Manservant
Author: wanderingsmith
Started dec 31, 2016 - latest update
jan 25, 2017 -
Summary: "How d'y'all meet?"
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: I don't mean to hog the feed...
someone must have dropped carrots around
-shrug-, it'll stop when I have to back to
work and my brain gets re-routed
This one was an old spark off of VillaKulla's
Ashes. I hope the lady will forgive my letting
the bunny out into the 'net...
I tried to keep to a few of the lines of the
scene, albeit with a bit of interpretive
licensing....
Goto Chapter 2
Goto Chapter 3
Goto Chapter 4
Goto Chapter 5
Prequel: Backup
Chapter
one
"Should we talk somewhere more private?"
The boy rubbed him wrong for some reason, and
Goody couldn't help but enjoy his squirmin' at
their oh, so palatial surroundings. "Naw, I like
it right here. Billy," Goody looked at Billy with
a grin, "You like it here?" He felt the grin drop
raggedly when he took the roll-up waiting for him,
returning a grateful hum to Billy's mutter of
general acquiescence with anything Goody rambled
about, and then he made himself pull the grin back
on as he turned back to his waiting audience.
"How d'y'all meet?"
"How *did* we meet, Billy?" He took a slow breath
of the calming smoke as he drank in Billy's
still-hyper features in a quick glance, still
sometimes shocked to have this man at his side.
Come on, Robicheaux, cheer yourself up, man!
"Well, Billy here needed a manservant, and I
needed some money," he shrugged casually as the
gambler choked on his drink and the farmer's mouth
dropped, "Match made in heaven!" When he threw
another quick glance at Billy, those pitch-black
eyes were waiting for him and he got the tiny
twitch that was the man's public smirk. He heard
the farmer give a very disbelieving grunt and
turned to him with a smirk of his own.
"*You're* *his* manservant??"
Sometimes he really wanted to yell at people. But
he kept his mask on, raising his brows in pleased
enthusiasm, "Indeed I am. Collecting his pay from
the ungrateful public, serving meals," he waved in
Billy's direction, knowing that by now the
adrenaline would have settled and he'd be chowing
down. "Trim his beard," he always wanted to add
something about combing that beautiful hair when
he did this play, but never trusted himself to
keep the lust off his face, "Not a bad job." He
had to tone down the smirk to keep the laughter
from escaping at his own joke before he added,
"And he's a kindly employer-"
"You a lousy manservant."
Billy rarely joined in these little shows, and
that comeback almost made Goody choke, but he
carefully slapped the hand with the roll-up to his
heart, throwing a laughing look at the man
watching him as he ate, "I am *hurt*! Why, Billy,
I thought you appreciated all I do for you??" Well
*damn*, he better brace himself; those eyes had
actual *devilry* in them! He'd really enjoyed
getting to hairpin that fool, hadn't he??
"I always have to sharpen your shaving knife and
your food is terrible."
Goody snorted, lips wobbling wildly with laughter,
the stoic digs as old as their partnership. He
pointed the smoke at his 'employer', ignoring the
barber trying to shave *him*, though he saw
Billy's eyes track the knife near his neck, "But I
make the best damn coffee!"
Billy actually rewarded him with a shrug (as well
he should, considering he'd actually begged for
Goody to go out, start a fire and make him a cup
before this morning's work). But then pointedly
shoveled bland, and no doubt overcooked, rice into
his mouth, making Goody's lips twitch to keep a
fond smile to himself.
He heard the gambler give a choked snort before
starting to laugh, but when he turned back to
them, the farmer was back to frowning at him. "Mr.
Chisolm told us to come fetch you. But he didn't
say anythin' about your friend over there."
Goody dropped the grin, eyes narrowing in warning,
"Where I go, Billy goes." The danger in anyone
even hinting at separating them made jitters sneak
past the smoke's calm, almost setting his hand to
trembling again.
"Thought you were his manservant."
The gambler was going to be a problem. Even if it
was lazy laughter, now, there was too much knowing
in those eyes. The jitters got worse, but damned
if he was going to let the bastard win so easy; he
could keep a damn *stare* up. "Where Billy goes, I
go. No difference."
Chapter
two
jan
1, 2017
AN: Joline got me thinking... and had to
write a bit more to the timeline.
Pulling back from the fatherly pats Sam's effusive
welcome had degenerated into, he saw Billy's shape
move in his periphery, almost certainly arguing
with Goody's stubborn horse, and Goody waved
toward him, "Billy Rocks. He's with me." The words
were automatic, used often enough when he for some
reason agreed to accompany people. People who
might know *his* name, but needed reminding that
insults to Billy were insults to their 'great'
Goodnight Robicheaux.
He'd have likely remembered to add to the stark
statement for his old friend, but the half-drunk
gambler beat him to it stiffly, "Sam, ah,
Goodnight, he work for Billy. So Billy came with."
Goodnight was busy shaking his head watching him
just about fall off the horse, and so missed Sam's
first reaction. His second reaction was loud
enough to draw his attention, though.
"Work??" When Goody turned his head, for a moment
feeling his usual fury at people who doubted he'd
'work' for Billy, he instead caught the laughter
on Sam's face and realized this was just Sam,
teasing him as usual.
Shaking his head at the man, he caught sight of
the lady he'd seen behind Sam as they rode in, and
rather than get into his and Billy's relationship
without Billy present, he switched the subject,
"Who's this?"
"We work for *her*."
Goody had to smirk at the irony of that line
before he went to introduce himself as he'd been
taught, hearing the gambler walking up behind him.
"I don't know about that beltfull of pigstickers,
but that Billy can hairpin a fellow real
neat-like."
Goody smirked to himself at Sam's disbelieving
reply of "Hairpin??", toning it down as he called
out to the worried-looking lady.
---
By the time they bivouaced for the night, Goody'd
forgotten the story he'd told Faraday and the
annoying Teddy. A few hours catching up with Sam
and getting the details of their little job, not
to mention exchanging barbs with the two
scoundrels they rode with: it was enough to make
him want a room with a door to be able to breathe
behind.
That not being available, he focused on making
camp. Until he was pulling their cooking supplies
out and he heard the gambler speak up from
somewhere behind him, "Sam, I don't think we want
to be having Goodnight near them there pots; Billy
says he can't cook worth a damn."
Billy happened to be only a foot away, dropping
off his riffle next to Goody's, and Goody actually
heard his snort, giving him a wry glare as Sam's
laughter rang out, "Don't you worry, Faraday, I
wouldn't let Goodnight Robicheaux near anything
but jerky and tack."
Rolling his eyes at the stilted laughter of the
others, Goody took the coffee fixins and both
their riffles and slammed the fixins next to Sam's
fire, planning to ignore the lot of them. Wasn't
like he could deny his cooking wasn't up to
Billy's, let along his mamma's.
He was starting to think Sam was actually going to
let the story go without question, until he had
the water heating up and picked up Billy's riffle
to check over. Then the sarcasm came out. "My my,
it IS nice to see you actually working for once, I
*must* say."
Billy sat down besides him with food that he'd no
doubt make into something edible as Goody looked
up from cleaning the riffle barrel, shaking his
head with a grin, "Sam-"
"No no, I'm proud of you, Goody. Better late than
never, I always say," Goody watched the shining
'pride' shift to sympathy as the pain in the ass
turned to Billy, "However, I can't help but feel
that someone should have warned you, Mr. Rocks,
that southern gentry make *terrible* servants."
"Hey!" Goody shook the riffle, glaring playfully,
"I'm makin' 'im coffee and cleanin' his gun, don't
that count?"
The farmer snickered off to the side, "Hope you
don't pay 'im much."
More laughter rang out as Goody muttered to
himself, wondering if he could pull off a credible
pout. Then Billy's hand landed on his shoulder
with a gentle squeeze, and when he looked over at
him, he got an actual wink, even with the company
around! The always-surprising man even answered
back the hecklers, "Fifty fifty," his eyes stayed
locked to Goody's, the gossamer threads of a smile
on his face that only Goody would see, "Equal
shares."
The fool farmer still didn't catch on, apparently.
"You pay a *servant*-" But Sam thankfully
interrupted him and finally put the story to rest,
"I don't expect they mean servant quite the way
most folks do, Teddy. You have to read between Mr.
Robicheaux's extravagant lines, sometimes."
Goody blinked away from Billy's look, giving Sam a
nod of thanks. He was tired enough not to feel
like spinning another story, tonight; hopefully
Sam's line in the sand would keep things quiet for
a bit.
Billy's shoulder knocking his pulled him back to
his friend just as the whiff of familiar smoke
reached him and he felt his shoulders drop in
relief, reaching for the roll-up Billy'd
automatically lit him, murmuring a soft "Mon
cher", knowing Billy'd read all he really meant on
his face.
With the first draw of smoke coating his lungs, he
calmly turned back to the water starting to boil,
ignoring Sam's watching eyes. He wasn't worried
the warrant officer was going to care about
Goody's private life, let along about the things
Billy'd been forced to do in his past. He might
not plan to open his heart to the man, but he
wasn't going to try to hide, either. And Billy'd
obviously already figured that out.
"Don't burn the coffee."
"Billy!! That was only the damn *once*," Billy's
face was firmly on his pot of stew, but Goody
could see his eyes were looking at him, laughter
in every line of his face, the damn pest! "You
just *see* if I ever shave you again, you
ingrate." he managed to huff as though insulted
and turned to work on the riffle in his lap before
his shoulders started to shake. Damn. If Billy
started joining in like this, he was going to have
his work cut out for him!
"Billy?"
"Umm?"
"Don't forget to sharpen that hairpin. I'd hate
for you to miss out having your fun showing off
with the next idiot we meet." And Goody'd miss out
on his being a hyper bastard like this again!
Chapter
three
jan
15, 2017
AN: enough staring at this, damn it!! ..as
soon as I post I'm going to come up with 10
ideas for making it better... -glares at
annoying chapter-
For all that it was a communal thing and that
Goody was far from the only loquacious fellow of
the bunch, eating supper was on the quiet side.
The little groups that Sam had picked up, each
with their own food, all straggling near the fire.
Mostly eating the same canned beans or stew with
whatever else they had handy, or were inspired to
make. Or barter.
Billy's cornbread, for example, ended up the
object of several attempts at paltry exchange from
Mrs.Cullen and Teddy, as well as
(blade)sharp'ly-deflected thievery from Faraday.
That boy was going to come to a bad end if he
thought he could annoy Billy and not pay the
price.
The rarely-made Southern treat had been learned
during one of their brief associations with former
Louisiana Confederates. And regardless of the
stories Billy tried to bullshit him with ("Way to
use up milk you buy and not finish." indeed!), it
was most assuredly only for a homesick (and
helpless to make for himself) Goody. He'd actually
caught Billy grimacing at the flavour, once, when
he was drunk enough to forget to hide. Goody had
just about bawled like a babe from the surge of
pure affection he'd felt. And had insisted Billy
didn't need to do such things.
They'd compromised on 'occasionnaly as a treat';
which Goody knew meant whenever Billy knew Goody's
weaknesses were under stress.
And so on this company-filled evening, when he'd
seen the makings come out, Goody had brightened up
eagerly, only looking away from the seemingly
simple proceedings when he felt someone come too
close.
Vasquez gave him a careful nod when Goody looked
up at him in polite curiosity, "That stew smell
mighty good, 'Noche," he held out his plateful of
beans, "Been on beans a while. You open to
splitting portions?"
Those so-ordinary beans on offer immediately had
most of Goody's attention, smelling Billy's
cornbread frying up besides him and almost
*tasting* the familiar mix of flavours, but he
managed to stop drooling long enough to give the
Mexican a raised brow, "Noch- ah," Goody grinned,
quick and open, "That's a sweeter-sounding use of
the name than many I heard as a boy." Goody
snagged his empty plate from the pile of supplies
and held it for Vasquez to unload half his meal,
then, after a quick glance to Billy for permission
to touch his pots, refilled the man's plate with
some of the herbed-up dish that had drawn the man.
By the time Vasquez nodded gratitude and sauntered
away to sit against a rock wall, Billy was holding
out a piece of bread to him and Goody barely
remembered to slip half his beans on Billy plate
and 'serve' him some stew with it as well, winking
at Billy's dry look when he was handed a plate
with an ingratiating seated bow; then Goody
blithely ignored the brouhaha as Billy fended off
the vultures from the rest of the bread, and
instead focused on carefully crumbling some of the
treat on his beans and stew, and then sighed in
rare *pleasant* nostalgia at the familiar taste.
The only reason he wasn't piling on his whole
share was that he'd spotted what he was sure was
honey in Billy's bag of treats! Volcano Springs'
general store must have made a pretty penny off
his man while Goody packed them up after he and
Faraday had killed a bottle of rotgut under
Teddy's disapproving eye and Billy's
pretending-to-sleep ones.
Billy's pre-supper smoke and well-planned surprise
had eased enough of his tension from the day and
the danger on the horizon that Goody had quotes
and stories bubbling up as he licked the honey and
crumbs from his fingers. He was entirely content
to take up his role and liven up the stilted
evening a bit with Billy sitting reassuringly
close by his side, idly sharpening that cheap
knife that was all Goody could get him when they
had that unpleasant spell in the Dakotas. Why he
still carried that thing with the rest of the fine
arsenal he now had...
He stopped and snapped his fingers in the middle
of describing the first time Billy'd gone and
thrown a knife against some loudmouthed rancher's
gun, turning from the general direction of the
gambler who seemed to appreciate Billy's skills
toward his old friend, observing silently, as
usual. "Sam, I always meant to write you about
this find I made in Galveston, but I don't think I
ever did. Even translated, it's heartfelt and
practical," he grinned at Sam's rolled eyes, "Knew
*you'd* love it. How did that one- oh yes! 'My
words are like a ship-" Now, Goody knew damned
well that Billy was perfectly capable of cleaning
his own firearms, yet as he put his knife away, he
still handed Goody his Colt -along with an
unsubtle dig in the ribs-, not even a line into
Goody's recitation of a bit of Rumi! And it wasn't
that Goody couldn't clean and load a gun in his
sleep while reciting *Hamlet*, even, but he had to
stop and give his man a suspicious frown for just
how often the timing lined up. One of these days
he might start believing Billy didn't like poetry.
Since he knew for a pleasantly-proven fact that
his *voice* wasn't objected to.
Giving up on Billy's best blank look when the man
got up, Goody reached for the cleaning supplies
he'd set aside so recently, and for the hundredth
time or so in a decade, he wished he could get his
hands on some Korean books. Though the time they'd
gone through Galveston and Goody'd found that
good-sized bookseller with the rare treasures, the
look he'd gotten for his request had been...
*interesting*. And discouraging; seems he might as
well have asked for books written by the man on
the moon!
"Lose your ship, 'Noche?"
Goody looked up at the taunt and blinked at the
circle of eyes watching him curiously. Damn. His
hand twitched on his bag even as he pulled his
crowd-grin back on. He was too damn used to camp
chatter with Billy where he would simply cut off
the repeat of a story when Billy pulled his
attention. The group had been too quiet to keep
him in proper saloon-crowd mode.
"My apologies gentelmen, Mrs. Cullen. I'm afraid
duty calls," he winked at Sam as he stood to turn
toward the man waiting for him silently at the
edge of the trees, "Rumi's heartfelt lines have
waited several hundred years to be enjoyed by your
ever so humble selves, a 'Buenas Noche' of labour
for my fellow man will only lend my heart a deeper
understanding of them that I can then impart-" He
chuckled to himself at the groan he suspected was
from Faraday.
"He better clean your gun really good for that
fifty fifty share."
Goody almost turned at the farmer's half-laughing
half-snide call, until he noticed the wrinkle next
to Billy's eyes just before he turned to walk away
from camp without bothering with a reply. Goody
followed the internally-laughing pest after
shouting back to the *outright*-laughing jackals,
"Gotta make up for being a lousy manservant
*somehow*!"
The hollow they'd camped in sent the annoying
Teddy's voice following him as he went uphill
after his man. "What are they doing?"
Goody had to strain his ears to catch the
gambler's lazy reply, "Well, Teddy, seeing as
Billy was carrying their shaving gear, I'd say
Billy's gonna sharpen himself another blade, and
at least of 'em 's gonna get shaved."
"I just don't see payin' a-"
"Teddy!" Goody grinned to himself at the fair
lady's exasperated tone, even as it faded with
distance, "He doesn't *pay* him! They're obviously
*partners*."
Billy led him off a merry way through the
unpleasantly dark woods, but it was worth it when
Goody saw the little clearing well out of
voice-range of their comrades that the man'd
somehow found.
He made himself shrug back into its corner the
tension that had crept between his shoulders,
instead focusing gratefully on Billy as he sat
down in a patch of moonlight and set the cloth
holding their shaving gear down with his hat. Also
setting down a cup, likely with water warmed by
the fire; and Goody snorted softly, remembering
the time he'd been a little inattentive and had
ended up dipping a brush in his abandoned cup of
that unfortunate burnt coffee instead of the water
he'd been using to work through knots. It had
worked well enough, mind you!
Certainly better than it had gone down the
gullet...
Coming closer, Goody raised the Colt he'd
automatically carried with him, though his eyes
followed Billy as he took his throwing pin out,
"Were you actually wanting me to clean this for
you?"
Billy grinned at him, teeth flashing with the
light surrounding him, "You say you my servant,
but tell me to sharpen my pins. *You* clean guns."
Goody hummed agreeably, distracted as the second
pin came out and a slick, black waterfall uncoiled
down Billy's back. He might believe a different
man had picked his spot carelessly. Billy, on the
other hand, knew every one of Goody's weaknesses.
And watching moonlight shine on that midnight hair
had been known to reduce him to a moan.
That he knew Billy's showmanship was as at play by
deliberately travelling with an unsecured knot so
he could casually do this to Goody as Goody's had
resulted in the birth of their manservant gig only
made him love the subtly flamboyant bastard more.
There'd been a time or three that Billy'd ended up
fighting off unfriendly fellow travellers of the
West with his hair getting in the way of his
knives, but he'd yet to admit that it wasn't a
sure thing that he could get through a whole fight
without needing to use that second pin. At least
he no longer argued wearing the knucklebusters
Goody'd gotten him; even when they weren't walking
into a fight.
The gun, supplies, and his hat, went on the grass
near Billy's hand, where those beautifully carved
steel pins already waited for the touch of a
sharpening stone, and Goody carefully slipped to
his knees on the hard ground, his fingers
immediately sliding into the soft silk on offer as
Billy dropped his head forward to splay it out. He
signed out a long breath of ease, murmuring low so
as not to interfere with Lady Moonlight's magic,
"Have I ever told you, mon cher, that your hair is
softer than the softest silk?"
"Yeah, you have."
Goody smiled to himself, hearing the affectionate
dry humour in the words, and leaned in to brush
his rough cheek against the slightly dusty
strands, "Well, it's still true." Damn that hair
really was so damn soft! He could sit here all
night, just remembering all the times it'd been
stroked over his bare skin. His collarbone, or
that spot just below his shoulder blades that sent
him gibbering-
He felt a gentle knock against his thigh, "Just
brush it out, Goody, and then I shave your
cheeks."
With utmost reluctance, Goody pulled his fingers
out of their little piece of Heaven to slide them
slowly along Billy's rough digits to take the
familiar handle of his favourite boar brush, and
then sat back enough to work. "And what, pray
tell, do you have planned that my rough cheeks
would interfere with?"
"Riding tomorrow and not listening to you complain
about itchy skin."
Goody snorted at the carefully-spoken, too-true
dig, static creating a halo around his lover, no
matter how careful the first stroke of his brush.
He'd watched his sisters do this for each other,
evenings when they were all young; just as well
he'd paid attention, considering Billy's lack of
care for anything but his martial abilities, when
they'd first met. It had taken some mighty sweet
talking on his part to convince the man to let
Goody take the long passes from scalp to tip, over
and over, with anything like the grace he freely
gave every knife practise. At first he'd barely
get a handful of minutes in before Billy'd shrug
him away with muttered Korean that Goody didn't
doubt had been extremely rude. Distracting him by
talking his ear off had helped, some, or using the
time to have him teach Goody some of his
confounding tongue, but it was only after Goody'd
admitted just how arousing he found the act that
he was allowed to spend all the time he liked
bringing a healthy shine and softness to the whole
mess.
It wasn't remotely safe for them to do anything
more than this anywhere near the camp, and he
*would* be miserable if he had to ride with two
days of whiskers on his cheeks. But...
"I could take my time now and shave my own cheeks
tomorrow."
Moonlight rippled as Billy's shoulder shook with
laughter, "Tomorrow, you have to trim my beard."
Oh wouldn't THAT just make the farmer, and Sam, go
on! "Tempting."
"Thought you'd like it."
Billy's hair wasn't that bad after just a couple
days; he was already letting Goody pet him much
longer than he needed to. Which Goody knew was
mostly for the sake of his nerves, but he wasn't
about to complain. Not least because he knew Billy
enjoyed this ritual plenty himself, nowdays.
Neither of them were fully comfortable in company
other than each other, anymore, regardless of
Goody's practiced patter.
The moon had shifted away from them by the time he
couldn't pretend to be doing anything but
caressing, anymore, and finally set down the
brush. Unwilling to give up being together just
yet, he wrapped his arms around Billy's sides,
resting his face on the clean strands that would
soon get coiled up into a safe, unnoticeable bun
under Billy's hat.
"We should finish up, Goody. Water get cold."
"I know." But neither of them moved, even if
Goody's knees were starting to complain and
Billy's patience with sitting still and listening
to crickets was no doubt long gone.
A gloved hand finally settled on his knee, "A few
more nights and we be in a town and have a room."
"Ummm. Lovely thought." He further rewarded the
gentle words by nosing into the collar of Billy's
shirt to brush his beard against the warm skin and
drop a kiss that tasted of the sweat from their
hasty travels, "*You* are lovely."
He fully expected the snort that shook his armful.
"You want to put it up?"
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"I only used spare. You use other so I work
without annoyances."
"One man's annoyances-"
"Are another's sex toys." Goody was gently shifted
back when Billy turned to give him a firm look,
invisible as his actual eyes were in the darkness,
"But not tonight."
This time he *did* pout, knowing he had no
credibility to lose, here, "Oh fine. Give me that
weapon you so enjoy laying your head on, and I'll
practice being a good manservant."
Instead of handing him that dangerous piece of
metal, Billy rose to his knees and turned around,
golden skin veiled in long strands of darkness,
hands with their rough gloves coming up to cup
Goody's jaw, the tilt and lean to kiss as familiar
as breathing.
It wasn't safe. But damned if he'd say no to a
kiss before going to sleep alone.
Sitting back on his heel and letting Billy take
this anywhere he chose, his hands low on Billy
back, knuckles tickled by more of the same silk
surrounding their faces. Slide and tug of lips,
glide of tongue, slow and tender; on the edge of
arousing.
When Billy pulled back, it was with a low swear
word, beating Goody to the complaint, "Not
tonight."
Letting the man pull back and reach for the
shaving supplies, Goody sat himself down more
comfortably, watching those smooth, economical
movement with a soft smile. "Thank you for the
cornbread."
Cloth, wet with lukewarm water landed on his
cheeks without his words being acknowledged. "Hold
that."
Goody was tempted to point out that the little
shaving he required could have easily been done at
the same time as Billy's (unnecessary) trim, but
Billy laid a finger on his lips, "Why say you trim
beard and never say brush hair?" Billy gave him
the delightful wicked smirk reserved only for him,
"Too much truth?"
Goody gave him a teasingly fulminating glare, "Oh
now don't you try. You know very well why! It
would be utterly obvious to anyone looking at me
just what I want to do with your hair." He counted
it a victory to see that pleased, wide-open grin
flash at him again in response.
"You mean what *I* do with hair."
Goody's laugh cracked out, his grin matching
Billy's tooth for tooth, "Yes. That."
Watching Billy's continuing happy smile as he took
the cloth away and started to water-shave Goody's
cheeks with a blade that he kept so sharp Goody
had to steel himself to use it with his damned
hands, these days, Goody couldn't help but wish
that others saw this man the way that *he* got to.
The open teasing and caring. The tender fire in
his heart and the laughing light in his soul. He
was the unworthiest lucky bastard to be the *one*
man it was given to. If he *could* cook, he would
gratefully serve Billy a five course feast every
day. If he thought Billy would let him get away
with it, he'd do his laundry and brush his horse.
As it was, he tried his best to make sure Billy
knew how precious he was.
When the blade was done one of his cheeks, he
drawled softly, "You look 10 years younger when
you smile, you know."
Billy replied with a distinct smirk as he started
the other side, "And you look 10 years older."
With that blade gliding on his skin, all Goody
could do for a reply was to widen his eyes, at
least until Billy was done. Then he grabbed the
man's shirt collar, careful not to pinch skin, and
grinned as he jerked his still-smirking lover
close, knowing Billy'd have the knife away from
either of them. He lowered his voice into a low
rumble, the laughter shaking it nullifying any
attenpt at a threat, "Are you implying, Billy
Rocks, that I'm robbin' the cradle by doing this?"
There was nothing slow or tender, this time.
Tongue and teeth, and even a growl, just to hear
Billy make that snicker that would turn into a
giggle if Goody put some effort into it. Instead
he sucked his tongue for long enough to get a moan
and called it a victory, even if his own trousers
were unpleasantly tight, now. Goody reluctantly
pulled out of the kiss with a last lick along
teeth, and they sat, Goody's grip loose, staring
at each other, breathing deep and, really, simply
enjoying the fire that was still between them
after all these years.
"No. Implying you old enough to be Granpa."
Goody snorted loudly, grin coming back, "Well
then, regardless of your pretty face, mon amour,
so are you."
Billy shrugged, unconcerned, and pulled back to
clean and sharpen the blade before he put their
supplies away, and finally reached for one of his
re-purposed throwing darts to hand to Goody,
"Hair. Old men need sleep."
"Just for that I'm tempted to say do it yourself."
He caught the edge of rolled eyes as Billy turned
his back to Goody, "Pigs fly before you say no to
putting hands in my hair."
Damn. Goody took the pin and absently reached to
pull into a ponytail all but the strands Billy
liked loose around his face for his vanity. "You
are entirely too full of yourself, Billy Rocks." A
few loose loops around the root of the tail and he
absently pushed the pin up from the bottom, then
spun it to point down and clinched off the knot by
pushing through the loops and trapping a strand of
the top layer. Every move long since memorized,
every shift and texture of the strands as familiar
and expected as running a comb through his own
hair.
"Rather be full of *you*."
Goody smirked through the jolt of lust that
thought sparked, "You said not tonight. Get that
pin sharpened while I clean your *public* gun; and
then we can sleep and get one day closer to some
privacy."
"After you wash dishes."
"Billy!"
AN:
1) Raw milk changes flavour at room
temperature with time but does not immediately
go bad 'The time it takes your milk to
clabber, or become sour from the lactic acid
naturally produced, can be anywhere from 1-5
days',
so I reckon it's possible
they could find a bit of milk and have it a
few days after they leave a town
2) Rumi (wiki says there
was a translation in 1881... I'm going to
pretend that that means there could have been
some around in 1879 that just weren't famous
enough to make wiki)
My words are like a ship
and the sea is their meaning.
Come to me and I shall take
you to the depths of spirit.
3) Buenas noche = spanish
for good night
Chapter
four
jan
24, 2017
AN: - writer gets stuck with notion and
sticks stubbornly to it. -shrug-, thank
fontainebleau for the translations not being
only in the notes at the end of chapter. after
feedback of 'keep it closer', I remembered
texts that would list references at the end of
paragraphs.. that seemed a good compromise
(translating in the paragraph made me
grumble...). I hope it doesn't take away from
hte story for you.
- I know no korean
whatsoever. google translate, fed into NAVER
for confirmation, with villa-kulla having
graciously checked some of it, is all I claim
as 'beta' for the translations. experts can
feel free to offer correction.
Following Billy back to camp, Goody saw him
stiffen as they got in sight of the dying fire and
had his hand on his Colt before he even felt the
adrenaline spike. But Billy's steps never
hesitated, and before Goody could decide to throw
himself backward on the off chance he'd been
missed by whatever was wrong, he caught sight of
just what was up and relaxed. At least as far as
letting go of his gun.
"Billy-"
"I'm fine."
They'd laid their bedrolls consciously away from
each other, the way they always did when with a
group. Unfortunately, the hollow wasn't that big,
and Teddy and Faraday had ended up setting up..
not *near* Billy, but.. certainly nearer that he'd
have chosen. Than people generally dared get to
him. And on top of that, the dammed rock walls
were echoing the sounds of five people sleeping.
Billy's hand touched his shoulder to pull Goody's
admittedly tense attention, and he gave him a
small smile of reassurance, murmuring, "I'm fine
Goody,"
Goody nodded jerkily, not believing him for a
second. But there was nothing to be done without
starting a great many more comments, this time
aimed at Billy rather than himself, which Goody
would never risk.
With a last look and nod, Billy calmly, though
noisier than his usual cat-footing in deference to
jumpy companions, made his way past Sam to his
blanket on the other side of the fire, and Goody
gave his own nest a scathing look. Damned rock and
its echo. Maybe being next to it would keep his
own restless sleep from disturbing anyone. At
least it was only Sam on his other side.
Giving up the useless mental grumble, he turned to
get their supper dishes, only to stop when he
found them neatly stacked. Already clean. Uh. He
glanced at Sam's sleeping form. Looks like he owed
someone a favour. Or someone was feeling guilty
and felt they owed *him*. He gave the thought up
as a waste and laid himself down on his beddings.
Working the 'meditation' that Billy had tried to
teach him over the years, he built up the spinning
dancer he used as his focus, lovingly smoothing
each of his features into place, teaching himself
that the rustling forest and snoring company that
kept trying to interrupt were not dangerous. And
hastily shoving away the more familiar clouds of
darkness that tried to alight in him.
Eventually, he slept.
"NAGA!"(1)
(1) GET OUT!
..And woke with an adrenaline-fuelled jerk,
instincts for only an instant trying to have him
obeying the scream to get out by running. But
practised reflexes won with a rough yell,
"Myung-yong!" and sent him flying over the
too-many things laying between him and the dim
coals and on to Billy's form, jerking to sitting
from what had no doubt been some nasty thrashing,
still whimpering and likely ready to run even as
Goody reached him.
He knew better than to actually touch Billy's
panic-stiff arms, though he held his hands out
near, the trick of stopping his uncontrolled leap
-why the hell had he been so far away??- in time
one that was getting harder with the years. Just
as shouting right on waking took effort,
"Gwenchana! Gwenchana, jagiya!"(1)
(1) It's ok! It's ok,
darling!
He was *aware* of the knives dangerously near his
throat and chest as those unnaturally-huge eyes
stared at him without real awareness, mutters of
"Geudeul-iogoissda..."(1)
still trying to send everyone away from a
long-past danger; uncomprehending, if they even
heard, his rendition of either name *or*
reassurance. But he would never let that stop him
offering every comfort he could. "Neoneun nawa
hamkkeissda, neoneun *anjeonhada*. Saranghae."(2) That last was one
word at least that he knew he'd taught himself to
actually pronounce perfectly, and there was
finally a flicker of focus toward him as Billy
continued to pant, the knives pulling back into
position to keep him at bay rather than attack.
(1) They are coming... (2)
You're with me, you're *safe*. I love you.
On his knees next to Billy's feet, his hands held
out non-threateningly, he kept their eyes locked
and kept talking, every variation he could
remember on the same theme, Billy's silence his
first step to awareness. Even after all this time
he had to work to try to speak remotely right when
his heart was pounding and his tongue thick, his
mind stubbornly trying to put sharp edges where it
should flow, rolling what should be sharp,
"Neoneun na-ege anjeonhada. Nan yeogi iss-eoyo.
*Saranghae*."(1)
Billy's blades started to lower, moonlight
flashing on the edges, as the confusion of trying
to understand Goody brought him further into the
present, and Goody dared to carefully shuffle
closer and raise his hands, not stopping until
they settled with familiar ease along Billy's
smooth jaw, close enough, now, that he could see
rising emotions flowing over shadowed skin. That's
it, my love, hear me; I'll keep you safe. "Neoneun
*jayu*. Nan yeogi iss-eoyo. Neoleul *neomu*
salanghae."(2)
(1) You're safe with me. I'm
here. *I love you*. (2) You're *free*. I'm
here. Love you *so much*.
His words choked in gratitude as he felt Billy
lean into his touch rather than jerk away as he
sometimes did, seeing dark eyes widening, this
time with blessed recognition. Goody made himself
keep talking, down to a gravelly mumble that he
knew Billy would barely understand even on a good
day, "Uliga hamkke issseubnida. Anjeonhan.
Saranghae, Myung-yong. Saranghae."(1)
(1) We're together. Safe. I
love you, Myung-yong. I love you.
*His* Billy's head dropped with a quiet moan of
old exhaustion, his knives entirely lowered, his
forehead finding its familiar spot on Goody's
shoulder, and Goody released his hold with a
ragged sigh to let him settle, one hand curving
gently into bundled hair, the other smoothing over
rock-hard shoulders, his own head dropping tiredly
to rub their cheeks together gently. Ready to
crouch in the painful position until kingdom came
if that was how long it took, muttering the same
mantra of safety and love over and over, "Ulineun
anjeonhada. Saranghae."(1)
He was awake enough, now, that the once-foreign
words felt as familiar as the good bayou French
he'd grown up with. As loaded with memories and
emotions, all of them wrapped around the man now
weakly leaning on him and needing his soothing
touch and his care as much as Goody always needed
Billy's.
(1) We're safe. I love you.
With Billy on the way to calm, and his own pulse
settling, Goody's awareness ballooned back outward
with a dizzying whoosh and he felt movement too
damn near for safety and tightened his arms in
protection before he turned his head, reality
crashing in on him. Sam. The gambler and the
farmer.. Almost immediately, before Billy's raw
nerves tore him out of Goody's arms, Sam caught
his eye from his crouch just past Teddy's empty
blankets and gently waved his hands up and down in
reassurance. There were damn few people Goody
would believe so easily, but Sam he trusted; and
so he wrapped himself back around Billy, hurriedly
renewing his mutters, "Gwenchana, Myung-yong!
Anjeonhan! Ulineun anjeonhada. Naneun maengse."(1)
(1) It's OK, Myung-yong!
Safe! We're safe. I swear.
He stayed aware enough, now, to know Faraday was
still on Billy's other side, sitting tense but
still, and the others awake, no snores echoing,
but also not coming near. Not saying a word over
Goody's mutters. He intensely disliked their
exposed position, but as long as Sam said they
wouldn't be attacked, taking care of Billy came
first. They'd deal with the backlash as necessary;
at least he reckoned with Sam here, they'd ride
away with the supplies they'd rode in with. He
only had to keep Billy safe.
"Goody." The mutter was rough from whatever hell
his dreams had taken him to, but Goody knew his
name in that accent, no matter how thick, and took
a long, shaky breath of relief to hear it,
tightening his hold as his words dried up, knowing
his lover had made his way back to him.
Billy carefully raised his head and met Goody's
eyes, strain still visibly draining his face of
its usual hard-earned peace, a flare of the coals
sending dancing sunset across his cheeks and the
shadows under his eyes like a splash of
yellowy-blood, "Nae salang."(1)
(1) My love.
Goody tried to smile back, "Saranghae, Billy;
yeong-wonhi."(1)
They weren't words he could ever say with an
audience; and even speaking in tongues left him
feeling exposed, now that he remembered the people
around them, knowing he hadn't shielded his heart.
But these were some of the rare times that Billy
actually seemed to need, *want*, words and
promises, and he wasn't about to deny him.
(1) I love you, Billy;
forever.
They both flinched at more movement besides them,
this time swivelling shoulder to shoulder on
Teddy, reappearing from wherever he'd gone when
Goody had probably come close to trampling him,
Billy's knives back up and Goody's hand fumbling
as it wanted a riffle and settled on his Colt.
"Easy, Goodnight."
Goody raised his eyes to Sam, still crouched
watchfully nearby, and finally noticed, with the
movement, the gear that Teddy held out. *His*
gear, he confirmed with a squint at his now empty
spot on the other side of the fire. When his eyes
got back to Teddy, the farmer nodded to his
blankets near Billy and set his armful down before
warily picking his own supplies up, muttering
uncomfortably but without disgust, "You coulda
just said you needed to be near to serve him."
Blinking at the boy's continued nonsense, however
handy it was, right now, Goody ran a tight look
over the rest of the gang. Emma, laying against
another rock wall, beyond Sam's crouch, nodded
with hat no-nonsense firmness of hers and curled
back into her nest as Teddy made a spot nearby. He
turned to look at Faraday, sitting on his beddings
and giving him and Billy a wary look, but Goody's
experience insisted it was aimed at Billy's
jerking awake with knives that Faraday knew he
could throw rather than anything else; he still
kept up his stare until the man rolled his eyes
and laid back down, though Goody suspected he kept
one eye on them. Vasquez, apparently having never
got up from his tense rest beyond Faraday, gave
him a bored shrug and nodded past him at Billy
before dropping his hat back over his eyes to
pretend to sleep.
He heard Sam get up and no doubt make his way back
to his own abandoned bed, and Goody looked at
Billy. Even if the group was fine with them
sleeping near each other, that still left them all
in a small space. But Billy shook his head and
shifted to lay back down, so Goody nodded
acquiescence and moved to spread his blankets
within an inch of Billy's.
He kept his fingers close enough to feel Billy's
warmth; and stayed awake, keeping up an easy rub
between the back of his fingers and Billy's, which
would keep Billy from sleeping too deep. They were
both going to be wiped out when they got that
room. Which was unfortunate.
AN:
If it was not clear ('cause that'd hardly be
the first time I wasn't as clear as I thought
I was), Myung-yong is Billy's original name,
in this AU.
Chapter
five
jan
25, 2017
AN: I'd meant to post this at the same time
as the last, but.. things went a little awry,
-shrug-
Jerking up suddenly out of sleep, Billy had a
blade in his hand and was desperately looking for
danger through terrifyingly groggy eyes when he
felt Goody's familiar callused fingers touch his
cheek; stilling the muscles getting ready to
fight. Blinking quickly, he turned to the man
sitting up besides him, moving stiffly but looking
at him with un-injured reassurance. Keeping the
focus on his lover's trusted eyes, Billy lowered
his weapons as scattered memories of the night
before slammed back into his awareness. Damn. He
made himself slowly look around again in the dull
early-morning light, and immediately found Chisolm
crouched unmoving across the fire, watching him
carefully. The pan in his hand probably having
made the sound that woke Billy.
"Joesonghabnida." He knew the mutter wasn't
properly sincere as he reluctantly put his knives
away, but it was the best he could do. Even if
this was probably the second time he'd drawn
weapons on their fellow travellers.
"Sorry?"
Billy was frowning up at Chisolm for the
repetition when he heard Goody snort besides him;
sounding tired, to his practised ear, "That'd be
what he said, as well, Sam."
Billy kept a flinch at the slip buried by checking
the rest of the camp for more people he'd scared
without actually meaning to, but Sam and Vasquez
seemed the only ones near, at the moment, and the
Mexican was apparently focused on inspecting the
boot in his hand.
Goody patted his shoulder before getting up, "I'll
get coffee going in a minute, cher. We both need
it."
Nodding agreement, Billy deliberately drew his
cloak of public stoicity around himself as Goody
left the camp to answer the call. And then, with
harshly-forced calm, went to sit on the log near
Goody's old friend. The more pieces of last night
came to him, the grimmer his thoughts went.
Strangers were annoying enough on a normal day;
they'd make life even more unpleasant with having
seen him so weak. He should have known better and
stayed awake. Or camped separately; or agreed when
Goody-
"I don't know a word of Chinese, but I could still
hear Goody's accent butchering whatever he was
trying to say."
Billy tensed, barely keeping it from showing,
hyper aware and ready to fight as he slowly turned
to look at Chisolm. Only to find him watching him
with a perfectly casual calm. Even under Billy's
narrow-eyed stare, his eyes stayed clear and
without judgement. Not a trick many could manage.
Especially for the long minutes Billy held it.
He heard Goody's familiar steps coming back before
he gave in and answered the silent question. "When
I wake from the nightmares," he shifted his gaze
blindly off past the man's shoulder, seeing rough
curving darkness rather than the early morning
forest, "My mind is far in the past. When hearing
anything but Chinese or Korean was cause for.."
Cries and shouts. The stink of fear and death and
every terrible thing that could happen to a body
between the two.
He slowly met Sam's eyes, surprised at himself for
suddenly being willing to trust the man, for all
Goody'd sung his praises for years. "Hearing
English makes the panic worse, no matter the
words," he turned his head to find Goody, now
practising his usual charm on Mrs. Cullen near her
pack, Teddy furtively watching them from next to
his rolled blankets, "There are times I do not
remember how to *understand* English."
"Goody's Chinese-"
Billy turned to him and interrupted mildly,
"Korean." The last time -*only* time- he'd made
that distinction before had been to Goody; long,
long ago, now. But it seemed a day for new things.
He watched Sam's brows fly up in nothing but
curiosity with reluctant admiration for that being
the limit of his reaction.
"When stressed, Goody's Korean is worse than his
English, yes," Billy deliberately allowed his lip
to twitch up to share the knowledge that their
mutual friend relished his Southernly thrashing of
the tongue he shared with Yanks, and was rewarded
when Sam snorted, the flash of teeth a silent
agreement. Shrugging, Billy continued more
seriously, hearing Goody approaching and, as
always, feeling a layer of tension fade with it,
"And when I wake, I do not remember the months of
practise it took for me to understand his accent.
But it is not English and I can understand enough
to recognize he means no harm until my mind wakes
properly." Enough to recognize someone that was
claiming to care for him, even if the man was a
stranger. The shock of a stranger saying they
loved him was sometimes more than he could
rationalize, but remembered hatred and fear were
hard to maintain in the face of Goody's voice and
eyes.
Billy looked down, knowing Goody would be looking
back as his lover wordlessly crouched next to him
with the makings for coffee, closer than he
normally would in company, closer than he had
yesterday. But considering the show they'd put on
last night, Billy agreed it wasn't worth starving
themselves here. He tilted his knee enough to
press against Goody's shoulder in approval and
thanks, the quick grin he got in return adding
itself to the thousands in his memory that kept
him warm, and then got up to take a piss of his
own.
As much as he knew Billy could more than take care
of himself, Goody'd been glad to find him calm and
apparently having some sort of actually *two*-way
conversation with Sam. He still thought they might
be better off giving their excuses and moving on,
and that they'd be met with sighs of relief for
the offer; most decent folks not appreciating the
company of crazy men who drew weapons in their
sleep. Though Emma had actually seemed *more*
welcoming when he'd stopped to say good morning.
Made a long-silent part of him want to help her.
"I have to admit, if I expected someone to jerk me
awake, I would have thought it would be you."
Goody grimaced, not looking over as he opened
their coffee tin; not needing to say aloud that
what Sam remembered was still true. It was only a
matter of time before it'd be Goody shouting or
screaming in the wee hours if they stayed with
Sam's little gang. The jitters that had left him
alone as he watched over Billy's sleep stirred at
the reminder of just *why* they were travelling
with company.
He'd learned the lesson well and kept his
sleep-deprived and rattled attention on getting
their coffee started before trying to comment. But
then continued to stare into the flames as he
debated what it was his place to say.
"Mr. Rocks mentioned why you were butchering yet
another language."
In spite of the tension, Goody snorted, smirking
back at the still too-damned-astute man, "Billy
doesn't mind." Not that he hadn't *tried* to learn
to speak the language right, for Billy's sake.
There were so few things that Billy needed,
compared to Goody's general lack of usefulness. He
was *good* at languages, once upon a time! Billy
was far better reason than family tradition to go
learning a new tongue, but that had yet to be
enough for Goodnight to not make his man laugh
softly when he tried to say sweet nothings in
Korean.
Sam rolled his eyes at him, holding up his hands,
"I don't want to know this, Goodnight."
And Goody's good mood froze automatically at the
implication, jitters sending fight or flight ice
flashing through his veins until Sam's steady gaze
burned through the reaction, his hands still up,
eyes calm.
"At ease, Goodnight."
Goody grimaced at Sam's gentle tone, disgruntled
with the way his pulse still galloped faster than
a damned horse. He really *was* getting old if
missing a night's sleep was enough to make him
forget the man Sam was.
He tried to fake a casually-raised brow when Sam
leaned closer, his voice dropping to a barely
audible mutter, "Teddy seems to have enough
romanticized notions of the duties of a servant to
write off any slips. You'll have to watch
yourselves, as I'm sure you always do, in town,
but the rest of *these* people aren't going to
make trouble, Goodnight."
Goody snorted weakly, muttering back, "You better
hope not. Billy tends to throw first when he
thinks we're being threatened."
"Hairpins?"
The memories attached to that word were enough for
Goody to brush off the remnants of his reaction
and find a bit of a fond smile, "Along with
anything else that'll take an edge; but yes, he
thoroughly enjoys aweing people with that trick."
Sam grinned, "Including you?"
The sudden memory of watching Billy's, at the time
far-too-slight, body flickering almost too fast to
follow across that saloon, not-quite-white shirt
come loose from workman-loose black pants and
making a wing behind his every move. Ragged
feathers of hair flying with every whip of his
head from target to target. Carrying too few
knives and no gun, knuckles dripping blood as he
used broken glass, cutlery, and knives taken from
the men attacking him. Face barely showing mild
annoyance through the absolute concentration.
Goody'd been frozen halfway to rising to intervene
when the rowdy idiots had started to make trouble,
his mouth indeed dropped in awe at the exquisite
whirlwind.
He snapped out of the memory when Sam started
chuckling, and could only shrug at the amused grin
being aimed at him. 'Awed' was a very incomplete
understatement.
Sam's smile faded to a more searching look, "And
does he often wake up looking for targets?"
Goody narrowed his eyes in quick protective
annoyance, but then forced himself to breathe it
out. It was a fair question. And Billy *had*
obviously spoken to him already. "Not often. I'm
the one that usually shortens our sleep." He
ignored Sam's sympathetic grimace, turning to look
at his gently steaming water; he wasn't in the
mood to go into his own demons, right now. They
were quiet enough that he'd rather avoid spooking
them as long as he could. "Feeling surrounded with
people when he sleeps. Brings out old buried
memories." He didn't add that even awake the man
was tense when surrounded. Goody knew damned well
that that slightly-forced swagger of Billy's was
from more than his natural flamboyance; was his
way of holding an image as a shield against the
world and against his own tension. A match and a
perfect foil to Goody's not-*always*-real
extravagant storytelling. Certainly more effective
than when Goody tried to force hatred to take his
body and ended up riding an equally scared wildcat
instead.
"..Ah." Goody glanced up, unsurprised, now, to
find nothing but calm acceptance, watching Sam
relax and finally turn his attention to finishing
his fry bread, tone turning to idle curiosity now
that he'd gotten the information he wanted,
"Korean sounds like it would have taken a while to
learn."
Goody nodded, pulling the pot off the heat to pour
Billy a cup as he heard the man finally start down
the slope behind him, "It did. More'n a dozen
years and I still couldn't hold an actual
conversation," he ignored Sam's curious glance,
most likely at the years. That Billy not only put
up with him after all this time, but actually
seemed to see worth in him, was a mystery that
made his best efforts not to bite his tongue
learning his lover's native language seem pitiful
payment indeed. "Or be understood by anyone other
than Billy, I expect. It's enough to make me not a
threat when he jerks awake; enough that we keep
each other entertained on the road by slipping
words in Korean or French in the conversation." He
knew Billy had no one else on this side of the
Pacific to speak to; some bad days he thought that
was the only real reason Billy stayed with him,
and it only made him more desperate to learn. That
Billy had as much difficulty wrapping his
beautiful mouth around French, and yet stubbornly
kept trying, had been enough to pull him from
self-pity a few times. As Billy sat back down on
his log besides him, Goody met his eyes before
looking at Sam with a slightly-forced grin, "Also
been handy in a tight spot or two." Pissed the
assholes off even more to hear a foreign language,
but if a couple words shared timely information,
it was worth it.
Sam nodded, "Sure, sure." The look he turned on
Billy was suddenly measuring, though, and Goody
couldn't help but tense, "Well? Will you stay with
us, Mr. Rocks?" his eyes twitched toward where
Goody knew Teddy was still brooding and he
relaxed, suddenly recognizing Sam's expression, a
smirk coming to his lips in anticipation, "Equal
shares must mean equal say. I apologize for not
having known to ask you rather than only Mr.
Robicheaux."
For all the humour Goody read in the words, there
was also a real question, but Goody knew Billy'd
already made his choice, and hearing the others
approaching, no doubt to get their own morning
drinks started, Goody couldn't resist playing
again; might as well feed the confusion. Before
Billy had a chance to answer, he picked up the
now-safe to drink coffee and, still crouched,
turned until he faced Billy, remembering doing
this, accidentally, long enough ago that it had
been a damn sight easier to swivel. He pinched his
grin down to an attempt at a humble expression,
bowing his head just slightly, and used both hands
to hold the cup out in offering.
He knew he was the only one -possibly apart from
nosey-Sam- likely to be able to recognize the
laughter around Billy's eyes as he graciously took
the cup. Certainly his voice held nothing but
unconcerned surety, "Where Goodnight goes, I go."
Goody let his wild grin escape, knowing if they
were alone Billy'd be tackling him to the ground,
right now, that emotionless mask dissolved under
such fierce joy... He couldn't manage to remind
himself that he didn't deserve it when Billy was
watching him with such promise of pleasures to
come.
"Well all right, then. Glad to have you with us,
Mr.-"
"Billy."
Sam nodded as Goody got himself under control and
sat down right next to Billy, accepting with both
hands the cup he passed to him and taking a couple
sips before giving it back to Billy. They were so
close he'd hardly have to lean at all to lay his
head against Billy's shoulder and catch up on some
of his missed sleep. He settled for another sip of
coffee and letting his eyes droop and his mind
drowse as everyone started chattering, Billy at
his side on watch. It was going to be a long day;
any rest would be good. At least it was Emma that
had sat a generous space on his other side; she
was a pleasant, quiet, presence.
Some fry bread appeared in front of him about the
time one of Billy's hands landed on his shoulder,
tugging him slightly more upright, and he looked
up vaguely, "D'you say you needed a trim, mon
cher?" He was pretty sure that'd been on the books
for this morning before the night had happened,
and if they were staying with the others...
Billy's eyes softened and he leaned closer, his
accent deliberately thickened up and voice low
until no one else was likely to understand, "Keep
energy for staying on horse, hal-abeoji. They have
enough show."
Silently pleased that Billy actually felt
comfortable enough even with the company around
them to speak in his long-hidden native tongue
without flinching, even if too low to be really
heard, Goody frowned, mouthing the words around
his mouthful of bread and trying to match them to
anything he'd learned. Billy watched him, chewing
on his own breakfast with a grin lighting his eyes
until Goody had enough and growled, "Alright, nae
agdang(1), what did
you just call me?"
(1) My scoundrel.
If only they were alone, he knew Billy'd be
grinning at him madly, right now. "Grandpa."
Oh hell. Goody threw his head back and laughed,
ignoring the heads that turned to stare at him,
unaccountably pleased at the nickname that was
apparently going to stick to him, now.
Been a long time since he'd given up any thought
of surviving to turning white.
AN:
Joesonghabnida = sorry
hal-abeoji = grandfather
nae agdang = my scoundrel (or villain)
Back to Fanfic
Back to The Canadian
Wanderer's homepage >