—ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ɴ' ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ!—♡
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆peekaboo | You and Billy go on a movie date!
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆warnings | none! SFW—wc: 3k
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆notes | babies first req!!!
For someone who carried twin guns and announced himself with the subtlety of a meteor strike, Billy Kid was unbelievably excited about something as simple as a movie night.
You had barely stepped into the New Eridu multiplex when he spun around you twice, hands on his hips, grin loud enough to register as a safety hazard. The neon lights from the snack counters bounced off his metallic plating until he looked like a walking disco ball powered by sheer enthusiasm.
“So!” He planted his boots apart like he was posing for promotional art. “I’ve been thinking. A night off. No Hollow drives, no Corrupted, no chaos… unless the snacks fight back. Manager gave me the green light, Anby's recharging, and Nekomata told me not to blow anything up. By the way, I didn’t promise anything.”
You snorted. “It’s a movie theater. Why would anything blow up?”
Billy pointed at himself with both thumbs. “Because I exist.”
He leaned toward you, voice dropping to what he probably considered a suave, dangerous whisper. “You ready for this once-in-a-lifetime cinematic showdown?”
“Billy… we’re watching a romantic comedy.”
“Even better.” He slapped his chest plate proudly. “My bullets never miss, but your heart? That thing dodges like crazy.”
Your face went warm. He beamed like he’d just achieved a critical hit.
“Alright,” you said, nudging him. “Let’s get tickets before someone mistakes you for a walking flashlight.”
“Rude,” he said, but he followed, swagger fully engaged.
The snack counter was where the trouble began. Because of course it was. Billy pressed his face to the glass like a kid who had never seen candy before. “Popcorn… chocolate… things on sticks…we’re going to war. A delicious war.”
The teenager behind the counter blinked twice, clearly having no training for “excited android cowboy hyperfixates on snacks.”
Billy slapped both palms on the counter. “Two of everything!”
You grabbed the back of his jacket. “Absolutely not.”
“We’re watching a movie, not feeding an army.”
He leaned down to your ear. “Starlight Knights always go big.”
“And Starlight Knights also have budgets,” you reminded him.
Billy froze. Slowly, dramatically, he lowered his hands. “You… you wound me.”
“Get the large popcorn and a soda.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I want it on the record that I was willing to risk it all.”
As the employee prepared the order, Billy pulled out Dennies like he was about to do an Old West duel with the register.
“Billy… stop fanning them out like playing cards.”
“You’re scaring the cashier.”
He blinked, saw the cashier indeed leaning back like Billy might challenge him to a showdown at high noon, and quickly pocketed the coins. “Sorry. Force of habit. I’m very dramatic.”
When the popcorn arrived, Billy grabbed it with reverence. “We shall defend this bowl with our lives.”
The moment you stepped into the dark theater, Billy whispered like you’d entered sacred ground.
“So many seats. So many strategic vantage points.”
“Billy, we’re not planning an ambush.”
“We might need to. Trailers are dangerous. They lure you in, trick you with cool music, and half the movie isn’t even in them.” He squinted at the empty rows. “Deception. Betrayal. Classic Hollow vibes.”
You chose seats near the middle. Billy dropped into his like a rock, popcorn bucket resting between his boots. He glanced around, then at you, then leaned close enough for the glow of the screen to catch the slight scuffs along his cheek plating.
“Doing normal stuff with me.” His voice softened, rare and unguarded. “Not everyone sees me as… y’know. Someone who can hang out. Relax. Enjoy dumb movies. I’m usually the guy yelling about maximum firepower.”
“That’s part of your charm.”
He made a static-sounding noise that might’ve been a laugh. “If you say so.”
The theater lights dimmed. Billy straightened instantly, shoulders squared like he was about to receive marching orders.
“Showtime,” he whispered.
The previews started, and Billy reacted to each one like a man experiencing cinema for the first time. A horror trailer? He whispered tips on how he’d have one-shot the monster. A fantasy epic? He saluted the dragon.
A commercial for snack combos? He booed because you didn’t let him order everything. You caught him watching you more than the screen.
Whenever you laughed, he turned like a sunflower turning toward light. Whenever you leaned forward in suspense, he braced like he’d block a bullet. Whenever you got quiet, lost in the moment, he shifted his knee to bump yours.
The movie finally started: a cheesy romantic comedy about two rivals stuck on a road trip. Five minutes in, Billy whispered, “I could drive better than both of them.”
“They’re supposed to be bad at it, Billy. That’s the joke.”
“Well the joke sucks. Give me the wheel.”
You elbowed him. “Shut up.”
He did… for twenty seconds. Then characters started flirting and he immediately leaned toward you. “You’d tell me if you were trapped in a car with someone you hated, right?”
“I’m trapped in a movie theater with you.”
He dramatically clutched his chest like you'd dealt damage. “Cold.”
"I'm bulletproof, not heartbreak-proof." You tried not to smile. You failed. halfway through the movie, Billy gasped in horror.
The popcorn bowl was nearly empty.
He whispered, “Reader… did we get attacked?”
He grabbed the bucket, shook it like it had offended him. “No. Impossible. I would remember such carnage.”
“Billy, I watched you shovel handfuls into your face.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“It sounds exactly like you.”
He turned the bucket upside-down, letting a few unpopped kernels rattle out. The betrayal hit him like a personal tragedy. “We lost good corn today.”
“You don’t get it,” he murmured dramatically. “I was going to propose to this popcorn.”
“Emotionally. Spiritually. Not legally. I know the rules.”
You snorted into your drink. He brightened immediately. “You laughed! Worth it.”
The movie drifted into its emotional climax. The two leads sat by a campfire, confessing feelings in the glow of flickering light.
The atmosphere softened. The dialogue got sappy. The score swelled.
You could feel him trying to stay still — failing heroically.
Finally he whispered, “Is this how people do it? Get all dramatic and talk about their hearts like it’s a high-stakes duel?”
“That’s… kind of the idea, yeah.”
“But you and me… we don’t need that cheesy stuff, right?”
The movie screen glowed off his steel features, turning every edge into something softer. He leaned forward on his elbows, voice dipping just enough to hit that strangely earnest place he rarely let people see.
“You’re the only one who actually wants to do this kinda thing with me,” he murmured. “Just a night out. No missions. No shooting. No being the ‘guy with guns’ or the ‘Starlight knight with too much energy.’ Just… me.”
You opened your mouth, said nothing, shut it again.
He went on. “When I’m around you, I don’t feel like I gotta fire on all cylinders every second. I can just… sit. And watch dumb humans kiss on a screen. And it’s nice.”
You gently nudged his shoulder. “You’re allowed to relax, y’know.”
He nudged you back. “Only if you’re here.”
That hit you harder than the romance in the movie ever could.
During a dramatic chase scene — which Billy insisted he could’ve performed with “way more finesse” — someone in the row behind you kicked the back of Billy’s seat.
It was soft. Barely noticeable. Billy reacted like someone had thrown a grenade. He spun around lightning-fast. “Hey! Identify yourself!” A terrified old man blinked in confusion. You grabbed Billy’s arm. “Billy, it’s fine.”
“No it’s not! That was a tactical assault.”
Billy narrowed his glowing eyes. The old man shrank. “S-sorry.” Billy pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at the man. “I’m watching you.”
You yanked him back into his seat. “Sit down before we get kicked out.” He sat. Whispered, “My instincts are too sharp for normal society.”
“Your instincts are the problem.”
“ I am a highly trained Starlight knight—”
“You are a man who almost challenged an elderly man to a duel over a chair.”
He paused. “Okay. When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
He slouched, arms crossed. “Fine. But if he kicks me again, I will cry. Loudly. And dramatically.”
“You always do everything dramatically.”
During the final romantic confession — the big swoony speech under the stars — Billy whispered something that made your breath catch.
“Would you ever… y’know… do this?”
He motioned vaguely at the screen. “All that feelings stuff. The cheesy monologue. The whole ‘I like you so much the world goes slow’ thing.”
“Maybe. With the right person.”
He stared at you like you’d just flipped all his switches at once.
You leaned a little closer. “What does ‘oh’ mean?”
“Means I gotta upgrade my vocabulary because none of my voicelines are built for this.” You snickered. He looked proud.
“You’re the right person.”
If he had a heartbeat, it would’ve sounded like fireworks. He went utterly still. His faceplate lights flickered. His hands clenched on his knees. Then, slowly, like he was scared you’d vanish, he asked, “Yeah?”
“I didn’t even bring my dramatic music track,” he whispered. “I’m so unprepared.”
You leaned your head on his shoulder. Billy froze.
Then he made a tiny, triumphant sound — something between a victory yell and a happy glitch. He sat up straighter. You felt his shoulder press gently back against you, like he was holding you without actually wrapping his arms around you in fear he’d crush you.
He whispered, “This is better than maximum firepower.”
“Better than the popcorn!"
“Better than Monica on 'Oh Sweetie.'”
“Don’t let her true diehard fans hear that.”
Billy snorted. “She knows I’d take a bullet for you in half a heartbeat.”
You lifted your head. “Which you should not do.”
“Well, too late.” His grin turned sly. “Already committed.”
Gods, he was impossible. And perfect.
The movie ended. Lights came up. People filed out.
Billy didn’t move. Neither did you.
Finally he said, “So… what now?”
“Home,” he repeated softly, as if testing the weight of the word. “With you?”
He stood, then offered you his hand in an exaggerated bow. “Then allow your loyal knight to escort you.”
His hand tightened around yours with careful, almost reverent precision. As you left the theater, he glanced sidelong at you, voice lighter than starlight.
“Next time, we should try a scary movie.”
“So I have an excuse to hold you the entire time.”
“You walked right into that one,” he said.
And he didn’t let go of your hand the entire way back.
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