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To the naked eye there were no two men as different as Billy Rocks and Goodnight Robicheaux.
From skill set to skin tone. From mother tongue to temperament. From hair color to history the passing stranger would not be incorrect at thinking that the good lord above had closed his eyes, dunked his face beneath the clouds and come up with two random folks between its front teeth like a maid at her first apple bobbing.
But Goodnight knew the truth. Knew that while it was true that the rhythms of their differences certainly complimented one another, what really kept them together was one simple, single, unmovable fact: they were both complete assholes in the morning.
To wake Goodnight or Billy before noon was to experience the kind of mood usually only found in hungry grizzly bears, and Goodnight’s great-aunt Vivian after she’d sucked three bottles of wine dry.
Which was why, one stormy Thursday morning when Goodnight blearily opened his eyes to find Billy nose-to-nose with him, he responded in the only way he knew how.
“What the fuck, cher?”
“Good news. My pants don’t fit. I’m fat!”
A crack of lightning scratched itself into a blue-black sky, followed by a boom of thunder loud enough to shake the little cabin they’d settled into that spring.
Goodnight raised his head, and indeed Billy’s second-best pants was only halfway up his hips and refusing to move an inch higher. Not that it mattered since the soft layer of fat around Billy’s middle kept the fabric up front splayed shamefully open.
“Don’t worry honey.” Goodnight fell back onto the pillows, and rather blindly reached out to pat Billy’s belly. “We’ll make an honest man out of you. You want the ceremony to be in your religion or mine?”
“Neither,” Billy said. “I don’t have a religion and yours is stupid.”
Goodnight hmmed and closed his eyes. Thunder boomed again, and ushered in thousands of heavy rain drops. He was still groggy enough that he might be able to go back to sleep.
“Hey!” Billy gave Goody’s nose a tweek. “Wake up! I’m trying to share great news with you, and you think you can go back to sleep? Did you not hear me! I’m fat!”
He announced this fact with the kind of enthusiastic squeal Goodnight usually only heard from young women discovering the local general store had restocked their ribbon selection.
Billy gave the softness around his middle a delighted pinch.
“I need new pants. Not a new notch in my belt, but an entirely new pair of pants. Because I got fat! I’m fat and you’re not appreciating it!”
“My apologies,” Goody said. “You are a vision. You're just like one of those Roman Popes. Growing round on rich food, fine wine and the suffering of others.”
Billy beamed, and Goodnight might have been a bear in the morning, but he wasn’t an unfeeling monster. Such a sunrise should be appreciated.
Quick as a serpent he struck, wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist, and pulled him closer. Dipping his head he sucked and kissed his way across Billy’s middle.
Billy squirmed happily, and then yelped when Goodnight got his teeth into the game and started nipping.
“Bastard!” Billy hissed, and gave Goody’s hair a yank in retaliation.
“Careful now!” Goodnight said. “Some of us have to appreciate the hair we still have.”
He dragged Billy back to the blankets, and rolled them both to their sides before tangling their legs together. His front to Billy’s back, and his leg pinning Billy in place.
He could better feel the changes in Billy’s body like this. There was more of him to cuddle up against, and his erection approved of this by straining against his underthings. Goodnight threw an arm over Billy, dragging his fingernails across the soft stomach. Now that his attention had been drawn to that particular area he could see how the belly protruded out. Like an orange in a sock or like Billy was going to start entering the saloons belly-button first.
Billy made a pleased nose, and pushed back as Goody rutted against him.
It had been a busy year. Energy had been in short supply, as well as time not spent unconscious or asleep. They’d been overwhelmed, then almost dead, then in pain, then healing, then busy again.
While all of that was happening, Billy’s body had gone and changed on both of them. A physical reminder of what they’d earned when choosing to defend Rose Creek last year. A community. A home, and a hell of a lot of home cooking. Goodnight already liked it. Even when they’d scratched up regular meals Billy had always had a kind of lean look that swung into raw-boned when supplies ran low and game was scarce. His hip bones had been deadly weapons, jutting into Goody whenever they bumped against each other. They left behind bruises, and caused Goody to grumble while Billy laughed.
There were times when he’d jokingly counted Billy ribs, and when the two of them had wandered through prairie grasses with empty stomach rumbling. Now he was soft under his touch, and lord was Goodnight hungry to touch.
Circling a hand under Billy’s head he grabbed his chin, and pulled him into a deep kiss. Billy’s tongue slid into his mouth, and Goody savored in the taste and feel of him before breaking it. He kisses across Billy’s cheeks and jaw. Moving down his neck, and then paused to suck a bruise into the curve where his shoulder met his neck. (His face was also fuller now that Goody was mapping him again. Not for the first time, Goody wondered what kind of man Billy would have been had he not been swallowed by life and forced to slice his way out of its guts to survive.).
Goody bit hard on Billy’s shoulder tasting sweat, and salt and skin. Billy hissed, but before he had the time to grumble Goodnight began stroking, letting the pain and the pleasure bleed together.
He came first, spilling against Billy’s thighs and staining the pant leg (they'd have to wash it if they were going to reuse the fabric, but that was a chore for another day.) Goodnight continued to rut against the other man until Billy went stiff and then melted into his hands as he came, painting and sweating.
Overheated Goodnight kicked the blanket off, and lay still. Groggy again, and ready to drift off.
“In one year I’m lucky enough to cheat death, and get fat,” Billy muttered, playfully drumming his fingers against his stomach. He gathered the flesh in his hands, and then gave it a squeeze. “What a life!”
“We have indeed grown soft,” Goody agreed.
Billy butted his head against Goody’s chest, and then settled down as Goody stroked his hair. Nails scratching against the scalp.
“I like it. It’s nice to be soft. There are bacon flapjacks delivered by widows right to your door when you’re soft, and none of the blankets people give you come with fleas.”
Outside the rain streaked across the glass (And who could believe that Rose Creek would have, and be willing to share actual glass for their little windows). Lightning momentarily lit the dark room.
“And you don’t sleep in the rain,” Goody agreed. “You think I should get fat too?”
Billy nodded. “Yes, I recommend it. We can buy new pants together.” He paused considering something. “Do I also need a new waistcoat?” Billy tried to roll out of bed, but Goodnight held firm.
“Check later sugar. I am in dire need of your warmth.”
The little house groaned, and Billy rolled his eyes but obliged, flopping against the sheets.
“I’m like a rich man.” Billy said with glee. “Like a nobel.”
“Yep, I’ll request the townsfolk bow whenever you enter rooms from now on. It’s only proper.”
“I would really like that,” Billy said wistfully. “Do you think we can get them all to believe I’m a long lost Korean Prince?”
Goodnight considered that. There had been no need for cons since Rose Creek took them in. It was nice to be looked after. Nice to be soft. It was also rather boring, and if there was one thing Goodnight firmly believed it was that a sharp mind was a terrible thing to waste.
“Honey,” Goodnight said with a slow grin. “Of course we can.”