[voice test]

[theprettymarine]

Billy didn't know how to name the feeling he had when Frank married Maria. He was happy for his friend, for both of them. He did everything a best man was supposed to do, and then some, because he would be damned if Frank didn't have a decent wedding, even if it was a rush job. Because Maria was pregnant. But Frank was happy and that was what mattered.

But something did shift in him as he watched his friend take his vows. No one sticks around. Maybe that wasn't totally fair - Frank was his brother, they were Marines, and they would share things that no one else did, and that was okay. He didn't need anything else from Frank. He didn't deserve anything else.

They had some leave before their first deployment, which was how Frank managed to get married at all. And after Frank resurfaced from his brief honeymoon, Billy was happy to meet him for drinks.

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[onebatch_twobatch]

“Would you say if I did, Bill?” Frank asked, and it was an honest, soft question in this honest, soft space. He held him gently, close. He wanted Billy to trust him, but he knew what a terrifying thing that was sometimes.

“Sometimes people need their secrets,” he said. “Won’t make you give yours up if you need to keep it. But yeah. I’m asking about it, if you’re willing to tell.”

[theprettymarine]

Billy was quiet for a long moment, like he changed his mind about answering. But eventually he wet his lips, and he looked at a space between them, a thousand yards away.

"I was in group homes when I couldn't get into foster care. There was a guy that would come around, a volunteer. He'd play pick up games with us, we all thought he was so cool. I guess I was ten, eleven."

He paused; the corner of his mouth twitched, almost like a smile, but there was nothing behind it.

"When a grown man tells you you're pretty, you know there's nothing good coming next." He pulled away a little, rolled onto his back so he could stare at the ceiling. "I went after him with a stickball bat. He got pissed off, broke my arm. Ripped my rotator cuff in three places."

[onebatch_twobatch]

Frank thought of all the times he’d called Billy pretty since they’d met, all the times he’d called Billy pretty that night, and he felt a little sick with himself, a little mad that he couldn’t just cut that shit out. He thought of Billy, Billy eight or ten years ago and what he must have looked like then, and Frank could feel his face do something, this wrinkle in his nose.

He was mad at a man he was never going to meet or see. Furious. Ferociously, insidiously angry that some son of a bitch had thought he could put his hands—not just on Billy Russo, but on a child. It hurt because it was Billy, because he could look at him being far away and he could see the scars and he could feel him pulling back, but it made him mad because it had happened to a child.

“Jesus,” he said, because what else was he supposed to say? Then, viciously and because he couldn’t help himself, he growled, “I hope he fell on the third rail and fuckin’ fried.”

[theprettymarine]

He couldn't bring himself to look over at Frank while he processed everything he'd just heard. He didn't want to see judgment there, or worse, pity. He didn't want Frank to pity him. He didn't want anyone to pity him.

Billy huffed a laugh but there wasn't any humor behind it. He could practically feel Frank's rage simmering next to him. That was the only thing that made him glance over, daring eye contact again.

"Wish I could, man. I don't know what the fuck ever happened to him."

[onebatch_twobatch]

"Maybe better than knowing," Frank said. He wasn't not looking at Billy, but he was trying to give him space, now, as much as he could. He felt guilty for still feeling hot for him. He hated himself a little bit, and felt awful and guilty that he was taking away from Billy's pain.

He looked at him then, eye to eye, and ran his fingers over Billy's profile, along his cheek and down to his jaw. He leaned in and kissed his forehead.

[theprettymarine]

"Don't--" He didn't know what he meant to say, at first, as Frank touched him. So he tried another laugh.

"That uh, completely kill whatever this is?" he asked as he gestured between them, trying desperately to make light. Because he couldn't cope with the idea that revealing this thing might have scared Frank off, or might have changed the way Frank looked at him.

[onebatch_twobatch]

"I mean, it sort of cold showered the moment," Frank said, and managed a tiny, strained sort of laugh, somewhere deep in his chest. He had his hand on Billy's jaw and he didn't move it, because moving it felt like a confirmation of all their worst fears--fears that he could see in Billy's eyes, and fears that Frank didn't know he had or how to voice.

He was quiet a moment. He wasn't good with words, especially not about important things, and this was an important thing. When he spoke, it was sort of fumbling.

"You tell me if I fuck it up. If I make you feel...you know, if things are too much. And I can stop calling you pretty and shit, yeah? Just--I'm dumb as shit, Bill, you know. I'm dumb as a fuckin' rock, you gotta tell me."

[theprettymarine]

Billy thought about it. He thought about the way that word made him feel - vulnerable and helpless and in pain - but he thought of the way Frank made him feel, too. Maybe he could get over it, get past it.

"You can call me pretty, Frankie. And I'll tell you if I can't take it." Because they could do that, right? If he said it was fine now and changed his mind later, Frank Castle wasn't an asshole.

Billy turned toward him, looked at him. He cracked a little grin. "You're not that stupid, Frank Castle. I know that cause Maria wouldn't've fuckin married a total dumbass and I wouldn't be trying to have conversations with you if you were."

[onebatch_twobatch]

"Maria's the one that likes to remind me what a complete dumbass I am," Frank pointed out, smitten smile living around his eyes, because it was the truth.

He leaned his forehead against Billy's and was quiet for a long time, just breathing, letting all this weight and heaviness settle. Things did not feel imminently changed. He did not feel like Billy was more fragile, like he needed to be handled differently. Really, all he felt like was finding some kiddie-touching asshole and tearing him to pieces, just absolutely destroying him.

Frank smudged his thumb against Billy's cheek, almost to his nose. He tilted slightly and brushed his mouth, chaste, against Billy's. "Love you." It was barely a whisper of the words, but it felt noisy in the quiet of the apartment.

[theprettymarine]

Hearing it knocked the air out of him. Billy didn't know how to respond, because for so long he'd told himself those words mean fuck all. They come from parents who abandon him or people that want to hurt him or get something from him. But Frank wasn't like any of them, and he knew that

But he still didn't know what to do with those words. He'd been protecting himself from them for a long time.

So he smiled, weak and vulnerable as it was, and tried to laugh. He wanted to make a joke but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to cheapen what Frank just gave him. So he touched their heads together and gave Frank a quiet kiss. It was the best he could do.

[onebatch_twobatch]

It was not a silence of rejection, and so Frank did not recoil or laugh it off or just to smother it. He took the weight and the quiet and held onto it, tucked it gently away. He'd rushed, maybe. Billy wasn't prepared. But he hadn't pushed back.

Frank shifted his arms slightly, pushed Billy bodily to adjust them so he could hold him more comfortably. Billy was taller than him but that didn't matter; he was going to hold him close and put Billy's head on his chest, and Billy was just going to have to deal with it.

"Go to sleep, baby," he murmured. "It's been a long night. I'll still be here when you wake up."

[theprettymarine]

Billy let Frank pull him into place wherever he wanted him. It felt good to rest on his chest, to be held. Frank was bigger than him, even if Billy was taller, and it didn't feel like a threat. It just felt safe. He let himself have that.

"You better be," he said quietly. "Even if I have fuck all for breakfast."

[onebatch_twobatch]

"I'll run to the bodega," Frank assured, only half-awake already, drifting gently. It had been a long night, and he'd woken on just a couple hours of sleep. Maybe he'd sleep through the rest of the night, and maybe not. They'd see. "Once you're awake."

[theprettymarine]

"Yeah, yeah." Billy tried to wave off what any of that meant to him and tried to just settle in. The idea of waking up alone after all this had crossed his mind, and Frank had preempted it as much as he could. So he'd trust it.

He ended up falling dead asleep on Frank's chest. He must have moved just long enough to get a blanket over them at some point, but he didn't remember doing it.

[onebatch_twobatch]

They slept. It was a heavy, long sleep, and when Frank woke, Billy's head was still on his chest and the sun was on the foot of the bed. He was still, quiet. He breathed in the smell of Billy's hair, the sharp smell of his pomade still lingering there.

He ran his fingers gently up and down Billy's spine.

[theprettymarine]

Billy woke slowly under Frank's touch. He felt like he'd slept a hundred years, and like he'd needed it. Frank was warm and solid under him, and he didn't want to move or wake up much more than he had, like it might break some spell.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and tipped his head up a bit.

"Hey, Frankie," he murmured, voice still heavy and a little rough from sleep.

[onebatch_twobatch]

"Hey, Jersey boy," Frank said, a soft laugh. Billy's accent was soft and rolled out and heavy just then, out of control in his mouth, and Frank loved it. He bent down a little bit and kissed his forehead. He didn't go much further, because he had morning breath.

Even though he'd been hoping for all of this to happen, he hadn't packed any sort of overnight bag, and he was feeling a little self-conscious about that now. That was fucking stupid.

[theprettymarine]

"Fuck you," he mumbled lazily, a smile in his voice. He stretched lazily against Frank's side and rolled a little so he could do more without hitting Frank in the face or anything.

"Shit." He yawned, covered his mouth, and yawned again. He looked over at Frank, soft and warm. He was still here; he hadn't disappeared in the night. Then he cracked a grin and lightly nudged Frank's leg. "Pretty sure you promised me breakfast, Frankie boy."

[onebatch_twobatch]

"I did indeed," Frank said, smiling, all smitten and charmed to watch Billy in the early morning light. He didn't want to get out of bed, but he had promised.

It was torture to extract himself from bed when Billy looked that good. He stretched languidly. His shorts had been lost somewhere in the sheets, and he sort of didn't care, as long as he could find his jeans and shirt again.

"You got coffee, or is this a whole grocery run?"

[theprettymarine]

"What I have is not as good as the bodega coffee," he confessed. He looked over at Frank, enjoying the sight of him. Billy rolled closer and crawled to the edge of the bed. He pressed a few lazy kisses to Frank's hip, dangerously close to his cock.

Fuck, he was gone for this man. It wasn't fair.

[onebatch_twobatch]

Frank sighed softly and ran his fingers gently over Billy's hair, cupping the back of his head. He was drawn in when he did shit like that, tempted to climb right back into bed and not get back out.

He'd promised him breakfast, and he would provide. Gently, making a low, suffering noise, Frank pulled away.

"I'll pick something good up," he promised. He found his jeans, and his shirt, and pulled both on without anything underneath. "You're a menace. I'll be back in a bit, yeah?"

[theprettymarine]

"Yeah but you wouldn't know what to do if I wasn't, Frankie boy."

He almost went for Frank's dick, but if he did that, they wouldn't be eating for a while. So he gave his hip one last kiss before he eased back and gave him room to get dressed. Billy enjoyed the view and a grin quirked his mouth when he realized Frank hadn't bothered with shorts.

"I'll be waiting."

[onebatch_twobatch]

Frank wasn't gone long. The bodega was better stocked than the one that he lived nearest to, back in Manhattan, and he was a little jealous about it. He grabbed them enough food to make it through breakfast, and maybe lunch as well if they made it that far, and then headed back to the apartment, half expecting Billy to have fallen back asleep--it was still sort of early--or have slipped into the shower.

In either case, Frank went straight for the little kitchen to start coffee--of course Billy had a French press, and Frank had been banking on that--and eggs.

[theprettymarine]

Billy came out of the shower to the smell of coffee and breakfast. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed out to the kitchen, smiling when he saw Frank there. It felt domestic as fuck, and that was a feeling he'd never thought he'd have.

"Could get used to this," he said with a little grin that felt more vulnerable than he wanted it to. Getting used to things never worked out for him; he was afraid to start now.

[onebatch_twobatch]

Frank smiled at the frying pan and sort of gestured to the French press. He glanced over at Billy, saw the way his skin caught the light for a second, and he was gone. Totally lost. How was he supposed to make it through fifteen months in close quarters with this guy without anyone knowing that he absolutely adored this man?

He'd manage. They'd made it through Basic and SOI. They'd make it through tour.

"I don't think they've got good coffee in the MREs, man," he said. "We might be shit out of luck for the next year. I'll just have to treat you nice when we get back."