Backup
Author: wanderingsmith
Started jan 18, 2017
Summary: Goody burnt the coffee
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and
nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As
it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em..
AN: a draft of this was posted on
tumblr a few days ago
"Stop saying I told you so."
Goody rolled his eyes, "I have not said-"
Billy's shoulders flinched, "Ouch!"
Goody's hand stopped immediately and he winced,
"Sorry." Feeling around with his free hand, he
found the borders of the knot that had formed as
he ran the brush down. And had to bite his lip
hard to keep from proving Billy right.
Apparently it didn't matter, seeing as Billy
continued the argument without Goody's input,
"Pins annoying to take out every night. And *you*
insist brush every night."
Rolling his eyes, Goody blindly dipped the brush
in the nearby cup, keeping the knot in the other
hand, "Billy Rocks, don't you dare blame *me* for
your vanity." The water helped the shaky brush get
some traction into the dusty and knotted hair,
"I've told you before I am more than willing to
carefully pin this beautiful mess into a
battle-safe bun every goddamned evening if it will
keep you safe."
Noting the *almost* hunched shoulders, he made
himself relax his own and leaned in to nuzzle a
section he'd already worked back to softness,
tightening his knees to touch Billy's ribs, bare
of the beltfull of metal that usually adorned
them, whispering softly, "You know damned well it
isn't a sacrifice, mon cher."
Billy's grumble didn't concede an inch, "It is
annoying."
Goody's lips quirked at the almost-whine that no
one who met Billy would ever expect, "You *could*
just admit you can't resist seducing me by the
sneaky means of a flick of your wrist releasing
this silken cascade of midnight." And he'd never
needed seducing by this man.
"You spill that burnt coffee?"
"Hum? No, wh-" Goody sniffed, frowning at the
whiff of the undrinkable stuff he'd unfortunately
made while distracted. He glanced to where he'd
abandoned his still mostly full cup near the fire.
And blinked in realization as he looked at the wet
brush he was using, "Err, no. Didn't spill it."
Oh, well. It was working well enough: Billy's hair
was getting back to a healthy shine after being
wild, covered in dust, and filled with knots after
getting loose when he'd not only had to use his
throwing pin, but also the backup that actually
held his hair, in a fight in a very dusty camp
they'd made last night. And Goody'd rather drink
the water he'd prepared for this than the coffee
he'd ruined in his worry.
He heard Billy snicker, "You actually drinking
it?"
Goody rolled his eyes, "No."
One of Billy's hands lifted awkwardly to squeeze
his knee just above his filthy boots, "I'm OK,
Goody."
"I know." He'd never actually been without a
blade; that was better than they'd faced several
times. And he hadn't been actually 'injured', by
surgeon's definition.
But watching him fight with that cloud of hair
hazing his features from Goody's view -and
offering itself as grab-point to his enemies!- had
shaken Goody badly enough that he'd actually
gotten his riffle sights locked on the last couple
of attackers not actually in Billy's range yet.
And his finger had actually managed to squeeze the
trigger before the ghosts caught up with him and
clouded his sight beyond even that loose hair and-
Billy's hand tightened on his knee, no doubt
feeling the shake of the muscles of both Goody's
legs and the hands in Billy's hair, and Goody made
himself focus on the sweetly-shinning, *living*,
hair in front of him.
Slow stroke of the brush. Slow breath. Billy was
fine. Goody'd only shot to defend his lover from
bandits. No owl had hunted them as they rode away
from the fight. They were safe.
He was taking care of Billy's hair. His shaking
hands that couldn't be trusted with anything and
eyes that kept seeing things that were *not real*
were buried in fire-warmed softness he didn't
deserve to be allowed near. But Billy did not
deserve to suffer tangled hair for Goody's sins.
Didn't deserve to waste his life worrying about
Goody.
Oh hell.. what had they been chattering about
before he'd gone back there again?? Oh. Right.
He tried to clear his throat quietly, for all it
was a lost cause to get anything past Billy.
"Don't think I didn't notice you avoiding my
question."
The hand squeezing his knee again was the only
comment to the extended silence, "You talk too
much."
Goody laughed out loud, if a little shakily, at
what amounted to an admission. "Just admit it,
Billy. It won't change anything." Nothing would
change his love for the man. Or his
susceptibility.
"You finish knots?"
"No." He grinned weakly at the impatient sigh that
got.
"Work faster."
"Then you complain it hurts." And he'd take
Billy's annoyance over his pain.
"..I can do myself."
Goody couldn't hold back a snort at that, "You
hate that more than you hate sitting still for
me." And even *that* was putting it mildly!
"..Easier when I have coffee to drink."
The pointed grumble reminded him that he was never
going to hear the end of having failed at his
*one* culinary ability. Not least because Billy
never ceased trying to keep him from sinking back
into self-pity; trying to keep his head on the
level. The least he could do was do his part and
take the ribbing like a man. However, here and
now, the complaint was fair. Goody stopped on the
way to wetting the brush again and pulled out his
flask, taking a slug himself and pausing to feel
the burn before he passed it around Billy's ribs,
"Here."
"Thank y- ow!"
Goody flinched, but made himself talk through it,
knowing damn well Billy wasn't *actually* in real
pain, "Ha. You wanted me to hurry?"
"Shut up."
"Love you too."
Sequel:
Manservant
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