If Billy told him as much, Goodnight still wouldn't understand why his friend was so proud to stand beside him, knowing what kinds of demons followed him. Knowing that the famous sharpshooter was so often too scared to shoot. Knowing that he often talked a lot just to fill silences, to make himself still seem important and special, and worth the attention. When he looked in the mirror, he saw only a shadow of the man he had once been. Billy was one of the only people who knew this, and yet he still stood by him. Hell, he still wanted him. It was still a mystery to him.

But as he listens to Billy's words and pulled down to his level looks in his eyes... he thinks maybe there's something here that he's missing. Something the other man sees that he cannot yet see himself. It just might be enough.

The kiss is more forceful, and for his part he tries to give as good as he's got. He followed Billy's lead, deepening the kiss, tasting him... concentrating on how good and real it felt. And then he felt that hand in between his legs and sweet Jesus, it was a bit of a surprise at first. But that rough hand was steady, experienced, and when he groaned against Billy's lips, it wasn't because it felt bad.

His cock was certainly interested.

"Well, I might not be as good as you but... Lord almighty... I'll do my best," he somehow managed a weak half-grin, one side of his lips quirking up. Though he'd been holding onto the tub before, now his hands were on Billy's arms.