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"Is that what this is fucking about?" Billy's voice was loud, echoing through the empty room.
"Jesus Christ, Billiam... this is about the goddamned band." Joe could hear the lie in his voice and he hated himself for it. They both knew why they were here, why after all this time Joe had asked Billy to come back.
Because he could.
Billy was watching Joe with unreadable eyes, pacing back and forth, smoke swirling around his head. No matter what Billy did, no matter where he went, he couldn't get away from Joe. He never could. Not then, and sure as shit not now. And Billy knew it, obviously, hated it, resented Joe for the control he had over him.
"This isn't about the band, and you fucking know it. At least tell me the truth." Billy's voice was dark now, pissed off and right on the edge of the violence that had been brewing between them since Billy had come back. "You lie to them..." Billy pointed at the door, his lit cigarette drawing smoky burning lines in the half-light; "and you can fucking lie to yourself, but not to me." Billy stepped closer, the volume of his voice rising. "We never lie to each other, Joe. Never." Billy dropped the cigarette, burned down to the filter, and crushed it into the floor with his heel. "You owe me that at least."
"Me? What the fuck could I possibly owe you? You walked the fuck out on this band. On me! I don't owe your ass shit," Joe sneered, stepping even closer, so they were nose to nose, almost in each other's faces.
Billy's hand came up quickly, and for a moment Joe didn't know if Billy meant to hit him or grab him. The answer came a heartbeat later as Billy's rough hand closed over the back of his neck, yanking Joe's mouth to his.
It was everything Joe remembered from that last night; from all their nights. Hard and sharp and smoky and violent; fighting for control.
Before he could even think about it Joe's hands were on Billy's shoulders, gripping as hard as he could. Billy's bitten down fingernails dug into his neck hard enough to bruise, but Joe didn't care. Right now all he cared about was the way Billy tasted; familiar and frightening; but, oh god, still the same after all this goddamned time.
Billy pulled back just a little, enough to get a few panting breathes of air. "Bastard," he hissed, his other hand coming up to shove hard at Joe's chest.
"Shut the..." Joe spun, shoving Billy hard into the door, hard enough that his head slammed back and hit the wood with a thud. "fuck up, Billiam."
Then their lips were mashed back together; hands scrambling over restraining clothes; finally giving up and just trying to hold on through the storm. Joe could taste Billy's blood in his mouth, and it made him grin like a madman into the kiss. Nothing ever changed between them. No matter how many times Billy tried to walk away from this; how far away he ran, all the way to L.A.; he still belonged to Joe.
Always.
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