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“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Billy didn’t look fine, doubled over and holding an arm tight to his stomach.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe that when you’re standing upright. Did you eat too much?”
“I said I’m fine.”
Billy sounded defensive. Steve sighed. Okay. Billy didn’t like showing weakness, didn’t like talking about how he was feeling, either emotionally or physically. He took the tough guy routine pretty seriously, in fact. Steve wasn’t falling for it.
“You don’t have to be fine, you know. It’s not a crime to have a stomach ache. I’m not gonna hold it against you.”
“It was the milkshake.” Billy said, eventually.
“What? Something was wrong with the milkshake? Shit. We shared that, though, and I don’t feel sick.”
“No, I mean,” Billy hesitated, seemed to be working over what to say, “I shouldn’t be drinking milkshakes. They always make me sick.”
“Oh. Wait, are you, like, lactose intolerant?”
“I don’t know. Probably. Does it fucking matter?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t matter that much, I was just asking…” Steve stopped, took a breath, reminded himself that snapping at somebody when they’re in pain doesn’t actually help anybody, “So, why’d you drink the rest of the milkshake?”
Billy shrugged stiffly, or as much as a person can shrug while still hunched over, “You offered.”
Sometimes, Billy said things and Steve didn’t know whether to find them romantic, maybe even kind of sappy, or whether to find it completely moronic.
Because he offered? Steve could hear a mom voice in his head saying, If Steve jumped off a bridge would you jump? Except, the mom voice actually sounded kind of sarcastic. It actually didn’t really sound like a mom voice at all, it sounded like Max.
Steve thought he knew what Billy meant though. That you say yes when somebody offers to love you back, of course you say yes. Maybe even when it’s a small gesture, like offering the rest of a milkshake.
Steve helped usher Billy to the car. Sure, the quarry was a decent place to end a date, but not for a guy who’s doubled over in pain.
There was just one thing bothering him.
“But… You always used to come in to Scoops Ahoy to get ice cream?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, I bet ice cream makes you sick, too.”
Billy said nothing. He didn’t have to, they both knew it was true.
“What did you do with the ice cream?”
“What do you think people do with ice cream?”
“I mean, you didn’t eat it, did you?”
Billy had come into Scoops a lot. Like, several times a week, sometimes. Steve had figured the guy really liked ice cream. Or really liked bothering him. But, even if it was to bother Steve, he thought Billy must at least also want the ice cream. He always ordered some.
“Are we seriously talking about this right now? I don’t even want to think about ice cream right now.”
“Well, yeah. So, why’d you come in, then? If it wasn’t for the ice cream.”
Except, Steve knows why. It seems obvious, in retrospect. Billy had pestered Steve a lot, back then. Steve knows, now, that it had been Billy’s way of flirting. It’s a miracle it ended up working for him, in the long run.
“Leave me alone,” Billy groaned, “What is this, an interrogation?”
“Aw, come on. Just admit it, you came in just to mess with me.”
“So, what if I did?”
He grinned, “So, I think that’s cute. Did you have a crush on me?”
“Oh my god,” Billy shook his head, “I don’t know, princess, what do you think?”
“I think my boyfriend had a crush on me and stalked me at my job even though he can’t eat ice cream. Just to pull my pigtails. Like a snotty boy on the playground.”
“Whoa, don’t make it sound too romantic.”
Steve shrugged, “It’s the height of romance to me.”
When he pulled into the driveway of his house, all Steve could think about was getting Billy comfortable on the couch.
“Is your stomach okay?”
“It’s fine. It’ll pass.”
Once they were situated on the couch, Steve wasn’t actually sure what to do. He knew lactose intolerance was a thing in theory. He didn’t know what to actually do for somebody in that situation, though.
“Do you need anything?”
“Yeah, I need you to calm down, I’m not dying.”
That was fair. Still, Steve wanted to help.
“C’mon, get over here,” Steve said, motioning with his arms.
“What?”
“Just c’mon.”
“Okay,” Billy scooted over and gave Steve an expectant look, “Now what?”
Steve shook his head. Billy had barely budged.
“Closer, c’mon.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“You’re being dense. C’mon, do you want to cuddle or not?”
Billy looked unimpressed, “Cuddle? Are we five?”
“Oh, come on, don’t be a baby about it. You have a stomach ache, let me hold you. Jesus. I’m trying to be a good boyfriend. You could pretend to be grateful.”
“Grateful, my ass.”
“Your ass should be,” He said, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”
Steve shuffled the remaining distance between them and wrapped an arm around Billy’s back, “Next time, you don’t have to drink the milkshake just because I offered it.”
“You planning on offering me more milkshakes? I thought you were trying to be a good boyfriend.”
“Hey, I’m taking steps in the right direction.” Steve grinned, “But, you know, not just milkshakes.”
“Ice cream too, huh?”
Steve jostled them, playfully, “You know that’s not what I meant. Just… You know.”
“Use your words, then. I’m not a mind reader.”
“I mean, like… I love you.”
It wasn’t exactly the way he meant to say that for the first time. But Billy was right, Steve was beating around the bush here. Sometimes, you just have to come out and say what you’re thinking.
And, for once, Steve wasn’t really worried about saying that to someone. Usually, there was the fear that the other person didn’t feel the same. Not with Billy, though. Steve knew Billy loved him. Steve thought, you know, that they both just knew it was true. That they loved each other, that it was obvious.
“Oh.” Billy seemed to process for a moment, “What does that have to do with milkshakes?”
“Never mind. It made sense in my head, but now it sounds stupid.”
Billy rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, “Nah, it’s not stupid. I love you, too.”