Billy Russo (
theprettymarine) wrote2018-07-14 10:22 pm
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[voice test]
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.
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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“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.”
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"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."
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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.”
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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."
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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.
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"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.
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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."
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"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."
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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.
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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.
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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."
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"You better be," he said quietly. "Even if I have fuck all for breakfast."
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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.
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He ran his fingers gently up and down Billy's spine.
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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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?"
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Fuck, he was gone for this man. It wasn't fair.
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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?"
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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."
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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.
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"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.
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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."
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