A/N: Well, this is shounen-ai, specifically Bart+Billy. The world needs more Bart/Billy fic, and I intend to help. :D Anyway, this has spoilers for the whole Ethos thing, so if you haven't had Billy in your party for a while, you may not want to read. This fic also includes underage drinking, a pirate who swears a lot, and a wellspring of Billy-angst. (I always thought his reaction to the whole Ethos incident was a little unrealistic.)
Note, constructive criticisms are quite welcome. Also, I'll try to keep this updated on a semi-regular basis, but no gaurantees. I'm writing this sheerly for my own amusement (and that of a fellow Bart/Billy shipper), so if it's not fun anymore, I won't write it.
No Rest for the Wicked
Part One
'Really,' Billy mused to himself, sitting on the Yggdrasil's deck, staring at the stars, 'it's not so bad.' The sky was perfectly clear and the stars bright, though the night was beginning to get chilly. Billy pulled his knees even closer to his chest to conserve his body heat.
'It could be worse,' he continued desperately. 'Prim could have just forgotten about me completely. She could have told me she hates me. She could have said she loved him...' A shudder ran through him. Wasn't that exactly what had happened? Hadn't she shunned him in favor of their so-called father? Wasn't it Jesse she had called for after all those years of silence? Had she not refused to say his name?
'You're an evil sinner!' a tiny voice in his head hissed. It sounded suspiciously like Bishop Stone, but Billy didn't care. 'All those people you killed unprovoked, doing Solaris's dirty work for them... Do you really think you deserve her love? Do you really think she would want to say your name? The name of a sinner?'
Billy laid his forehead against his knees and suppressed another shudder. "No," he said aloud, "I put them out of their misery. I saved them from their torment." But the voice refused to cease its silibant mantra of, 'Sinner, sinner, sinner.'
Yes, Primera had delivered a mighty blow, the ultimate insult. After all the years he had spent caring for her, all the hardships he had endured to feed her and clothe her, even after the time he almost sold his body to make ends meet, she brushed him aside as soon as she saw their "father." But he could not hate her for it. She was his sole reason for living, now that he knew the Ethos was nothing but a sham.
Instead, he shivered and hated himself, because that voice was right. He was a sinner, and he deserved Primera's scorn.
"You look cold," a new voice said, and a red vest was draped across his shoulders. Startled out of his reverie, Billy glanced up to see Bart sitting beside him, arms crossed over his chest. "Nice night, huh? I love the desert, but the sea's really growin' on me."
The etone sat up straight and scraped together the scraps of his haughty facade. "I suppose," he said boredly. "I've always lived near the sea. It can be dangerous, but it's nothing special."
Bart shrugged. "Live in the desert a while. You'll think differently."
"My home is just fine, thanks." Billy's remark was a little more curt than he had intended, but he shrugged it off. An uncomfortable, at least in Billy's mind, silence fell, and they both sat there, gazing at the stars and the sea.
After a while, Bart said, "I meant it, y'know."
"Huh?"
"If you need anything, you can come to me," he said.
"I don't need anything. Besides," he added softly, mumbling into his knees, "you can't help me, anyway." A small part of him hoped Bart would not hear him and would leave. Another part of him, the part that sounded like Bishop Stone, kept repeating, 'Sinner, sinner, there's no rest for the wicked.'
"Don't give me any of that 'holier-than-thou' crap," snapped the pirate. "It's not like I'd think any less of you if you did need something and you asked for help. So if it's your pride that you're worried about, just forget about it." He sighed when Billy seemed unmoved. "Jeez, at least just tell me what's wrong."
'Do you really want to know what's wrong?' Billy thought, hiding a sneer. 'How about my whole life? How about everything I've worked for, all of my beliefs? How about the fact that my sister I've tried to take care of doesn't even notice me and is fawning over that man who dares call himself our father?' A moment later, he lied, "Nothing's wrong. I just want to be alone."
"Bullshit."
Billy's head snapped up and he glared icily at Bart. "Are you calling me a liar?"
"Yeah, I am. I think something's wrong, and I'm going to keep bothering you about it until you own up." Bart smirked triumphantly.
"You don't know anything about me," Billy snarled. "There's-- nothing-- wrong!"
"I don't buy that for a minute," Bart said, smirk giving away to an angry scowl. "Would it make you feel better if I offered you 3000G for you to spill it, huh?"
Billy froze, staring at Bart wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He forgot to breath. The only reason his clothing and hair moved was the chill ocean breeze which blew constantly over them. Even the miniature Bishop Stone in his head was stilled. Slowly, hurt crept into his aqua eyes, followed by a fair amount of smoldering anger. His jaw began to work, trying to form words which never emerged from his throat.
"You--" he managed eventually, "you lowlife. You bastard!" He sprang to his feet quicker than Bart would have given him credit for and began backing toward the hatch. Bart's red vest slipped from his shoulders and tangled around his feet, causing him to lose his balance. With a yelp and a curse, he landed squarely on his behind.
Before he realized what he was doing, Bart found himself kneeling at the etone's side. "Hey, are you okay? Listen, I'm... I'm sorry about that, that was a really stupid thing for me to say." Billy shot him a stony glare which conveyed his agreement. Bart fell uncharacteristically silent for a moment, and neither of them moved. "Are you okay?" he asked again.
"Does it look like I'm okay?" Billy cried, still glaring. "I've just found out that I was serving Solaris, that all of my beliefs are wrong and were crafted specifically to keep the ignorant masses in check, that the man I most admired is a murderer, that I'm a murderer, and..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "And my sister won't even say my name." A look of shock began to settle on his face. "Oh, God, I said that out loud."
Bart gazed at him, stunned. "Damn. I didn't realize how much this has all been eatin' at you." He stood, picked up his vest, and offered Billy a hand. "C'mon, you don't need to be out here alone. I think you could do with a drink."
Shakily, Billy nodded and regained his footing with Bart's help. "Yeah," he said, "a drink sounds like a really good idea right now."
* * *
Two tumblers and a half-full bottle of vintage single-malt whiskey sat between them on the long table in the Gun Room. As it turned out, both pirate and etone were decent at holding their liquor, and their drunkenness hadn't progressed much past slurred speech. After the first two rounds, Maison had given up on convincing the pair that drinking at this hour would be a bad idea, and he had left them alone to their own devices.
"'I tried to drown my sorrows,'" Billy mused into his empty tumbler, "'but the bastards learned to swim.' I don' want to sound ungrateful, but I don'-- don' think this is helping." Bart reached out and filled his glass.
"You jus' haven't had enough," he said as he poured two fingers of whiskey into his own glass. "D'you wanna talk about it? I won't pay you for it, I promise." For some drunken reason, Billy found this incredibly funny, and he dissolved into a fit of giggles.
"Oh, Lord help me," Billy said as he finally managed to regain control over his giggling. "I guess it won't matter if I tell you, especially if we finish this, because I don' think we'll be able to remember any of it. Then I can't feel guilty for talking, and you can't hold what I say against me."
Bart tossed back his liquor then arched an eyebrow at his drinking partner. "You don' need to encourage me to drink, this is smooth stuff. But even if-- if we weren't gettin' drunk, what you say won't ever leave this room."
"So you'll hold it against me when we're in here," Billy deadpanned, swallowing the whiskey in his glass and pouring himself some more. Bart grinned and shook his head.
"Nah, you know what I mean. C'mon, you can trust me."
Billy grinned too. "Yeah, I know. But I get to ask a question before I'll spill my guts to you, okay?"
"Go for it, kid," Bart said as he solemnly served himself another shot.
"Why do you care?" Billy inquired, pushing his tumbler to the side and leaning back in his chair. "I-- I mean, why's it matter that I'm not on the deck alone? Why's that 3000G seem to mean so much to you?"
"... I don't know," answered Bart soberly, also setting aside his glass. "I guess... I mean, with the 3000G, I just saw you and thought you looked like a nice kid who shouldn't have to do something like that. I remember all the crap I had to go through when I was younger than you, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone." He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "And I care because I like you. You seem like a 'nice guy' under all that 'arrogant prick' crap. You shouldn't have to be alone when you're sufferin'."
"I... I really don' feel like drinking anymore," Billy said quietly, putting the cap back on the bottle of whiskey.
"Me either," Bart agreed. They both stood shakily, the etone even gripping the edge of the table to keep from losing his balance.
"I think I'm going to bed," continued Billy. "Thank you... for the drink, and all."
"Oh no you don't!" said Bart, grinning again. "First off, you still haven't spilled your guts. Second, I wouldn't leave you alone when you were depressed and sober. D'you really think I'm gonna leave you alone when you're depressed and drunk?" He cocked his head toward the stairs. "C'mon, we're going back to my room. We can talk there."
Billy blanched. "But-- but there are stairs between here and there."
"So?"
A blush crept across Billy's pale face. "Um... Well... I'm having a little trouble with the room spinning."
The pirate shrugged and sauntered around to Billy's side of the table. "No problem," he said, placing one hand on Billy's back, then bending down to scoop him up with his other arm under his knees. Billy blinked owlishly at him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, a little indignant.
"I'm carryin' you, what does it look like?"
Billy glared. "I can see that. I want to know why."
Bart continued to grin at him. "Well, you can't walk, and we're going to my room, so I figured I'd give ya a lift."
"You're incorrig-- incorrig--"
"'Incorrigible,'" Bart supplied cheerfully. "Aw, don't look so surprised. Maison and Sig've been tellin' me that for years and years."
Mercifully, the short walk to Bart's quarters was uneventful. Of course, that didn't keep Billy from screwing his eyes shut and clutching at Bart's vest until they were both safely sitting on Bart's bed.
"It wasn't that bad," said Bart, managing to pry Billy's hands off his vest. Rather than letting the etone have his hands back, however, Bart clasped them in his own hands and began chafing them gently. "Damn, do your hands always get this cold when you're drunk?"
"Don't get drunk often enough to know," Billy replied sourly. "And you could've broken both our necks."
"I didn', though, did I?" replied the pirate cheekily. "Now c'mon, what's eatin' at you? It's not good to keep it all in like that. 'Sides, I might be able to help."
"Hah. Unless you could make someone love me..." Billy trailed off. "God, this sounds so stupid."
Bart shook his head. "No way. Go on."
Billy sighed. "I-- I think I could stand it if... If it had just been the Ethos, if it had just been Bishop Stone. But it was him, too, that man who says he's our father." He took a deep breath, fighting against the anger and the self-loathing that rose up in him. "And Prim... Prim didn't even notice me."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, Bart's one eye locked with Billy's. Finally, as though coming to some momentous decision, Bart laid Billy's hands in his lap, then leaned forward until his lips were barely a hairsbreadth apart. "I noticed you." His eye never left Billy's even as he closed the gap between them and placed a clumsy kiss on the etone's mouth.
When he pulled away, Billy could only stare at him. "I-- I must be drunker than I thought," he said, his voice trembling.
"How d'you figure?" Bart asked, keeping his gaze steady.
"I'm starting to hallucinate," Billy said matter-of-factly. "I could've sworn you just kissed me."
The Bishop Stone voice, which had been silenced by the whiskey, chose that moment to make its presence known again. In the back of Billy's mind, it hissed, 'And you *enjoyed* it, you sinner! How could you be worthy of Primera's love if you take part in something like that?'
"That's funny," replied Bart, "I could'a sworn I kissed you too. Must be a shared hallucination." An impudent grin found its way to his face. "Wanna try again, see if we both still think I kissed you?"
Billy knew that voice of his "conscience" would protest, but he managed to nod his assent before the voice got a chance. This kiss was a bit less awkward but no less heated. Billy could taste the liquor in Bart's mouth, just as he was sure the taste lingered in his. Of their own accord, Billy's hands came to rest on the pirate's arms, then ran slowly up them until they cradled his face. He pulled back, breathless.
"Wait," he gasped.
"What's wrong?" asked Bart innocently. "I swear, I ain't payin' ya for this."
This statement caught the etone by surprise. "Huh?"
Bart inched closer to him, his eye downcast. "Listen, I like you a lot. You're a nice kid-- no, a nice guy, and I like you." He paused. "A lot," he finished lamely. "And if you don' like me, that's okay, we'll just go to bed and it was all just us bein' drunk."
Understanding dawned on Billy. "That's... That's why the 3000G upsets you."
Bart chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. Kinda lame, I guess. Jus' forget about it."
"No. That's nice of you." Billy tentatively reached out and brushed blond hair away from the gray eyepatch. "Can I ask you something?"
"S-- sure."
Billy leaned closer, trailing his fingertips lightly over the soft cloth. "How'd you get this? Do you ever... Do you ever take it off?"
"I was really stupid," Bart said, gently touching Billy's hand. "It was an accident... I'd pro'lly be dead, if Sigurd hadn't been there, but it cost him his eye, too. I don' like to think about it too much, so I try to hide it."
"If I told you something about me, would you let me see it?" The etone's face hovered close to Bart's now, eyes a little bright from the alcohol. His breath still smelled of it as it tickled Bart's cheek.
"Yeah... okay."
Billy's thumb hooked under the eyepatch and lifted it up. His lips pursed as he took in what lay under it: a mass of scar tissue that completely obscured his eye socket. "That must have hurt," he said, awed.
"Not really," said Bart, chuckling. "I was too afraid and surprised. Didn't realize something was wrong until I woke up in the infirmary and I couldn't see right. Now you share."
Before the pirate could process what was happening, Billy grasped his shoulders and pushed him back on the bed. Their lips brushed, then Billy trailed light kisses over the scars where Bart's eye should have been. "I think," he mumbled huskily, "that I kind of like you, too. Foolhardiness and all."
"Damn," mused Bart, letting his hands roam up Billy's back and tangle in his soft silver hair, "I have got to get you drunk more often."
"Hmm..." Billy smiled lazily. "No. I want to remember this."
"Me too. You admitted you liked me. I have to remember that."
Bart received no answer; with his head against Bart's chest, Billy had fallen asleep. "Figures," Bart said, rolling his eye. "You say you like me, then you fall asleep on me. Those last coupl'a shots were pro'lly a bad idea for you." He ruffled Billy's hair. "That's okay, though. I don' mind." After a few moments, he, too, was asleep.
~TBC~
Note, constructive criticisms are quite welcome. Also, I'll try to keep this updated on a semi-regular basis, but no gaurantees. I'm writing this sheerly for my own amusement (and that of a fellow Bart/Billy shipper), so if it's not fun anymore, I won't write it.
No Rest for the Wicked
Part One
'Really,' Billy mused to himself, sitting on the Yggdrasil's deck, staring at the stars, 'it's not so bad.' The sky was perfectly clear and the stars bright, though the night was beginning to get chilly. Billy pulled his knees even closer to his chest to conserve his body heat.
'It could be worse,' he continued desperately. 'Prim could have just forgotten about me completely. She could have told me she hates me. She could have said she loved him...' A shudder ran through him. Wasn't that exactly what had happened? Hadn't she shunned him in favor of their so-called father? Wasn't it Jesse she had called for after all those years of silence? Had she not refused to say his name?
'You're an evil sinner!' a tiny voice in his head hissed. It sounded suspiciously like Bishop Stone, but Billy didn't care. 'All those people you killed unprovoked, doing Solaris's dirty work for them... Do you really think you deserve her love? Do you really think she would want to say your name? The name of a sinner?'
Billy laid his forehead against his knees and suppressed another shudder. "No," he said aloud, "I put them out of their misery. I saved them from their torment." But the voice refused to cease its silibant mantra of, 'Sinner, sinner, sinner.'
Yes, Primera had delivered a mighty blow, the ultimate insult. After all the years he had spent caring for her, all the hardships he had endured to feed her and clothe her, even after the time he almost sold his body to make ends meet, she brushed him aside as soon as she saw their "father." But he could not hate her for it. She was his sole reason for living, now that he knew the Ethos was nothing but a sham.
Instead, he shivered and hated himself, because that voice was right. He was a sinner, and he deserved Primera's scorn.
"You look cold," a new voice said, and a red vest was draped across his shoulders. Startled out of his reverie, Billy glanced up to see Bart sitting beside him, arms crossed over his chest. "Nice night, huh? I love the desert, but the sea's really growin' on me."
The etone sat up straight and scraped together the scraps of his haughty facade. "I suppose," he said boredly. "I've always lived near the sea. It can be dangerous, but it's nothing special."
Bart shrugged. "Live in the desert a while. You'll think differently."
"My home is just fine, thanks." Billy's remark was a little more curt than he had intended, but he shrugged it off. An uncomfortable, at least in Billy's mind, silence fell, and they both sat there, gazing at the stars and the sea.
After a while, Bart said, "I meant it, y'know."
"Huh?"
"If you need anything, you can come to me," he said.
"I don't need anything. Besides," he added softly, mumbling into his knees, "you can't help me, anyway." A small part of him hoped Bart would not hear him and would leave. Another part of him, the part that sounded like Bishop Stone, kept repeating, 'Sinner, sinner, there's no rest for the wicked.'
"Don't give me any of that 'holier-than-thou' crap," snapped the pirate. "It's not like I'd think any less of you if you did need something and you asked for help. So if it's your pride that you're worried about, just forget about it." He sighed when Billy seemed unmoved. "Jeez, at least just tell me what's wrong."
'Do you really want to know what's wrong?' Billy thought, hiding a sneer. 'How about my whole life? How about everything I've worked for, all of my beliefs? How about the fact that my sister I've tried to take care of doesn't even notice me and is fawning over that man who dares call himself our father?' A moment later, he lied, "Nothing's wrong. I just want to be alone."
"Bullshit."
Billy's head snapped up and he glared icily at Bart. "Are you calling me a liar?"
"Yeah, I am. I think something's wrong, and I'm going to keep bothering you about it until you own up." Bart smirked triumphantly.
"You don't know anything about me," Billy snarled. "There's-- nothing-- wrong!"
"I don't buy that for a minute," Bart said, smirk giving away to an angry scowl. "Would it make you feel better if I offered you 3000G for you to spill it, huh?"
Billy froze, staring at Bart wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He forgot to breath. The only reason his clothing and hair moved was the chill ocean breeze which blew constantly over them. Even the miniature Bishop Stone in his head was stilled. Slowly, hurt crept into his aqua eyes, followed by a fair amount of smoldering anger. His jaw began to work, trying to form words which never emerged from his throat.
"You--" he managed eventually, "you lowlife. You bastard!" He sprang to his feet quicker than Bart would have given him credit for and began backing toward the hatch. Bart's red vest slipped from his shoulders and tangled around his feet, causing him to lose his balance. With a yelp and a curse, he landed squarely on his behind.
Before he realized what he was doing, Bart found himself kneeling at the etone's side. "Hey, are you okay? Listen, I'm... I'm sorry about that, that was a really stupid thing for me to say." Billy shot him a stony glare which conveyed his agreement. Bart fell uncharacteristically silent for a moment, and neither of them moved. "Are you okay?" he asked again.
"Does it look like I'm okay?" Billy cried, still glaring. "I've just found out that I was serving Solaris, that all of my beliefs are wrong and were crafted specifically to keep the ignorant masses in check, that the man I most admired is a murderer, that I'm a murderer, and..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "And my sister won't even say my name." A look of shock began to settle on his face. "Oh, God, I said that out loud."
Bart gazed at him, stunned. "Damn. I didn't realize how much this has all been eatin' at you." He stood, picked up his vest, and offered Billy a hand. "C'mon, you don't need to be out here alone. I think you could do with a drink."
Shakily, Billy nodded and regained his footing with Bart's help. "Yeah," he said, "a drink sounds like a really good idea right now."
* * *
Two tumblers and a half-full bottle of vintage single-malt whiskey sat between them on the long table in the Gun Room. As it turned out, both pirate and etone were decent at holding their liquor, and their drunkenness hadn't progressed much past slurred speech. After the first two rounds, Maison had given up on convincing the pair that drinking at this hour would be a bad idea, and he had left them alone to their own devices.
"'I tried to drown my sorrows,'" Billy mused into his empty tumbler, "'but the bastards learned to swim.' I don' want to sound ungrateful, but I don'-- don' think this is helping." Bart reached out and filled his glass.
"You jus' haven't had enough," he said as he poured two fingers of whiskey into his own glass. "D'you wanna talk about it? I won't pay you for it, I promise." For some drunken reason, Billy found this incredibly funny, and he dissolved into a fit of giggles.
"Oh, Lord help me," Billy said as he finally managed to regain control over his giggling. "I guess it won't matter if I tell you, especially if we finish this, because I don' think we'll be able to remember any of it. Then I can't feel guilty for talking, and you can't hold what I say against me."
Bart tossed back his liquor then arched an eyebrow at his drinking partner. "You don' need to encourage me to drink, this is smooth stuff. But even if-- if we weren't gettin' drunk, what you say won't ever leave this room."
"So you'll hold it against me when we're in here," Billy deadpanned, swallowing the whiskey in his glass and pouring himself some more. Bart grinned and shook his head.
"Nah, you know what I mean. C'mon, you can trust me."
Billy grinned too. "Yeah, I know. But I get to ask a question before I'll spill my guts to you, okay?"
"Go for it, kid," Bart said as he solemnly served himself another shot.
"Why do you care?" Billy inquired, pushing his tumbler to the side and leaning back in his chair. "I-- I mean, why's it matter that I'm not on the deck alone? Why's that 3000G seem to mean so much to you?"
"... I don't know," answered Bart soberly, also setting aside his glass. "I guess... I mean, with the 3000G, I just saw you and thought you looked like a nice kid who shouldn't have to do something like that. I remember all the crap I had to go through when I was younger than you, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone." He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "And I care because I like you. You seem like a 'nice guy' under all that 'arrogant prick' crap. You shouldn't have to be alone when you're sufferin'."
"I... I really don' feel like drinking anymore," Billy said quietly, putting the cap back on the bottle of whiskey.
"Me either," Bart agreed. They both stood shakily, the etone even gripping the edge of the table to keep from losing his balance.
"I think I'm going to bed," continued Billy. "Thank you... for the drink, and all."
"Oh no you don't!" said Bart, grinning again. "First off, you still haven't spilled your guts. Second, I wouldn't leave you alone when you were depressed and sober. D'you really think I'm gonna leave you alone when you're depressed and drunk?" He cocked his head toward the stairs. "C'mon, we're going back to my room. We can talk there."
Billy blanched. "But-- but there are stairs between here and there."
"So?"
A blush crept across Billy's pale face. "Um... Well... I'm having a little trouble with the room spinning."
The pirate shrugged and sauntered around to Billy's side of the table. "No problem," he said, placing one hand on Billy's back, then bending down to scoop him up with his other arm under his knees. Billy blinked owlishly at him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, a little indignant.
"I'm carryin' you, what does it look like?"
Billy glared. "I can see that. I want to know why."
Bart continued to grin at him. "Well, you can't walk, and we're going to my room, so I figured I'd give ya a lift."
"You're incorrig-- incorrig--"
"'Incorrigible,'" Bart supplied cheerfully. "Aw, don't look so surprised. Maison and Sig've been tellin' me that for years and years."
Mercifully, the short walk to Bart's quarters was uneventful. Of course, that didn't keep Billy from screwing his eyes shut and clutching at Bart's vest until they were both safely sitting on Bart's bed.
"It wasn't that bad," said Bart, managing to pry Billy's hands off his vest. Rather than letting the etone have his hands back, however, Bart clasped them in his own hands and began chafing them gently. "Damn, do your hands always get this cold when you're drunk?"
"Don't get drunk often enough to know," Billy replied sourly. "And you could've broken both our necks."
"I didn', though, did I?" replied the pirate cheekily. "Now c'mon, what's eatin' at you? It's not good to keep it all in like that. 'Sides, I might be able to help."
"Hah. Unless you could make someone love me..." Billy trailed off. "God, this sounds so stupid."
Bart shook his head. "No way. Go on."
Billy sighed. "I-- I think I could stand it if... If it had just been the Ethos, if it had just been Bishop Stone. But it was him, too, that man who says he's our father." He took a deep breath, fighting against the anger and the self-loathing that rose up in him. "And Prim... Prim didn't even notice me."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them, Bart's one eye locked with Billy's. Finally, as though coming to some momentous decision, Bart laid Billy's hands in his lap, then leaned forward until his lips were barely a hairsbreadth apart. "I noticed you." His eye never left Billy's even as he closed the gap between them and placed a clumsy kiss on the etone's mouth.
When he pulled away, Billy could only stare at him. "I-- I must be drunker than I thought," he said, his voice trembling.
"How d'you figure?" Bart asked, keeping his gaze steady.
"I'm starting to hallucinate," Billy said matter-of-factly. "I could've sworn you just kissed me."
The Bishop Stone voice, which had been silenced by the whiskey, chose that moment to make its presence known again. In the back of Billy's mind, it hissed, 'And you *enjoyed* it, you sinner! How could you be worthy of Primera's love if you take part in something like that?'
"That's funny," replied Bart, "I could'a sworn I kissed you too. Must be a shared hallucination." An impudent grin found its way to his face. "Wanna try again, see if we both still think I kissed you?"
Billy knew that voice of his "conscience" would protest, but he managed to nod his assent before the voice got a chance. This kiss was a bit less awkward but no less heated. Billy could taste the liquor in Bart's mouth, just as he was sure the taste lingered in his. Of their own accord, Billy's hands came to rest on the pirate's arms, then ran slowly up them until they cradled his face. He pulled back, breathless.
"Wait," he gasped.
"What's wrong?" asked Bart innocently. "I swear, I ain't payin' ya for this."
This statement caught the etone by surprise. "Huh?"
Bart inched closer to him, his eye downcast. "Listen, I like you a lot. You're a nice kid-- no, a nice guy, and I like you." He paused. "A lot," he finished lamely. "And if you don' like me, that's okay, we'll just go to bed and it was all just us bein' drunk."
Understanding dawned on Billy. "That's... That's why the 3000G upsets you."
Bart chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. Kinda lame, I guess. Jus' forget about it."
"No. That's nice of you." Billy tentatively reached out and brushed blond hair away from the gray eyepatch. "Can I ask you something?"
"S-- sure."
Billy leaned closer, trailing his fingertips lightly over the soft cloth. "How'd you get this? Do you ever... Do you ever take it off?"
"I was really stupid," Bart said, gently touching Billy's hand. "It was an accident... I'd pro'lly be dead, if Sigurd hadn't been there, but it cost him his eye, too. I don' like to think about it too much, so I try to hide it."
"If I told you something about me, would you let me see it?" The etone's face hovered close to Bart's now, eyes a little bright from the alcohol. His breath still smelled of it as it tickled Bart's cheek.
"Yeah... okay."
Billy's thumb hooked under the eyepatch and lifted it up. His lips pursed as he took in what lay under it: a mass of scar tissue that completely obscured his eye socket. "That must have hurt," he said, awed.
"Not really," said Bart, chuckling. "I was too afraid and surprised. Didn't realize something was wrong until I woke up in the infirmary and I couldn't see right. Now you share."
Before the pirate could process what was happening, Billy grasped his shoulders and pushed him back on the bed. Their lips brushed, then Billy trailed light kisses over the scars where Bart's eye should have been. "I think," he mumbled huskily, "that I kind of like you, too. Foolhardiness and all."
"Damn," mused Bart, letting his hands roam up Billy's back and tangle in his soft silver hair, "I have got to get you drunk more often."
"Hmm..." Billy smiled lazily. "No. I want to remember this."
"Me too. You admitted you liked me. I have to remember that."
Bart received no answer; with his head against Bart's chest, Billy had fallen asleep. "Figures," Bart said, rolling his eye. "You say you like me, then you fall asleep on me. Those last coupl'a shots were pro'lly a bad idea for you." He ruffled Billy's hair. "That's okay, though. I don' mind." After a few moments, he, too, was asleep.
~TBC~