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When they met and began their travels together, neither one had the greatest trust for the other. Goodnight had witnessed firsthand what Billy could dish out and of course everyone knew the accuracy of a gun in the hands of The Angel of Death. At first they would book separate rooms, locking the door for the night as they had when traveling alone. Until they hit the open road and had nothing to put between them but the night air and the crackling fire.
After a few months of riding together, months of Billy waking to the shouts of Goodnight across the campfire, shooting up in his sleep, wild eyes unfocused and scared, they began to grow accustomed to one another. They still had a great distance between them, but could come off as friends instead of the strangers they had started out being to one another. Instead of booking separate rooms, they now bunked in the same room, two beds with a small stretch of floor and a rickety nightstand between them.
Goodnight always wanted to look the part of a gentleman, always dressing in nice vests, complete with an accenting ascot and pocket watch chain clipped to his front. He encouraged Billy to look the part too. He stated that he wasn't his slave and didn't intend for people to see him in that light. They used their money to go to a tailor where Goodnight helped put together an ensemble that put a fluttering in his heart to look at the other man.
Time passed, as it has a tendency to do, and the two grew comfortable enough to talk to one another outside of inebriation.
“Billy, be lucky you still have your innocence about you.”
Billy quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his lips following suit, amusement lighting the depths of his dark eyes. Goodnight laughed.
“Not that innocence. Shit. The war. You've killed people, but only ones that were coming at you of their own accord. You're so lucky to have the choice to take a life. You know that when that gun sights you, that person is hellbent on taking you out for their own selfish reasons.” Goodnight squashes the remaining ashes from his cigarette. Silence stretches between the two before Billy breaks it, voice soft as the wing of a dove.
“I hear you, you know. At night”
Goodnight freezes, hand still poised over the glass that is home to the butts of their cigarettes. Even in the dim lighting, Billy can make out the flush of Goody's cheeks. The talk in the saloon hasn't lessened, but none of the usual bar chatter was reaching his ears. It was like someone had dunked his head beneath the waves of the Mississippi, and he was drowning in his own fears.
Billy continued, knowing no one around them could hear him exposing Goodnight Robicheaux's weaknesses. “I pretend that I'm asleep, to give you privacy. I don't reckon it's something you'd really want others to witness.” Billy takes a swig from his whiskey glass in front of him, settling back in his chair, rolling tobacco and paper into a thin tube of solace between his thumbs and forefingers.
Goodnight takes a deep breath, letting it out in an unsteady whistle, putting his hat on his head before standing from the table, retreating to their room where he feigns sleep when Billy enters some time later.
After that night, Billy takes to slipping into Goody's bed when he starts whimpering. The other man doesn't wake up but latches onto the warmth that presents itself, curling into Billy, fisting his hands in the fabric of his shirt. He continues to mumble in his sleep, twitching every so often, but during these nights, he doesn't wake from nightmares he imagines chases him into the waking world. He doesn't bolt upright in bed, scared of the shadows in the room.
They fit perfectly together, not even half an inch difference in their heights. Goody's body heat feels nice lined perfectly down Billy's side. He sleeps with one arm splayed out beneath Goody's head, the other tucked under his own head or flat against his free side. He knows he can't touch him while he's asleep, the temptation to tangle his hands in Goody's hair, or even trace swirling patterns on the back of the hand that is embedded over his chest, might wake Goody; something Billy is careful to avoid. The nights that he comforts Goody without his knowing are a treat to him. A time that he gets to be so close to Goody, it pains him; to have something so close, yet utterly unattainable.
So Billy lies with Goody, waking when Goody's hands go slack, releasing him so that he can slither out of Goody's grip and sneak back into his own bed before the ex confederate wakes up and finds him in his bed. Sometimes he thinks of the possible outcomes that could ensue if Goody were to find Billy beside him in the night, uninvited. The most logical of outcomes always begin with Goodnight freaking out and ending with them parting ways. Billy never thinks about the scenarios where Goody could wake up, cuddled close to Billy, astonished at first, lips curling into a shy smile before those poetic lips of his claim Billy in the start of something Billy tries not to think about for fear of physical consequences that could further muck up former scenarios thought up.
Billy starts this act of sneaking to ease the terrors of his friend. Yet the longer he continues, the harder it becomes for him to slip away in the milky dawn light. He can feel the way his heart hammers in his chest when Goody sometimes pulls Billy closer, his hand curving easily around his side. He wishes so badly to have Goody want him, having been surprised when he first felt the way he does for his friend. Since having left his home in South Korea, Billy had never been wanted by another human being. His company having been sought out by the sharpshooter had been enough at first, but the hunger inside of him had quickly grown and now went unsated.
It becomes even harder to find the strength when one night Goody locks his legs into the tangle of Billy's, his thigh pressing against Billy's arousal, making his breath hitch; sleep didn't come that night as he lay awake in terrified temptation. He had had to borderline wrench his leg from Goody's own powerful thighs, actually waking him in the process. He had stood there, waiting for Goody to realize what had happened, but he just clenched his hands around the thin blanket, opening his eyes with a quick snap, focusing at once on Billy standing by his bedside.
“Goody?” Billy's voice hadn't been soothing, he was too worried on what Goody might have realized.
Goody groaned and rolled onto his other side, quickly resuming sleep for another 40 minutes before the sun came through the window, falling across his bare shoulders and onto his face, waking him from his sound slumber. Billy had spent those remaining minutes away from the room, trying in vain to banish Goody from his mind.
Billy was used to doing things on his own. Goodnight Robicheaux, however, liked to flaunt himself in front of others; displaying his confidence and knowledge to anyone who had the courage to approach him and listen to his stories as he sat in the barbers chair, his whiskers being cut away by the steady hand of the only stranger he would let get close to his neck with a knife. Billy would sit close, in the shadows, keeping him in his sights. Goody wasn't the one with a bounty on his head, so he didn't have to worry about anyone trying at his life; yet when you fall in love with someone, the fear you feel for them is both rational and absurd at the same time.
So he watches the barbers hands, closely, as if learning from a teacher, taking in every muscle movement, not missing a thing. It occurred to him one night in a saloon in northern Kansas, that he could be the one that does this for Goody. He could be the one, hands deft and skilled, as he does such a small thing of outward comfort for the man he had so foolishly fallen for.
There was a time before Goodnight that Billy would've sneered at the idea of having such a weakness. He had every right to think that having someone you loved would only hold you back, would only get in the way. But he couldn't help what he felt for Goodnight. He was a capable man, one that was haunted yet persisted on living his life. He hadn't wasted away in Louisiana, living off of the money his family had. He made his own way, mostly because of Billy, but he had been fine before he had stumbled upon him in that Texan saloon. Not to mention he was easy on the eyes with words on his lips that would have Billy blushing if he was unable to control himself. He understood the side of Goody that charmed everyone he could. He was a people pleaser, that much was evident. But he also cared.
Which was another trait that Billy adored about his travel companion. There were times when they would cross paths with a little girl who wanted a little something from the store her mother couldn't afford that Goody would purchase, gifting it to them as they left. Or an older woman who he would make smile with a kiss to her hand. Billy couldn't take it sometimes, the sweet moments that made his insides light up with a flame of affection. He was the companion that scared everyone, his narrowed eyes and rigid stance making Goody look even better in the eyes of those around him.
Sometimes, on nights that he just couldn't sleep, whether Goody was beside him or not, he would stare at the ceiling and think about the way his life had panned out. He wasn't a religious man, by no means, but if there was a higher power that had placed them there for a specific purpose, he thinks that maybe he was put here to be with Goody. Maybe not in the sense he would like, but with him nonetheless. He decided during those nights, time and time again, that he would stay with Goody, till his dying day. He would protect him, nights, days, whatever it took. Looking over at the other man as he slept, a whimper escaping his slightly parted lips, he pushes back his own covers and slips into bed beside Goody, barely jostling the bed as he slipped beside the other man.
It's a bright summer day when it happens. They're camping beside a creek, under the only tree that they could find to escape the burning afternoon sun. They had decided to rest during the day and set out at twilight to cover the flat stretch of land that offered no protection from the harsh elements of the wild.
Billy was lying down on his bed roll, hat over his face, trying to replenish the sleep he had lost in a particularly long week of nightly terrors from Goody's dreams. He was dozing, in and out, when he heard Goody call his name.
“Billy.” The man in question had lifted his hat, a brow raised at Goodnight. “You need a shave, mon ami.” He was perched on a boulder close to the water, patting his knee, beckoning the other man.
Billy huffed a sigh, and pushed himself up from the ground, sitting in front of Goody. His knees were peaked, forearms resting on his knees lazily, eyes closed against the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He could feel Goody around him, his thighs pressing against his shoulders as he scooted closer to the edge of the boulder. He felt the pads of his fingers, rough with calluses, slide up his neck, tilting his head back onto his thigh. The lather from the soap Goody had prepared felt cool against his skin, sliding smoothly against the bristles of his unshaven cheeks.
He didn't flinch as Goodnight placed his fingers at different places of his face, sometimes steadying him, sometimes moving his head for the right angle. It took longer than Billy would have, he could feel Goodnight pulling away when his hand wasn't steady enough, breathing until his hand stopped shaking. He could feel the blade making slight strokes around his mustache that he kept, Goodnight doing his best to keep from butchering Billy's facial hair.
Finally, Goodnight sat the blade aside and placed his hands on Billy's shoulders.
“I know about the nights. When I have nightmares.” His voice was soft, almost ashamed. Ashamed to admit that he needed someone else to ease the terrors that tormented him from his past. He could feel Billy tense beneath him, watched as his dark eyes fluttered open, squinting up at him, sunlight dappled along his face.
Billy didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring at Goodnight, waiting. His hands were no longer hanging loosely from his knees, instead, they were balled up tight, anticipating his friend to attack.
When he looked away from Goodnight's blue eyes, staring up into the boughs instead, he heard Goodnight chuckle. “What's wrong, mon cher? You scared of somethin?” He dug his fingers into the tensed up muscles of Billy's shoulders, working the knots with strong hands. Billy stared defiantly until Goodnight moved, bringing his head down closer to his own.
“You know, I was awake, that night you ripped yourself away.” Billy's dark eyes found Goody's lighter ones so quick, it was like a magnet was attracting them. Billy's heart ran like a stallion in a corral, so hard it was about to break free from it's restraints. He could feel the heat in his face and it had nothing to do with the sun. He almost jumped out of his skin when Goody's fingers grazed the side of his neck, as soft as they could be. He was even more surprised when Goodnight sank his head low enough to press his dry lips to Billy's.
He let out a sigh of mixed surprise and elation. He enjoyed it for exactly 3 seconds when he wrenched himself away, a violent sneeze ushered forth from Goody' goatee coupled with their awkward position. Goody himself was chuckling, his fingers still resting on Billy's neck, caressing small circles where they lay.
“I beg pardon, mon cher. That is completely my fault.” He was grinning, absently stroking the hair on his chin, a sparkle in his eye. “Now if you would so kindly...” He let his words drag in the dirt, curling his fingers with such a slight pressure to guide Billy up from the ground, closer.
Still stunned by the turn of events, Billy allowed himself to be shepherd to the other man's lips, pressing them together shyly. He reveled in the taste of the man he had unwillingly fallen in love with. After months, so many sleepless nights, he was finally able to do that which he though could only be a dream. It was when Goody pushed his fingers into the depths of Billy's ink dark hair that his senses returned and he pulled himself away, hearing a whimper that he couldn't be sure wasn't his own.
“What's wrong, darlin?” Goonight's words were breathy, a confused look to his eyes. Eyes that should never bee clouded with worry after the life he'd led.
“I don't understand.” Billy was squatted in front of Goody, his hands having taken place on Goody's knees, steadying himself. Goody caressed Billy's scalp, calluses catching in his hair. His breathing was heavy and deep as he tried to calm the whirlwind force inside of him.
“Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.”
Billy sighed. “Goody. I hardly think this is the time to screw with me.” Billy felt hurt, there was no other way to put it. He had dreamed of this, and here Goody was,throwing it in his face. Using the leverage of Goody's knees, he pushed himself up, intent on leaving, when Goody's fingers encircled his wrist.
“You misunderstand, cher.” Billy could feel him stand, pulled a little by the action. Goody's body appeared in front of him, his hand now holding his hip, the other having gravitated to his face, rough fingers on Billy's cheek. Goodnight tried to get Billy to look at him, to no avail. He sighed. “Listen.” Billy's eyebrow quirked upward, a sign he was. “Call me a sucker for romance, but I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you. Back in the saloon in Texas, you were so alive, so free from anything to hold you down and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think you were attractive.” Billy looked at him them, surprise alight in his eyes. “I was scared, Billy. I'd seen what you could do to a room full of men when you were angry. And these are times when lookin at a man the wrong way'll get you strung up. I know it took me a while to gather my courage but, damn it, here I am, puttin my heart on display. Now I can resist a lot of things, cher, but temptation is not one of em, and with you sittin there, lettin me touch you, unguard-”
Goodnight finally found himself at a loss for words. For once he couldn't finish what he was saying for Billy had surged forward, gathering Goody's lips within his own. He was suddenly alive, the flame he felt for the other man alight in him, burning its way to the surface. Both of Billy's hands cupped Goody'd face, the fabric of his gloves finding purchase in the unshaven whiskers of Goody's cheeks. Goody's hand gripped Billy's hip tight, the other sinking into his hair. It was damp with sweat, but the sounds coming from Billy when he tugged were music to Goody's ears.
They pulled each other close, bodies flush against each other, lining perfectly together like a bullet in the barrel of Goody's gun. There was no one else that could fill the spot Billy did. No one else that could ease his fears like the man in front of him.
Bits of soap still clung to Billy's face, transferring from one man's face to the other as they rushed to make up months of longing. They kissed so vehemently that their teeth clicked together, crushing their bodies together like there was still air in the space between them. Goody's hands traveled from Billy's face until they were both planted firmly on his hips, holding onto them as Billy shuffled them the three feet back to the boulder, where Goody lost his balance and landed hard on his ass.
Goody ripped away from Billy with a fierce intake of breath. “God, Billy. You want me to hurt?” The look of pain on his face turned to one of surprised delight when Billy took a seat on his lap, straddling the the other man, knees braced unevenly on the surface of the boulder.
“Depends on how far you want to take this.” His voice was gruff with lust as he busied himself with the removal of Goody's waistcoat and ascot. Once the latter was gone, he latched himself onto Goody's neck, doing his best to remember what he'd seen women in bars do to men they wanted to take to bed. He didn't think he was doing anything spectacular, but the intake of breath from Goody, along with the nails biting into his hips gave his ego a boost.
“C'mere, cher.” Goody was breathless, his words the ghosts of themselves, lost to the stiff wind that stuttered around them before dropping back to the scorched earth beneath them. Billy got one more nip in before Goody pulled his face back to him, kissing him so deep, Billy's head began to spin. He could feel Goody's fingers work to untuck his shirt from his pants, planting his hands flat against Billy's skin once it was free. His palms were hot against his feverish skin, callused fingers a stark contrast to Billy's softness. His knees were screaming in pain but Billy desperately wanted to devour Goodnight. He shifted his weight, drawing a breath as a crack of pain shot through his knee.
Goodnight pulled away, a look of concern on his face. “Billy, you alright, love?” He jostled Billy, trying to get a better purchase on the boulder. When Billy scowled, understanding dawned and he grabbed Billy by the thighs, standing with some hesitation at all the weight his unused muscles were baring. Billy, slung his arms around Goody's neck, trying to ease some of the weight off his partner.
“Never, put yourself in a place of discomfort for me, cher.” He kissed Billy lovingly on the cheek, swinging them around, bringing Billy's back to rest on the small crest of earth that held the tree from dipping into the creek. He gently placed him, smirking at Billy as he did so, coming to rest in a kneeling position between the others' legs as they stretched out to either side of him. Goodnight's clothing was askew, sweat beaded his brow even in the diminishing sunlight, but to Billy, he had never looked so beautiful. There was a fire in his eyes that Billy had never seen before, a smile on his face that was the moon compared to the glimpses of stars he showed everyone else. His breathing was ragged but it sang to Billy like no other voice had before.
“What's going through that mind of yours?” Goodnight lifted a hand, his knuckles cascading down Billy's cheek with affection.
“Hm?
“You're thinking, love. What is it?”
“Goodnight Robicheaux, you are not only the Angel of Death, but the Angel of Life as well.” Billy smiled and Goodnight laughed.
“I thought I was the one with the poetic voice. Looks like I've got a run for my money.” Goodnight settled himself in front of Billy, holding his head up with his hand as he gazed up at the man in front of him. His fingers rubbed circles into the fabric of his partners jeans, stirring the fire inside Billy.
“Looks like I've given life to much more than just your heart, mon cher.” Billy's cheeks flared red as he looked down and seen Goody chuckling over the bulge in his jeans.
“Hush, Goody.”
“What? You don't want these honey lips making you sweat?” When Billy looked back into those blue eyes of his, they were playful and wily. He dropped his head, kissing his way from the tip of Billy's dick as it strained against his pants, all the way up hos body, unbuttoning anything he came to in the process. Billy groaned, glad they weren't anywhere near civilization at the noises he was about to make.
Goody made it all the way up to Billy's lips, his hand finding its way into Billy's jeans, before Billy started muttering in Korean.
Goody kissed his neck, moving his hand in time with the beat of his own heart, arousal making his heart pump blood faster south than it had in a long while. “Talk to me love, tell me what it is you've been dreaming of.” Billy continued his foreign words, Goody's name sprinkled amongst the words Goody couldn't understand, but took as a positive sign.
In no time, both men were spent, lying together, half dressed under the stars, a fire crackling nearby. It had been hours since their realization of their mutual affections and they had explored each other in ways neither of them had thought they would get a chance to indulge in. They shared a cigarette between them, passing it lazily, watching the smoke spiral into the heavens above them. Goody lay with his head on Billy's arm, his body pressed as comfortable as they could get with the hard ground beneath them.
“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves.”
“Hm?” Billy sucked the remaining smoke from the cigarette before halfheartedly throwing it at the fire.
“Shakepeare. It means that we are in control of our own fate.” He sat up on his arm, looking back at Billy, his other arm drawing lazy circles on the others' abdomen. “I don't believe it was fate that led us together, but our own desire guiding us towards each other.” He leaned in for a kiss, pulling back to smile. He took in the way the fire light danced across Billy's skin, throwing his angular face into relief. His hair had long lost the pin that held it up and now melded with the inky blackness of the shadows around them, a few stray strands clinging to his sweaty forehead. His chest was smooth, hard muscle and his talented fingers made Goodnight shiver as they walked their way across his exposed back. “And damn if my desire didn't chose a God of a man to want. Man, do I have good taste or what?”
Billy let out a bark of a laugh, his eyes crinkling as his lips broke open to reveal the kind of smile that would have taken Goody's breath away if he had any left that said man hadn't already stolen from his lungs. Goodnight leaned in again, kissing him deep like a river, full of more fire than the flames that crackled merrily nearby. The moon watched that night as two men slept soundly, each full of such happiness that the nightmares couldn't penetrate.