Chapter Text
The guy sitting next to Billy is like a walking cliche. He's got bright pink hair and is wearing a rainbow striped t-shirt and has these big, exaggerated muscles Billy knows are all for show. He could tell after three seconds of talking to him that the guy's never gotten in a fight in his life, never needed those muscles for a second and it pisses him off like few things manage to do anymore.
Because Billy's never tried to be anything other than what he is and he's got the scars to prove it. And on top of all that he's wearing ridiculously tight pants and he doesn't pack, not tonight and not ever, those things are just too damn uncomfortable. He's obvious about what and who he is but this guy, the way he's looking at him and the things he's been saying - namely that he'd like to ride Billy's dick into the sunset - has him uncomfortable in a way he doesn't know what to do with.
This guy doesn't get it and nothing Billy's said so far seems to have clued him in, the guy's just not listening and Billy doesn't want to start a fight in a gay bar, not tonight, so when he sees a gorgeous brunette walk in he uses one of his old tricks, one of the ones from the playbook for the other side of the field and calls out, "About fucking time you showed up, babe, I've been waiting for you damn near all night!"
The brunette looks up like he's Bambi and he's just been shot at, big, wide brown eyes almost doubling in size in a way that has Billy biting his lip and grinding down on his bar stool, but then, surprisingly, Bambi breaks into a smile and heads over.
"Oh, please," he says with an exaggerated little eye roll that has Billy's hips twitching, his body trying to drag itself forward without any command from Billy to do so, just acting on pure instinct. "We both know you have not been waiting that long, so just stow the dramatics, alright?" Bambi says this like this is a thing they do all the time and Billy smirks at him, imagining it. This whole fantasy life fleshes itself out in Billy's mind between one heartbeat and the next, a life where him and Bambi are together, always teasing but loving, so loving, just like the look Bambi's throwing at him right now and Billy wants it so badly his bones ache, like actually, physically ache.
Then, just to add a cherry on top of the whipped cream on top of this delicious cake, Bambi makes this show of looking Mr. Pink Hair up and down dismissively like, you're in my seat, you're talking to my boyfriend, move, fuckwit, and Mr. Pink Hair does and Billy cackles and Bambi draws him in for a kiss that has Billy's toes curling in his boots.
Billy gulps as they break apart and Bambi's face falls. "Too much?" he says, suddenly nervous and Billy smiles ferociously and says -
"No, I'd say it wasn't enough," before grabbing Bambi by the collar and dragging him in for another kiss, longer this time. When they part again, this time for air because breathing is a thing that still matters even if Billy thinks maybe he'd rather drown if he gets to do it by kissing this man, he says, "I'm Billy, by the way."
"Steve," Steve says and Billy shakes his head. Steve is too common a name for him, Billy knows he's just going to keep calling him Bambi. Or babe. Babe is good, too. Billy's always had a thing for pet names and this guy - Steve - looks like he was made to wear them.
They kiss until they nearly choke again, bodies only breaking apart when their chests start heaving against each other with the need for air but Steve only draws back just far enough for breath, body still pressed firmly to Billy's, hands still wrapped in the long hair Billy's always refused to cut even when it made passing impossible. He can feel Steve's heart racing like it's inside his own body and it's like a siren's song, making him want more and more and more.
"Do you maybe wanna…" Steve says, voice wrecked and beautiful, "do you maybe wanna get out of here?" and oh god, does he ever, but even this deep in it Billy knows better, knows above all else he has to be concerned with his own safety first and foremost.
"I'm -" he starts but Steve cuts him off, dragging one of Billy's hands down his chest and Billy wants, more than anything he's ever wanted but he has to be clear here, Steve has to know. "I'm-" he starts again and Steve's hand stops dragging his, leaves them both stranded somewhere over Steve's stomach and Billy wants, but before he can finish, Steve starts talking.
"Seen you before. Seen you in those exact pants, actually." Steve sounds rushed, almost like he's frantic and it makes red alerts start going off in Billy's head, because of course this was too good to be true, of course it is. Steve starts dragging his hand down again, still talking, saying, "I like to be a little less obvious, but I'm the same as you," but it isn't until Billy's fingers make contact with the familiar un-flesh-like squish of Steve's packer that the words "same as you" click in his head. Steve is the same as him. Steve is the same as him. Steve is perfect.
"Let's go then. Lead the way, Bambi," Billy says, grin a mile wide and showcasing without a doubt how completely, hopelessly head-over-heels he is right now.
Steve smiles back just as big, just as gone, and says, "Bambi, huh?" like he's rolling the words around in his mouth, seeing how they taste. "I like that."
Somehow, Billy's smile gets wider. He thinks it might actually break his face, that he might actually get it stuck like this. "Thought you might," he says.