August 5th, 1927 - Cresco, Iowa
It had been a week since the fight in the town and Salvatore had spent most of it in his bunk - getting drunk, if one was to guess from the thick stench of moonshine that permeated the area around the ringmaster's carriage.
A select number of his favourite coochie girls could be seen leaving his cabin at the early hours of the morning, some of them sporting bruises that made Dean's blood boil and his fists clench.
"Leave it," Walter murmured beside him. "He'll get what's coming to him one day. But for now you don't want any more trouble than you're already in - Salvatore's still the boss around here and the circus has a strict hierarchy. If he wants you red-lighted - trust me next thing you'll know is the feeling of the wind in your face as you go headfirst out of a moving train."
But Dean couldn't shake the feeling of dread that Salvatore was working up to something, there was no way he was just going to let what Juan and Billie had said to him go. No, the circus boss was far too vindictive and petty for that.
Anita had given Juan a severe scolding after the incident, telling him he should have kept his tongue rather than endanger himself. But her father Raymond, strangely enough, seemed to have warmed up considerably to the young acrobat, as if he had finally proven his salt or something.
Billie, in typical characteristic fashion was being totally blasé about the whole affair.
"He's too drunk to even crack his whip!" the younger boy laughed, shoving at Dean's shoulder affectionately, "Now stop frowning so much or your face will stay that way and we'll have to stick you in the freak show."
Billie was the saving grace of the whole situation really. Dean had taken every moment he could to spend stolen snatches of time with the other boy, whispering in each other's ears, mouthing at necks and running eager fingers across scalps.
They hadn't gone any further than fervent kissing and in one particularly heated incident Billie had rutted himself against Dean's inner thigh, letting out a litany of breathy moans, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
They had been wearing clothes at the time though and it had been unfortunately cut short when Lorraine discovered them (much to her flustered embarrassment) at the back of the costume tent.
Dean knew Billie wanted to take it further, but it was his first time with anyone and so his hesitation and nervousness was completely understandable.
Dean couldn't help but not mind, he was just grateful the other boy hadn't laughed in his face back in that alleyway, or worse - tried to let him down gently, explaining he just didn't swing that way and it was all a huge misunderstanding.
Or of course he might just not have wanted Dean in the way he wanted Billie. Dean wasn't sure that he had much to offer anyone other than his body, which Billie seemed to enjoy exploring - running and rubbing his slender fingers over the rough fabric of Dean's shirts.
But Billie did want him, and clearly he wanted Dean for more than his hardened abs if Dean was to judge by the way Billie chose to spend his time with him.
It turned out Billie was fascinated by tales of Dean's childhood, what it had been like growing up outside of the circus. Billie had listened in horror as Dean had explained and described their old neighbourhood, every household had a white picket fence, every man wore a suit to work and every woman wore an apron.
"No wonder outsiders are all so crazy!" Billie laughed, tipping his head back to expose the long pale column of his throat. "And they say we're the freaks!"
Billie had cried when Dean told him about his parents dying of the fever and the younger boy had stayed in Dean's bunk on the train that night.
Billie had fallen asleep in Dean's bed, fully clothed with reddened eyes and a blotchy face. Dean ran his hand down a still-damp cheek and smiled softly as Walter and Henry winked at him approvingly.
***
It was the first performance night at the new town and everyone waited to see if Salvatore would make an appearance. Sure enough, come nine-thirty, the ringmaster strode out across the surface of the Big Top arena, his brass buttons shined and his top hat firmly on.
"Never misses a show," Lola whispered as Dean frowned out across the stage.
"He better not try anything with the cats tonight," Dean growled. "Because I'll be right out in that ring with you."
Lola reached out to squeeze Dean’s hand, "I appreciate it but if Salvatore wants to put one of us in danger - he'll find a way. He always does."
Dean met Billie's anxious eyes as he walked out into the arena alongside the wolves for his act. He could see Billie mouthing 'Be careful' and he gave a reassuring nod back. All of the acts, however, were allowed to proceed smoothly, unhindered by Salvatore.
Dean had checked the rigging before the Flying Foxes went on himself, he didn't want to put anything past the circus boss whose mood swings seemed to pendulum violently from being furious at anyone jeopardizing the circus' reputation to being willing to sabotage it himself for malicious purposes.
Dean couldn't understand him, and perhaps that was what was so frightening.
"Frowning again."
Dean jerked his head up to see Billie stood, grinning in front of him. The younger boy reached out and pressed the pads of his fingers against Dean's forehead, smoothing out the creases.
"What did you think of our routine?" Billie asked, laughing at Dean's responding expression a moment later, "Hey! I just only just got rid of those worry lines - why are they back? "
"You know why," Dean replied gruffly, pushing himself off of where he had been leaning against the hay bales and walking towards the exit of the performers' tent.
"Hey - Dean!" Billie called out after him, catching up with the older boy outside. The sky was a purpled black, swelling like a bruise above them and the air was still warm, humming with insects.
Dean sighed as Billie grabbed hold of his shirt sleeve, pulling him to a stop.
"Your new routine," Dean stated, turning round to face a now sheepish looking Billie. "Is far more dangerous than your old one."
"No!" Billie exclaimed, "It just looks that way - Juan and I are nifty at coming up with acts that look super dangerous but in actuality are just..."
"Very dangerous?" Dean interrupted with a grim smile.
"No..." Billie trailed off, shuffling his feet on the browned, dying grass, "I promise you, Juan would never let me fall."
"I know that,” Dean snapped. "It's the apparatus I'm worried about, unlike Juan it should have been replaced years ago."
"Well that's the beauty of the new routine!" Billie quipped enthusiastically. "We don't rely too heavily on the equipment we know is dodgy - like the hoops or the second bar to the left."
Dean sighed, knowing that he was never going to convince Billie to change the act back. Billie was right, the new routine was more impressive, and the crowd that night had certainly been wowed if the rampant cheers were anything to go by.
"Applause is not worth risking your life for," Dean stated instead with a hardened look.
Now it was Billie's turn to frown, "Dean - that's like the whole point of the circus."
Dean made a 'tsch' sound but Billie quickly raised a hand to silence him.
"Don't you get it Dean? This circus? It's my life - it's my entire life."
"I thought I was a part of your life now too," Dean muttered, staring off to one side.
Billie made an exasperated noise, reaching out to grab Dean's face, turning him to look straight at the younger boy.
"Don't you remember Dean? - In the colour and the lights - that's where we both find our families - in the circus. Well this is where I find you too - in the shadows and the dark at the back of the audience - I know you're always there, every show night - watching me."
"What's your point?" Dean snapped irritably.
"Cyrk jest mój świat," Billie replied with a frustrated look, "The circus is my world."
"And what am I?" Dean asked with a sigh.
"Part of that world!" Billie cried out. "Or at least I thought you wanted to be."
Billie turned to storm off, leaving Dean to stare up at the stars in impotent anger.
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