|I Don't Want A Lot For Christmas
Author: IrishFrenchy PM
A little story for Joe and Billy because I didn't want their story to end where it did. Takes place later on, Christmas night... Should I continue this? Billy/ChubsRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Words: 1,253 - Favs: 1 - Published: 03-07-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7903621
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
They didn't really know how it happened, but later on that night Billy and Joe ended up on the couch, watching old Christmas classics. It was nearly ten and the older, gray haired man was beginning to nod out. Rudolf played on the flatscreen in Joe's living room. Finally, Joe cleared his throat and shook is head. Falling asleep was obviously something he didn't have in mind. Besides, if he fell asleep, he might wake up in the morning with obscenities drawn on him, courtesy of Billy Mack.
"What are we, four again?" Bill asked in his heavy English accent, pointing out the cute little reindeer on the screen. They both laughed as they watched the tele. Joe looked over at the blonde haired man next to him. He had since taken off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt a little to get comfortable. A bit of the sunburned skin on his chest showed, teasingly. He sat with his legs crossed, a hand over the ankle of his cowboy boot. The blue color of his satin shirt made his skin seem paler than it actually was, offsetting his sunburn.
Bill looked down at Joe, eyebrows raised. "What?" he asked and a chuckle escaped his lips. "You hungry?" Joe asked him, blushing slightly. He had caught him looking at him, lost in his thoughts with his mind elsewhere. The gray haired man tried to look normal, cool, and took a sip of his beer. "A little," Bill answered. "I could eat. Are you?" Joe groaned as he got up from his leather couch. "I tell you, getting old's a bitch." Bill chuckled at his friend and watched him sigh. "Actually, I am hungry, yeah." Bill watched as Joe walked into his kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out what looked like some leftover pizza.
When Joe closed the fridge door, he saw that Bill had gotten up and walked over to the threshold into the room. "Want some pizza?" the short Irishmen asked. Bill nodded and shrugged. A smirk appeared on his lips as he answered. "That doesn't sound too bad, sure." He ran a hand through his blonde hair, pushing it back messily.
Joe went on to put some pizza into the oven, then he put the rest back into the metallic colored fridge. Bill leaned against the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets. He was quiet for a while, as if he were lost in thought. He was probably pondering lyrics to a new song or something along those lines, Joe thought. He searched the fridge for some salad and grated cheese.
"Look Chubs," Bill said, motioning to the window with a tilt of his head. "It's snowing out." Joe turned his head to see small white flakes coming down, sticking to the pavement. It was dark out, so the snow looked pearly white under the street lamps. "Pretty," Joe commented, nodding in approval. After a moment or so, he sighed. "So, the love of your life, huh? He asked, his Irish brag ever present. Billy was a little taken aback at the sudden question and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment. "Yeah," he answered as he ran his fingers through his hair. It was a nervous habit he did far too much, and he hated it.
Pulling himself from the sudden funk he was in, Bill closed the fridge door coolly with his elbow. "You haven't said anything about what you feel about me, after all these years," Bill said quietly, nearly in a whisper. Joe was suddenly very much aware of their close proximity and it made his heart drum like a jackhammer. He swallowed hard, looking up at the taller man. Bill's brown-gray eyes were settled on his face. "I'm just curious," he said after a while, trying to ease Bill's nerves. His distress was obvious and it made Billy wonder he was thinking, or feeling, rather.
Joe didn't know how to answer so instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Billy's. It was so much easier than giving an explanation that would no doubt take a year to tell. Bill was shocked at first, but then he returned the kiss. His hand found Joe's shoulder as they pulled away for air. For a moment, they just looked at each other. For that one moment, it was just too men, standing in a dark kitchen, trying to catch their breaths. The world didn't seem to matter. "You gonna to tell me what that was for?" Bill asked, eyebrows raised. Somewhere, in some universe, some bro-code had just been broken, but Bill didn't seem to care much.
"Umm," Joe started. "Merry Christmas?" He offered a smile for good measure. "It was easier than just telling you everything. Besides, I'm not really good with words." Billy laughed and rubbed his cheek. "You returned the favor, too," Joe reminded him with a smirk.
Billy let out a breath that he'd been holding and sighed. "Yeah, I did. I rather enjoyed it, actually." He reached out and softly pulled a shocked, bewildered Chubs towards him. He cupped his cheek as he leaned down to kiss him. Everything about the moment was ridiculous and in every way possible, hilarious. Bill kissed him slowly, as if he were testing the waters. Joe reached out for Bill, touching his trim chest.
"You remember that time," Bill began, pulling his lips away from Joe's. The shorter man merely chuckled to himself. "We were at that Van Halen concert, backstage. We were piss drunk." Joe scratched his ear and blushed. "Are you talking about that time that we, umm, had sex in the back of your pickup truck? God, I had the worst hangover the next day…" Bill laughed out loud and sighed. "No, not that time." He laughed again before continuing. "I was actually thinking of the first time we saw Van Halen, the night that it poured like hell out. I caught you with a man. He was tall, Italian. Remember?" Joe nodded, trying to look normal even though, all he wanted to do was run and hide. "You said that it 'wasn't what it looked like.' I thought you two were getting it on."
Joe couldn't help but laugh, even if the sound came out sounding hysterical. "Were you? Getting groovy with the studdish Italian fellow, I mean." Bill asked, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not gay," Joe reassured him. The blonde rock star merely rasied his eyebrows. "I beg to differ. Were you not here a few minutes ago? Was that Tawanda that I just kissed?" He chuckled at his own joke, quite satisfied with himself.
"I meant… Well, I am… For you." Bill immediately stopped laughing and stared blankly at the gray haired man. His jaw fell open. "For me?" he asked, pointing to his chest as if the whole idea was completely absurd.
At that moment, the smoke alarm went off. The two men began to smell burnt pizza and they looked to the smokey oven. "Aw, shit," Joe cursed as he ran over to the oven. He opened the door and a cloud of smoke billowed out and hit him right in the face. He coughed and waved the blackish-gray smoke away. "Do you have the number for a local pizza place?" he asked, turning to Billy. They both just laughed.