muses_gonewild: 131. frangible: capable of being broken; easily broken.
((Which basically happens after this, and I maaay have stolen Barney without permission. But the scene was going around my head, and I had to write it down.))
They slept together that night. He was amazed at how easily such a thing could turn sexual, and yet they were perfectly comfortable together in the same bed just because it felt right.
Billy pressed himself up against Barney's back, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. It was nice. Comforting. The heat of another's body under the sheets on a cold New York night. Maybe, he thought, that was a reason for all the one-night stands. Burned once by the woman he loved (twice, even--there was Robin to consider as well) but unable to bear the intense loneliness every single night without anyone at all.
He had asked a lot of questions, and Barney had answered a lot of them, truthfully, painfully. Reduced to hidden tears and clutching onto one another so tightly that to loosen their grip just slightly might send him tumbling to the ground and breaking. Billy had understood, then. It was easier for Barney to open up around him, and yet Billy said very little. The help, the listening, it went both ways, and since when was the last time he'd actively discussed a secret or a memory so painful that he needed to cry into someone's shoulder?
Billy felt the tenseness that remained in his shoulders, down along his back, in his breathing. He let his fingers drift along the muscles of Barney's abdomen and propped his chin up in the angle between shoulder and neck. "What are you thinking about?"
Barney turned his head slightly, glancing at Billy out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing."
"Really."
"Yes, nothing, really, stop being such a chick and go to sleep."
It had been a suggestion, quiet, subtle, after all their talking, that maybe they ought not to be alone. That maybe some company would be welcomed that night. Neither of them even had to be drunk this time ("But maybe it would help," joked Barney. "No, it wouldn't," replied Billy.), they just had to be there.
"...I'm just wondering about my life again," Barney admitted after a few minutes of silence and Billy obviously not believing that 'nothing' was the subject on his mind.
"Don't do that." Billy settled his head back down, tightening his grip marginally. "I wouldn't be here if you weren't how you are now. Leave the time travel and the alternate universes to the experts." It was all so much easier to say than to do, he knew, but he said it anyway. He was here, now. They were here. Mulling on the past led to things better left unsaid and undone.
"Yeah. I wouldn't be my awesome self."
"Exactly."
Barney rested his arms atop Billy's, and Billy allowed on brief moment of wonder pass through him. While Barney mused on the past, Billy feared the future. What will his counterpart do with himself when Billy eventually went back to Los Angeles? Would all their progress be reversed? Would things right themselves, as Billy always said things had a way of doing?
But that was the future. What they had was now.
Now mattered most of all.
They slept together that night. He was amazed at how easily such a thing could turn sexual, and yet they were perfectly comfortable together in the same bed just because it felt right.
Billy pressed himself up against Barney's back, wrapping his arms around the other's waist. It was nice. Comforting. The heat of another's body under the sheets on a cold New York night. Maybe, he thought, that was a reason for all the one-night stands. Burned once by the woman he loved (twice, even--there was Robin to consider as well) but unable to bear the intense loneliness every single night without anyone at all.
He had asked a lot of questions, and Barney had answered a lot of them, truthfully, painfully. Reduced to hidden tears and clutching onto one another so tightly that to loosen their grip just slightly might send him tumbling to the ground and breaking. Billy had understood, then. It was easier for Barney to open up around him, and yet Billy said very little. The help, the listening, it went both ways, and since when was the last time he'd actively discussed a secret or a memory so painful that he needed to cry into someone's shoulder?
Billy felt the tenseness that remained in his shoulders, down along his back, in his breathing. He let his fingers drift along the muscles of Barney's abdomen and propped his chin up in the angle between shoulder and neck. "What are you thinking about?"
Barney turned his head slightly, glancing at Billy out of the corner of his eye. "Nothing."
"Really."
"Yes, nothing, really, stop being such a chick and go to sleep."
It had been a suggestion, quiet, subtle, after all their talking, that maybe they ought not to be alone. That maybe some company would be welcomed that night. Neither of them even had to be drunk this time ("But maybe it would help," joked Barney. "No, it wouldn't," replied Billy.), they just had to be there.
"...I'm just wondering about my life again," Barney admitted after a few minutes of silence and Billy obviously not believing that 'nothing' was the subject on his mind.
"Don't do that." Billy settled his head back down, tightening his grip marginally. "I wouldn't be here if you weren't how you are now. Leave the time travel and the alternate universes to the experts." It was all so much easier to say than to do, he knew, but he said it anyway. He was here, now. They were here. Mulling on the past led to things better left unsaid and undone.
"Yeah. I wouldn't be my awesome self."
"Exactly."
Barney rested his arms atop Billy's, and Billy allowed on brief moment of wonder pass through him. While Barney mused on the past, Billy feared the future. What will his counterpart do with himself when Billy eventually went back to Los Angeles? Would all their progress be reversed? Would things right themselves, as Billy always said things had a way of doing?
But that was the future. What they had was now.
Now mattered most of all.