Based on @lovebillyhargrove ‘s This Steve with This Billy. (original concept credit to @youfuckingdonut)
I’m having more success with mafia drabbles than my on-going mafia fics orz
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Steve didn’t know what Billy’s job actually was.
He knew the guy wore nice shirts and nicer blazers, suit jackets, and tuxedo pieces. He knew Billy had to be either the boss or close to it, because he only wore the pieces of a full suit or tuxedo. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he burned every tie he saw. Always had too many buttons undone.
But he looked good. And he knew he looked good. He walked right up to Steve waiting in line with Robin at a cafe before it closed. They’d gone to a nightclub at the absurd time of 8 o’clock. Hey, no door charge because they showed up so early. They were drunk off their ass and sweaty by 11pm. He called it an efficient night out.
“I’ve never been so happy to have a box of stale croissants in my life,” Robin mused as the tired barista used the tongs in the glass display case.
Steve bounced from foot to foot, still dancing to the bad radio pop overhead. He cracked open his juice from the chilled shelves, since asking for a coffee five minutes shy of closing might get a wad of spit mixed in -
“You’re light on your feet.”
Steve didn’t think too heavily on it when he was drunk. Everyone was prettier when the brain behind the eyes was in some cups, just like all food tasted better. Maybe he should’ve devoted more brain cells to the moment. But that was a lost cause now.
He and Robin chatted and Steve apologized for his hand being wet with condensation and sweat when the guy offered a handshake. Even through the sparkly haze of alcohol, Steve could tell he gave Steve the time of day more than Robin, but they were on their way out anyway.
Steve might’ve said, “Well that was a great nightcap. He’s tasty,” a bit loud before the cafe door shut behind them. Robin coughed on her croissant and Steve guffawed and swiped it for himself before taking off down the street with her chasing after him.
But then Steve just kept running into him.
The guy from the cafe.
Walking into the park as Steve was leaving it. Strolling by the bank before Steve went inside.
With his designer clothes and his clean shoes and smooth, clean shaven jaw made ever so slightly tacky from skincare and lotion when it touched Steve’s face. Because he leaned too far forward over the table he was serving at his upscale restaurant job and
Time froze in a vacuum
Because Steve could’ve sworn he - Billy - lifted his face into the shadow of Steve’s neck. Inhaled.
It was a miracle he didn’t drop a plate or spill a glass. He dared the briefest glance but blue eyes pierced him regardless of the emotion behind them. Steve felt like a dagger tied on a string hung through his belly, lazily stirring his nerves and threatening to land dangerously in his groin.
He left the table before he made a fool of himself and all the company present. Large tables guaranteed large tips. He’d be set for the next month if he just didn’t fuck this up. He strode past the open-air kitchen and the ‘butler’s pantry’ area to hallway with the staff bathrooms -
Hands turned him around by his hips, surprisingly warm despite the thick poly-cotton of his white apron and the black slacks underneath.
The dagger fell.
The kiss was soft despite how ravenously Billy plundered his mouth. It was all Steve could do, to hold onto his nape and then wrap his arms behind Billy’s neck. He tasted like steak and amaretto and neutral sweet, like a man. Mewls and moans left Steve’s throat like he couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to drown in whatever this was.
Billy pivoted them so Steve pressed into the wallpaper. He hummed again as his hand found the clean shaven fade on the back of Billy’s head, his blunt fingertips petting and scratching there like he hadn’t known this man for more than an hour of collective encounters.
A sound left Billy’s chest. It hit Steve’s core like a pebble on a bell before he broke the kiss enough to meet Steve’s gaze. Clear blue eyes far more sober than Steve felt and probably looked. Wrecked with lust for this stranger who had money and means to always find him.
“A car’s going to pick you up later.”
Steve blinked with reticence, not wanting to leave this haze but already out of it.
“Get into the car.” The pad of Billy’s thumb touched Steve’s lip, light but insistent. He breathed, “Steve,” before leaving the hallway. Pleading. At least, Steve wanted it to be a plea.
But he was gone when Steve checked back at the table to top up waters and drinks. In singles and pairs, the group left until Steve was left to collect dishes and wonder who the hell managed their tabs. His manager answered that question for him moments later, by shoving a thick fold of cash into his apron pocket.
“Your tip from table twenty-three.”
“I didn’t see you get the bills,” he commented, intending to reach in and see what the high rollers tipped -
She shoved his hands away from his pocket. “You don’t take money out in the open, silly. Get back to your locker for that.”
Steve knew he never saw her with a pile of receipt folders with credit cards sticking out of them. But he went back to work and didn’t take inventory of his tips until closing.
That table might’ve spent $1200 on dinner and drinks.
Steve got $1100 in tips. What kind of math that was, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t fixate on it too much, because inside the fold of money was a piece of paper with a phone number. No name. Steve could assume it to be Billy’s but he didn’t know...
Get into the car.
Steve zipped up his coat as he stepped out of the employees’ entrance. He emerged out of the service alleyway to...a regular city street. No cars more or less than normal, and none of them stood out...
Did he even want to get in?
He almost shook his head, just to jostle his thoughts around. “Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid,” he whispered to himself as he turned and marched his ass home. He didn’t know this guy: a person with a scary amount of recon on his life to be able to find him at any ol’ time. His dinner friends weren’t exactly a college reunion, either.
But he kissed like a god and tasted like one too.
He held Steve like he wanted him, and Christ, Steve wanted to be wanted.
The privilege of being craved.
He was wrist deep in shampoo with his eyes closed when he realized someone pounded on his apartment door. The panic of rinsing suds off his body as fast as possible, the terror of someone at his door at 2am, and the fury of pissing off his neighbors at 2am spurred him out of the shower and into a t-shirt on top of the towel around his waist.
God sure as hell could’ve been at his door and Steve would’ve answered it the same way.
“It’s 3am! Shut the hell up!” he hissed.
Billy looked equal measures of pissed and concerned, but he blinked and amusement crept in. He wore a long, swanky pea coat that looked soft to the touch. Steve was more preoccupied with moving out of his way when the guy strode right into his apartment.
“Why didn’t you let the car pick you up?” Billy’s gaze moved around the Spartan yet cluttered living room.
“Uh, I didn’t see one?” Steve sassed before he admitted, “Or...it’s a street? Lots of cars.”
Billy’s attention landed on him like he didn’t quite believe it. Steve stood in a towel with dripping hair, for god sake. Billy’s eyes raked over him as if he were putting together some pieces of a puzzle that Steve didn’t understand. Or was mundane life so difficult if you could just drop $1100?
Billy took his hands from his pockets and started removing buttery leather gloves. “Do you have a roommate?”
Steve felt like another dagger was about to fall, but where, he couldn’t tell. He inhaled and sighed, “No.”
“Who is that woman to you?”
Steve’s brows reached for his hairline. “You mean my best friend?” he challenged.
Billy laughed. Derisive and amused and...impressed? Relieved?
He threw his coat, jacket, and gloves on the IKEA couch and those hands found Steve’s waist again. “Billy?” he managed before he had those lips again. Before Billy’s hand found the base of his skull and encouraged him to tilt for better access.
Then Billy let a moan seep into his sigh. Their lips parted audibly and he breathed, “No one talks to me like you do. About me. To me. You-mmh.”
He took Steve’s lips again like he craved. Steve shivered against his erection brushing against the fibers of his towel.
“Can I finish my shower?”
“No,” he purred darkly, arm locking behind Steve’s waist as the other pressed a rolling hand to Steve’s front.
He trembled through a broken shout, panting against Billy’s lips and jaw, gripping his silk shirt at the risk of scratching the threads. Billy licked over Steve’s lips, and Steve was dangerously close to cumming right there.
“Billy...” he whined. He warned.
Bright eyes gazed steadily at him through hooded, dark lashes. “Keep saying my name like that. I’ll give you everything.”
