Makin' Plans (hbo war imagines)

30. B. Smith x S. Phillips; Darling

Sidney didn't remember lighting the cigarette between his fingers. In fact, he couldn't remember a time that he had ever consciously decided to smoke on his own—he was more of a social smoker. But the smell reminded him of the evenings he spent next door.

And he'd do anything to recreate that feeling.

Even ruin my lungs, he thought, almost laughing at himself. It felt familiar, and though he wasn't sure when he'd put it to his lips, he knew he had at some point. His exhale reminded him of colder weather, and he hoped the crisp air that had already settled would wait a while before completely chilling.

The knock on the door sounded faintly across the small apartment to the little balcony Sid stood on. Crushing the cigarette, he made his way to answer.

As the door pulled opened, Bill's fist was still raised and about to knock again. A smile stretched across his face. "Hey, Sid," his neighbor drawled.

The younger man would be embarrassed to admit the effect that voice had on him. "Hey, yourself. You just get off work?"

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

Sid gave him the once-over, eyes surveying his two-piece suit and gelled hair. "You don't normally dress up to come see me."

"Fair enough. You busy?" Bill asked, leaning against the doorway, doing his best to look undeniable. Not that he needed to do much.

"No, I'm not busy." Never too busy for you. "You need me for something?"

His tongue ran across his bottom lip, looking amused. "Sure," Bill agreed. "You could say that."
__________

Cigarette smoke wafted around the bedroom while Bill took slow drags. Night air slipped in and out from the open window.

"Are you cold?"

Sid was keenly aware of the goosebumps that had pricked up on his skin, and he supposed Bill was too. "No, I'm fine."

"Bullshit," Bill groaned, rolling off the bed. He dropped what was left of the cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand and closed the window. "You alright now?" He slid back under the covers and pressed close to the man next to him.

"Never better," Sid nearly whispered. The light from outside casted a glowing outline of Bill in the most ethereal way, and it was all Sid could do not to pull him in for the second time that night. "Lord, you're beautiful."

Bill looked down to hide the uncontrollable smile he wore. That seemed to happen a lot when they were together. Many things seemed to happen a lot when they were together. "Aw, shucks, Sid. You sure know how to make a man blush."

"Don't worry," Sid reached out to hold his hand. "I can't see you blushing. It's too damn dark in here." To his relief, Bill laughed.

That comfortable silence settled in, and they laid there, silently tracing each other's features in what little light the window provided.

As Bill seemingly began to drift into sleep, a pit formed in Sid's stomach as he realized what he needed to do next. It would be his luck that the bed creaked as he sat up.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question.

"If I don't leave now," Sid ran a hand through Bill's disheveled hair—a contrast to the well-groomed man that had come to his door hours before— "I never will. I've got work in the morning, but I'll see you after?"

Blue eyes blinked up at him before a sigh of admission released. "Yeah. Alright." He tugged the covers tighter over his body and turned on his other side.