assassinwithahairpin

Entry tags:

[1/10]

Billy Rocks never went to school. He had some schooling, one could say; his mother had taught him how to read and write in Korean, and when he went away to Washington, he'd learned arithmetic and composition and a hundred other, smaller things, that the master's son would teach him when they were allowed alone together. His reading was not the best, but especially with Goodnight, it had improved in his adulthood.

To take classes at the college, he had to have a diploma or equivalent. To get those, you had to go to school or take a test. Classes had already started--he knew that--but the tests we a couple of weeks into the term, for some reason, and the people he had spoken to at the college had assured that the program he was looking at had a later start date than the standard classes.

So here he sat, a study book open, pamphlets and papers and his sketchy hangul in the margins of everything, feeling a bit out of place. He was going to be thirty in the summer. Wasn't it a bit odd to be thinking about schooling so late in his life?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Don't remind me," he said dryly. Goodnight knew exactly how little he knew at the moment. What good was he in a place like this, a relic of a time long past. Billy at least had the gumption to pursue something. Goodnight didn't want to see that dream dashed.

"Let's get you past this test, first. Then you can think about what an old man you're saddled with."

Billy snorted; old man. Goodnight wasn't even a decade older than him, and he hardly qualified as old, any more than Billy did. He nudged him gently in the thigh and sighed, then shook his head a little bit.

"The test is in a few days. I think, at this point, I just pray and hope." It wasn't so bad, he supposed. Just a stress that he was hardly used to.

"We could focus on just a few things," he offered. Goodnight got up from the table to make each of them a drink. Well if they were going to study, might as well be lubricated. He wondered if this was the sort of test one could take again if they failed. On the one hand, failure might be worth it, if only for the experience of taking it. Billy would know what to expect next time. On the other hand, Goodnight was not entirely sure how his partner would take an academic failure.

Billy took a huge, steadying breath, and then pushed it out with no small amount of exasperation. Not at Goodnight, but definitely at the text booklet and materials and over a hundred years separating him from his very basic knowledge and what was expected of him.

"I'm fairly sure," he said after a moment of thought, "that I can do the reading, writing and maths sections alright. But all this science, and the civics? Some of these historical things the study guide gives are things that happened a generation after us."

"Then we'll cover those together. God knows I've been reading since I got here." It had started slowly, unsure he could bring himself to read about things that had happened after his assumed lifetime would have ended. But eventually he bit the bullet and worked in earnest on catching up.

Goodnight got up and dropped a kiss to the top of Billy's head, hand on his shoulder. "You're gonna get through this and you're gonna qualify, cher." And he was going to make coffee, because he had a feeling they'd need it.

Billy leaned back into the touch. It was rare, to let these doubts out, but when they came they were with Goodnight. He trusted him so utterly, after so long, that there was really no one else he could be this honest with. Even, sometimes, himself.

Once the coffee was made, they studied. Billy was quite civic-minded, but that was mostly because, realistically, you had to be when you worked in the gray areas of the law. He knew most of the geography. History was a mess, and he wasn't hardly any good at most of the science subjects.

Goodnight was happy to help him through history, supplying what he'd learned thus far and consulted the stack of books he had from the library for anything neither of them had come across yet. He was even a fair hand at some of the science Billy was working with, but not all of it.

At some point he ended up talking back and forth with Henry on his phone; he was at least adapting to texting.

When Billy's sounds of frustration were becoming a bit more frequent, Goodnight ordered them food. "Take a break, cher. Slammin' this all through in one shot is only gonna give you a headache."

Edited 2017-02-18 19:13 (UTC)

"I already have one," Billy grumbled, but he shoved the books and things away. Then he grabbed Goodnight's phone, and gave a stumblingly typed thank you to Henry--he was still getting used to the thing, and wasn't nearly as adept with it as Goodnight was.

He got up from the table and tracked down Goodnight, leaning his weight into him.

Goodnight reached back to rub the back of Billy's neck as he leaned into him. He'd been at the counter, consulting one of the study booklets and debating another pot of coffee.

He turned slowly and slid his arms around Billy. "Time to give it a rest then," he said gently. "Food'll be here soon enough. That you've been at it this long without eating is travesty enough."

The closeness, as always, steadied Billy. He suffered less than Goodnight did, and he knew that, but the short-breathed panic that was living under his skin right now was only calmed by the fact that Goodnight was confident in him.

He missed their old cigarettes. While he'd managed to purchase marijuana in Darrow, it wasn't the same as the opium cigarettes they'd indulged in from time to time. He was out of them now.

"Wasn't hungry," he murmured. It was a big thing to admit for Billy. The stress was chewing at him.

"I'm hopin' that changes when it's in front of your face," he said. He kissed Billy tenderly, cradling his face. "You'll do fine, cher." He knew it would give Billy no comfort to hear that failing a first attempt was not a major set back so he kept it to himself. "C'mon, smoke with me until dinner gets here."

He moved away from the counter and tugged Billy across the living room to their small balcony. Maybe the night air would help settle Billy a bit more.

Billy came along, more than willingly. They stepped out onto the balcony, and the bite of the air cleared his head for a moment. He kept leaned into Goodnight, close, despite the relative publicity of a balcony. They'd been this close on private balconies and porches before; he wasn't worried about it.

"I have to pass all the sections," Billy said, "and then there are other tests I can take throughout the year to prove that I know certain things. The preliminary classes. Academy. It's a lot of work for something that used to just be a badge."

"One step at a time, mon cher," he murmured as he kept Bill close to him, arm comfortable around his waist. They could still afford some intimacy out here; it was quiet. "We'll worry about this test first, the rest as it comes."

Goodnight kissed him, squeezed him close for a moment. "Maybe it ain't gonna be easy but you're one of the most stubborn people I know."

Billy snorted. He dug out his cigarette case, and pulled out one of the new marijuana cigarettes, lighting it as he leaned in against Goodnight. Just inside the door off the balcony, Beau sat and watched them. The small unit of their lives was all tied up here, and Billy couldn't be more happy.

"If all else fails..." Billy didn't want to think about failure.

"If all else fails, you try again." Goodnight pressed a kiss to Billy's hair. "One failure is not the end, mon cher. I shudder to think how many times you messed up with those knives before getting as quick as you are."

His fingers brushed fondly along Billy's side. "Took you a bit to get used to a rifle, didn't quit that. Do I even want to ask about riding? God knows I landed on my ass more than I care to recount."

Billy blew out a breath. Goodnight was right. He was too stubborn to let a first failure get him down, or a second, or a third. His fingers were riddled with scars from knives, he'd probably broken ribs a time or two between horses and rifles. He was what his stubbornness had made him.

He leaned in and kissed Goodnight softly.

Goodnight met the kiss, content in the affection. "You're alright. We always land on our feet, huh?" Well, almost always. His hand left Billy's waist in favor of stroking his hair back. "And you retain information better than you think you do. I would know."

Billy sighed, leaning into the touch. He'd needed to be so sure, for both of them, in Rose Creek because he'd seen the cracks in Goodnight's foundation long before they had their argument on Goodnight's leaving. It had been a long time since he'd been so doubtful of himself or something he wanted.

"How long for the food?"

Goodnight was grateful that he could be Billy's rock when he needed it, especially since Billy had been his for so damn long. It was easy for him to have faith in this because he knew Billy, and he knew he'd see it through no matter what if it was something he really wanted. Goodnight would support him however he needed. His thumb brushed tenderly over Billy's hip. "We got time yet, maybe thirty minutes?"

Billy hummed a little bit, nuzzling in against Goodnight for a moment. Maybe they ought to go back inside. They had time to linger and enjoy the crisp night air, but it would be good, in case the food came early.

And because, if Billy was honest, it would be better for the two of them to be inside. The longer they lingered against each other, the longer he was away from his books, the more Billy longed for a more serious distraction.

Goodnight let Billy finish the cigarette before gently cajoling him back inside. It was chilly enough that he didn't want to linger without bundling up more. Once the door was closed he reached, pulling Billy back to him so that he could kiss him.

"Relax, cher. I can see you lost in there," he said as he gently gripped Billy's hair to give his head a little shake.

"So get me out," Billy said, a soft plea. Everything was still so new, so raw, but Goodnight was a constant. Something real and true. No matter how Billy was trying to adapt to things in Darrow, as quickly as he could manage, Goodnight was the only thing that really felt real.

Goodnight pulled Billy close, drew him into a kiss, firm and wanting to answer the plea in Billy's voice. He drew back and curled his fingers in Billy's shirt. "C'mon cher, we got some time to kill."

He moved back toward the couch and nearly fell on it; he pulled Billy with him, into another urgent kiss.

Billy let himself be pulled along. He focused on Goodnight, the certainty of his movements, the warmth of his body. When they reached the couch, Billy had no qualms about settling himself on top of his lap, kissing Goodnight deeply.

That they had this place to themselves, that they had privacy and no one to knock on their doors to check in if they needed something, was still a miracle to Billy. He felt a wild sort of abandon. It was a sort of freedom that, a few times, they had joked about: settling out, somewhere in the frontier, to own land and be accountable to no one but themselves and each other. Darrow felt like that just then.

Goodnight pulled their hips together, hands tight on Billy's thighs. Their privacy here was something he never thought they'd have, unless they settled down somewhere out on the range. The idea had been awfully tempting a number of times. Now here they were, in a place where most didn't seem overly offended by the notion of two men together, living together.

His hips rocked up towards Billy's and one hand slid up his back to tangle in his hair. A soft sound escaped against the kiss and before long he was working Billy's shirt open, wanting to feel his skin.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject