The Pre-Relationship Phase
Five times Billy found himself stuck in the pre-relationship phase with Steve; and the one time Steve realized they were dating. This is the first time.
“Your hands are so fucking small Stevie,” Steve barely refrained from jumping as Billy yanked the empty chair out from beside him, nearly clipping his leg in the process. “You really are as dainty as a princess,” he fluidly flipped the chair around, it creaked ominously as Billy's muscles settled into the plastic.
Steve was determined to ignore him, but Billy- as usual- made it impossible. He leaned forward, his chest pressed tight to the back of the chair and his hair brushing Steve's cheek. “What?” He flinched away from the blond, his cheeks burning at their sudden closeness. And then his words clicked from earlier clicked, “wait- no they're not!”
Billy rolled his eyes and leaned closer, his breath hot against Steve's neck. Steve quickly hunched in on himself, hoping to shield his face from Billy's prying eyes. He was writing an english essay and because of that, Steve was forced to wear his glasses, something he'd never do at home, let alone at school. But that was before all the bullshit. Before the kids and before Billy punched his lights out and made his vision even more shitty. Besides, Steve could care less what people thought of his glasses and it pissed him off that Billy of all people, was an exception.
And of course the glasses were big and chunky, the stereotypical aviator style glasses, so there was no possible way for him to truly hide them from Billy. Steve's sudden awareness of them, of himself- nerdy, fallen king Steve, and of Billy- perfect, bad boy Billy, had his self-consciousness rearing its ugly head. He unconsciously slid away. Billy followed.
“There's no need to hide princess,” Billy leaned even closer, his necklace knocking against Steve's shoulder blade.
“I'm not hiding,” Steve wished he'd sounded a little more mature and not like a petulant four year old who was just told ‘how cute they are.’ “And what do you mean my hands are small? They're not small dumbass. You just have big hands,” he glanced down at Billy's lap where the mentioned appendages innocently lay. “Unnaturally big ones.”
And the truth was, Billy did. His hands were callused and rough, his fingers thick where Steve's were, admittedly, thin. Steve had realized long ago that one of Billy's fingers equaled out to be the same size as two of his own. The night he had after realizing that, had been a blessing and a curse.
Billy also had the hands of a worker, where as Steve's were the hands of a musician- not that he played any instrument. The palm of each hand was littered with tiny cuts from repairing wires in cars to dark spots pinpricked where Billy's hands must have slipped when he was lighting a smoke. So, in a way, Billy wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either.
“Let me see,” Billy reached out for his hand.
“What- no! My hands are normal,” Steve pulled away and turned back to his essay, his hands now resolutely tucked into his lap and under the table.
“Oh yeah? Gimme your hand,” Steve froze at the feeling of skin brushing against his own. Billy had used Steve's need for distance to close it and was now pressed chest to shoulder blade, his hand on Steve's. The hand not holding his captive was now draped lazily around him, trapping Steve in place and forcing him to lean slightly over the table, it was like a brand of fire across his back.
Billy applied a little more pressure to the back of Steve's shoulders, his hand now on Steve's hip, guiding him to lean against Billy's side. “Billy- what?”
“Gimme your hand Stevie,” he didn't wait this time. Billy scooped up his hand and held it out in front of them, his own beside Steve's. His breath caught at the blatant size difference, Billy's hand dwarfed his. With careful movements, as if he was afraid to spook him, Billy placed his hand over Steve's.
Steve nearly choked on his spit at the first brush of skin. He couldn't see his hand anymore, but he could feel the heat of Billy's palm as it pressed against the top of his. He could feel every bump and crevice as Billy entwined their hands, his thick fingers forcing Steve's apart and causing a pleasant stretch.
He released a shaky breath as Billy squeezed their joined hands. Steve quietly hoped Billy couldn't feel the nervous sweat that had instantly broken out at the skin contact or the way his heart was beating a fast tempo against his ribs.
His nails scraped along under Steve's shirt, until they came to rest on his lower belly. “A perfect fit,” Billy mumbled, his words were quiet and Steve probably would have missed them if it wasn't for the fight or flight response his body was currently going through. He wanted to say something, anything to break the heavy tension that suddenly sat between them.
But before he could, the library door banged open, the outside world unceremoniously popping the private bubble they had built. The voices of Tommy and Carol had Billy pulling away, but not before his grip tightened to almost a painful degree.
Just as quickly as the squeeze came, Billy was gone. His abrupt aloofness had Steve reeling, he clenched his suddenly cold fingers and didn't understand the wrongness he felt watching Billy walk away.
