I mean, I love disaster Steve, don’t get me wrong…
But show me a Steve that’s smooth without even trying. Says, “Hey, I was just thinking about you,” and cuts Billy’s legs right from under him. The sarcastic reply gets lost between his brain and his mouth and turns into a blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks, and he ducks his head down, pretends to look for a cigarette.
Steve looks at Billy with such undivided attention, hanging onto every word that comes out of that smart mouth, watching him with eyes so fond, and Billy preens under his gaze, shuffles closer, pitches his voice lower.
Steve gives affection so honestly that it sends Billy reeling, and he doesn’t know how to react at first. To the hand on his back, the arm around his shoulders, the knee bumping into his. And later, to the fingers stroking his jaw, the kiss on his forehead, the hand on his stomach.
And Steve’s not dumb, as much as people like to call him that. He knows he can make Billy feel vulnerable, and he doesn’t abuse it, he’s careful with it. Saves it for when they’re alone, for when Billy can feel safe, so he can see that one look on Billy’s face, when his eyes get a little wide and his mouth goes slack, like he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at.
When Steve says “do you want to come over?” and “my parents are gone for the weekend”, there’s no leer, no posturing, no implication. There’s a hand trailing down Billy’s arm, and brown eyes caught on blue, and a promise of what has become their favorite thing, which is just — waking up together, sunlight dancing on their skin, a nose huffing warm air behind Billy’s ear.
Steve says, “Hey, sweetheart,” and Billy’s brain goes fuck fuck fuck fuck, and it takes him a second to reboot and answer, because he is so gone on this guy that Steve could start listing street names and Billy would memorize all of them.
Billy can’t understand how it happened, sometimes. How he went from the life he had to being able to count on Steve as a sure thing. As unconditional. How Steve took all that he is, all his fire and all that he had to give, and he gave it to Billy. To the ring on his finger.
After so much time together, they know each other so well that there shouldn’t be anything new. But damn if Steve can’t still say things that make Billy want to hide his face, because no matter what Steve says, blushing 45 years old is not dignified.
And sure, Billy can say all sorts of dirty shit that can turn Steve as red as a tomato, but Steve— Steve gets him struck dumb. Gets him mumbling shut up, flustered and dazed, hiding a smile, butterflies in his stomach.
Same as when he was seventeen.
