddy’s hair, tangling golden-bright strands about his fingers, and chased his tongue with a low noise he probably should have been embarrassed by. It was still so hard to believe he could do this; he could kiss Teddy any time he wanted.
That Teddy wanted to kiss him back.
“Yeah,” Teddy murmured. His hands were sliding up and down Billy’s back, lips unbelievably soft as they met his. He tasted incredible, tongue flickering against Billy’s in slow, nearly shy brushes that made heat unspool achingly deep inside him. When Billy made another low noise, Teddy’s grip on him went tighter. When Billy pressed closecloseclose, Teddy rocked forward. He could feel Teddy’s erection through layers of cloth, hot, and the rasp of their hips, their cocks, together was steadily driving Billy insane.
Teddy was hard because of him. And oh God, oh God, that in itself was crazy hot. It set off fireworks beneath his skin and sent the whole world spinning. His cock was straining against his jeans. His breath was coming faster and faster against Teddy’s lips, and the rasp of fabric, the wet sound of their tongues twining, the restless swipe of Teddy’s hands, the feel of all those muscles beneath Billy’s own wandering palms, the rapid pounding of his heart was—
Suddenly Teddy pulled back.
“What, no,” Billy whined, trying to reel him back, but Teddy just caught one of his wrists and tugged it down between them. With his knuckles pressed against Teddy’s chest, he could feel the frantic gallop of his heart—but Teddy wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was looking at Billy’s door instead, a faint frown between his brows.
“Teddy.”
“Shh. Did you hear that?”
“I heard you making out with me,” Billy said. “I liked that.” But he forced himself to push past the thrum of arousal and focus. Billy shifted, dropping down onto his heels, and tilted his head to listen. Sure enough, there were voices drifting up from below and the sound of doors opening and closing. “Oh,” he said, frustrated. Of all the worst timing. “I guess practice is over.”
Teddy began to retreat. “Your parents?” he said. His voice was perfectly even, but Billy could see the anxiety spiking in those blue (blue) eyes, eating away at the desire like corrupted film. “I should—go?”
Billy caught Teddy’s hand before he could get too far away and gently squeezed. “You should stay,” he corrected. Then, swallowing his own thrum of anxiety, he added: “You should stay for dinner. Seriously.”
Teddy ducked his head. The long sweep of his bangs covered half his expression, but Billy could feel the heat of his pleased blush, just as surely as he could feel Teddy’s gaze on their interlocking fingers. “Yeah,” Teddy murmured; his voice was a little hoarse. “Sure, okay. If you’re certain.”
He wasn’t certain, but that was just fear talking. He would get there. Until then, he could bluff. “Yeah. Hey, what’s the worst that could happen? My stupid brothers could drive you nuts and my mother could pester you with questions and my dad could talk about Hemmingway and oh God do not mention Old Man and the Sea or he will never stop, and—”
Billy swallowed an uneven breath.
Teddy was grinning, shy and still a little nervous, but so sweet Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d been about to say. “I’m not even sure I’d know where to start,” Teddy admitted. “Something something fish.”
He laughed. “Seriously, if you value your sanity, don’t.”
“Yeah, okay.” Teddy dropped his gaze to their hands again and gave a little squeeze. Outside the whole world that was this bedroom, Andy and David’s voices were raised in an argument. There was a heavy tread on the stairs. “So, are you…out? To your parents?”
Billy flinched. Crap. “No,” he said. “I mean, not yet. I will be, someday. But I just… You know?”
Teddy gave a little nod. “Yeah,” he said. “I do. So I’m…what? Your friend from school? From a summer intermural thing? What are you telling them you’re doing all day?”
“I’m sorry,” Billy said. He had to fight the impulse to hang on when Teddy very gently tugged his hand away. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling all at once awkward and out of synch with his own body. “I know I should just— It’s not like I think they’d freak out or anything.”
“Hey,” Teddy said, gently, reaching up to brush back the dark snarl of Billy’s hair. He caught him by the back of his skull and reeled him close for just a moment, pressing his lips softly—precisely—to the center of Billy’s forehead. Right between the brows. “I really, really do get it. It’s okay.”
Billy swallowed, eyes slipping shut. He gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said. He wanted to ask whether Teddy was out to his mother, but he swallowed the words back immediately. No, of course Teddy was. Despite all his secrets, Teddy had never really taken any pains to hide this part of him. It was as if he’d had so much that he was keeping locked up inside that something as simple and impossibly complex as who he was attracted to just…didn’t matter.
Maybe it really didn’t.
Maybe it didn’t have to, at least.
And maybe he was running out of time to flounder over it now—there was a sharp, familiar rap on his door, followed by his mother’s, “Billy? Are you home?”
Billy pulled away from Teddy, but not by much. He defiantly kept their arms brushing just a little as he turned, just as the door was being pushed open. “Hey Mom,” he said, proud of how relaxed he sounded. He didn’t even have to look to know that Teddy was perfect again. Unreadable for anyone but Billy. “Yeah, I was just showing Teddy around. You remember me mentioning Teddy, right? From the book club I joined?”
Standing framed in the doorway, still dressed in her camel-colored skirt suit and pearls (conference day, he thought. Or was it a partners meeting?), his mother barely even blinked—though the faint arch of her left brow told Billy a whole novel worth of subtext, with chapters titled: You’ve never mentioned you had friends; and since when did you join a book club; to we will speak of this later, young man. More importantly, however, she smiled at Teddy. That was worth whatever chewing out Billy would get later for forgetting to communicate. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Teddy,” she said.
Teddy smiled back, that dimple flashing, and immediately offered his hand like a real gentleman or something. “You too, Mrs. Kaplan. I hope I’m not in the way?”
Billy could actually feel his mother warming to Teddy as she took his hand in her own firm grip. He gave it an hour, tops, before she was calling up Mrs. Altman and seeing if they could trade sons. “Of course not. And please, call me Rebecca. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“If it’s not an inconvenience.”
His mother glanced over at him, and Billy could practically read what a polite young man; Billy, please take notes in that single, speaking look. “Not at all. It should be ready in about an hour.” She took a step back toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your…reading?”
“Old Man and the Sea,” Teddy supplied. His smile was so wide and bright and genuine that Billy couldn’t even work up the heart to elbow him in the side. “I’ve got a thing about fish.”
His mother just laughed. “Goodness. Jeff is going to love you,” she teased, utterly relaxed and charmed in that way people had when they found themselves in Teddy’s orbit. Watching Teddy’s eyes go bright, his own grin more natural, Billy could only sigh and rock up onto the balls of his feet and think:
Yeah, well, join the club.