I pretended to be completely interested, even though we both knew I wasn't, as I sat there in my usual slouched position watching Bill rant on and on about something or another

I pretended to be completely interested, even though we both knew I wasn't, as I sat there in my usual slouched position watching Bill rant on and on about something or another. I know he'd whine to me about not listening later on, but we both knew that in all honesty, I did listen. I just...listened when he wasn't really ranting.

I didn't care about how his hair wasn't holding up the way he wanted it to, or that he really needed to re-do his nail polish. I didn't care that he felt like his make-up wasn't even. We all know perfectly well that Bill Kartik does not do uneven make-up. I rolled my eyes and simply nodded once as he continued talking about who knows what anymore.

I slouched just a bit further, before sitting up again and pulling my jeans down by my knees. I watched him as he sat there and ranted. See, I didn't care about how his hair wasn't holding up the way he wanted it because I liked his hair any damn way he put it. I didn't care about how he needed to re-do his nail polish because no matter what he did to them, he was the only thing that mattered. I didn't care about his make-up being uneven, even though it never was at least, not to me, because make-up or no make-up, he was my Bill.

Bill was mine whether he dressed up or dressed down. Bill was mine whether he was whining or blissfully happy. Bill was mine because he just is. He's my family, my best friend, and, not that I'll ever admit this to anyone because I'm just not that kind of mushy person, my everything.

It's pretty much a well-known fact that Bill and I are together. We lost some fans, but then, they're not really fans if they can't accept who we are and grow with us, are they?

I rolled my eyes as I caught the phrase, "excuse me, bitch," and knew Bill was telling a story about how some person said something he didn't like and he made his famous 'Excuse me, bitch' pose and facial expression. It was a well-loved photograph for fans.

I sat up and then bent forward, my arms resting slanted over my legs and my hands clasped together as I looked at him. We were by ourselves, and he decided the he wanted to talk and rant. The first time we're by ourselves in days, and he wants to hear himself talk, when that's all he does when we're doing interviews. Frankly, I loved Bill. I loved his voice, but I wanted to hear him use it in a different way.

I reached out, grabbing his chair and pulling him towards me. Thank you for chairs on wheels. He raised his eyebrow at me as he stopped ranting on about his story. I didn't say a word. I just grabbed his hands and pulled him towards me.

Once he was successfully on me, I moved him around to where he would be sitting, quite comfortably, on my lap. With all my movements, I would think he understood; yet there he sat, looking at me, raised eyebrow, wondering what in the world I was doing.

"You talk too much." He gave me one of his looks. Bill Kartik had many looks. Bill Kartik was the boss, and you did not piss off the boss.

"I do not talk too much." He hmphed at me and crossed his arms over his chest. I rolled my eyes and made him slouch. So, his butt was now on the couch, and he was in my arms, leaning into my chest.

"You, Bill Kartik, do talk too much, and right now, I don't want you to talk." He glared at me, and made to move, but I stopped him. "No, you're not running off all pissed off at me for saying you talk too much. Do you know why?" He rolled his eyes at me, but gave me a look that said 'why?' He was also pouting.

I grinned at him and kissed him. I pulled away after a moment, keeping my face close to his. "Because," I whispered. "I won't let you," and I kissed him again, softly.

I smiled when he kissed me back. He couldn't resist; he never could. From the moment we were thirteen, in a kitchen, at a time when I was the one in charge, he could never resist. Bill Kartik was mine, and I was his. I was scared as hell to admit it, and frankly, I never have. It's just a silent statement that's been spread to everyone.

It's also a look and a touch that he gives just to let everyone know, to let me know. Then, there's the look and the touch that I give to let him know because screw what everyone else knows or think they know.

I grinned when I heard that soft moan slip from his mouth into mine, remembering the time when that same sound first came from him and the nervousness he had from kissing.

I freaked out first. I mean he was like my brother, and brothers don't kiss each other. It just doesn't happen, but here we were. Then, he was nervous and unsuspecting, but again, here we were. Here we were, together, unlike we ever really imagined we'd be, and as it so happened; I wasn't pretending to be interested anymore...