Chapter Text
Steve’s done a lot of idiotic things in his life but sitting on the forest floor in a snowstorm in the middle of the woods in Montana, watching the truck he rented for the last leg of his journey, locked with the keys inside, get slowly buried in a mountain of white powder, he thinks he might be sinking to a new level of idiocy. He’d just stepped out of the car for a minute to assess the situation after his truck stopped dead in its tracks, when the truck door slammed shut in the wind, leaving him to freeze out in the cold.
When he’d arrived at the car rental place, the clerk who rented him the truck tried to talk him out of it. They warned him that a storm was coming, and he’d be wise to rent a hotel room in town for the night and assess the situation again in the morning. Steve’s a stubborn guy, though, so after flying all the way from Chicago to Montana, he’s not willing to rest until he finally gets where he’s going.
Where he’s going is the cabin his grandfather left Steve in his will when he’d passed five years ago, a place Steve has happy memories of visiting during his childhood summers. They would fish and hike, and Steve would help his grandma tend to the vegetable garden she had every year. He’d loved picking peas and carrots, washing them so his grandma could boil them to eat with dinner each night. They would stay up late, sitting around the fire, making smores, as his grandpa told fairy tales and fables, stories that would keep Steve’s attention in a way that nothing has since. He’s hoping to recover a little bit of that childhood magic up here, but all he’ll find is an early grave if he doesn’t get moving, and fast.
According to his map, the last time he looked at it at least, he’s not even far from his destination. It’s apparently less than a mile away, a straight shot forward from where he’s currently sitting. He’s starting to feel sleepy, and he can’t feel his feet, even through the heavy boots he bought at the outdoors store in town, and he’d love nothing more than to lay down and have a nap, but he knows he has to get to the cabin or he’s in danger.
He pushes himself up off the snowy forest floor and forces his legs to move, one foot in front of the other, ever so slowly trudging through the darkness until he sees a faint light in the distance. It has to be coming from his cabin, because there isn’t anyone else around for miles, but it doesn’t make any sense. Steve has the only key to the place, so that means it’s been at least five years, before his grandfather passed, since anyone has been up here, as far as he knows. He has to be hallucinating.
Steve quickly finds out he isn’t seeing things when he has the shit scared out of him as he’s almost knocked flat on his ass by someone opening the door in his face. The hand that reaches out to help him up is attached to a strong arm, thick with muscles. Steve looks up at the stranger who’s inhabiting his cabin but can barely see their face through the thick blonde beard covering most of it.
Before Steve can ask who the fuck they are and what they’re doing here, he’s being pulled into the cabin, the thick wooden front door slamming behind him, dulling the sound of the roaring wind significantly. He hadn’t realized how loud it was until he was out of it. Now it’s just background noise to the sound of a crackling fire and food sizzling in a pan on the wood stove. Just the thought of food makes Steve’s stomach grumble, but he has no time to think about food right now. He still needs to find out who the fuck this guy is.
Before Steve can ask, though, the other man speaks. “What the hell were you doing out in that storm, you idiot?” he asks, a mix of curiosity and incredulousness in his voice. He stomps out of the room before Steve can respond, returning with a pair of long johns, a sweater, and some thick, woolen socks. Steve’s pretty sure he recognizes both the sweater and the socks as his grandpa’s.
When Steve gives him a blank look, he gestures at Steve’s soaking wet clothes. “You need to get those wet clothes off, or you’re going to get sick. If you’re not sick already, dumbass. Who the hell goes anywhere in weather like that, let alone out in the middle of nowhere in Montana?”
He stands there in front of Steve, arms crossed, looking at Steve expectantly, and Steve realizes the man is waiting for Steve to change right in front of him. “I’m just gonna…” Steve gestures to the bedroom on the far side of the living room. His grandparent’s bedroom. They’d always tried to get Steve to sleep on the couch, but he’d inevitably end up between them, as they were never able to tell Steve no.
“I’m not letting you go into my bedroom alone. You might take something.” The man says with a glare.
Steve huffs out a laugh. “Well, considering that this is my cabin, that would also make it my bedroom, I’d think.” With that, he stomps off to the bedroom, slamming the door. He has no clue who this guy is, or what the fuck is going on, but Steve knows he’s right, and that he has to get out of his cold, wet clothes. They can sort out what the hell is happening.
He changes quickly, thankful for the warm, dry clothing, worn with age, soft against his cold, damp skin. When he emerges, the man is now sitting in Steve’s grandma’s rocking chair, the one she used to rock him to sleep in when he was really young and too excited by life at the cabin to fall asleep on his own at nap time. He also has his hair pulled back in a bun, so Steve can finally see some of his face. His eyes are wide and bright, taking Steve in as he re-enters the room. He gestures to the couch and Steve sits, still holding his clothes.
Steve looks around the room, at his grandparent’s belongings still littered around the room. There are pictures of Steve’s family, both framed and unframed, the piles of boardgames and old magazines still stacked in the corner, and the Afghan that Steve used to like to curl up in draped over the back of the couch behind him.
But there are also signs of change. There’s a patchwork quilt beside the Afghan, shoes that must belong to the man, boots and slippers, a pair of sandals lined up at the door, and there’s a framed photograph of a young redheaded woman over the fireplace, next to a picture of Steve when he was little, holding up a fish that he’d caught, with help from his grandfather. It’s clear that the man’s been here a while.
“So,” Steve says, turning to the man. “Care to finally explain what you’re doing in my cabin?”
“If this is your cabin, you must be Jack and Elsie’s grandson.”
Steve’s eyes narrow. How does this guy know that?
“I used to be their winter caretaker,” the man explains, sensing Steve’s confusion. “Starting ten years ago, when their old caretaker, Arnie, died, I took over. I’d just moved to Missoula and saw an ad in the coffee shop from a couple that was looking for someone to go check on their cabin periodically from October to April. We got close through the years. They’d have me over for dinner sometimes, and I’d help with repairs around the place as your grandpa got older. Then, when your grandma died, he told me he was going to leave me the place because the grandson he was going to leave it to hadn’t been up here in years and would probably prefer to inherit a big fat cheque. Since he died not long after and I was never contacted by a lawyer or anything, and you never showed up, I just stayed, hoping no one would tell me to leave. I assume that that’s your job now?”
Steve remembers Arnie, not very well, but he does remember the man going fishing a few times with Steve and his grandfather, and sometimes they would have Arnie over for dinner, to eat the fish they’d caught together, fried in a pan with butter and lemon, with little potatoes that had been cooked in tinfoil in the coals and garden-fresh peas and carrots on the side. Steve would give anything for that right now. It reminds him of how hungry his currently is, and that all his food is a mile away, in the locked truck. He’s such a fucking idiot.
Steve looks at Arnie’s replacement, trying to recall whether his grandfather mentioned Arnie dying or anyone replacing him, but he can’t. Ten years ago, Steve was caught up in the throes of young love with Nancy, and he’s ashamed to say that he rebuffed his grandparent’s invitations to join them here the last six or seven summers that they made the trip, before his grandmother passed away and his grandfather’s health took a turn for the worse and he joined her on the other side. He’ll always carry that regret with him, and it cuts especially deep now as he’s meeting the man who was apparently his replacement.
He's not really sure what to say to the man. Yes, Steve owns the place, but this is the man’s home, and has apparently it has been for the past five years. Steve had never given much thought to what the place would look like when he got here, but now he knows he has this guy to thank for the decent condition that it’s in and kicking him out of his home in the middle of a snowstorm isn’t exactly the best way to show his appreciation. Even Steve knows that.
“Well,” Steve finally says, “I own the place now, I have the papers to prove it back home, but since it’s not like either of us could leave even if we wanted to right now, you’re welcome to stay for the time being. If you don’t mind a roommate? And another mouth to feed? But I call the bed.”
The man looks at Steve with a stunned expression on his face. “No way, man! That thing’s tiny! It’s not even long enough for me to lay on!”
Steve laughs, gesturing at himself. “I’m taller than you are! Why should I sleep on it if you won’t?”
“By a quarter inch, maybe,” the man says, throwing his hands up in surrender, unable to think of an argument for that logic. “Rock paper scissors. Best out of three?”
Steve nods, standing.
They end up tying all three rounds. What the hell are the chances of that?
“Guess we’re sharing the bed,” the man says, as he stirs the pot on the fire, then pulls two bowls out of the cupboard and fishes two spoons out of a drawer. “I like to know my bedpartners name before sleeping with them though,” he says with a wink. “What can I call you?”
Steve feels his face flush as he sputters out a response. “Steve. And you?” he asks as he accepts a steaming bowl of what looks to be stew from the man, along with a piece of very rustic looking bread.
“Billy.” The man replies, sitting at the little wooden table against the far wall of the room.
They eat in silence for a few minutes, until Steve’s curiosity about the man gets the better of him, and he has to ask. “So, you’re not like, dangerous, right? I’m not going to find out you’re an escaped madman when I open my eyes in the middle of the night to you standing over me with a knife in your hand?”
Billy snorts. “No, nothing like that. The only escaping I did was when I ran away from home at 17. My dad wasn’t exactly the best guy, and I wanted to get away. Far away.”
If there’s one thing Steve can completely understand, it’s shitty dads, his own having made it very clear that he would disown Steve and write him out of his will if he didn’t follow his father’s footsteps into the family law practice, setting him up for a lifetime of misery, so he just nods in understanding and eats more of his stew. It’s delicious, spicy and meaty, and it’s warming him up from the inside. It’s exactly what he needed.
“What’s your story?” Billy asks after a minute.
Steve shrugs. “Not much of a story. Just needed a change of pace for a while and remembered my grandfather left me this place, so I just kind of made a spur of the moment decision to hang out here for a while.” He’s not quite ready to share with a complete stranger the fact that Nancy left him for Jonathan Byers, her coworker and their former classmate. The wound is too fresh.
Billy nods, and they go back to eating in silence.
It’s already late, so they don’t stay up for too much longer. When it is time to sleep and they head to the bedroom, Steve’s surprised to see that the carved wood bed is even smaller than he remembers it being when he was little, asking to be lifted onto it in the middle of the night. He and Billy are two grown men. They’re barely going to fit.
“I’m a cuddler, I hope you don’t mind it,” Billy says, laughing, as he slips under the pile of blankets and quilts.
What’s with this guy? If Steve didn’t know better, he’d almost think that Billy was flirting with him. But there’s no way that this guy in the middle of nowhere Montana is into him, even if Steve finds himself kind of into the idea of Billy’s strong arms holding him tight, so he shoves that thought to the back of his mind and slips under the covers himself, trying to get as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off.
***
Steve blinks awake in the early morning light, finding himself wrapped in Nancy’s arms. He almost rolls over to kiss her before remembering that it’s not Nancy draped over him, but Billy. The guy did warn Steve that he’s a cuddler, but the reality is much different than the idea of it. Billy’s burning hot, and he’s breathing little puffs of warm air onto the back of Steve’s neck, where his face is buried. Steve lays still for a couple minutes, letting himself enjoy it. He’s not sure if it’s the crisp mountain air, or all that he went through yesterday, but he sleeps like a baby, and wakes up feeling completely refreshed, and ready to get back to his truck.
A glance out the window tells him that probably won’t be possible. He can’t see anything for the snow still falling in thick sheets outside. It was already almost up to Steve’s knees yesterday, so he can’t even imagine how much accumulated on top of that overnight. He’s never going to be able to get his belongings at this rate. He hopes Billy has more clothes to lend him, or he’s going to start to stink fast.
Finally, he forces himself to get up, lest Billy wake up and find Steve awake in his arms. He puts up a mock fight against Billy’s weight, wrestling his way out of Billy’s arms, standing to stretch. The blonde cracks one eye to take Steve in before closing it and rubbing the sleep out of the corners of his eyes as he lets out a big yawn. His hair’s a mess, and his cheeks are pink, creases from the pillow pressed into his cheeks. Steve tries not to stare too long.
Unsure of what to say, he crosses his arms and kicks at the bedpost. “So, what do you usually do around here when the weathers like this?”
Billy shrugs, standing to pull on a pair of sweatpants and thick knitted sweater that he’s pulled from the dresser. He throws some clothes at Steve and Steve hastily pulls them on, only now realizing how cold it is in here, without the warmth of the woodstove. Billy had added a couple logs before they’d gone to bed, but Steve hadn’t felt him get up at any point, so it’s probably been at least a few hours since it stopped producing heat.
“I usually just play solitaire, read the magazines or a book. Sometimes I jack off if I’m really bored.” He says the last bit as he walks out of the bedroom, so Steve can’t see his face, but he can hear the smirk in Billy’s voice.
Billy pulls a couple logs from the small pile outside the bedroom door and places them in the wood stove. He lights a match and sets fire to a small piece of newspaper that he throws into the woodstove as well.
“You like potatoes?” Billy asks, pulling a cast iron frying pan off the wall and sets it on the stove. It’s the big one that his grandma used to fry the fish in. She used to lecture Steve about taking care of cast iron so it would last, and it makes Steve smile to see it still in such good condition, still being put to good use.
Steve nods slowly, wondering if this is a trick question. Who doesn’t like potatoes?
“Good,” Billy replies, “Because if you didn’t, you might starve. It’s about half my diet in the winter.” He heads down the stairs to the small cool cellar and comes back with a couple large potatoes and what looks to be a chunk of dried meat. He walks over to the small kitchen area and sets down the potatoes and meat and grabs a spoon and a small container, walking over to the stove. He scoops out a blob of what must be butter or lard and drops it into the pan.
He chops up the potatoes and throws them in with the oil, and soon, the small space is filled with a sizzling sound. Just as Steve’s stomach starts to rumble, Billy hands him a plate of fried potatoes and chunks of the cured meat, along with more of the same bread as the night before.
“Coffee?” Billy asks, and Steve nods, and is quickly handed a mug of it. Black, just the way he likes it. They eat, side by side on the couch, in companionable silence. Steve’s not used to all this quiet. Back home, Nancy’s always got something to say, or the phone is ringing, or the timer on the dryer is going off. There’s honking from traffic or construction outside his window, and at the office, his computer is pinging with new emails, or his secretary is rambling on about his afternoon meetings and appointments or asking what he’d like for lunch. It’s so nice to be able to hear his own thoughts inside his head for a change.
Steve wants to make sure that he’s pulling his own weight at the cabin, so they’re done eating, he has Billy run him through his dishwashing set up. They boil water in a pot on the stove, then mix in some cooler water that Billy pours out of a jug. Once everything is quickly washed up, dried, and put away, they return to the couch, and Billy pulls out a deck of cards.
“You play poker? The snow seems like it’s letting up, but we should still wait until at least tomorrow to try to get into your truck, just to be on the safe side, so we’ve got a lot of time to kill.”
They spend the majority of the day playing games, a few rounds of poker before moving onto Life and Clue and ending with a game of Monopoly that has to be cut short when they start accusing each other of cheating. Before Steve knows it, its dinner time, and he realizes that he can’t remember the last time a day where he did so little passed so fast. The lack of productivity sets him on edge, but he reminds himself that that’s why he’s here, to get away from life for a while.
They eat dinner, the same fragrant, delicious stew from the night before, paired with more of the crusty bread, the whole thing dish setting Steve’s tastebuds alight. “Where did you learn to cook like this?” He asks, looking down at his bowl an trying to decide if it would be too much to slurp up the tiny little bit of liquid that he can’t get with his spoon. He decides it is and pushes it away.
Billy gestures to Steve’s grandma’s cookbooks, all neatly lined up in a row on a shelf above the small kitchen window. “Mainly from those. I always liked to cook, would stand on a stool and watch my mom make dinner, or help her bake cookies, but once she passed away, we ate a lot of cereal and frozen dinners, until my stepmom moved in.
I knew how to cook eggs and toast and could make spaghetti with jarred sauce, but once I moved in here and didn’t have access to the grocery store as often, I had to get a bit more resourceful. I went through all the cookbooks and made note of anything that could be done with root vegetables and cured meat or powdered eggs and milk. It’s been fun.”
“Wow, that’s very impressive. I’m almost thirty and I can barely boil water without burning it. You’re amazing, man.”
Billy ducks his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Just did what I had to do to survive.” With that, he stands and sets water to boil for the dishes.
After they’ve washed up, they spend the evening reading, Steve pulling from the stack of magazines and Billy quickly plowing through a thick paperback. At bedtime, they assume the same position as the night before, and again Steve sleeps like a baby.
***
The snow starts up again overnight, so the next day is spent in much the same fashion as the one before, and so is the next. The only difference on the third day being that at about 8pm, Billy sets down his book and announces that it’s bath night.
Steve wouldn’t even think twice about it if it wasn’t for the fact that the bathtub is actually just a metal washtub sitting by the back window, and there are no doors in the cabin. The couch and the bed both face the tub, so unless Steve closes his eyes or pulls out a kitchen chair and faces it away from Billy, he’ll see everything the other man has going on under his clothes.
After he helps Billy fill the tub with a combination of boiling and cold water, they do rock, paper, scissors again to decide who gets to bathe in the fresh water. Steve wins, so Billy pulls out a crossword puzzle book and gets to work on one in a kitchen chair facing the wall, just like Steve had planned during Billy’s turn in the tub, while Steve quickly washes all his important bits and scrubs his hair with some shampoo.
After Steve dries off and redresses, they trade places, Steve reading an article on how to raise your own chickens in Country Living magazine while Billy bathes. It takes everything he has to keep his mind on the chickens and not peek. He tells himself that he’s just curious about Billy’s build, since the other man is always bundled up in thick sweats, but he knows it’s more. Billy’s hot, there’s no denying it. With his long, golden hair, face full of freckles, and ocean blue eyes, he’s hard to resist, but even if Steve were ready to explore his sexuality, it wouldn’t be right to peek, especially after Billy gave Steve his privacy while he bathed.
Before long, Billy’s out of the bath and redressed, and they head to bed. Steve wakes in the middle of the night with Billy wrapped around him again, but this time, instead of leaning into it, he rolls out of his arms, determined to put distance between them.
***
On the fourth day, the snow has finally stopped, so over a hearty breakfast of dried chorizo, baked beans and fried potatoes, Billy announces that they’re going to go into town to see if they can get a spare set of truck keys from the rental place, so they can get his belongings out of it, then tow it back to town.
Steve balks at that. “We’re gonna walk into town? It’s going to take all day! Isn’t there someone we can call? What if we sink in the snow, or a wild animal gets us?” He’s in such a state that he doesn’t even realize Billy’s laughing at him at first, until the blonde tosses something at Steve. He catches it and realizes that it’s a set of keys. He’s confused. “I didn’t see a truck around here.” He’d looked while out using the outhouse but hadn’t seen anything.
Billy shakes his head, jerking his chin in the direction of the back yard. “Not a truck. A snowmobile.”
Billy grabs a spare backpack for Steve to wear, since he says they’re going to go to the store while they’re in town, and since there’s two of them now, they’ll need to bring back more food.
“How often do you go to town?” Steve asks.
“About once a month. I make most of my money in the summers, working on a ranch, so I need to make it last through the winter. I mostly rely on dry and canned goods, but once a month, I treat myself to dinner and a few fresh goods like eggs and milk. It’s a little early for this month’s trip, but I figure we can kill two birds with one stone by talking to the towing company and getting the food.”
Steve’s glad his wallet was in his coat pocket when he locked the truck, so that he can help Billy pay for the food and treat him to dinner to thank him for his hospitality. Steve knows it’s his house, but it’s still kind of Billy to welcome him in, feed him, entertain him, and he’s helping him with getting the truck returned, so he feels like he owes him one.
The snowmobile makes quick work of the trip to town, zipping right by the truck on the way. Steve’s glad that it seems to have remained untouched since he had to abandon it, even if there is about another foot of snow surrounding it. Hopefully, by the end of the day, it’ll be unlocked, he can collect his stuff, and get it back to town and it’ll no longer be his problem. He clutches his arms tight around Billy’s waist, trying not to think too hard about how good it feels, instead losing himself in a fantasy about finally getting to start the restful, relaxing part of his trip once all this car business is over.
***
The first place they head when they get to town is the local garage. The man they talk to grumbles when they explain how far it’ll have to be towed, busy as he is with all the other towing jobs he already has on his plate for the day, but he thankfully changes his tune when Steve pulls out his credit card and tells him it doesn’t matter what it costs, he just wants it done, and wants it done quickly. They then speak to the car rental place and are able to get an extra set of keys.
Once that’s all sorted, they go to a sporting goods store. Unsure of whether he was going to stay long, Steve hadn’t brought much with him in the way of outdoors gear, so they talk to a salesgirl, who gets him fully loaded up with mitts and wool socks, long johns, thermal undershirts, a knitted hat, and scarf, a set of snowshoes, and even a balaclava.
Between the outdoors store and the grocery store, they buy so much that they talk to the tow truck driver, who thankfully knows Billy and agrees to deliver their purchases when he picks up the truck. He’s not going to drive out to their place until 5pm, when he closes up the auto shop for the day, so Billy and Steve take their time wandering around the beautiful small town.
They poke around an antique shop, laughing together as they imagine the beautiful works of art and high end vintage furniture gracing their little cabin, and peruse the general store. They grab some treats at a chocolate shop, and after Steve insists that it’s a gift from him for taking such good care of the cabin, they go back to the outdoor store and purchase a knit hat and scarf set that Steve had seen Billy admiring when they’d been in the shop earlier, blue to go with the red set Steve had bought himself. It’ll match his beautiful eyes, Steve thinks, before shaking the thought out of his head.
Finally, they end up at a steakhouse that Billy swears has the best mashed potatoes he’s ever tasted in his life. They split spinach and artichoke dip for an appetizer, and after Billy’s ringing endorsement, he has no choice but to order the mashed potatoes with his ribeye steak. He almost moans in pleasure at the first bite.
“See,” Billy says, grinning around his own mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Mind blowing, aren’t they?”
“Shit, yeah, they’re amazing. What do they use, a half pound of butter in each serving? I’m going to gain five pounds just from eating this.”
“Not a chance,” Billy replies. “You’ve had it easy so far, sitting around during the storm. Now that the snow’s stopped, there’s plenty to do around the house, inside and out. Always something to build or repair or clean. You’ll burn anything you eat right off, and put on some muscle, to boot.”
Steve likes the sound of that. Years of sitting behind a desk and in a courtroom have made him soft, miles away from the star basketball player he was in high school. He’ll be more than happy to shave off a few inches.
Contrary to what he’d said about gaining weight, Steve can’t refuse a look at the dessert menu, nor can he resist ordering the warm fudge brownie topped with chocolate syrup and vanilla bean ice cream. Billy, who apparently has more willpower just asks for a cup of tea.
When the dessert arrives, it comes with two spoons, and Steve insists that Billy try some. It doesn’t take long for him to give in, and he scoops up a spoonful, which leaves him with a pleased look on his face and a smear of chocolate syrup on his lower lip. Steve has to resist the urge to wipe it up with his thumb, instead handing Billy a napkin before he can do anything dumb.
When the waitress asks them how they’d like to split the bill, Steve says it’ll be just one bill, at the same time Billy says they’ll split it. Steve tells the waitress to ignore Billy and he can see that she has when she returns with one slip of paper that she hands right to Steve, along with a handful of dinner mints. He pays and they leave, and Steve forgets about the whole scene, until they get back to the cabin.
Steve asks Billy if he wants to play a couple rounds of War, but Billy doesn’t reply. He just grabs the novel he’s been working his way through and laying down on the couch, making it very obvious that Steve’s not invited to join him and should find something to otherwise occupy his time until the tow truck shows up.
Steve grabs a magazine and pretends to read it at the kitchen table, but really, he’s wracking his brain, trying to think of what he could have done to upset Billy. Did he maybe want to red hat and scarf, or was he upset that Steve didn’t share more of his dessert with him? He has no clue, and he feels like an asshole.
After about an hour, Billy finally clues him in. “You know, I could have paid for my own meal at the restaurant, right? I may not be loaded like you, but I’m not poor.”
Shit, so that’s it. Steve didn’t think it was possible, but he feels even more like a jerk, now that he knows he’s insulted Billy so deeply.
Steve takes a minute to collect his thoughts so that he doesn’t make the situation even worse, but then he puts down the magazine and faces Billy. “I’m sorry, man. I really, honestly am. I wasn’t trying to insult you, or make you feel small. I know you could have afforded it, but I wanted to treat you. You’ve done so much for me, in just a few short days, so please believe me when I say that buying you dinner was the absolute least that I could do to repay your kindness. It wasn’t charity, I swear.”
Billy sighs, marking his page and laying his book down on the coffee table. “I know. Money’s just always been a touchy subject for me. We didn’t have a lot of it growing up, and yeah, I work in the summers, so I have a bit socked away, but it’s still not a lot, definitely not enough to buy you… I mean anyone, a nice meal like that. It was nice of you, but it caught me off guard. Next time you wanna do something like that, at least warn a guy, ok?”
Steve nods in agreement. He’s never had to worry about money a day in his life, and the way he’s always shown people that he cares about them is buying them stuff. Nancy never complained, and neither did his friends, so he never thought that flashing his money around might upset someone, but there’s a first time for everything. Then he remembers the hat and scarf, and asks Billy if he should return them the next time they’re in town.
Billy shakes his head. “No, that’s ok. You offered and I agreed. You didn’t surprise me like you did with lunch. Plus, they’re really nice and warm. Can never have too much warm clothing around this place.” With that settled, Billy pulls out the deck of cards and starts dealing for a game of War.
That turns into four games, two wins apiece, and just as they’re about to deal for a tiebreaking game, they hear the tow truck rumble up. They get bundled up and grab their purchases from the driver before Steve climbs into the cab of the tow truck with the driver. Billy follows along behind, so he can drive Steve and his belongings back to the cabin after they get this mess sorted out.
It doesn’t take him long to pick the lock on the rental truck so Steve can grab his stuff, and then the driver is on his way back to town, the truck in tow, and Billy and Steve are headed back to the cabin for dinner.
They keep the meal light, since they had such a heavy lunch, munching on peanut butter and jam sandwiches with a cup of tea, but they do dig into the fudge they bought for dessert, before Steve puts his stuff away in the couple of drawers Billy emptied out for him.
They don’t usually talk before bed, but that night, Billy turns towards Steve once turned off the lights and climbed under the covers. Steve can just barely see the outline of him in the moonlight, just a head sticking out of a mound of blankets, his wild curls, free of their scrunchie giving him the appearance of a turnip sticking out of the dirt in a garden. It makes Steve smile.
“I’m just wondering, why did you come all the way out here, Steve? I know you own the place, but it’s so far from your home, and you didn’t really seem prepared.”
“It wasn’t. Not really. A couple days before I came here, my girlfriend broke up with me. Told me she’s been cheating on me with a guy we went to high school with. I honestly should have seen something like this coming, the breakup at least, if not the cheating, things haven’t been the same between us for a long time, but it still really hurts. I was going to propose to her soon. I had to escape for a while. Give myself some room to breath, you know? I hadn’t been up here in years, obviously, but I can still remember how relaxed I always felt when I was here with my grandparents. Like nothing in the real world mattered. It was just the three of us for a little while. I was hoping to recapture some of that magic by visiting.”
“Shit, man, I’m sorry Do you feel like you have?” Billy says, softer than before.
“Have what?” Steve asks, confused.
“Recaptured some of the magic.”
Steve thinks about it for a minute, then nods, even though he knows Billy probably can’t see it. “Yeah, I think I have.”
“Good.”
Billy then rolls over, and within minutes he’s snoring, a noise Steve’s gotten used to, and now can’t imagine sleeping without.
***
Time passes quickly at the cabin. Billy’s right, there’s always something to fix or paint or build, food to cook and wood to chop. Billy teaches Steve to do it all, and he was right, Steve can see the muscle developing in his arms, and his pants are starting to fit a bit looser. Billy even has to lend him a belt after his jeans almost fall down one day while he’s replacing a stripped screw in the front door.
Before Steve knows it, it’s the middle of February, Valentine’s Day, to be exact, not that they’re going to celebrate, or probably even acknowledge it up here. He briefly wonders if Nancy and Jonathan are doing anything special today, but the thought is fleeting. He needs to get Nancy out of his mind for good.
It's a Sunday, the one day a week they really allow themselves to rest, so they’re still in bed at 10, or rather, back in bed, after getting up a couple hours ago to quickly take a piss and feed a couple logs into the woodstove, to keep them warm until they decided to really rouse themselves for the day.
They’re dozing in their blanket cocoon, basking in the bright sunshine streaming through the window, but Steve hears Billy’s stomach grumble, so he knows it’s time to finally start their day. They take their time making breakfast, going all out with pancakes and fried potatoes to go with their salami, even using the real maple syrup that Steve splurged on the last time they were in town.
Their only plan for the day is for Billy to finally teach Steve to make bread, something Steve has been putting off for as long as possible. He’s doing well with cooking, mastering fried potatoes and boiled eggs, grilled cheeses, and stew, but baking still makes him nervous. What if the bread doesn’t rise, or it rises too much, or it burns, and they waste time and ingredients and get nothing out of it?
But Billy says Steve’s ready, and even after just a month and a half of living together, he trusts Billy completely, so today’s the day. He’s watched Billy do this many times, so Billy stands off to the side, letting Steve follow his grandmother’s recipe, only interjecting a couple times, when Steve almost adds one too many cups of flour, and almost forgets the sugar.
Once everything’s mixed, Steve dumps the contents of the bowl onto the floured countertop and gets to work kneading the dough. He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job, really putting all the muscle he’s built up in his arms into it, but clearly, Billy doesn’t think it’s enough, because suddenly, Steve feels Billy’s pecs pressed up against his back, and his arms wrap around Steve, his hands joining in, covering Steve’s helping him knead with all his might.
Steve’s only about a half an inch taller than Billy, so with the other man flush behind him, his dick is resting against Steve’s ass. Even through their heavy sweatpants, Steve can feel Billy’s bulge, warm and thick, nesting against his ass cheeks. He can feel a flush creeping onto his cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to fight it by focusing on the kneading motion their hands are making. He wonders if Billy’s as affected by this as he is, or is the other man completely oblivious, just happy to help?
With their combined efforts, the bread really starts to come together, and Billy shows him how to line the old tin bread pans with parchment, so they can set the shaped loaves inside to rise. They cover them with clean tea towels and set them on the table, next to the woodstove, so they stay warm enough to not pitifully deflate.
While they wait the required amount of time, they decide to do some snowshoeing, something else Billy has slowly been teaching Steve how to do. It was slow going the first time they went out, Steve unused to the clunky weight strapped to his feet, and for days afterwards, his legs would ache from the workout.
Now though, Steve’s getting used to it, enjoying it even, enjoying the crisp white snow, and fresh cold air filling his lungs, searching for animal prints, finding everything from rabbits and foxes to deer bear, to one time, a cougar. Steve had been terrified, but Billy’s assured him that he’ll keep Steve safe with the gun he carries on his back when they’re out and about, if they ever come upon one.
He’s going to teach Steve to shoot in the spring, so that he knows what to do if anything ever gets Billy, and while Steve’s afraid to hold that much power in his hands, much more fearful than he was of the breadmaking, he knows it’ll be a useful skill to have out here.
It’s been dull and grey out lately, the kind of weather that makes you want to stay inside unless you have to go out, so they stay out for over two hours, since it’s such a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Billy tests Steve’s knowledge in bird and tree identification, and they see moose tracks, the first time Steve’s seen any since arriving. It’s terrifying, but also so cool.
Once they get bored of that, they sing along to invisible music, everything from the latest rock hits to Barry Manilow. It’s fun and easy, in a way it never was with Nancy. He can’t believe he went so much of his life before meeting Billy, who’s quickly turning into his best friend, even if best friend sounds like the kind of label a middle schooler would give the girl she met the week before in class.
They’re almost back to the cabin when Steve trips over his own feet and falls into the snow. On instinct, he grabs at Billy’s coat and pulls him down with him, and they land in a heap in the soft, white powder. Billy tries to right himself so he can help Steve up, but he stumbles and falls again, and they laugh until there are tears in their eyes and they’re gasping for air.
Billy rolls over and looks at Steve, a grin on his face, but then suddenly, they’re not laughing anymore, because Billy’s lips are pressed to Steve’s, and they’re kissing. At first, it’s slow and tentative, but then the kisses become deeper, tongues searching, noses bumping, Steve’s hands gripping Billy’s arms through his coat. It’s freezing cold out, but Steve feels like he’s about 100 degrees under all the layers he’s wrapped in.
They stay there for a long while, tasting each other, nipping and biting, licking and kissing, out under the wide-open Montana sky, only stopping when they have to come up for brief gasps of air. He can’t remember the last time it felt this good just to kiss someone.
But then, all of a sudden, Steve comes to his senses. What the fuck is he doing? What was he thinking? Billy’s a guy. Steve’s pretty sure Billy’s into this from the comments he’s made in the past, but Steve doesn’t know if he himself is into this, it being a guy that he’s kissing. Is he just lonely up here? He really should have put some more thought into his sexuality before now.
Steve knows bisexuality is a thing, but he doesn’t know if it applies to him. Sure, he glances at naked guys in the change room at the gym, and he notices when a guy is especially good looking, and there’s the whole thing with the nighttime cuddling with Billy, and earlier, when they were making the bread, but this is all too much, too fast.
He pushes Billy off him, and pushes himself to his feet, announcing that they should get back to the cabin, that it’s probably time to bake the bread. He has no clue if that’s true, but he has to get out of this somehow. The rest of their walk is silent. Steve wants to say something to try to diffuse the tension but has no clue how to even start.
They arrive back at the cabin, and it turns out that it is time to bake the bread, so Steve wordlessly wraps it up in tinfoil as he’s seen Billy do many times before, and they sit and wait, still not talking. The bread comes out beautifully, and they eat it with stew for dinner that evening.
Billy opens his mouth as if to speak a few times, probably trying to find a way to bring up the kiss, but Steve rejects his attempts, changing the subject until Billy gets the hint and drops it completely. In bed that night, Steve keeps his distance from Billy, almost falling off the bed in his attempts to get as far away from the other man as possible.
Steve feels sick. He knows that it’s not fair to push Billy away like this, to not at least give him an honest explanation about how Steve’s feeling about everything, but he’s just not ready to talk about it with anyone yet.
***
Thankfully, Billy seems ready to get it go the next day. He does keep a bit more physical distance between himself and Steve than before, no more wrapping himself around Steve from behind as he shows him how to cook something new or do repairs around the house, but they resume their long conversations and meal preparations, they wash the dishes together and Billy starts showing Steve how to bake more loaves and cakes, and it’s fun, nothing is the same now and Steve hates it, would do anything to change it, but he doesn’t know where to even start.