Consistently inconsistent.

Contains: body image insecurities Ship: Patrick x Billy, aka kingrove Word Count: 682

They're lying comfortably on Patrick's new bed studying for Mr. Mathison's history exam when Billy shuts his textbook with a loud sigh. Patrick cocks a curious eyebrow at his boyfriend. "What's going in your head, babe?"

"Nothing." Billy always looks stunned whenever he gets called "babe." It's the same face he makes when Patrick kisses him. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"Don't be a stranger. Come back to Earth with the rest of us."

Billy squeezes out a choked wheeze. "You don't wanna hear my shit."

Patrick scoots closer to him with the ghost of a smile. "Wouldn't have asked if I didn't wanna hear it. I'm all ears."

Billy hesitates before he mutters, "Team weigh-ins are next week. It's no secret that living with you and your Aunt Rachel has gotten me all ... soft."

Patrick stays silent, listening intently. There's a definite truth to what he's hearing. Auntie Rae is a great cook, and with Billy now working as a taste tester at her girlfriend Cheryl's bakery, it's not exactly a surprise that Billy's sturdy frame has been pleasantly filling out little by little.

However, the way he says “soft” suggests that he doesn’t view these changes as a good thing. Patrick’s got to tread lightly here. 

“I’m gonna get cut from the team.” 

“Coach would be crazy to do that. You’re one of our best players.” “Not now that I’ll be huffing and puffing when I’m running around the court. I doubt my uniform fits anymore.” 

“You’re still in shape.”

“Round is a shape, isn’t it?” Billy grimaces, poking at his pudgy stomach. 

“I’ll still love you if Coach kicks you off the team.” Patrick tries again. 

Billy sends him a smile that doesn’t meet his somber eyes. 

So Patrick decides to be bolder.

He slips his hand under Billy’s turquoise sweater, and the other boy immediately tries to suck in. “I love you.”

Billy breathes out as Patrick’s hand rubs his chubby side. 

“And I love this.” 

“C’mon, seriously, you don’t have to-” 

"You've never looked more comfortable. More relaxed. This may sound stupid, but I'm happy I get the privilege of seeing you like this."

“A privilege, huh?”

“Yeah. So if eating makes you happy, then don’t stop.” “You don’t think I should cut back or anything?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” 

Billy clears his throat and starts to tug nervously at his collar. 

“What I want is for you to keep being happy. And I really, really think... no, I know ... you’re beautiful.” To back up his words, Patrick begins to headbutt his way under his bashful boyfriend’s sweater. 

“There’s no space. It’s a little snug,” Billy says, bowing his head like it’s something he should be ashamed of. 

“Then why don’t I take it off?” 

“You won’t think it’s nice to look at.”

“It felt nice. Your tummy.” 

“That’s-that’s different!” 

“Your tummy’s gonna be beautiful."

“How do you know that?”

"'Cause it's the rule."

"What rule?"

“Humor me.” Patrick withdraws his hand from Billy’s stomach. For all his disdain towards it, the freckled boy whines at the loss of touch. “You don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to-”

“You can do it. I’ll just shut my eyes.” 

Patrick nods, rolling the sweater up until it rests under Billy’s padded chest. Billy stiffens, holding his hands over his eyes as Patrick admires his lovely, plump stomach. Tiger-like stripes decorate his sun-kissed skin. 

As if he’s reading Patrick’s mind, Billy mutters scornfully, “They’re stretch marks. I look-”

“Just as I thought. Beautiful."

And he kisses each and every one of those lovely marks until Billy stops sucking in.

"Quit squirming."

"I can't help it! Your mustache is tickling me. Damn you, Pat!" he laughs his terrible, perfect laugh, his ocean eyes lighting up more and more with every kiss.

When Auntie Rae comes in to tell them that supper’s ready, Patrick mouths that they’ll be in the dining room soon, just give them five more minutes.