It becomes easier to get close to Billy once Steve figures out his likes and dislikes — it becomes easier to tolerate Billy once his wants are appeased, in other words.
He prefers Marlboro Reds, but he’ll settle for Camel Straights if the corner store’s selection is sparse. Half the time he’d rather chew a stick of cinnamon gum than pick bits of tobacco leaves out of his teeth, and half the time, Steve would rather hear the smacking than the complaints.
Either way, Steve keeps a pack of Reds and a pack of Big Red in his glovebox practically at all times. Drops the drawer and tosses one or the other into Billy’s lap if he’s being particularly bitchy, and it never fails to shut him up no matter how pissed off or on edge he is.
He likes jerky and chocolate and chews with his mouth open unless he’s seated at the dining table. Though, regardless of where he eats, he always gets something on his shirt or his lap or his face — or all of the above.
As annoyed as Steve is when he tries to get a mustard stain out of the carpet of the Beamer, he can’t really bring himself to be mad.
Billy always looks kind of cute when his cheeks are full.
He’s happy and languid and, for the love of god, he’s quiet after he’s been treated to an afternoon of snacks and topped off with a warm meal. Content to sit in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, on the edge of Steve’s bed, or float calmly in Steve’s pool by the end of the night.
Eventually, Steve doesn’t even need to start the afternoon by appealing to each and every little desire that the blond has.
He notices, at first, when Billy suddenly seems tired around him. No matter the time of day. Steve sits in his company for a few minutes and, if Billy is stationary, he’ll start to nod off.
The second thing that Steve begins to see more of is how often Billy touches him — little taps and brushes in passing, the occasional hug or pat on the back. Nothing too out of the ordinary until Steve suddenly doesn’t remember the last time he sat next to Billy and didn’t feel an arm around his shoulders.
It’s especially jarring when Steve observes how the blond keeps to himself around almost everyone else.
Now, he wonders how he’s wound up here, lying on the sofa with Billy sprawled out on top of him, absently carding his fingers through his curls. Wonders how the time has managed to fly by so fast, and if Billy ever thinks about how strange the nature of their relationship is.
Because it occurs to Steve just about once every day, but he wouldn’t change a thing if he could manage it.
