Billy stares at Goody-John- and for a second can hardly believe that this is the same person. It's amazing what food, forced schedules, and a good exercise routine can do to a man. Billy's hands run over John's torso, reverent as they trace over the muscles and the small mark over his chest. He knows why that birthmark is there just like he knows why it's that shape. It hurts to look at, but he leans in all the same and gives it a soft kiss. An acknowledgment of all the past he still had yet to fully accept. Of all the things still unsaid and hanging between them.
"You pass," he confirms, standing up and starting to remove his shirt as well. Unlike John, his torso is littered with things. Tattoos, mostly, but a few scars and a few burns that the gang life had given him. The worst being the scar on his side where a bullet had torn through him. Not fatally, this time, even though it had hit the same spot as a birthmark he'd once had in the shape of a long knife. One that, he's sure, would have matched John's.
Instead, he has the scar there where a doctor saved his life. A few more littered here and there like distant freckles. And then the tattoos. His ode to Rose Creek on his arm. The fleur he'd gotten over his own heart, recently, paint still vivid and bright. The pattern of flowers across his bicep that matched a certain hairpin he knows sits in a museum out west.
The sprawling tattoo over his back: 'Retrouvez Votre Bonne Nuit'.
He smirks, looking back at John now that he matches him in a state of undress. And then surges forward, pushing him against the nearest wall and kisses him hard. "What about me? Not quite what you remembered, I'm sure..."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-12-22 05:58 am (UTC)"You pass," he confirms, standing up and starting to remove his shirt as well. Unlike John, his torso is littered with things. Tattoos, mostly, but a few scars and a few burns that the gang life had given him. The worst being the scar on his side where a bullet had torn through him. Not fatally, this time, even though it had hit the same spot as a birthmark he'd once had in the shape of a long knife. One that, he's sure, would have matched John's.
Instead, he has the scar there where a doctor saved his life. A few more littered here and there like distant freckles. And then the tattoos. His ode to Rose Creek on his arm. The fleur he'd gotten over his own heart, recently, paint still vivid and bright. The pattern of flowers across his bicep that matched a certain hairpin he knows sits in a museum out west.
The sprawling tattoo over his back: 'Retrouvez Votre Bonne Nuit'.
He smirks, looking back at John now that he matches him in a state of undress. And then surges forward, pushing him against the nearest wall and kisses him hard. "What about me? Not quite what you remembered, I'm sure..."