Chapter Text
"What the fuck are you lazing around for? We're late already." Came a voice and just like that, the whole of Billy's carefully constructed equilibrium was gone.
"I am.. not supposed to be leaving..?" he answered out of sheer shock. After four hours of no one and nothing, this wasn't what he would have placed his bet on hearing as a first thing. And when he raised his eyes, the man smirking in the doorway like an asshole wasn't even a familiar one. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
"Who are you sir." said the asshole, striding into Billy's little peaceful not-a-cell like he owned it, dropping a single key onto the table. The table Billy still had his hands cuffed to, and the key looked exactly the right size to be unlocking his handcuffs. Lucky coincidence. It was also just the tiniest bit out of his reach when he flexed his fingers. That didn't stop him from trying, tugging at the cuffs in hopes of gaining one more inch of freedom.
"Well who the fuck are you, sir?" Billy said snidely, none of his usual honey sweetness in his voice, because honestly, he was way too bewildered to put in any real effort. His fingers grazed the cold metal of the key and he hissed, reaching more, more. The cuffs dug into his wrist and then finally he tugged it close enough to grab-
It disappeared into Sergeant Asshole's hand and all of a sudden Billy really wanted to stab him.
"I'm your fairy fucking godmother, Russo." went the guy, flattening both Bill's hands to the table with one of his own like an entitled damn shit, swiftly unlocking the cuffs. It brought a shock of warmth against his skin and he stared incomprehensible at one large hand easily steadying both of his for way too long, only brought out of his reverie by the snap-click of the lock.
Well alright, maybe the guy wasn't all bad, decided Billy as he rubbed his sore wrists, waiting for what was next.
"Well move your ass, hell. You kids these days.."
"I'm sorry, how old are you?!" Billy snapped back, unable to stop himself. Maybe he should be nicer to the person who was bailing him out - or helping him become an official fugitive, Billy wasn't making any bets on whichever one it was at this point. But it wasn't fair, he might be young, but not a kid. Certainly not any younger than the rest of the guys around. And certainly not much younger than Sergeant Entitled Dickface, who aside of his crooked nose and broad shoulders looked to be about fucking twelve.
The guy moved just slightly and then suddenly the chair Billy had been slowly growing into during the past few hours was tugged away and he had to stumble to his feet to not fall flat on his ass.
Jesus fucking Christ, Bill really wanted to stab that dude.
"The fuck's your problem!" he grit out, turning around to come face to face with an infuriating smirk.
"You're so fucking chatty, Russo, pack your shit, I don't got whole day to be babying you."
"Fucking christ, fine!" Billy threw his arms up over his head out of utter and overwhelming frustration, kicking his chair back to the table and striding right out of the door.
No one stopped him and when he looked over his shoulder he saw Mr. Entitled Smugface laughing all familiar with one of the MPs. Well fuck this all, Billy went and packed his shit.
***
The room he had been sharing with three other soldiers for the past several months of basic training was blissfully empty.
Which was all good and well, because while he had done his best to get friendly with his roommates, he didn't particularly want to talk to any of them.
Not about what happened and definitely not about where he was going, because he had no damn clue.
He packed as quickly as he could and still wasn't quick enough not to get accosted in the middle of shoving his muddy jacket into his dufflebag, namely by a knock on the door.
He could just imagine his mysterious "saviour" giving him a speech about children that can't even pack their things.
"Oh fuck off, sir, I'm almost done!" he shouted towards the door, quickening the pace of his clothes terrorism.
The door creaked open and Billy stilled with a sock in his hand, contemplating all possible ways he could use the thing for murder.
The thoughts evaporated quickly, giving space for mortification when instead of Sergeant Assface's headache of a face in stepped another unfamiliar soldier, though clad in the same yellow-brown cammo as the one before. "I see Frank's left an impression," said the man with an amused twist to his mouth, leaning in the doorway.
Billy liked him already, for that free piece of information.
"You could say that." he agreed, flicking a friendly smile at the guy. If he played his cards right, maybe he would even find out what the fuck was happening. "I'm almost done. He's like that all the time?"
"You've got no idea. He was tuning it down with you."
Billy stopped in the middle of zipping his bag and flicked his new friend a dubious look, "How would you know?" He didn't think their little talk earlier had been monitored, there had been no cameras, nothing.
The guy snorted, unprompted moving to grab Bill's backpack, "Because otherwise next time I'm stitching him up, I'll sew his elbow to his ass."
Billy shouldered his dufflebag and checked his cot to see that he had everything, shoulders shaking in quiet laughter. Alright, so maybe this whole relocation thing won't be all bad.
***
Sergeant Asshole Frank was already waiting for them in a jeep, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. To Bill's shock he didn't even give them shit about taking so long, only exchanging some kind of a wordless conversation with Curtis - who had actually even introduced himself, like a normal human being.
"You know Dorans will be pissed," Curt was saying as he climbed into the front of the jeep next to Frank, leaving Billy to get on the back. He hopped up and got comfortable, as quietly as he could because he would rather walk than miss a single word of that conversation.
Frank started their jeep with the same infuriating calmness that he had shown earlier, too, seemingly so calm and relaxed, and so long, there went Billy's basic camp, disappearing somewhere far away.
"Eh." the guy said when they were well on their way, explaining exactly nothing. That also seemed to be all that he wanted to say on the subject, because not him, nor Curt bothered to add anything further after that.
Billy wanted to break the silence, some of his wits finally returning and with them the need to prove that he wasn't just some bumbling freshie, following orders like a lost little duckling. Besides, he was curious.
Fortunately Curt beat him to it, because he had no idea what would have actually came out if he got as far as to open his mouth: "Look, I know you're a stubborn bastard, but you could have at least waited for the investigation to be over." the dark-skinned man said, voice low enough that Bill wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been paying attention, even jerking a thumb in Billy's direction. Alright, rude.
"What for?" Frank grunted without the slightest interest audible in his voice.
Billy was getting more and more interested, himself. He leaned an elbow on the back of Curt's seat so he could stare at the side of Frank's face, subtly, thank you very much.
"So you'd know for sure that he didn't do it!" Curtis protested, running a heavy hand over his face. Billy kind of wanted to shove him off of the jeep at that point, but also kind of wanted to hug him. Being presumed innocent was a novelty, unfortunately for them all he wasn't very sure that was what the investigation would show. Would have shown, more like. All of this hinted at Billy being recruited, someone more interesting than their drill sergeant pulling the strings, and he had a feeling the investigation will be halted pretty soon.
"Oh yeah," Frank drawled, turning his head to a side until his eyes landed on Bill, lips pulling back into that trademark smirk, "You're right Curt. So, Russo? Why did you do it?"
Billy's eyes practically fell out of his skull, yet again caught off guard. He was good at people and never flailed for words, yet it seemed the world just hadn't equipped him for Frank.
"..does it matter?" Bill said quietly after he got all of his gaping and stuttering out of his system. Curt was watching him with the same shocked expression Bill was watching Frank and Frank was happily gazing forward as he drove on, comfortable in his zen fucking calm.
"Well no," the guy said with a shrug audible if not visible, "Just wanna know if you're gonna pull that shit with us too."
Which. Fair.
"Only if you fail to properly translate "no" into whichever ape language your brain works in." Billy answered slowly, each word perfectly constructed just for Frank.
Once again the man turned around to bore his eyes into Bill's. It was nothing more than a fleeting glance but Bill felt gutted, opened up and examined to the core.
I see you, said that look and he wasn't sure he liked it.
Curt was still doing his best impression of a disappointed grandmother and Frank turned back to the road, seeming satisfied.
"Ape language," the guy said after a moment of letting Bill steam in the vulnerability of this whole thing, even huffed an amused little chuckle, "You're a smart fucking ass, Russo."
"You ever thought that you might be using curse words to make up for gaps in your vocabulary?" Billy answered pleasantly, letting his shoulders drop from where they had been hunched up to his ears, almost.
Frank raised one hand from the steering wheel and reached it blindly back, slow so slow as if he was dragging it through honey. Billy was a curious being, he watched the whole arch of it without moving, didn't even blink, until Frank's hand stilled just in front of him.
Time went still for a second and Billy saw Curtis watch them with an exasperated amusement from the corner of his eyes.
Then Frank moved his fingers- flicking Billy right in between his eyebrows.
He jerked backwards slightly, not because it hurt, the flick was light enough, but because to the last second he hadn't expected that. Out of all ridiculous things-!
"Okay, I take it back, you're using curse words to take the attention off of the fact that you're a violent asshole."
Billy expected some other kind of a retaliation, but instead Frank's hand formed a thumbs up, "And you better not forget that, Billy."
***
And just like that, Billy was in love.