Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled

[assassinwithahairpin]

The longer they stayed, the more surreal this became, but Billy couldn't seem to think of a reasonable excuse to back out of their commitments now. The days leading to Christmas Eve had been filled with an air that he was looking in on his life backwards, watching all these preparations for revelry that his fingers itched to assist with because it had been his job to assist in these things the last time he had put foot in a house like this.

The afternoon of Christmas Eve, Billy lingered in the garden, smoking. People would be arriving for Matilda Robicheaux's party, very soon, and Billy wasn't entirely certain how he was going to survive. He wasn't sure how Goodnight was going to survive. But, as with all things, they would manage. They had each other in this.

Still, there was a quiet, worried part of him. A part that wanted to weigh his hips down with a pistol and a knife, a part that wanted to look everyone in the eyes and dare them to whisper about Goodnight or himself or both of them. There was a quiet part of him that feared he could not navigate this miasma, that he would get swept away at some point and treated as he had been as a boy.

Billy finished his cigarette, and continued to linger. He ought to go put his suit on and get ready, before guests arrived. It was a new one--which he didn't need--more expensive than Billy felt any right to be wearing. But it was Christmas, he supposed, and so he'd been gracious about it. He breathed in the New Orleans air, and then headed up to put the suit on. Goodnight had disappeared somewhere into the house, likely helping his mother with last minute things; Billy hadn't seen him since the end of breakfast.

He took his time, and by the time he was ready--dressed, shaved, hair pinned back--he could hear people arriving. He let himself out of the room he, and more often than not Goodnight, was keeping for the time they were here, and set out to find Goodnight.

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[assassinwithahairpin]

For the most part, Billy was left to his own devices. The party goers seemed to avoid him, treat him more like decoration than another guest, and Billy was fine with that. It left him to mill about and watch people, which he preferred. At least no one was asking him to refresh their drinks.

When Goodnight finally got free of the attention that was being turned on him, Billy tracked him down shortly. He came from the front, touched his elbow gently.

"Time for a break?"

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight's relief showed on his face the moment Billy appeared. "Yes," he breathed. "You have any cigarettes on you?" He didn't even care if they were plain tobacco but going out back to smoke one in the chill air with Billy sounded infinitely more appealing than standing here one moment longer.

[assassinwithahairpin]

"In my room," Billy said softly. He was not adverse to going up to get them, especially if Goodnight was going to accompany him. It probably wasn't the best idea, or the safest, to wander off to a bedroom together. But it would only be for a moment or two. Billy would try and insist--and knew, intrinsically, that he would fail.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight nodded, though for a moment he debated which was the better idea: going with Billy to get them or waiting for him outside. He settled on a compromise, lightly tugging Billy towards the stairs. He waited on the landing, though, supposing if he let himself be alone with Billy then they might not make a proper reappearance. Or worse, someone would come looking for him.

[assassinwithahairpin]

While Goodnight waited on the landing, Billy went up to the room, rummaging through his things for a moment until he found his cigarette case and matches case. He came back down, adjusting his tie a little as he went, because he felt a bit like it was choking him for the moment.

On the landing, he paused and brushed his fingers against against Goodnight's.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight soaked in that touch, brief though it was, like a parched man. "Let's slip out back," he said quietly, fingers hooking against Billy's for just a moment, tugging, before he headed down the hall. The further back they went in the house, the quieter it got. The night was balmy compared to some of the winters they'd endured, but it felt fresh after the heat and press of people inside. He let out a shaky breath.

[assassinwithahairpin]

Billy let Goodnight lead. It wasn't hard to do, and he enjoyed the view as well. Goodnight was not quite as narrow at the apex of his waist as Billy was, but that spoke more to consistent good food than anything about how they were practically composed. His body was all fine slants where Billy's remained sharp edges.

Outside, Billy slipped two cigarettes into his mouth and lit them both at once. He took a long drag, making sure the cigarettes were lit, before he handed one over to Goodnight.

[goodnight_robicheaux]

He accepted the cigarette and took a deep inhale. He sigh came out shaky and he leaned back against the house.

"I have spent most of the night entertaining a reputation I don't want," Goodnight breathed. "Fame is a sarcophagus. One I would rather not be buried in, and yet it has its uses."

[assassinwithahairpin]

"You've been doing better than you think," Billy said, leaning against the porch railing. He smoked at his own cigarette, watching Goodnight's posture, smiling slowly. The alcohol he'd had so far was still buzzing in him, and Goodnight's fine face and good tailoring was as well.

Softly, he murmured, "I wish I could dance with you tonight."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

"Doing well and being happy are two entirely different things," he sighed, shaking his head. But then Billy spoke again and something in him caught; he smiled, looking at him. My, but he looked fine all cleaned up and well-tailored. Goodnight allowed himself a moment to appreciate just how good Billy Rocks looked.

"I only wanted you," he admitted, feeling almost shy from the confession. He looked down, his smile lingering. "I would love to dance with you, mon cher."

[assassinwithahairpin]

"I know," Billy said, nodding, because especially for Goodnight those could be wildly different things. But doing well was something that could be achievable in this moment; as much as Billy would hope for happiness, for calm, he would settle for wellness.

He reached out and tangled their fingers briefly. "We'll find time. A song or two."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Goodnight held onto Billy's fingers, perhaps longer than he should have. He had been aching for this sort of contact all night, unmoved by any other touch. He looked at Billy's face, drank in his relaxed countenance.

"I could think of no better way to pass the time." He wondered if they could get away with it; maybe in one of the rooms that had been blocked off from the party, where they could still hear the music but might be safe from prying eyes; though he wondered if a place like that actually existed in this house.

[assassinwithahairpin]

They appeared to be of one mind. Billy pulled his fingers back, only because it made smoking a touch easier, but he let his eyes linger heavily on Goodnight, taking him in in that suit, admiring the cut of his body, knowing how he was built under layers of cotton and wool and silk.

When they finished their cigarettes, Billy stepped in almost dangerously close.

"Let's find somewhere to dance."

[goodnight_robicheaux]

Billy was gloriously close, wonderfully so, and Goodnight wanted to lose himself in that moment. He dared to drift closer, his smile lingering. "Alright then." He took one last drag before tossing his spent cigarette down, smudging out the stub that was left. He caught the front of Billy's jacket and tugged him toward the house.

It was no trouble to find a room sectioned off, hidden by heavy curtains to keep guests from wandering.

[assassinwithahairpin]

Even with the heavy curtain and the walls, the music was still audible. Billy took in the quiet, dim atmosphere, and let his fingers glide through the air for a moment. He smiled to himself, and then at Goodnight, and then took up his hands so that he could lead.

He was still not very good, and being a little drunk did not help. But he could do it. The only problem was, the only dance he knew was a waltz, and the music that was playing was not quite right for that. He did it anyway, holding Goodnight close and smiling at him.