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They’re used to being subtle.
Order a room with two beds. Share kisses through cigarettes. Send sentiments through a glance. Smile and refrain from the conversation when the men around them inevitably begin bragging and comparing the women they’ve bedded.
It’s easier for Billy, clearly. Goodnight has always been unnervingly tactile, and on more than one occasion Billy has had to hiss a warning to him between clenched teeth, eyes flickering uneasily to an old man in the corner giving them a dark look or to a pair of hookers whispering behind their hands.
But then they run into Sam’s gang, and they can relax a little. The only reaction they get when Billy takes a smoke from Goodnight’s cigarette straight from Goodnight’s hand is from Teddy Q, whose already big rabbit eyes widen in surprise. a quick elbow in the ribs from Emma shakes him back into himself and he hastily takes a draught from his beer.
Jack intentionally doesn’t look at them when they’re being touchy and Faraday makes offensive jokes, but at least no one’s threatening to kill them. Vasquez gives them a knowing wink and Goodnight gets the feeling that if either of them propositioned him, he wouldn’t say no. Hell, if both of them asked, he’d probably be game.
Still, they know what world they’re in, even among friends. which is why, one evening when they’re dining at one of the bars in town, the threat of Bartholomew Bogue still far from their minds, Goodnight is surprised to feel fingertips just barely ghosting over his thigh.
He looks sharply at Billy, who is staring ahead very innocently, seemingly paying attention to whatever inane argument Faraday and Vasquez are having today. But there’s an mischievous glint in his eyes and the corners of his mouth are twitching.
Oh, if this is the game they’re playing, Goodnight thinks, schooling his expression into something suitably nonchalant.
Billy’s fingers wander higher and inward, blunt nails running against the seam of the rough fabric of Goodnight’s pants. They’re sitting close enough that Billy can slip a hand between Goodnight’s legs without anyone really noticing.
Which is exactly what he does.
Goodnight swallows and smiles weakly when the whole room erupts in laughter at some crushing response Emma snapped at faraday.
Billy has one hand propping his chin up and the other under the table, flicking his fingertips against Goodnight’s inner thigh. Goodnight resists the urge to make a not very polite sound.
Billy has long, slim fingers, trained by years of knife acrobatics. Strong. Able to move in ways most people would never even think fingers capable of. Goodnight’s face is warm. Billy slides his thumb up goodnight’s thigh, pressing into—
There’s a loud noise of chair legs scraping the wood floor when Goodnight suddenly stands straight up.
“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” he says in an impressively smooth tone. “I think Mr. Rocks and I will be retiring early.” He turns on his heel and makes his way to their room. Billy follows close behind him, his head ducked to hide the wide grin on his face.
Vasquez whistles after them, cackling with laughter. Sam sighs.