Chapter Text
It happens a few weeks after Frank arrives. He’s expressing wonder at Bill’s skill in preparing the rabbit he’d trapped and Bill, bashful, just scoffs and makes some comment about how it’s a wonder Frank made it here if he’s impressed by that.
He’s not prepared for Frank’s expression to snap shut like one of his traps, nor for how suddenly cold his voice is when he speaks.
“You know, I did make it here. It would be nice if you stopped acting like I’m completely useless.”
He turns around and leaves the kitchen before Bill can even react.
It’s bad, how long it takes for Bill to go after him. He’d gone back to the rabbit, the red flush spreading across his face and the shame curdling in his gut and the unerring panic that this is what will make Frank leave him making him cross and defensive. What was he supposed to think? The man turns up here, falls right into his trap, isn’t even carrying a gun. He trusts Bill immediately, gives him about twenty opportunities to kill him in the first hour should he choose. All this is just because Bill feels protective of him.
It’s all bullshit and he knows it.
He goes to find Frank.
He’s sitting on the edge of the porch, staring out into the fading light. To Bill’s surprise and increasing shame his eyes are red and puffy as he draws level with him.
He kicks at the dirt and clears his throat uncomfortably. “I’m-I’m sorry.” He wants to say more, like I don’t think you’re useless and I just worry about you and please, please don’t leave.
“I made it here,” Frank repeats quietly. He turns his head to look at Bill hard. “Nine people didn’t. But I did. You don’t know what I had to do. What it’s like out there.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“But you don’t,” Frank repeats with a humourless smile, turning to stare into the gathering gloom again. “Sure, you go outside the compound. But you always get to come back, don’t you? We didn’t have that option. We didn’t get a break. You don’t know what that’s like.”
All sorts of arguments rear their stubborn heads. Bill does know what it’s really like, thank you very much. Nowhere in this goddamn world is safe, he could’ve told him that years ago– But he swallows them down and holds his tongue. Maybe Frank does know things he doesn’t. About fear and about suffering. About surviving. Maybe that makes him braver than Bill, that he is still willing to trust at all.
“I’m sorry,” he says instead, trying to pour as much earnestness into it as he can.
“And I wouldn’t have made it here alone either. So stop acting like I’m completely useless just because I’m not an asshole to everyone I meet.”
“I don’t think you’re completely useless,” Bill says, honestly.
“Thank you.” It’s sarcastic but Bill can hear a shadow of a smile, a real one, in Frank’s voice. He reaches out and puts a hand on Bill’s calf, holding him. “Just. If this is gonna work, you’re gonna have to try to be a bit more open, ok? There’s more than one way to do things.”
Bill grits his teeth. Open makes you vulnerable. Open gets you killed.
But he can try. For Frank, he can try.
“Ok,” he agrees.
Frank squeezes his calf and then lets him go but Bill doesn’t move away. Instead, he reaches down cautiously and puts a hand on Frank’s shoulder.
When he doesn’t shrug him off, maybe even leans into him a bit, Bill leans down before he can lose his nerve and finds Frank’s face already tilted up, waiting.
The kiss they share feels like sealing a promise.