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passivenovember · 3 years

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You Look Stupid When You’re Sad.

Steve Harrington smelled of sour patch kids and unbaked cookie dough.

Billy didn't think it was a bad smell, exactly, just weird; intense, heady, and stuck to the walls of his brain. Doughy when the sunlight couldn't dry the track marks of Steve's sweat before nap time, heady when it got into Billy's system and stuck with him like the thrum of his heartbeat.

Wherever Billy went Steve Harrington was there. Like a shadow. A noisy, scrawny, wire-frame glasses wearing shadow that elbowed its way into the chair across from Billy's during lunch and followed him around at recess; three feet behind and always pretending to spot interesting shapes in the clouds when he thought Billy wasn't looking, but.

Billy was always looking.

It was so weird.

Steve was so weird. The way he made bright, happy noises when he was paired with Billy for station time, how he always drug his mat over from the other side of the room to sleep next to Billy when it was time to zonk out after second recess despite knowing that the spot was saved for Barbara, Billy's actual best friend.

She got nightmares and Billy liked to be there to hold her hand while she dreamed but every afternoon, without fail, Steve came wondering over with his lip stuck out in a question.

It was confusing.

Steve was so confusing. The way he hugged his mat to his chest, chin quivering with a little, "Okay. Sorry, Bills." Every time Billy slapped his hand on the carpet and growled that the spot was taken. Occupation, not reserved for pasty-kneed dorks with wire frame glasses, and.

Billy didn't want to make the kid cry, or anything, but he always managed to do just that. Paint himself as a bad guy.

Billy rubbed his forehead as Barb settled in on his left hand side one afternoon after such an altercation, smiling so big her lips disappeared behind the plastic frames of her glasses.

"What's wrong, Stevie?" She asked, and.

Billy tried not to be jealous.

Steve hiccupped, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I wanna nap with you guys but Billy won't let me."

"Hey, that's not--"

"You can sleep with us if you want to. Billy has a really big blanket, maybe he can share with both of us." Barbara looked at him expectantly, like. "Right Billy?"

And it was dumb.

It was so dumb, that they were staring at him with hopeful eyes and Steve's chin was still quivering and Billy didn't want to be the bad guy; he wasn't Mesogog and he didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings, but.

Steve Harrington got under his skin. With his soft hair and big brown eyes, always following Billy around and begging for the space to be made. Billy got clumsy and nervous when Bambi was nearby, and.

The idea of sharing space. Sleeping next to Steve with his chirpy little noises and warm soft hands, it.

Made Billy feel like he was breaking out in itchy red bumps.

No.

He would stick to his guns; the blanket just wasn't big enough for three people. But then, Billy's grumpy brain supplied, Steve could steal Barbara and keep her as his own best friend if Billy didn't let him stay, so. It was time to cut his losses.

"God, you look stupid when you're sad." Billy muttered.

Steve started crying again.

Billy really wished he'd stop that.

"I'm sorry, Billy. I know I'm dumb but I don't mean to be." Steve whimpered. He tucked his mat under his arm and made to get up.

And leave.

As if Billy would let Steve make him look bad in front of everyone, especially Barbara.

"Lay down, dork." Billy grumbled, tugging the blanket up around his shoulders and peeling it back for Steve reluctantly.

Harrington's smile was so bright it could've melted crayons when he settled in close, chirping happily as Billy pulled the blanket around them and tucked in on impulse. The room went dark, Mr. Talamantez reminding them to count butterflies if sleep wouldn't come.

It didn't.

Steve smelled too much like cream and sugar for Billy to get any rest at all.

"Whatcha making, Billy?" Steve asked, pink tongue poking out in concentration as he peered over Billy's arm at his art project.

A stack of pink and red construction paper was Billy's favorite thing in the world because it meant endless possibilities. Pink was soft and sweet, red was passionate and cool. Like hot wheels and firetrucks and hearts full of warm oven mitts, so.

He pulled the leaflets from his backpack during circle time and got busy, carefully folding the delicate paper hamburger style and then tracing swirly, dramatic lines for each heart on the page.

Valentines was Billy's most favorite day of the year.

Even more than Christmas, even more than his birthday, and only a little bit more than Halloween because on Valentines? The whole universe was covered in flowers and little tin wrapped chocolates and love hearts were the best thing for a kid to make with scissors.

Billy ignored Steve's tongue, turning his shoulders to the room. "I'm making love hearts."

"For who?"

"None of your beeswax."

"Okay," Steve said happily, grabbing a handful of markers and re-situating himself much closer than Billy would've liked. Steve's Nike's tapped the itsy-bitsy-spider on the rug as he declared, "I'm drawing batman on a surfboard!"

And Billy tossed aside his first ruined Valentine. "Oh cool, I don't remember asking."

"That's okay," Steve giggled. "Sometimes I get motor mouth. My Daddy says it's 'cause I'm a fruit."

"My daddy called me that sometimes before he got sick." Billy turned to glare at him. "That's not a good thing."

"It is to me!" Steve giggled again. He was always doing that. "I like Kiwis. My mommy packed some for lunch and I had them for breakfast. They're yummy in geek yogurt. They make me smile because they have beards!"

Steve cackled like kiwi's having beards was the funniest thing on earth and Billy wondered what there was to be so happy about.

He tried not to smile at Steve's dumb face. "I think you mean Greek yogurt."

"Yeah, probably. If I'm like a kiwi, that's alright, I think." Steve's tongue poked out again. "Surfboards make me think of you." He declared, and.

Steve smelled like toasted chocolate on s'mores, his hands somehow kicking up more of his sugary sweet odor each time he reached for a new piece of paper. Billy didn't know how he was supposed to get anything done when his circle buddy smelled like a chocolate birthday cake.

It was kinda gross.

Billy pulled out a sliver marker and traced Stinky Butt Max on one of the smaller Valentines, remembering to fold down the corners so the sensitive skin on her palms wouldn't get hurt when she inevitably started smacking him it.

The pink Valentine looked more like a chewed up Starburst gummy this way, but. Max wouldn't know the difference.

Steve peered over his shoulder again, cooing softly. Like a baby dove. "That ones pretty, Bills! Is Max your Valentine?"

"Ew," Billy wrinkled his nose like he sometimes did when Max needed a diaper change. "She's my baby sister, don't be an Ick Monster."

"What's an Ick Monster?"

"Somebody who makes weird jokes and says weird things, so." Billy shrugged, scrawling his mothers name on a second love heart. He poked Steve's tummy with his marker. "That's you, I think."

Steve giggled before slapping Billy's hand away, and. Watching him work.

After a while Steve inched closer. "So you don't have a Valentine?" He wondered, and.

Billy didn't understand the question. "Mr. Talamantez said we're all each other's Valentines so nobody feels sad."

"Yeah, but. Everybody has someone they want to smooch on Valentines." Steve started playing with his hair, fingers twisting waves in a sea of brown, like they sometimes did when he was nervous. "Someone they like best-best. Better than all the other kids."

Now it was Billy's turn to giggle. "That's icky."

"Smooching?" Steve's eyes sparkled. "It's fun sometimes."

"Like you've ever kissed anyone."

Steve looked offended. "Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too," Steve pouted, crossing his arms.

Billy began work on a third Valentine. "Who did you kiss?"

"Nancy Wheeler."

Billy snorted, not sure if he wanted to imagine Steve kissing Nancy Wheeler, or. Kissing at all.

Steve's chin started quivering. "You don't believe me?"

"No." Billy said lightly, capping the marker with a sniff.

Kissing was not fun. It was wet and violent and looked like it maybe hurt a little bit, the way he'd seen his mom and Susan kiss when he got up to go potty at night. Billy regarded Steve through easy, narrowed eyes; Steve wasn't the kind of boy who kissed like that.

"How come you're so weird?" Billy wondered.

"I like being weird." Steve said, reaching for a green marker to color in his surfboard. Steve nodded at the small pile of Valentine's strewn on the carpet between them. "You should put the love hearts on foam when you're done."

"I was already gonna do that, genius."

Billy wasn't already going to do that, but he'd eat a centipede before he let Harrington know he came up with a good idea.

"They could be superhero colors!" Steve hollered suddenly. He was so loud all the time. "That way your mommy and sissy can know that you love them because they're cool. Like Aqua-man."

Billy frowned, watching Steve fold his Batman drawing over and over again until it all but disappeared from sight. He leaned back against the wall with an eye roll, shocked out how much Harrington lacked any concept of taste, or.

Shame.

"Aqua-man isn't cool," Billy said. Because Aqua-man wasn't, he was like. The lamest of them all. "His only power is making the bad guys drown, at least the other heroes can punch really hard."

"Punching isn't always the best, though." Steve tucked Batman into the front pocket of his shirt, leaning into Billy's space. "Sometimes punching just makes the bad guys stronger. Like Wilson Fisk."

Billy frowned. "Punching works for Spiderman."

Steve considered this fact, pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth again. He thought really hard for a long time, as if Steve didn't have Spiderman socks on everyday at recess when he removed his Nike's to fill them with rocks.

Such a weird guy.

Finally, Steve smiled. "I like water, though. Your eyes are like water. From the fountain in the hallway, and like the lake at camp." Steve pushed his way into Billy's space, frowning with his head cocked to the side like there was more thinking to cross of the list. "You're very pretty, Billy. Like a cloud."

And.

Billy didn't have the words to articulate the way Steve's smell went a little crazy after that, like a bag of powdered sugar had caught fire from a signal light once he realized what he'd said. Billy waited for Steve to take it back, because.

Boys calling other boys pretty wasn't allowed in Mr. Talamantez' classroom, or. Anywhere else.

Steve didn't take it back.

"You wouldn't like Aqua-Man's water, 'cause you'd drown." Billy said, getting back to work on his Valentines if only for a distraction from the way Steve was watching him. "He doesn't control his power very well and sometimes the mean guys get hurt real bad."

Steve kept right on talking. "I wouldn't be a mean guy though," He reasoned, sliding impossibly closer on the alphabet rug. "I'd help him fight crimes. Like Captain Underpants!"

And.

Billy had nothing to say to that, sucked in and drowning by the way Steve's eyes were glittering.

"You're a weird guy, you know?" Billy breathed.

Steve's giggle went right to Billy's tummy, teaching it to do backflips, somehow.

"That's okay." Steve said, reaching back for a fresh piece of paper. "You'll remember me better and maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine."

Steve's hair fell across his eyes, head bopping along to whatever song he was singing to himself today. His lips glittered like a frosted donut. Like he'd been eating a strawberry ice cream cone instead of confusing all the boys around him.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

Huh.

Billy started work on a new love heart and pretended not to notice.

On Tuesday morning Billy woke to the smell of pancakes and fresh squeezed orange juice.

Maxine was already up.

Her long red hair was piled on top of her head in two Princess Leia buns. Susan had put in little heart clips and the pink dress Billy's mommy had made special was already covered in mashed banana and something that looked like magic marker.

She was all ready for Valentines day.

Billy didn't understand why they bothered trying to make her look dainty when Max was more interested in destroying Billy's favorite toys and starting fires.

She sat on the floor of the room they shared together, sucking her thumb and playing with Billy's favorite race car. Her wet, chubby fingers made the blue Camaro shine brightly with spit and Billy felt like his face was burning up.

"Hey," He said, rubbing at his eyes. "Hey, you're getting spit all over my--"

"Race car!"

Max held it out to him triumphantly. Billy frowned, moving to grab it from her chubby little fist. "I know that's my race--"

"It's a blue car," Max said thoughtfully. She looked at him, like, "Blue cars are my favorite."

"It's my favorite too--"

"Can we share?" Max wondered, putting the little wheels on Billy's knee and letting the car zoom back and forth. He imagined that Evel Knievel was in the drivers seat wondering why his car wasn't first in the race.

She looked happy, like always, to be playing with Billy's toys.

He sighed. "Yeah, I guess we can share. It's Valentine's Day."

Max seemed to enjoy that. "I like today!"

"You do?"

"Yup," She said happily, little chubby fingers tangling in Billy's hair because he hadn't brushed it yet. "Candy and sour gummy worms and kisses from cute boys!"

Billy glared. "You're kissing cute boys?"

"Uh-huh!" Max hollered. "Lucas gave me a dandelion."

Billy thought long and hard.

About Valentines Day and all the things that came with it. The pink shirt that hung pressed in his closet, fresh cupcakes with plastic rings, a bag of Scooby-doo Valentines Susan had picked up at the market for all his classmates, homemade love hearts at the bottom of his backpack. Three with red foam, one with a delicate lace doily, and.

Kisses.

Max was getting flowers and kisses from a boy.

From someone special.

Billy took the race car from Max's hand and drove it around, thinking about boys with brown eyes and soft hands.

Maybe you'll ask me to be your Valentine.

"Wanna eat some breakfast, Max?"

"I had 'nanas." She said with a smirk.

Billy hummed, standing to get dressed. "Mama probably made chocolate chip pancakes, you don't wanna eat something special?"

Max's little red eyebrows pinched together. "I can have yours?"

And.

Billy didn't know what was so necessary to her about taking everything that was his. Playing with his toys, sleeping in his pj's, eating his breakfast, it was like Max didn't know how take something and make it her own.

Billy pulled the pink shirt over his head, feeling every bit like a turtle when Max did the same with the collar of her dress.

"You can have my pancakes." Billy concluded, puffing out his chest. "If you'll be my Valentine."

"You don't have a boy to kiss?"

"I might," Billy picked the race car off the ground with a smile. "This is practice for when I see him at school. So, will you be my Valentine?"

She thought about it.

Long and hard, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, before nodding with her entire body. "I think he will."

Billy sighed. "Really?"

"If you give him sour gummy worms and smooch his forehead he will," Max said.

And.

Maybe things would turn out okay. Billy nodded, grabbing the race car and driving it across Max's forehead, careful that the little plastic wheels didn't get stuck in her hair.

From the stucco ceiling of the classroom beautiful strands of silver and gold hearts painted a mirage of stars.

All the desks had a rose and a cardboard mailbox intended for the delivery of Valentines and at the center of the room a table filled with cupcakes and strawberry Capri-sun packets. Preparation for the party this afternoon, and.

Mr. Talamantez had turned their space into a glittering, perfect fairytale.

Billy hugged his basket of Valentines close to his chest and tried not to search for Steve before dropping his backpack at the cubby station.

He was right in the middle of tugging his special sweater down over his head when Barbara scooted in next to him, pretty in a little pink jumpsuit.

She handed him a tiny, delicate giftbag full of chocolate hearts and dinosaur erasers, smiling from ear to ear as Billy hugged her nice and tight before handing off something he had made special. A tiny paper crane his mommy helped him fold, and a bunch of rainbow goldfish sat nestled in a basket of paper Mache.

They were her favorite snack in the whole world and Barbara was Billy's favorite person, so it seemed fitting.

She hugged him and Billy smiled, peering around the room for a head of wavy brown hair. "We could share our presents with Steve," He muttered, like. It wasn't a big deal or anything. Billy tugged on the sleeves of his red sweater and tried to stay cool. "Where is he?"

Barbara pointed to the book shelves.

Steve was sat under a string of twinkly lights, shoulders tucked against the pillows Mr. Talamantez set aside for circle time. His face was buried in the crook of his elbow, and.

He was crying.

Of course he was crying.

Billy felt the Valentine in his pocket grow heavy.

Barbara said, "Steve broke his glasses, maybe you could make him smile?"

And.

Billy wanted to do that. Longed to make Steve giggle and chirp with happiness like the annoying little Meadowlark he seemed be. It would be so easy to. Walk over there, tap Steve's shoulder, and say the words.

Pose the question.

Will you be my Valentine?

Steve was making huffy, nervous little noises when Billy came to a stop beside him.

"Hey Harrington, playing with all your friends?" Billy sneered, confident that Steve would giggle like he was did, but.

When he finally turned around his face was red and puffy. As if he'd been crying all morning and all night, too.

"What do you want, Billy?" Steve whispered.

He sounded sleepy. Spread thin, like the last spoonful of jam on burned toast.

"What's wrong?" Billy asked carefully. "What happened?"

Steve sat and rubbed at his eyes, chin wobbling as more tears spilled over. "My daddy broke my glasses." He whispered.

And Billy hated it.

He always hated when Steve cried but today. Right now, he.

Felt like he had to do something about it.

Billy took the love heart from his pocket and sat down next to Steve, cuddling back into the pillows until their shoulders were touching. It took all of five seconds for Steve to settle in next to him. Roll his head back against the wall until he was looking at Billy with a question in his eyes.

Steve looked at Billy's shoulder and back up at his face, like.

"Can I--"

"Come here, stupid." Billy grumbled, Pulling Steve in until they were cuddling on the pillows.

Steve chirped. It wasn't his usual sound, light and airy, it was.

Thick.

And heavy.

Like a blanket sopped with rain water. Steve buried his face in Billy's neck. "I don't have any Valentines to give this year."

"That's okay."

"I made something special for you," Steve whispered, pulling back to study Billy's face. "I know Mr. Talamantez said we weren't supposed to, but--"

"Will you be my Valentine?" Billy's stupid mouth said.

Steve blinked at him, and.

Billy wanted to hide in the bathroom for thousand years.

Steve pulled away to sit crisscross-applesauce. Facing Billy, like this was something important. "Huh?"

Billy mirrored him, tucking his hands away so they wouldn't shake when he held out the love heart.

It was pink. Big and bright and outlined with a white doily that Susan helped him glue around the edges. Billy had dug through Max's box of stickers for the one with Winne the Pooh, the one he'd been saving for someone special. Winnie was covered in tiny valentines, eating right out of a jar of honey with a butterfly sitting on his nose, and.

Billy had thought it was perfect.

He worked for hours on the font. The saying that made his mommy laugh when he read it to her; you're bear-y sweet. Be my Valentine.

Steve took the love heart in his hands, and.

Didn't say anything.

Billy frowned. "I just. Remember you asked me to be your Valentine, or. For you to be mine. And--" His hands were shaking again. "It's stupid. God, this is--"

Steve leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

It was gentle. Like the brush of butterfly wings, barely there and then gone before Billy had a chance to really register the movement, or. Think about what it could mean.

Steve wasn't crying anymore when he said, "I'll be your Valentine."

Billy's brain took a minute to catch up. "Huh?"

"I'll be your Valentine, Billy." Steve giggled, staring down at the love heart once more. "This is so cute. I loved Winnie the Pooh when I was a baby. My mom always put me in footie pajamas that had Eeyore on them. And tinker bell too, sometimes. You could've put the Red power ranger on there instead. He's my favorite--"

Billy sat back against the pillows.

He was learning that Steve Harrington was weird.

Like a puzzle with one piece missing, or. An empty tube of bubble mix. Steve was colorful and loud and all over the place with opinions. He shined bright and loved hard, and.

Sometimes it was best to sit back and listen.

Happy Valentines Day!!

I really just sat down and wrote this. Wow. Anyway--thank you for reading and supporting my work. Your comments and endless kindness keep me going when I don't always feel like trucking on, and I wanted to do something to remind you that if this was an elementary school classroom I would give you so many lollipops.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #valentines day #first kiss #kidfic #soft billy hargrove #I know I'm late #but I love ya #and I will everyday #so really #everyday is valentines #not to be a fucking sap #but it;s true

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neonponders · 3 years

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*sigh* catch me projecting on a Saturday.

I read this post ( @lazybakerart you wizard - ALSO IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY?????? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹) and am now thinking about a sugardaddy!Billy with an ace!Steve. (*emphasis on grey ace*)

* Please nobody attack me for writing about leather fashion. I’m vegetarian and it’s fiction. Live a little. *

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve just kind of stared at the box on the restaurant table. It wasn’t a ring box, but it was velvet. Goodness knew how many of these he’d seen in his life.

Steve knew wealth. He knew money, and all of the material variations therein.

He’d gotten pedicures with his mother before his father declared such a thing unfit for a boy coming into puberty. If you look like a man, act like a man. As if men didn’t have feet, or something.

Then he went to the salon. That wasn’t so easy to take away. Ventures with her son seemed to be the only things keeping Mrs. Harrington from being connected to her husband’s hip, so Mr. Harrington let them both have this one. Steve, fresh out of graduation, being given a hairdresser’s chair to accomplish summer-fresh highlights.

Mrs. Harrington was also the type of woman to enjoy shoes. Everyone has a thing. For some, they had bags. Others, jewelry. Vintage furniture. Designer wallpaper. Mrs. Harrington enjoyed shoes. It was where Steve learned to carry a woman’s bags, but he didn’t stay outside of the store. He learned how to clean suede, the difference between a 130 So Kate and an ordinary heel. What fetish meant in terms of fashion. He can convert heels sizes in millimeters to inches faster than a cashier calculating change.

Tommy and Carol had joked about Steve’s father having a different kind of fetish. Nothing to do with fashion, and everything to do with sex. Steve had foolishly let them into his mother’s bedroom and they were having a field day with a shoe closet that cost more than both of their houses combined. Still smelling of Nancy and pool chlorine, Steve as good as ended that friendship right there.

Because they didn’t get it.

Mr. Harrington certainly didn’t get it. Could never have such a sexual inclination because he didn’t understand pampering or indulgent interests.

He understood favors. Material apologies.

Mrs. Harrington had a collection of pearls and diamonds that she never wore.

Steve knew she liked opals and pink, pink rubies, because Steve liked opals too. Because he used his father’s money to buy ruby studs his mother actually wore. Because he gets her oldest, broken bracelet with green amber fixed, and she wears it until it breaks again. And then she presented Steve with a thin, gold chain to go around his ankle. With a gleaming, green amber stone flanked by two opals.

The green goes with our eyes, she said. Someone special will see the green in all that brown. It’s why we look good in reds.

Steve was still looking at the box on the table.

“It’s not going to catch fire, the longer you glare at it.”

His dark hazel, creek water eyes slanted up to the man sitting opposite him.

Billy Hargrove.

Stubborn to a fault. Gorgeous as Lucifer with wings freshly burnt off. And just as dangerous.

“I thought I said no more gifts.”

“And I ignored you. Open it.”

Steve went about it like ripping off a bandaid. He sighed at the window beside their booth, wrenching the thing open to see -

Diamonds.

He shut it with a loud clap and set it on Billy’s placemat. “No, thanks.”

The man’s features froze in tolerant stoicism, but he eased the box inside his suit jacket pocket. “You’re a hard one to shop for.”

Steve’s eyes widened dramatically over his wine glass of water. Not because he was sober - he’d willingly pay for an overpriced red, himself, if the handsome asshole weren’t trying to wave his wallet everywhere. “You can stop trying to buy your way into my pants any time you want.”

“If that’s all I wanted, I would’ve stopped three months ago.”

Three months ago,

When Billy breezed into Steve’s life as easily as he had senior year of high school. The two of them certainly deserved some kind of award for having a bizarre history.

Within a handful of months, Billy had arrived upon a turbulent time in Steve’s life, and then left nearly as quickly. Billy witnessed Steve and Nancy’s break-up, Steve’s fall from Hawkins High grace, and even beat his face a little bit. Because that’s what teenage men with bad emotional processing and even worse communication skills do.

Now, almost ten years later, Billy had some kind of empire behind him and Steve, well, didn’t. He had no idea what Billy’s job consisted of, but he got little hints. Mostly the negative space from Billy’s lack of discussing his job told Steve a whole lot.

Steve, who worked two jobs and occasional gigs wherever he was needed. During one such time, while Steve managed the cables and sound boards for Robin’s band, Billy Hargrove sauntered up to him with just as much charm mixed with hauteur as he’d ever displayed.

It wasn’t like meeting an old friend, because they had never been more than acquaintances, and roughly ten years was enough time for a personality to evolve ten different ways.

Steve couldn’t say how much he and Billy had evolved, really, but there was a point in there somewhere.

Maybe it lived in the, “I never expected to see you in a dyke club, pretty boy,” since it was all the coming out either of them needed.

Or the wanton kisses and fervent hands underneath the neon rainbow on the venue’s wall.

Maybe the point sat in the things Billy wanted, and what Steve was reticent to provide. Because Billy was a king who knew what he liked, and seemed particularly talented at walking into Steve’s personal crises like an anniversary.

Steve craved.

But he didn’t know what he craved. What he yearned for. He knew Billy’s kisses made his brain go molten and fuzzy. He knew Billy’s smell brought him just as much comfort, excitement, and anxiety. He knew finally being outside of sex-crazed high school had deflated something in him. The expectations to perform. He knew losing Robin’s stupid game of You Rule / You Suck gave him a secret gift of relief.

But he still craved. He wanted touch but he wanted to be alone. He wanted companionship but he didn’t want sex. But he did enjoy sex, except he didn’t want the expectation of it.

Well.

That was it, wasn’t it?

Billy Hargrove, who could have anyone he wanted plastered to his stupid, unbuttoned chest, had sought out Steve. Steve, king of mixed signals, Harrington. It was only a matter of time before he got his face beaten again. For wasting Billy’s time. For refusing Billy’s advances even though Steve clearly enjoyed Billy’s lips on his neck, and Billy’s hand on his inner thigh. For wanting Billy’s company and flirtation without the rules that finished in the bedroom.

So Steve refused the gifts. The material favors he could’ve sold for a better apartment. Fucked his way to owning a house that his mom would feel comfortable visiting. Be an unfeeling toy who could pay for his mother’s shoes and his own pedicures.

“Steve?”

He turned away from the window and the city’s electric constellations. “Hm?”

“Where’d you go?”

The back of Steve’s throat ached. He looked down at their appetizer plates and decided, “I think I’m going home.” After a second of them both hearing it out loud, Steve said with more conviction, “I need to be home right now. I’m sorry. Thanks for dinner.”

He almost reached for his wallet to pay for his half of the artichoke dip, but reconsidered. He took his old prom tuxedo jacket off on the way to the elevator, waiting for the doors to close before he pressed his face into the old fibers.

It would be easier if Steve didn’t know money. If wealth were a foreign pillow he had never slept on; could be spoiled into never giving it up again.

Like a true mother with a sixth sense, Steve withdrew a package from his mailbox when he returned to his apartment building. Mrs. Harrington’s versions of care packages were fashion magazines, a subscription to The New Yorker, polaroids of her latest closet pieces, and Steve’s favorite candy.

He loved it all. He didn’t need laminated recipes, bags of rice, or resupplied hair products. He went up to his bedroom, stripped down to nothing, and fell into bed with the hefty parcel. Fruity hard candies fell out like confetti, and he stuck a green apple square inside his cheek while he looked through her baggie of polaroids.

Peach suede 130s. Steve felt a warm tickle in his belly at that. She only wore 130s if she was pissed at his father. A woman in 130s walked with the force of a storm, mostly because the damn things were nearly intolerable to wear without a platform.

Another pair of diamond earrings. One of these days, people were going to realize how boring clear rocks were.

Dark, amethyst Miu Mius with the heel and toe encrusted with pearls. Steve’s dad must’ve really pissed her off to warrant that apology.

The magazine subscription had piled up, so he had three New Yorkers to read, but he opened the tome of Vogue first. His mother dog-earred her favorite articles, scent samples, and spreads. She often favored the androgynous and male fragrances. Steve liked that a whole lot. He wasn’t sure if she did that for him because he liked them, or if he liked them because she did that.

He held the magazine to his face as he went to the kitchen, smelling the first fragrance sample while he reached for his cache of boxed cake mix. It was a funfetti kind of night. He rattled the package of sprinkles in his hand while reading about some summer collection where the runway happened in a Greek ampitheatre. Sounded fun. Sounded like a great vacation. Beach, wine, and then modern art fusing with ancient architecture.

Steve didn’t excel in chemistry, but he knew a different kind of magic.

Which didn’t actually include baking. The cake emerged a little dark, but he cut off the burnt top, iced it to glorious, sugar perfection, and took a slice to bed with him. He turned the parcel upside-down for the last of the candy to come out so he could throw the envelope away -

Two bottles of nail polish landed heavily on the bed. Steve lifted the darker bottle to see a purple so ebony he thought it was black until he opened it to see the paint up close.

Purple and peach. To match his mother’s shoes.

Not many people understood his parents’ methods of producing or avoiding affection. But Steve did. He shook up the poison violet and painted his toenails in between forkfuls of cake.

He didn’t hear from Billy the next day.

Or the next.

As bad as Steve felt, he couldn’t say he minded. Nor would he be surprised if Billy never called him again. The idea brought a lonely peace during the commute to work, reading his magazines on the train before keeping them safe in a folder that he stuffed inside his backpack. Even if Steve’s chest felt like a cold balloon, with its latex worn thin and tired, he had his little things to keep him warm.

Then a knock on his apartment door.

Steve answered it with a cheek full of cake, interrupted from making his grocery list of actual nutritional value -

Billy had never visited before. Steve stared at him long enough for him to ask, “Are you going to let me in?”

Steve glanced at the box under his arm and turned into his apartment with a sigh. Billy closed the door behind him as he remarked, “You don’t know what’s in it yet.”

There wasn’t exactly anywhere for Steve to theatrically storm off to. His kitchen was also his living room, and a half-wall partitioned the bedroom off to the side. His apartment was one long rectangle, and Steve remained stuck in the middle of it.

“Billy, I don’t know what you want from me that you think you can get from expensive things.”

“I don’t recall asking for anything in return,” he drawled while removing his coat.

“Don’t take that off,” Steve retorted.

“I’m taking it off.”

“This isn’t going to be a long visit.”

“Would you at least open the damn thing first?” Billy presented the box on the flat of his hand like a waiter’s tray.

Steve knew a shoe box when he saw one. He swatted the lid off the box before he even meant to. He was so tired of this game. Of these rules. He doesn’t want to see some snotty designer sneaker that isn’t to his taste. Some item the rules would dictate he accept without complaint. Or some chunky, foamy plastic, glorified tennis shoe that is over hyped . . .

He sees the red first.

It’s not a sneaker.

Hot Chick heels. 100mm. Black suede on top, red bottom. The leather around the heel scallop-cut like minimalist flower petals.

Steve’s breath has stopped in his chest. The pad of his thumb moved across the soft, matte leather before he stops himself. He tries to look stern when he dares to peek up at Billy, but those water-turquoise eyes are steady on him, absorbing his every reaction.

“These don’t exist in suede.”

Because they didn’t. Hot Chicks came in patent leather only.

“They do now.”

“Louboutin sizes down.”

“Then we’ll have them stretched.”

Steve is losing. Billy knows he’s losing. Billy - he -

“How - ?” Steve begins but stops. He closed his eyes and swallowed, only to flinch a little when Billy grasped his chin, holding him in place as he leaned in to lick the corner of his mouth free of icing.

“Will you try them on for me?”

Steve feels a mixture of defeat mixed in with petulance and vulnerable glee as he warily takes the box to his humble couch. Billy looked at his bed, and then to the kitchen on the other side of the apartment. He strolled into it and lifted the knife for a slice.

Steve, meanwhile, took his time. He opened the paper from where it had floated back over the shoes. He lifted the box to inhale the leather. He took one shoe out just to...see it. Look at it. Read the number stamped on the red arch.

Steve had to remove his socks, revealing his lacquered toes as Billy sat next to him with a plate. He eased the coffee table out of the way, giving Steve room to wiggle his foot into the severe 100mm heel.

They were hardly glamorous under his old, cut-off sweats.

But.

He’d never actually seen his feet in heels before. Never bothered to try to find his size.

Billy handed him the other shoe, and stood up with a ready hand. Steve wiggled into it and accepted his hold as he stood up.

How do you walk in those? he’d once asked his mother.

Trust the heel, my love, she’d answered, strolling around her bedroom in her 130s. If you’ve paid enough for it, it better hold up your entire form, and your dating baggage.

Steve had laughed, but listened to her every word. Move like a wheel barrow. You pivot on your toes, like the wheel, and rest on the heels.

“I’ve got you,” Billy purred when Steve teetered. Just a little.

“Why did you get me these?” Steve had to ask while he began to ease his arm off of Billy’s shoulders.

“Might’ve had a look inside your mail,” he admitted shamelessly. “I thought you might’ve ordered something and I could finally see what you liked. Instead, it’s the one thing I’ve seen you accept.”

“You’re a creep,” Steve declared, but he couldn’t look away from his feet as he strolled around the coffee table.

Billy laughed and sat down to his cake. “This is good.”

“It’s from a box.”

“It’s still good.”

Things . . . changed, after that. Billy came over just to come over. And he pestered Steve with endless questions.

“Do you like these?” he asked with his nose against the magazine pages.

Steve towered over him in his heels, but he’d wash dishes in whatever he wanted, thanks very much. And leather needed to be worn, as his mother taught him. Plastic is trash. If it comes from a living creature, it lives on a creature.

Steve snorted beside him. “My mom crimps those pages.”

“But do you like them?”

“They’re fun in magazines, but perfumes were never really my thing.”

“What is your thing?”

“Right now? You, elbows deep in here.”

Billy perked right out of the magazine only to lock onto the sink. “Because you’re having trouble reaching it now?”

Steve meant to have a witty come-back, but he got caught up in his own giggles. “Yeah.”

Then,

“Can I stay the night?”

Something must have flashed across his face, because Billy added, “Not for sex. I’ve taken the hint, all right?”

Steve slowly unfolded his socks where he sat on the foot of the bed. “Why do you want to?”

Billy wiped his hands on the dish towel and padded across the room to sit beside him. ��Because I want to taste you before I sleep. And I wanna taste you when I wake up. I want your snark in my ears all the time - ”

“All the time?” Steve repeated, deadpan.

“Yeah, all the time. I can’t believe it either.”

Billy’s features were warm, unbelievably warm as he watched Steve laugh. “Of course I want to have sex with you. But I miss you when... I miss you all the time. It’s embarrassing.”

Steve rolled his eyes onto him, to which Billy defended, “I have things to do.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the big man in town,” Steve babied, pushing his chest so he toppled backward.

“I am, actually,” he crooned, his hands finding Steve’s legs easily when he straddled him. “I’d work better with you on my desk.”

“My hairy legs and scraped up heels?” Steve threatened breathily, holding Billy’s cheek and jaw in one hand while he leaned over him so all Billy could see was Steve.

“All of it,” he exhaled, and pulled Steve’s head the last inch for a kiss.

Billy’s next gift was a pair of slippers. Plush, soft, and perfect after an afternoon in 100s.

Then he gave Steve a massage. Steve could accept those with ease. The balls of his feet hurt and even blushed a faint indigo from being so unused to heels. The warm attention of Billy’s hands on the arches of his feet, heels, and ankles; as well as the cold tennis balls he stored in Steve’s freezer to roll along his feet.

By then, he’d seen Steve’s anklet. So the next shoe box Steve opened were dark green suede, as poisonously dark as his mother’s violet heels. The toe was bare, but the heel was encrusted with opals. The milky stones flashed green and orange as Steve walked in the 120mm heel.

“How do they feel?”

Steve, with far more mastery over heels now, pivoted on his toes and planted one on the couch in between Billy’s thighs. His warm hand cradled Steve’s ankle immediately.

“What if I shaved for these?”

“Then I’d never take my hands off you.”

“So nothing would change,” Steve giggled, teasing gone as he landed on Billy’s lap. The man underneath him hummed his mirth into Steve’s mouth, his other hand burying in Steve’s hair while he let Steve control the kiss, explore his mouth.

“I thought they’d go with your eyes,” he said when the kiss petered off and Steve kissed his nose. Billy touched the pad of his thumb high on Steve’s cheek. “There’s a little bit of green there.”

Steve let Billy fuck him in those shoes.

Because he finally craved all the way, beyond fear of rules. Beyond the existence of toys. He craved Billy deeper than skin, and Billy gave it to him.

And when Billy got him a pair of 130s . . . blood red and spiked with tiny, crimson points, he let Steve fuck him.

#everything i know about shoes i learned from Violet Chachki #harringrove #ficlet #asexual!steve #sugardaddy!billy #sugarbaby!steve #neonponders #pondermoniums #lazybakerart #happy birthday love!!!#no i don't know billy's job #cover a plot hole with an unreliable narrator~

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Text

You think if Steve and Nancy hadn't broken up, if she had just stuck it out with him, they'd have gotten married?

And that through time they'd both be unhappy in their relationship, but they're both too scared to break up?

That on their wedding day, up at the altar, they'd both wear strained smiles and pretend to be happy, for their friends and families

Jonathan is sitting somewhere, hands shaking, fingers gripping the camera too hard, his wedding present to them is taking all the photos, and he's itching to jump up and declare his love for Nancy, and as he thinks he's finally mustered up the courage

He's not the one to interrupt the ceremony

No, the doors gets kicked down, all dramatic and rough with heavy boots, and everyone gasps like people always do, turning to see

Billy, in his leather jacket, throwing off his helmet from riding his harley, stomping down the aisle loudly

He wasn't invited, Steve didn't want that drama, no the two of them are over, the fling they had should have stayed in high school, he was going to live a normal life with Nancy, inherit his father's fortunes, have kids

But Billy refuses to let Steve be unhappy like that, because he loves him, and they should be the ones up there, dressed all fancy, holding hands, exchanging rings, you may now kiss the groom

And Mr Harrington calls for the security to get Billy taken away, what a filthy rat, a terrible influence on his son, that it's Hargrove's fault his son never surmounted to anything because he was busy being seduced by trash

Steve knows immediately upon seeing Billy here, ready to fight men bigger than himself for love, that this is all a mistake absolutely, and he doesn't care what his father thinks, that now is the time for bravery, and he tells Nancy that he can't marry her

And she is so relieved, tells him to go! Be with Billy, she just wants to be with Jonathan, wants to be happy and for Steve to be happy, and if being with a guy is what it takes, that he has her blessing, and they laugh at that

So he kisses her cheek, whispers goodbye and runs

Pushes the guards off of Billy, grabs his hand and doesn't stop running till they're both seated on his black motorcycle

And they don't stop driving, headed for anywhere really, because as long as they're together, they'll figure everything out

#harringrove #I was actually watching improv #When this idea Sprung #So yeah #Thanks Middleditch and Schwarzt #My writing

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years

Note

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years.

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there.

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy.

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now.

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit.

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress.

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!”

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting.

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly.

“One more chapter.”

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open.

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway.

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound.

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off.

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.”

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes.

“What’s everyone doing here?”

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts.

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense.

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge.

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle.

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy.

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it.

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in.

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this.

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to.

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks.

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him.

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted.

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised.

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.”

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward.

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet.

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is.

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile.

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards.

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though.

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself.

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light.

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting.

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.”

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell.

In any case, Steve’s expression softens.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand.

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting.

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.”

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.”

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run.

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in.

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.”

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it.

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs.

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.”

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots.

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option.

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth.

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ.

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable.

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable.

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust.

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax.

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit.

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.”

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.”

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.”

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe.

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair.

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment.

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him.

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.” If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant.

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now.

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets.

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction.

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face.

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?”

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

#steve harrington #harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #a raven's writing desk

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peterthepark · 5 years

Text

Cold as Ice

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: Billy just doesn’t understand why you’re so cold to him. He becomes desperate to warm you up. But, the killer heat of Hawkins combined with a stupid school project gives him the chance to know what’s truly underneath all that ice.

Warnings: cursing, smut, sExUal tenSion, some angst, some fluff, LOTS OF SIN

A/N: Definitely my filthiest fic at the moment, enjoy!

“You’re my partner.”

You look up from the register, hands on your hips as you stare at Billy Hargrove with a blank, unamused expression. There are a few people behind him, arms crossed against their chests - Tommy, Carol, and some other bimbo.

Funnily, you realize that they all resemble a group of poodles.

Cute.

Billy raises his eyebrows at you, smacking his gum as he impatiently awaits for a response. You glance at the folder that he slaps down onto the counter, knowing exactly what it contains.

“Hm, didn’t think you guys were recruiting for the next douchebag of Hawkins High. Are these the applications?” You finally pick up the folder, skimming through the thick pages of paper with a toothy smirk. “To be honest, I consider myself more of a bitch than a douchebag. Isn’t that right, Harrington?”

You chuckle devilishly as you hand Steve a couple dollars, who snickers at the interaction. Billy seems confused, but by the way he clenches his jaw and barely blinks, you can tell you’ve also hit a spot.

“Looks like I’ve won the bet, Y/N. Fuck, yeah! Robin! I told you I would win!” Steve runs into the back room of Scoops Ahoy, waving the dollar bills at his friend.

You turn back to Billy, re-adjusting the hat on your head. “Now, can I get you something, pool boy?” You lean over, hands splayed onto the cool marble of the counter.

“Did you not pick up on what I just said? I’m asking you to be my partner for the project. No, I’m picking you to be my partner.” Billy tries to keep a steady voice, but you easily catch the deep breath he takes between his words. His ‘friends’ are whispering behind him, exchanging dirty looks.

“Well, I’m actually not allowed to have personal conversations with customers right now,” Billy scoffs, tugging his lip between his teeth. “And so, if you aren’t ordering ice cream, then be my guest, and leave. I’ve got a few angry customers to deal with if you can’t tell.” He follows your pointed gaze, and surely enough, the line behind him is fairly long - filled with crying kids and irritated parents. “Come back later? Or never at all?”

Billy groans, pacing in short steps. He knows you’ll come around. They always come around.

You truly are a bitch.

Yet, somehow, Billy waits till the end of your shift to speak with you - hopefully in a more private spot and in a less aggressive manner.

You roll your eyes when you see him, sitting by the table nearest to the register. He seems to be alone, yet it annoys you even more.

“I don’t wanna be your partner, Hargrove. Is that not clear?” Your eyes follow him as he stands up. He’s much taller than you, so you can only send him an intimidating glare in hopes of scaring him away. “Pick someone else. And let me give you a hint - it’s not me.”

Billy inhales deeply, before a small smile forms on his face. He grabs your arm before you can walk away, hoping that he can win you over with his charm. But he knows he has to put away his pride to do so.

“Sweetheart, I really need help with this project. You’re the smartest girl in our class, and if you can’t tell, I hang around a bunch of dumbasses.”

Oh, so this is why he was alone. So he could talk crap about his shitty friends.

Billy continues, smile never wavering. He still has his hand wrapped around your arm, holding you in place as he speaks by your ear. “And anyways, it’s already set in stone. I asked Mrs. Johnson if I could pair up with you. She thought it was a great idea. Guess we’re in this together now, huh?”

He harshly pushes the folder of papers into your chest, letting go of your arm.

“What? You can’t do that!”

But he certainly did do that. Because when you storm into Mrs. Johnson’s classroom on one Monday morning, she’s rambling over how excited she is to have you and Billy working together.

“But Mrs. Johnson, I never agreed to this. How is this fair?” You whine, waving the folder around with wide eyes.

“Miss Y/N, you’ll be doing Billy a huge favor by helping him. He isn’t failing, but he is struggling. He could most definitely use your help.”

Despite all the complaining, Mrs. Johnson doesn’t allow you to pick anyone else. To her convenience, you and Billy are the only ones who haven’t had a designated partner - and now, you really don’t have a choice.

The next week, Billy is back in Scoops Ahoy. He can see your snarl from the other side of the mall. He’s got you trapped in cage, and he knows you’re having a hard time trying to adapt to it.

“I knew that he’d pick you.” Steve says through a mouthful of banana, hitting you in the face with its peel. “I mean, you’re the only girl - besides Robin - who hasn’t given into him. He’s probably just trying to cross off your name on his list.”

“He has a list?” You gag dramatically, protesting as Robin pushes you jokingly.

“Dude, Y/N, he’s literally coming over here.” She points at Billy, who actually is coming over.

“I don’t care. Change spots with me. Steve! Robin!” You shout, pulling at the ends of your hair as they run into the back room, locking the door behind them. “Screw you both!”

You turn around, meeting eyes with the damned Billy Hargrove. You fake a smile. If this was a cartoon, steam would certainly be coming out from your ears.

“Bad day?” Billy pouts mockingly at you. His hands rest inside the pockets of his jeans, eyes looking over your angry state. “Should I come back or....”

“Actually, no. But you know what?” You slide yourself over the counter, brushing away at the lint that has accumulated on your blue shorts. “I’m not doing this stupid project alone. You’re staying here till my shift is over. And when it is, you’re gonna drive your ass to my house, where the both of us can work on it. Together. Happy now, douchebag?”

Your breath is almost minty, and somehow feels cool against Billy’s skin. He steps back with a cocky grin, raising his hands as if he were surrending to you.

But he wasn’t surrendering.

“You just gave Team Hargrove one point. But Team Y/L/N? Zero.” Billy snaps with a flash of his pearly whites. He crouches down to your height, hands resting on his thighs. He knows that he is pissing you off. “I’ll see you when you’re done.” Then, you cross your arms at him, nose pointing up as he stands to full height. His eyes flicker down to your lips. “And honestly? I think I’m more of a dick than a douchebag.”

You want to slap the stupid grin of his face. But you don’t. You don’t know the real reason behind it, but you try to convince yourself as to why.

Because it’s against company policy?

Steve and Robin poke their heads out of the other room, coming out when Billy cockily walks away from you. You’re still standing there, eyes narrowed and face drawn into a look of displeasure.

“Should we not bother her?” Steve whispers, elbowing Robin. “I kinda don’t wanna get yelled at right now.”

“No, no, Steve. She’s hotter when she’s angry. Trust me.”

“Guys!” You scoff at them. She laughs at the sudden smile on your face, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I mean, she’s not wrong, Y/N.” Steve shrugs before taking your place at the register. “You’re pretty hot, I guess.”

“Oh, stop it, Harrington. I’m out of your league.” You wink at him, hopping back over the counter.

You let out an exasperated breath when Robin tells you to sort out the shipments in the back. You push the back door open, groaning audibly when you see the tall stack of cardboard boxes. There’s a clipboard on the table in the middle of the room, and you read over it lazily before you begin to sort through the deliveries.

No one really knows why you despise Billy. Not Steve, not Robin, not anyone. It seems as if you had woke up, saw him, and decided that he was someone you disliked.

That was partly true.

But in detail, you did dislike - or hate, whichever was fitting based on your mood - Billy for a few things.

You never understood his sudden popularity, or the sex appeal he carried along with him. You never understood the hair, the smoking, the people he hung around, or the recklessness and the partying.

You just didn’t get it. You didn’t get why people would waste their time around him, when clearly, he wasn’t grateful for any of it.

Maybe your hatred of him spiraled from insecurity.

He had everything. He was popular and easy on the eyes. He was charming and fun. You’d never admit it out loud, but he truly seemed like a good guy, underneath that whole douchebag act of his.

You were nothing alike. Or so you thought.

“Honey! There’s someone here for you!” Your mother calls out from the bottom of the stairs, a slight smirk on her face when she realizes how handsome your guest is. You come barreling down the stairs, feet heavy and frowning deeply when you see who’s sitting on the sofa.

“Billy.”

“Y/N!” He comes to meet you, pulling you into an embrace. Your reaction is one of utter shock, because suddenly, all you can smell is expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigarettes. “Your mother was just asking me if we wanted to join her for lunch.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you, but we have to work on a project, Mom.” You send Billy a look, clearing your throat when you see his lips twitch upwards. “We’ll be upstairs.”

Your mom disappears into the living room, giving you both a second glance and a knowing look as you jog up the stairs.

“How do you know where I live?”

“That little girl from the mall? I think she’s Sinclair’s sister. Bought her some ice cream when I saw it fall, she just returned the favor.”

Erica. Damn it.

“Okay, well, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” You complain, running your hands through your hair, damp from a shower. Billy follows you into your bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He takes in the sight, something he wouldn’t expect from someone like you. There are various posters plastered onto your soft pink walls - band posters, movie posters, and he huffs at the one of a shirtless man. There’s a record player on top of your bookcase, where you stand, occupied as you flip through your vinyls. “What’s your cup of tea? Queen? The Beatles? Metallica? Foreigner?”

“I really don’t care.” He scoffs, licking his lips as he takes a seat on your bed.

Foreigner it is, then.

“And I really don’t want you on my bed. Get off, Hargrove.” You throw a paper ball at him, hiding the smile on your face when he doesn’t dodge it in time. “Thought you played basketball. What happened to those reflexes?”

With a dramatic eye roll, Billy tosses the ball into the trash, sliding off of the bed and onto the floor instead. You grab the project folder from your study table, sitting down across from him. You’re reading through the directions when Billy starts to light a cigarette.

And you gasp - really loud. “Billy! No! None of that in here.” You take the cigarette from his lips, his coughs fading in the background as you throw it out your window. “Are you crazy?”

“I just wanted a smoke!”

“Yeah?! Then not in here!” You shake your head at him, handing him a sheet of paper as you calm down. “Your turn to read, asshole.”

Your head begins to become fuzzy as Billy’s fingers brush against yours when he grabs the paper.

He reads, voice soft and surprisingly enthusiastic - if he didn’t act like such a dumbass, you’d think he was somewhat intelligent.

(However, you know he is intelligent - somewhere in that douchebag brain of his - though, that’s one of the things you could never admit to anyone).

The room is suddenly blazing hot, uncomfortably warm despite the numerous open windows. The air conditioning isn’t enough, and you’re silently cursing as you feel sweat build up among your skin. You’re fanning yourself, swallowing as you notice the bead of sweat that rolls down the side of Billy’s forehead.

“God damn, it’s hot.” Billy curses, unable to continue reading with how tight his chest feels. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping he could get some sort of air.

“Our air conditioning sucks.” You push your hair back, “Summer’s coming.”

Billy nods in agreement, picking up from where he had left off.

Maybe it’s just the heat, but suddenly, you start to space out.

Your eyes focus on the rise and fall of Billy’s tan chest, how his skin glows with sweat, and how his muscles flex under that shirt of his.

Oh, wow.

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” You snap out of your trance. “Hope you haven’t passed out.” He sets the paper down, leaning back against your bed frame.

“Huh? Sorry, I - I was distracted.”

Don’t let your guard down.

“I was asking which part you wanted to do.”

“Uh, whichever one is the hardest. I can take it.”

And Billy stops breathing. Maybe because there’s some sort of - sexual - euphemism in that sentence, but also because he’s noticing how flushed you look: cheeks red, skin glistening, breaths heavy. Your hair sticks to your arms, resting on the tops of your knees. But then, he sees this look in your eyes.

It’s not the normal glare he gets. But your eyes are softer, less intense, more - was that longing?

You’re just staring at him, lips slightly parted as your eyes quickly drop down to the floor.

“Unless, um, you want the harder part then you can have it, I guess.” You pipe up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You’re avoiding his gaze, and Billy isn’t sure that he recognizes this Y/N.

Did he win you over yet? That easily?

“Here, you can look over it with me again.” Billy scoots beside you, his denim-clad thigh pressed up against your bare one. His breaths are even, blowing over your hands as you hold up the paper. “I was thinking I could do the research on the biographical context and symbolism, and...” He glances over to you, eyes trailing over the expanse of your neck. Your jaw is tightly clenched, but you don’t meet his stare. “... and then, maybe you could do the overall analysis. Or we could do it differently, if this way doesn’t meet your standards, princess.” His voice is low, a sultry tone laced subtly in his words. He peeks his tongue out to lick his lips, and you look over at that exact moment.

Aw, shit. You wouldn’t give up that easily, would you?

He’s not the only one that can play this game.

“No, I like your idea. We can do that.” You turn to him, hair slightly hitting him in the face. You pucker your bottom lip slightly, rolling it between your teeth as you pass him the paper back.

“Is it getting hot in here?”

Not this line.

“Nope, just you.” You let out a sharp exhale, reading over more of the project.

“Whew. I gotta take off my shirt.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, causing you to drop your pencil. But it’s too late once Billy is pulling his shirt over his head. “Hey!”

Though, he wears a tank top underneath.

And honestly, you’re kind of disappointed.

Wait, what?

He hurls the shirt towards your bed, running his hands through his messy curls. His arms look even bigger, and you can see the faint outline of his abs through the thin, white material. You catch the tattoo on his upper bicep, and you have to put a hand to your mouth from saying anything - now this was ruining you.

Don’t give in.

“Like what you see, Y/L/N?” He flexes his arms in a subtle manner, biting down harshly on his lip. He grunts as he leans over to pick up your pencil, handing it to you. “Didn’t mean to make you drop this.”

Yeah. Apology accepted. Jerk.

“If this is your way of seducing me, it isn’t working.” You cross your ankles over each other, shaking your head at Billy.

He laughs, running his hand through his hair. “And why would I want to seduce you, Y/N?”

The question does sting, but it doesn’t change the fact that his face is literally inches away from yours.

You aren’t done playing the game.

“Oh, I don’t know, Billy. Maybe because I’m the only girl on that - that list of yours that you haven’t yet crossed out? Or is it because you’ve fucked all the pretty girls at school and you’ve finally come to the realization that you’d rather fuck someone with a bit of brains?”

Billy hums with a slow, antagonistic nod, tongue poking out from the corner of his lips. He abruptly stands up, turning up the volume on your record player. He’s dancing. But the bitter look on his face is all you can focus on. You stand up as well, pouting as you lower the volume of the music. It’s a back and forth between you, Billy, and the music.

“The problem with pretty girls, Y/N...” He starts between breaths, still dancing as you stand ahead of him - not happy. “... is that they can’t tell when a guy is no longer interested in them. They got the looks, but no brain.” He chuckles, parting his lips as he taps the side of his head. “And the girls that do have brains? They also got a problem. They’re smart, sure, but they just don’t know when to quit being a bitch.”

That’s when he turns up the music to full volume, hooting in your face as he dances even more.

This was Billy Hargrove at his finest.

“We’re never gonna get this project done if you keep thinking with your dick instead of your head, asshole.” You almost growl. You’re fuming now.

He really knows how to piss a girl off, huh?

“You ever had a boyfriend, Y/N?”

No. Never.

“Yeah, I have. Why?” You gulp, pushing past Billy. You sit down on your bed, continuing on writing your analysis for the project.

“What was his name?”

“Uh - It was - It’s Steve.”

What are you doing?

“You dated Harrington? King Steve?” He slowly stops dancing, panting loudly as he looks down at you.

“Dating him, actually.”

Oh, God.

“Huh. You ever had sex with him?”

“Hargrove, this is getting a little personal.” You chuckle nervously.

“Is that a... no?” He crouches down in front of you, eyes blinking at you. He’s catching on. Surely, you weren’t this good of a liar. “I’ll take that as a no. Must suck, yeah? Harrington doesn’t know how to handle a woman like you. Poor Y/N. You just want a little lovin’ from King Steve...”

His thumb hooks itself under your chin.

And his blue eyes are almost hypnotizing.

“Are you really dating Steve Harrington? ‘Cause you seem a lot out of his league. You’re not even in the ballpark, baby.”

His big hand cups your jaw, fingers rubbing against your skin. Somehow, his hands are freezing - despite the hundred degree weather.

“I have a... boyfriend.”

Billy knows you’re lying now.

“Why are you so cold to me, Y/N?” His eyes are fixed on your lips, flickering up to you when you speak.

“I don’t know. Why are you such a douchebag?”

“Sure. I’m a dick, but you - you’re somethin’ else. You are mean. Steve seems a little soft for someone as headstrong as you.” He shrugs animatedly, “Maybe you’re looking for a - a... thrill.”

“What do you want from me?” You scoff at him.

“I think I know why you hate me.” You hold your breath as he continues, “We’re more alike than you think we are.”

“Yeah? I’d like to hear it, then.”

Deathmatch.

“We both crave something more. Most people go after someone with a little... heat to their name, but us? We thrive in the cold.”

“You’re wrong.” You shake your head at him.

“Then why am I still touching you?” He stands, hands leaving your jaw.

No, come back.

“Billy, this - this isn’t-“

“Surely, your boyfriend wouldn’t like the way I was touching you, wouldn’t he? What’s Steve gonna do if he finds out? Fight me?”

“Steve’s not my boyfriend! Fine! You win!” You explode, rising to your feet.

And it all comes rushing back to you.

You both really are alike.

“You see it now, don’t you? All this competing, this - this fighting, we clash because we’re the same. And it scares you. Because who would’ve thought you had something in common with the douchebag from school, huh?”

He takes a step closer to you. And you do the same to him.

“Smart girls need attention, too.” He says softly, leaning in to whisper at your ear. “But you... you’ve been looking for someone who’s as cold as you. And I respect that, Y/N.”

You make the mistake of locking eyes with him when he pulls back.

“I’m way out of Steve’s league.”

You look down at his plump lips, glancing at how his neck bobs when he pushes your hair behind your shoulder.

There’s an unfamiliar feeling that sparks in your chest when Billy’s fingers trail past your collarbone.

“Can I kiss you now? Because all this tension might give me high blood pressure.” He smirks at you.

You don’t reply.

But you do lean forward, on the tips of your toes, mashing your lips against Billy’s. Your hands are cool against his shimmering skin.

The kiss isn’t sweet, but fueled with fire and pent-up anger. Billy is fast enough to show you that he really wants you, but at the same time, he’s slow, wanting to prove to you that you aren’t just another name on his so-called ‘list.’

You don’t give a shit about winning anymore.

Stubble tickles your cheeks as Billy moves to kiss your neck.

“This doesn’t... this doesn’t change the fact that I still hate you...” You breathe raggedly, screwing your eyes shut at how his mouth feels on your neck.

He tugs at the straps of your tank top, pulling it over your head as he hoists you up into his arms. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you can feel the tightness form in his jeans.

“God, you’ve been such a bitch to me for the past week.” He moans into your skin, pressing you up against your bedroom door as he uses one hand to hold you, and the other to unclasp your bra. You let out a choked moan, only for Billy to place his hand over your mouth. “Don’t forget that your mama is downstairs. What would she think if she saw me doing this to her daughter?”

You bite at his hand, smiling as he groans pleasurably at the sensation.

He’s so rough, but you’re enjoying it.

Billy swivels on the heels of his shoes, laying you down onto your bed as he kisses down your torso. His saliva sticks to your skin, and he chuckles when he watches you arch your back into him. Your hand reaches for his, and he doesn’t pull away - despite how intimate the action is for him.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t hold hands with flings.

That’s how he really knows you aren’t one of them.

“B-Billy...” You gasp as his lips pass over your breasts, his hands cupping and kneading them softly.

He reaches up to kiss you again, whispering, “This isn’t your first time, right?”

You shake your head, “No, no.”

“Okay.” He nods with a grin, taking off his top. “But no one is ever gonna make you feel this good.”

He groans as you crawl to the edge of the bed, playing with him through his jeans. You glance up at him innocently, his fingers card through your hair. You leave short kisses on his abs, slowly making your way up to his neck. You suck and lick at it, surely leaving a prominent mark there. He pulls out his belt, flinging it onto the floor as you unbutton his jeans for him.

He licks his lips, pushing you back down onto the bed. You scoot over, making room for him as he takes off your shorts. You chuckle when he moans at the sight of lace.

“Didn’t know you were wearing those.” He says, obviously surprised as he wraps his fingers around the waistband, letting it snap against your skin. You gasp, letting his hands wander over your back.

“Just be glad I’m letting you see them.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your knees, ass in his face as he pulls the lace panties past your ankles.

You bite back a loud moan. His face and his mouth is down there and you swear you’ve entered heaven itself.

Hell was too hot for the both of you, anyways.

He hums against you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge as he toys with you in places you didn’t even know existed. He pulls away, causing you to whimper.

But as you look back at him, the sight is enough to make you cum. His boxers are nowhere to be seen, and instead, he’s touching himself, grinning as he sees the dumbfounded expression on your face.

“You’re okay with this?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You’re shaking your head. “I need to hear it out loud.” He kisses your lower back, hands caressing your ass.

“Yes. Please.”

“Condom?”

You wink, rubbing yourself against him. “On the pill.”

Billy lets out a moan, chuckling. “Mm, that’s my girl.”

You hold back a breath as he pushes himself into you. He’s huge, and it stings with how much he’s stretching you out. You let out a sob of pleasure, hand coming to touch Billy’s upper thigh.

“Slow?” He asks, voice gruff as he bottoms out. You’re sure that he’s as deep as possible, but part of you longs for him to go even deeper.

“No, fast.”

Billy pulls out, only to slam back in. His movements are quick, hips thrusting at a rapid pace. You’re moaning, falling into the mattress with how good he feels inside you.

“Holy fuck!” He grunts as he leans over you, hand coming to rest by your face. He outstretches his fingers, and you take his hand into yours. “Y/N...”

“We have to - to be quiet...” You moan once more, throwing your head back as his arm wraps around your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

He pounds into you, grunting as silently as possible. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He cries out, taking a fistful of your hair. You yelp out of surprise when he gently pulls you back.

You liked that.

“D-do that again.” You stutter, mumbling incoherent words when he repeats the action.

The record player still plays music.

And you’re so grateful that it’s loud enough to silence the filthy sounds between you and Billy.

Thank God for that.

But this... this was a whole new level of sinful.

Billy brings a hand to touch your throat. And you nod in approval, shutting your eyes when you feel the pads of his fingers tighten around your airway. He’s still soft and cautious, but the way he was fucking you was enough to send you into overdrive.

Your hand comes up from the bed, jaw hanging open in utter bliss as you flex your fingers. “I’m gonna cum. Billy, holy, I-“

“C’mon, baby.” Thrust. “I’m right there...” Thrust. “...With you.”

You’re cumming.

Your legs are shaking and you feel the wave of heat fall over your body like a spell. Billy follows shortly, groaning sinfully as he buried himself inside you. He pulls out, pumping himself as he lets himself go onto your body. You feel the warm drops of his cum drizzle across your back and over your ass, trickling down your thighs and between your legs before you fall onto the bed.

“Oh, my god.” You sigh, curling up. Billy falls beside you, eyes studying your features for any sign of pain or sadness.

“Was that okay?”

“I just had sex with Billy Hargrove. Oh, my-“ Your hand comes up to massage your temples.

He chuckles.

“And I just had sex with you, so I guess we’re pretty even.” He states, kissing your neck one last time.

He’ll give it to you.

You both win.

But who said that the game would be over?

“Here’s the project, Mrs. Johnson.” You smile respectfully, exchanging glances with Billy as you hand her the folder. Her eyes bounce from you both, hands sorting through the papers of the project.

“This looks good.” She nods, eyebrows raised when she finds the part that Billy had worked on. “Wow, Y/N must’ve been a great help to you, Billy.”

“Yeah. She helped me a lot.”

Billy links his pinky with yours under the table, where your thigh rests against his. His fingers come to toy with the hem of your skirt, and his touch: cold.

“Well, I might say that this project deserves an A. It looks very well-planned and thought out.” She takes off her reading glasses, placing them carefully on her desk as she re-organizes your papers. “How would you feel about an extra credit project, Billy? Just to boost your grade a little more before the year ends?”

You and Billy share a knowing grin.

It’s wicked.

It’s spiteful.

It’s cold as ice.

But there’s an inextinguishable heat that lingers between the two of you.

“As long as Miss Y/N can be of help to me.” He flashes a charming smile, hands coming up to rest on the wooden desk.

“Of course, Mr. Hargrove.”

You shut the door of the classroom behind you, following Billy into the bustling hallway towards the cafeteria.

He turns to you and winks as he rounds the corner, denim jacket slung over his shoulder.

“See you later, partner.”

“Later, douchebag.”

Oh, how you loved the cold.

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years

Text

Impression

“So, they don’t know they’re brother and sister yet?”

Billy rolled his head a little from Steve’s shoulder to look up at his face, chocolate drop eyes concentrating on the Harrington family television. This was the third time they were going to watch through all the Star Wars movies because Steve, stupidly brilliant pretty boy baby face Steve Harrington, still didn’t quite get it, but wanted to so he wouldn’t be teased by his pack of almost teenage dweebs anymore.

Billy understood the movies. It wasn’t that hard. And really any excuse to spend another Friday night in Steve’s arms, on his stupidly huge couch with one too many decorative cushions was more than okay. They were just a tangle of limbs, snacks and drinks on the coffee table in preparation so neither would have to move more than to just change the video tape over or use the bathroom.

There were far worse ways to spend a Friday night than trying to get your secret boyfriend to understand the plot of Star Wars.

“No, not in this one. That happens in the third one.”

“Oh! The one with the little bears?” Steve’s eyes sparkled a little when he remembered something. It was a cute little trait Billy had picked up. It happened over a lot of things, mostly small and inconsequential, but it was nice to see it so close up.

“Well, they’re Ewoks, not bears but yeah, that one.” Billy sat up a little to light a cigarette. Usually he wouldn’t smoke indoors, but Steve’s mansion was always empty and he didn’t seem to mind. Plus it was winter outside.

Fuck Indiana winters.

“But then why do they look like bears if they’re not bears?”

Steve's hand was warm on Billy’s lower back, as he inhaled and chuckled on the exhale. “Because it’s space? Shit can be called anything if it’s not real.”

The blank blink Billy received made him chuckle all over again, want to pinch Steve’s soft cheeks and call him an idiot between kisses to that natural pout and confused forehead. “But they’re bears though…”

“One movie at a time doll face. You’re missing the plot of this one.”

Billy settled back down and there was no more talk of bears. There weren’t many questions at all really. During the first viewing Steve had been a barrage of whys and who’s that and why is that important and why does that guy in the black cape get his own music, trying to walk before he could run in understanding what the plot was and trying to guess where it was going. Now he was quiet, just watching, sharing Billy’s cigarette for as long as it lasted. It was nice, homely. Something Billy wasn’t quite used to yet. But the movie played and he was happy. It was getting easier to be happy around Steve. Just be himself.

The phone rang during Han Solo’s big scene. It ruined the emersion a little bit. Billy would never admit out loud he had a crush on Han Solo, because he wasn’t stupid, but he felt that everyone had a little bit of a flutter for him. Surely? Right?

Steve reached back to where the phone was sitting on a side table. It was still so weird to Billy that his house had more than one, but the perks of being rich. More than one phone, a massive television and a personal VCR player. A whole bathroom for just downstairs. Billy sat up again, reached for an open soda and paused the movie as Steve answered, tucking the dark green rectangle under his chin.

“Harrington residence…. Oh, hi Mr Hargrove…”

Billy froze dead on the spot for just a second, his blood running cold, eyes probably wide and frantic as he grabbed Steve’s wrist to check the time on his watch. Curfew had been half an hour ago. He’d been so wrapped up in the movie and Steve and just being content and happy for once he’d completely forgotten to keep an eye on the time. And now he was going to get it for sure. The only reason he’d been allowed over anyway, to spend time with another boy, was because of the Harrington name. It held a lot of prestige in this dumb hick town. And Neil was a stone cold sucker for keeping up appearances.

Billy went to move, to get up and find his boots he’d kicked off hours ago and drive back as fast as he fucking could, but Steve put a hand on his leg, gave him the eyes, pushed down slight but firm. Stay.

“Yeah he’s here… We’re just working on a school project Mr Hargrove I-...”

Steve’s regular phone voice was equal parts butter wouldn’t melt innocent and boardroom professional. It was a wild mix. Billy stayed frozen to the spot, giving eyes he wasn’t sure weren’t completely insane. The longer he stayed, the more trouble Billy would be in, they both knew this, and yet Steve just rubbed his thigh like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t on the phone to someone who had broken Billy’s wrist in the past for breaking curfew when he was thirteen.

That had been by half an hour too. And because Billy had been at another boy's house.

“Oh, you want to speak to my father? Sure. I’ll just pass you over, hang on...”

Billy just sat back and watched, now in total fascination and complete confusion as Steve tossed the handset back and forth to himself like he was passing a basketball in warm up drills, as he swung his long legs off the couch and stamped his sock covered feet on the floor, rocked and rolled in place to make the couch springs squeak in certain ways, talk muffed things that weren’t even real words into the back of his arm, before tucking the phone on his shoulder again on the opposite side.

“Yes?” The voice that came out was a whole octave deeper. It still sounded like Steve, but it didn’t. Each letter was far too pronounced to be how Steve would say it. He grinned at Billy, listening to Neil talk through the handset. “I apologise for that, but the boys have been working very hard all evening, I don’t think they’ll be done anytime soon. Maybe it would be best for their educations if William were to come home tomorrow?”

The smirk Steve shot across the couch was something wicked. It was so clear he’d done this many times before. Billy had never heard Harrington Sr, had only seen him in that one photo in the hall, but the voice Steve was using matched the figure pretty perfectly. He even molded his body to fit more in an upright posture, arms and legs straight, face more square somehow. Morphed into what Billy assumed was a perfect characterisation of his father. Even scratched his top lip all pretentious like Harrington Sr looked like he would do.

“I understand your concerns Mr Hargrove but I assure you this is for their best interests. There’s quite the setup on my dining room table, and heaven knows my son needs all the help he can get.”

Billy finally started to relax again, sinking back properly into the cushions, when Steve rolled his eyes dramatically, mimicked Neil yammering on with his free hand. Neil was a totally different person when he spoke to people he respected, tried to always get on their good sides no matter what town they moved too. It was a show of course but no one really knew that.

"I assume the reason he didn't call is because it wasn't planned Mr Hargrove, boys will be boys after all. William is perfectly fine here. More than welcome to stay, he's a good influence on my Steven."

Steve reached out to the coffee table for the half empty pack of Billy's Marlboros and his lighter, hitting one out as he balanced the phone on his shoulder.

"Now if you don't mind, I do have some important work to get back too. Please refrain from calling unless it's an emergency. We will do you the same courtesy. Goodbye."

With that, Steve stretched his body back to hang the phone back on his receiver and light up the cigarette, laughing at Billy’s expression which must have been a weird mix of everything but mostly, what the hell was that?!

“What?” He chuckled around the puff of smoke. “You think I’ve never pretended to be my dad on the phone before. Gotta keep the school off my back somehow.”

Billy snatched the cigarette without malice, just for a calming inhale, just to let it sink in that stupidly brilliant pretty boy doll face secret boyfriend Steve Harrington was actually something of a genius. Just to let it sink in that Billy was free for the night. Without a second question asked. All because of a voice and a name.

God, small towns were weird with their hierarchies.

He passed the cigarette back and settled back into his previous spot on Steve’s shoulder, felt lean arms come back around before one of them started the movie again.

“Your old man’s a fucking dork by the way,” Steve muttered, stubbing out the filter in an ashtray after a few minutes. It made Billy laugh and squeeze Steve’s thigh, just where his hand was.

“I know man, I know.”

#harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fluff #also on my ao3 #my writings

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

So I have this theory that Steve and billy would take a long time to get to each other. They both have so much damage. They know they would be amazing but they also know they aren’t ready yet. So they go with their separate ways. They grow up, they get better. 10 years later they are both back home for a wedding (let’s say Dustin/Erica because I personally think they would be awesome. She would run his life and he would thank her for it) And S/B realize they are ready now. The timing is perfect

Read on Ao3.

“It looks good, buddy.”

Steve was sitting bored in the leather armchair. His hand was propping his chin as he stared at Dustin. He had tried out 18 suits and Steve was tired.

“I don’t know, Steve. I don’t think I like the blue.” It was his sixth navy suit. Steve wanted to bash his head in.

“I still maintain I like the first one.” Dustin took another look in the mirror before nodding.

“I’ll put the first one back on.” Steve groaned at the ceiling.

Steve was Dustin’s Best Man. They had kept in close contact even as Steve moved to Chicago, worked entry-level jobs until he went to college, studied, and became a special education teacher.

Dustin had recently graduated from MIT, was living in Indianapolis with Erica. He worked at an engineering lab, was designing already. Steve was very proud. The past few months he had driven to Indy every Friday and staying through the weekend, helping him with plans, the registry, and addressing invitations. He nearly shit when he wrote Billy Hargrove’s name and address.

“Okay, I think this is the one.” Dustin was back in the first one. Steve wanted to hit his head against the wall until he fucking died.

“Okay, so we’ve got me and your mom, and the Sinclairs, and Marnie, and Robin at Table 1. Table 2 is El and Mike and Will and Seth and Reggie and Max and Angie and Lucas, which, shouldn’t he sit at table one? Family and that. Table 3 is Nancy and Jonathan and Mrs. Byers and Hopper and-” Steve choked on the next name. “Billy? Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” Dustin looked up from the huge board they had been using to make the seating chart.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. You know he’s the love of my fucking life.” Steve was gawking at Dustin who rolled his eyes.

"He's not. You've just been gross and hung up on him for ten years, Steve. That's lame."

"We could've had something! We were getting close and I kept-"

"You were getting closer and you kept feeling electricity and then he died and then he was fine and then he ran away to California I know, Steve." Steve felt his face heat up He looked back at the seating chart. "Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting." He was totally pouting. "It's just, I haven't seen him in ten years. It's gonna be, what if he's moved on."

"He's not bringing a plus one."

"Maybe they couldn't come." Dustin rolled his eyes.

"Just fucking talk to him when you see him. Don't know why it has to be such a big deal."

"I can't talk to him, Dustin. what would I say?"

"Start with hi, Billy. And just see where it takes you."

"I just, it's been a while since I've dated and-"

"But it's time you moved on from Taylor. I told you that guys was bad news, and lo and fucking behold, he ends up sucking." Steve shifted uncomfortably. That relationship had ended over three years ago, ended with Steve spending two months on Robin's couch. He was still in therapy over it.

"Yeah, I know." Steve was talking to his arms, folding tightly over his chest.

"Buddy, I'm not trying to be an ass. Just saying. You're doing much better after that. And Max says Billy's really good. That he's got his life on track and is happy."

"Then he probably has someone. And he might not even be into guys!"

"Okay, then get over your lame self, and be his friend." Steve huffed. "But whatever you do, just help me finish this fucking seating chart."

Steve was fucking running.

He had been in charge of the rings, and he had, misplaced them.

Because of course he fucking did. Of course, he held onto them for weeks only to lose them on the day.

He was sweating through his white shirt in the Hawkins heat. Running from room to room in the upstairs of the old house. His parents kept the Hawkins house, just in case they were ever passing through. Steve doesn't think they've spent more than three hours in it since he was nineteen, but it gave him a free place to crash whenever he was in town.

He was tearing through rooms, anywhere he could've been these past few hours. He knows he had the rings when he put on his shirt, had them in his pocket when he realized he needed cufflinks.

He flew downstairs, rummaging through the drawer in his father's side of the bathroom, finding the rings exactly where he had stolen the cufflinks from. They were thin, gold bands. Erica's had a small diamond set into it. They were engraved on the inside, quotes for Star Wars, Dustin's holding Princess Leia's I love you, Erica's with Han Solo's I know. Steve had made fun of them endlessly when he had picked them up from the jeweler's.

"Steve, you're a fucking idiot and also a genius." He scrambled to his car, driving well over the speed limit to the venue, a historic house in the old part of Hawkins. It was grand and beautiful and much cooler than the summer air outside. Steve was so focused on delivering the rings he didn't notice the Camaro sitting out front, still in its pristine condition. He opened doors at random, getting screamed at by Erica's Maid of Honor, Marnie, when he burst into the wrong room. Marnie fucking hated Steve, and he didn't really know why. Apparently it had something to do with the engagement party. But, he got blackout fucking drunk at that thing, so he had no idea what she was so pissed about.

Well, now she was quite obviously pissed that he had slammed open the door to find her and Erica in robes, getting their makeup done. She threw a shoe at his head.

He was fucking sprinting down a hallway when he crashed right into a fucking wall, solid and steady. He was knocked back on his ass,

"Oh shit, sorry!" He looked up, finding Billy Hargrove staring down at him. "Steve fucking Harrington. As I live and breathe." Billy's hair was long, was wild and big. He was wearing a well-fitting suit, looked thick and muscled, more than he had in high school. Steve's mouth went fucking dry. Billy had his shirt unbuttoned to the bottom of his sternum, showing off a large chest piece, gorgeous flowers weaving around and through the scar on his chest. Steve could see it was healed, but still raised, pink and shiny in a few areas, the skin pulled and puckered where Billy had been stitched back together.

Billy extended a hand, a scarred tattooed hand, and heaved Steve off the floor.

"Hi, Billy." Billy grinned at him. It was softer than he remembered. "You look good."

"You seen yourself? You're still as pretty as I remember." Steve fucking giggled like a fucking schoolgirl. He had let his hair grow out some since high school. Some of the kids liked his long hair.

"What have you, what have you been up to?" Steve was overly aware of his arms. Was trying to find a way to hold himself that didn't look stupid.

"You know, California. USed my government hush money to go to culinary school. I'm a sous-chef now at a restaurant in L.A."

"Oh, wow. Congratulations. You've really, you've come a long way. You look, happy." Steve flushed a little more.

"What are you doin', Pretty Boy?" Steve's heart tripped over itself at the old nickname.

"I'm in Chicago, now. I teach special education at an elementary school. I'm actually, I'm in line to become head of the department when the current one, when she retires." Billy's eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.

"That's so perfect for you. What made you choose special ed?"

"I went to college and learned I'm dyslexic." Billy barked a laugh, one Steve had never heard before, a fucking real one.

"You didn't know? I could've told you that!"

"I mean, I just thought I was fucking stupid, but once I learned what the problem was, the university gave me some resources to help. I was actually in the nursing program, but I kept thinking about how the university helped me so much, that getting a real diagnosis was fucking life-changing, not only for school, but just in the way I thought about myself. I don't want kids to grow up like I did, convinced that their literal disability is just, just stupidity." Steve met Billy's eyes, saw them glow with fondness.

"I'm so happy for you, Steve. I'm so proud you found such an amazing calling, you seem like you've come such a long way." Billy squeezed his upper arm, made Steve melt.

"Thank you, that, that really means a lot to m-"

"Steve! I have been looking for you for hours. Where have you been, Asshole?" Dustin was stomping down the hall

"Doesn't matter. I'm here, I've got the rings, I'm ready to go."

"Did you not have the rings?" Dustin looked like he was going to explode.

"I have them! See!" Steve pulled them out of his pocket, clinking them together. "All engraved with your nerd shit and ready." Billy was watching them, an amused look on his face.

"You are a nightmare and the worst best man in the history of-"

"Can you not be dramatic for one fucking da-"

"I'm allowed to be dramatic today, I'm getting marrie-"

"You're never allowed to be dramatic you little-"

"God, you two really are brothers. You fight like siblings." They both whipped to look at Billy, giving him the exact same pissed off-glare. Billy laughed at them.

"Look, I'll get outta y'all's hair." He clapped Steve on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, Stevie. Hope we can catch up more. Congrats, Dustin." He trotted down the hall. Dustin grinned at Steve.

"It's GOOD to see you, STEVIE. He's totally into you. It's exhausting being right all the time." Steve slapped his arm.

The ceremony was short and sweet.

Steve stood behind Dustin, handed him a tissue when he got all misty, took one for himself when he began tearing up. He noticed Billy sitting a few rows back, noticed how his eyes were always on Steve whenever Steve's trailed over to him. He was smiling softly at him, even fucking winked at Steve, made him go red and look away. Robin noticed something off about him, noticed the way he was flushed, raised her eyebrow for her spot in the first row with Claudia. He shook his head.

The cocktail hour took place outside in the oppressive heat as the large ballroom was altered from ceremony set-up, to dinner and dancing. Steve was overseeing the transition, as Dustin was extremely specific, and someone needed to deal with it.

"You've been weird all day." Robin knocked her shoulder into his. "It finally catching up to you that one of your kids is married?"

"Mike and El have been married for like, years."

"Yeah, but Dustin is your baby." Steve rolled his eyes.

"It really doesn't bug me. I just, Billy's here. We like, talked earlier. And he kept, lookin' at me." She sighed.

"You know what I've always said about Billy. When he was coming into Scoops like, every day and being all flirty. But just, be careful he's been through a lot and, I just don't want the whole Taylor situation to happen again." He shuffled his feet.

"It won't. He seemed, happy. Like he was all bright and was, was laughing, and I've never heard him laugh like that." Her eyes were soft.

"Just be careful, Dingus."

At dinner, Steve had to give his speech.

He was a wreck, had dropped his cards, and started fucking crying a couple different times. But he got laughs in all the right places, and Claudia had cried loudly so he was feeling pretty alright about it.

He had made a point not to look at Billy the whole time, couldn't fathom looking into his bright eyes as he talked. As dinner winded to a close, the bar opened, and the music began.

Dustin and Erica's first dance was so sweet, they had chosen At Last, the Etta James number that made Steve and Claudia tear up. Lucas took Erica out next, swapping with Mr. Sinclair as Claudia took Dustin.

And then the music devolved into upbeat dance numbers, kept everyone on their feet for hours.

Steve was taking a much-needed break. Nancy had worn him out during Rio, arguably the best Duran Duran dong to ever exist according to Steve.

"You're really tearing it up out there. Nice to see your taste hasn't changed at all." Billy was leaning against the bar, was nursing an amber-colored drink. Steve sipped his pink wine.

"I stand by Duran Duran." Billy laughed, leaning forward enough for Steve to feel his warmth.

"Your speech was nice."

"Thank you! I was so fucking nervous, you have no idea." It was easy talking to Billy. Felt like not a day had passed since they were sitting on the hood of Steve's car at the quarry together, throwing rocks into the water and passing a joint back and forth.

"I wanna know everything about from these past ten years." Steve took in a big breath.

"You pretty much know it all. Took me a good while to get my shit together and get through school, finding something I'm passionate about."

"But there has to be more. A lot can happen in ten years. You dating anyone?" Steve's heart lodged itself in his throat. He blinked down at his wine.

"Not right now. Last one was, uh, it really fucked me up." Billy's hand was so warm when he placed it on Steve's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I asked. You don't gotta explain." Steve blinked, shaking himself.

"Are you, are you with someone?" Billy chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, through the wild curls Steve was obsessed with.

"Nah. Hard to find guys that don't get weirded out by the scars. I've got a whole lotta baggage."

"Sorry, guys?" Billy gave him an odd look.

"Yeah, Harrington. Guys. I'm gay. That a problem?" It was the closest Billy had looked to his old Hawkins self, puffing his chest up.

"No, that's not a problem. Just didn't know is all. I'm, uh, I'm bisexual." Billy's eyebrows shot up.

"No shit?"

"No shit." Billy smirked at him.

"You know I've always had a thing for you." Steve choked on his wine, coughing harshly as Billy laughed, thumping him on the back.

"Don't say that shit to me. I've had the biggest stupidest fucking crush on you since I was seventeen. That summer before everything when to shit, when we were, like, hanging out, I kept thinking something was gonna, was gonna happen." Billy's smile fell.

"I know. I'm sorry, Stevie. I just, I wasn't good back then. I was so fucking angry, about moving to Hawkins, and everything with my dad, and then getting possessed, I wouldn't've been good to you. And you deserve good, Stevie. You wouldn't have grown like you did if you were always trying to take care 'a me."

"Sometimes, the growing hurt, and I, I wish some of it hadn't have happened."

"I know how that feels, Pretty Boy. But the growing, sometimes it has to hurt. Everything that happened to me, everything with that thing, it made me who I am, and for the first time in my whole life, I really like who I am." Steve took a breath.

"You know, I never got the story from you. Why you actually moved to Hawkins. You'd say something different and ridiculous every time I asked." Billy looked down at his drink.

"My dad. He caught me with a boy in my room. He said, he told me living in the midwest would straighten me out. I think he thought either I play straight or I'd get hate crimed."

"I'm sorry, Bill." He smiled at him, just one side of his mouth ticking up.

"Honestly, Pretty Boy. Like I said, everything really happens for a reason. That's what I live by now, because all that horrible shit, it led me here, and I'm okay."

"Good for you, Bill. I really mean that. You've made such a great life for yourself." Billy pressed in closer to him, made Steve's breath catch.

"Thank you, Sweet Thing. That means a lot comin' from you." He leaned even further into Steve's space. "You wanna get outta here? I've got a nice hotel room." Steve felt warmth spread down his spine. He hooked a finger into one of Billy's belt loops.

"You know, I've always loved that car 'a yours. First time I saw you get out of it, kept thinking about getting fucked in that back seat." Billy groaned, his head falling onto Steve's shoulder.

"It's parked right outside." Steve leaned to Billy's ear.

"Race ya."

They ran, giggling like little kids all the way to Billy's vintage car. Billy fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before Steve yanked open the door, diving in the back seat.

They were still giggling as they struggled outta their clothes, making out in between items. Steve flopped down once he was undressed, pulling Billy down on top of him, laughing as Billy knocked the wind out of him.

The giggles turned to moans when Billy latched onto his neck, sucking and biting. He finally put his hand in those curls, the other trailing down his back, ghosting over the scars there.

"I love all your tattoos. So gorgeous." Billy pressed kisses down his chest. He stopped at the large scar running from the inside of Steve's collarbone a few inches down his arm.

"What's this from?" Steve stiffened under him. He sat up, brushing some hair off of Steve's forehead.

"It's, it's from a surgery I had."

"What happened?" Steve pushed his hand away from the scar.

"Shattered my collarbone." Steve was sitting up, was tugging his pants back on.

"Shit, Stevie, I'm sorry. I won't, you don't have to talk about it." Steve huffed, flopping back into the seat.

"It's okay. It's just-" He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Billy tugged his own slacks back on. "The relationship I told you about. The last one I was in." BIlly's eyes went big. He took Steve's hand.

"Stevie, I'm sorry." Steve shook his head."How long were you two together?"

"A little over four years."

"Holy shit."

"I ended things over three years ago. Packed my shit and left when he was at work. Lived with Robin after that." He crossed his arms over his middle. "I should've known too. There were, there were so many red flags, but I didn't, I never really ever felt loved, and he told me that he loved me, and so I stayed. Through everything."

"Was he your first relationship since Nancy?"

"Like, full relationship. Once I moved to the city, I let myself go wild a little bit, fucked around with a lot of different people. I thought he was it for me, thought he was the one. We moved in together after about six months." Billy placed a hand on Steve's thigh.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I know how you feel. I know how painful it is to live like that."

"I know you do. And I'm, Robin and Dustin really helped me. They helped me find a support group for queer abuse survivors, and, and Robin drove me to therapies, and I'm so much better, but it's, especially the scar, it's a painful reminder." Billy leaned over, pressing a light kiss to the center of it.

"Stevie, I really like you. I'd like to do this properly. I want to take you on a date." Steve looked at him with wide eyes.

"You, really?"

"Yeah, Baby. Been gone on you since I was sixteen years old." Steve took Billy's face between each palm, kissed him softly, smiled into it, into how right it felt, these two broken boys, these two healed men finally finding one another again.

#yikes writes #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #harringrove au

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bluesfortheredj · 5 years

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You were holding your stomach as you doubled over with the giggles, trying your best to breathe between fits of laughter as you cling onto Steve’s forearm with your free hand.

“You never!” you manage to exhale.

“I did!” he laughs, placing his hand on yours, “I swear to you I did!”

“You’re too much, Harrington,” you sigh as you finally straighten yourself up and wipe the tears from your eyes.

“I am?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Don’t you do that eyebrow dance at me. I’ve seen it far too many times already when you’re trying to woo someone over an ice cream cone; it’s effects are completely redundant on me.”

“I don’t do it that often...”

“Oh trust me, you really do.”

An arm suddenly swings around your shoulders, ripping you from Steve with a swift yet gentle tug and you look up to see your boyfriend standing there with a smug grin plastered across his face while he chews obnoxiously on his gum. Even though he should really shut his mouth while chewing you couldn’t help but swoon at his handsome face, along with every other woman that passed him by as well.

“Hate to break up the little love in you guys have here, but we need to get going,” he smirks, mostly at Steve.

“Sure thing, man. I’ll see you tomorrow (Y/N),” Steve grins as he moves in to hug you.

You escape Billy’s strong grip to give Steve a quick embrace then return to his arms quickly before he made a snide comment about the two of you, and Steve scuttles off alone as always.

“Oh, Steve, you’re so funny,” Billy mocks in a high pitched voice, flicking his hair back from his shoulder dramatically, “oh my gosh you’re amazing!”

“Knock it off,” you chuckle, knowing that Billy wasn’t Steve’s biggest fan, “I don’t sound like that!”

“You’re voice definitely goes that high when I’m making you c-”

“Billy!” you gasp, cutting him off as you give him a playful slap to his chest, “how’s your fan club down at the pool? Still got the middle aged mums gawping over you?”

“Can you blame them? You’ve seen me in those red trunks, and you certainly couldn’t resist me.”

“If I hear Mrs. Wheeler saying she had some swimming lessons from you, I’m going to be very suspicious,” you wink.

Billy stops you both in the middle of the mall and puts both hands on your shoulders to turn you towards him head on, then his palms cup your face as he frowns with concern at your comments, even though they were a joke.

“You know I’d never, ever do anything like that to you, right?” he asks.

“Of course I do, oh my god, Billy, I didn’t mean anything by it, I was only messing with you,” you reply as you bring a hand up to stroke his cheek, “I know you’d never do that to me.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause you know how I feel about you.”

“I know,” you nod.

He’d never said the ‘L’ word to you but that didn’t matter when he showed how he loved you in so many other ways; covering you over with a blanket when you fell asleep on the sofa, taking care of you when you were ill, giving you his jacket when you it started to rain and neither of you had an umbrella, kissing your forehead when you slept next to one another, and making sure you had your breakfast before you left in the morning.

“I’m yours, you’re mine,” he says sincerely.

“Always,” you smile, “are you hungry? Do you wanna get something to eat?”

“Can we just go back to yours?” he asks as his hands drop from your face and slide down your arms, “today’s been a bit shit.”

“Of course we can,” you reply.

You tuck a stray piece of his hair behind his ear and find a fresh bump with a cut running across it and into his hairline, then your face falls as you inspect it a little closer; Billy knowing that it would be pointless to try and stop you.

“What happened?” you sigh sadly.

“Just some punk,” he shrugs.

“Billy...”

“I just wanna forget it happened.”

You nod slowly then kiss his temple before you both make your way out to his car and back to your house where he felt like he could finally relax and be himself. When you’re both sitting up on your bed with the curtains wide open to look at the darkening sky, Billy tucks you into his side without a word, and you rest your head on his shoulder as the first few droplets of rain start to land on the window.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you,” Billy whispers.

“Not even with your swooning fan club?” you giggle.

“Not even with them,” he chuckles lightly.

“Good, because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be either,” you exhale as you run a hand up his vest and stop right over his heart.

“Not even with your lover boy, Steve?”

“Well...” you tease, “no! And he’s not my lover boy.”

“Might wanna tell him that next time you see him.”

“He knows I’m yours; that hickey you gave me a couple of weeks back was a very clear message to him,” you laugh.

“Maybe I should give you another,” Billy grins as he looks down at you.

You bottom lip finds its way between your teeth under his intense gaze and you sink down into the bed as he begins to lean over you, then his lips meet your skin as he peppers your face with kisses and works his way down to your neck. A loud crack of thunder shocks you both into looking straight at the window to see the rain lashing against the glass, and when your eyes meet once again you can’t help but begin to laugh at the rude interruption.

“It’s a sign,” you smile as you place your hands on Billy’s cheeks.

“A sign?” he questions.

“That maybe we should switch positions so I can put off all those cougars at the pool,” you wink.

“Mark me up, baby!” he replies as he sits up and whips his vest off.

Billy sits up against the headboard and you sit astride his thighs with a smile, but when you look at his body and run your fingers over his smooth skin, you can’t help but think of all the bruises that were once there, and all the hurt he’d endured because of random fights he got himself into, or even worse; his home life.

“I could never mark such beautiful skin,” you sigh.

“Hey, don’t go all soppy on me now,” he smiles, “come here.”

His arms wrap around your body and pull you against his chest tightly as he slides you both down until you’re laying on the bed, and you press a long kiss to his neck before snuggling into him and watching the rain once more. He was here with you, he was safe, and that’s all that mattered to you right now.

This is hugely cheeky to ask and please say no if you don't want to, but I'd LOVE to see you write something for stranger things even if it's just a one off if you feel like it. Steve or Billy maybe?

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #stranger things imagine

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

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steve harrington’s form of sad boy hours is getting high (never drunk ((unless it’s champagne))) but comfortably high, alternating between watching mister rogers neighborhood and self-entertaining with a full on dramatic dance number to “love is a battlefield” by pat benatar and/or “how will i know” by whitney houston, and having a sticky mess of mint chip and occasionally cookie dough ice cream all at 3am.

him, tommy, and carol would have “spa nights” where they splurged on half empty bottles of whiskey and bourbon from either of their fathers. steve and tommy would work on perfecting using the grill for a small cookout. and then their “spa” bit was lazing in the hot tub while carol painted all their nails and plucked all their eyebrows.

he has wine nights with robin where they watch taped fashion shows (featuring both men and women for both of their delight) that mrs. harrington had stocked away. they also buy out melvald’s “good chocolate” stock. joyce shakes her head at them whenever they pile the boxes up for her to scan through.

he would traditionally bring dustin to the fair every year and every day as it lasted. they’d ride all the rides at least three times and their dinners would consist of fried foods for a full week. but then steve would make sure dustin ate more than his usual serving of fruits and veggies the following couple of weeks.

steve and billy will get high and try to make foreign foods from steve’s grandmothers’ culinary cookbooks. they would plan these out and steve would pre-make a pitcher of sangria for them both. they would alternate between listening to orchestral, classy music on record, to steve’s bubbly pop mixtapes, to billy’s hard rock tapes. and they would take polaroids of the outcome and tape them in a very boring looking scrapbook that they kept far under steve’s bed.

#steve harrington #headcannons #stranger things #harringrove #tommy h #tommy hagan #carol perkins #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steve/billy #steve harrington is a thriving bisexual

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dacreshoney · 4 years

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chapter 1 the new kid on the block

the days outfit | above |

chapter 1 of my new stranger things/billy Hargrove x reader series

summary: The new kid on the block billy Hargrove, the two baddest kids in Hawkins catch each other eyes

warnings: flirting, swearing and actions some people may not agree with

(I do not condone any behaviours)

read to find out more

Recap: August 20th 1983 - senior Year, not like it mattered to me, I'd already missed the first week of what is said to be the most important year of my life. This was to hide the bruises and cuts my father decided to place me with this week, but If you asked Steve Harrington I missed school to avoid him after our summer hook up. Definitely not the case, but I'll let him fill his giant hair with a little more ego.you know, having the bad girl/popular persona at school always helped hiding the cuts and bruises, suppose that's why I like to play on the stereotype a little. Saves me explaining a whole lot of no good to the principle or the police; in which would do me a fat lot of no good as my dad is the chief of police. But today I needed to get myself out of bed and stop feeling sorry for myself if i ever want to get out of this shit hole, I needed an education.

7:00 am The sun started beaming through your window, the sunrise catching your eyes, you were always an early riser, but this morning you did not want to get out of bed and face the music of school. You dragged yourself out of bed and slogged your way to the bathroom to fix yourself up, you freshened your face and applied the days makeup. Nothing too dramatic but something which compliments your features, you made your way to your wardrobe where you grabbed your favourite black cropped sweater and khaki midi skirt to match with your dr marten boots and black backpack. Your hair wavy and tucked behind your eyes complimenting your chiselled face.

You made your way downstairs in which your father was in the kitchen reading the Hawkins daily newspaper, he glared at you as you walked passed him in the Kitchen, expecting you To forget everything he had done the days previous.

"stopped feeling sorry for yourself and actually going to make use of your life today are you" he mocked, edging for a sarcastic response

in return you tried not to ease into his schemes and replied, turning on your heel To glare right back at him

"don't you worry, you will still have a job by the time you get home today" you uttered with a slight smile coming from the left corner of your lip and made your way to fetch your car keys and headed out the door. You had a black alfa Romeo spider convertible, you turned the keys in the holder and headed towards heathers house, she was just as shocked to see you pick her up for school as well as Nancy and Barbara.

“just tell me again why you decided to miss the first week of the most important year of school miss head cheerleader?” heather probed you with one arm lent onto the edge of the window, followed by Barbara who also questioned,

“yeah, Steve has kinda been telling everyone you were trying to avoid him after he dumped you in the summer” barb giggled with the girls.

you eyed them up in the mirror and responded with some annoyance,

“ for a a matter of fact girls, I dumped his ass and two heather, had stuff to deal with”

“you won't be saying that if you don't get into college Y/N” Nancy vocalised in the back of the car

The girls then started to giggle as heather spoke, “just you wait till you see the new boy y/n,now that is someone I wouldn't mind taking my virginity and just walking away” and she followed, “ maybe someone to finally put you in your place and play you at your own game” she mocked. You smirked and rolled your eyes at them in which you stated,

“I would like to see the poor boy try” and laughed, the girls followed on to coo over the new kid, you really was not interested in boys after your recent fling with Steve Harrington, well you were interested in boys, but not for a relationship. You didn't mind playing them here and there, but you had decided that there would be no strings attached, your life was too crazy for anyone to handle. As you pulled up to school and found your parking spot, crowds of people entered the hallways as the bell rang.

5 minutes late you were to class and Mr Hodge just had to call you out, you could just never catch a break with that man.

“late miss Y/N Johnson, and he followed with “nice to have you finally grace our presence” he spoke as the class looked up to find you at the doorway. You edged towards the desk and lent over in a flirtatious manner and stated

“ well hodge, just missed your face too much so of course I had to make an appearance for you” you smiled and walked to find your seat as he dismissed you, the class laughing. You saw a new face, one you hadn't seen before staring right at you smirking and licking his lips, this must be the new boy everyone has been gawking over. Billy Hargrove.

“this seat taken?” you winked and questioned the boy, slumped on his chair legs spread in his tight denim jeans, he looked right up to you and cheekily responded with a wink right back,

“well princess, you could sit of my lap or the chair, take your pick?” you knew he was a little heartbreaker just by his comment. You further added while taking the seat on the chair,

“ sweetie, we've just met, don't get to big for your boots”

“ill take my chances with you darling” he teased.

Billy’s POV: this was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, she seemed cheeky as well, not afraid to say what's on her mind like the rest of the cat litter at this s*** hole of a school. He knew then he'd have to get to know her, maybe someone who would make his time in Hawkins a little more bearable.

Y/N POV:

The class had begun, you started writing your notes and could feel like someone was watching your every move, every inch of your movements were being hawked on. You turned to face billy who you could feel eyeing you up and asked abruptly “so, you must be billy, explains why you feel the need to eye up anyone with a pulse, heard a little about you”

Billy paused and smirked right at you and commented, “well all good things I hope, but judging by that I guess not sweetheart, so tell me, why has no one mentioned you?”

“well” I turned to face him and implied, “because i’ll break your heart sweetie, should be happy you got no one telling you about who I am” .

“already broken, besides I might break yours” he quickly responded licking his lips.

“already broken too, shame, I might of enjoyed breaking your heart Hargrove” I claimed, turning to face the front of class as mr hodge turned to face my direction and projected. “I hope you aren't distracting my class miss Y/N Johnson”

(BTW this is a sexual education class)

“not at all sir, billy over here was a little confused about what circumsized meant, so I was giving him a little explanation” everyone in the class giggled and turned to face billy who turned bright red. never had someone pulled him up before, never mind a girl.

“well aren't you a class A dick sweetheart” he spoke

“ I am yes, get used to it billy boy” I smirked

................................................

End of class came around fast, the bell had rung for break, you spent all the first few periods teasing billy, after the end of each lesson you would make sure he got an eyeful of your long legs and curves budging past his desks.

“still not going to tell me your name princess?” he shouted as he packed up his things to leave, your turned to face him with a smile and lent over his desk whispering in his ear,

“ it’s Y/N” and you walked off.

................................................

Later that day was cheer practice, you were cheer captain and you had a lot of s*** to prepare for the schools champion league for the soccer and basketball team games. So you had a lot to prepare to get the team ready and geared up to support them teams and you couldn't deny it either, you looked good in a cheer uniform.

The soccer team had finish practice and the basketball players were getting ready to enter the pitch, to your surprise you noticed the gorgeous permed blonde `come out from under the bleachers, ripped to the heavens he was in his tight khaki booty shorts. You carried on coaching your team, shooting and throwing commands for them to get their toe touches right when you heard a voice come right up to your behind and say

“ I wouldn't mind you ordering me about princess” billy spoke as he was licking his lips bouncing the ball on the ground.

“I'm sure you would like to be someones little bitch hargrove” you winked, the whole practice you made sure he had full view of you in your short cheer uniform, you're good at teasing. Also not to my liking Steve was on the basketball team, having a right good stare, he was not happy one bit with Elena flirting with the new kid.

After practice billy approached you at your car, hands leaning on the roof of your car and asked, “hey sweetheart, how's about we go for a ride? you take your car home, I follow you and we go from there”

“why do you thing I would one let you follow me home and two get into a car with you hargrove?” you joked with him, leaning on your car door. in which he answered,

“well I know when a girl is into me so, thought id make the offer first” he smiled.

I laughed, “confident and cocky, must think me to be like one of the other girls here then, to fall straight at your feet, think again pal”

to your annoyance Steve interrupted with a bitter tone to his voice, “wouldn't go there mate, she will sleep with you and leave you hanging like her dirty washing”

you both turned to face Steve, you shouted with a hint of anger in your voice, “really Steve, you are still hung up on that, come on”

“stay clear if I was you” Steve followed

“just proving my point harrington” you laughed as you opened your car door and turned to face him.

“and what's that huh?” Steve laughed, expecting you to come back with a s****y comment.

“ that you are just a little boy and I don't need a little bit steve, I need a man” you claimed facing billy who was smirking the whole time, Steve waked off with his friends in a tantrum.

“so that ride?” billy questioned

“you still wanna be seen with me huh?” you smiled getting into your car, turning on the engine, and billy lent down to the window where you would then be face to face and said

“ you sure as hell I do”

“then lets go billy boy”

#strangerthings #stranger things imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #strangerthingsimagine #stranger #things #dacre montgomery x reader #reader #fanfic #strangerthingsfanfic

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years

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hi, you take requests, right? Mind if I make one? Something post season 3. In my head, I imagine being the Mindflayer's host probably has some nasty side effects. I mean, the the thing forced itself physically inside his head. That's bound to mess you up. It left Billy with a brain injury that manifests itself in seizures. One night, Neil hits Billy and triggers a really bad one. From there it's just lots of angsty worried Steve and some worried Max and that's it. Thanks, friend!

I def take requests! Can’t say that I’ll be able to get to them right away, but I’m always looking for inspo! I did some research on seizures, so that took me a moment, and then this kinda got away from me, lol.

Anyway, anon, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this and that it has most of what you asked for~! (Fic below the cut)

When Billy had been impaled, he’d been relieved. It was over, finally over. He had lain there, staring up, a blurry Max yelling above him. He hoped he said his apology and didn’t just think it. He hoped that maybe she would mourn him, even for just a little while.

And then he’d woken up in the hospital, confused about where he was, who he was, and unable to make his mouth work. He thought words, lots of them, mostly what the fuck? Then there’d been a redhead, someone he knew he should know, but didn’t, and then he was asleep again.

That happened a few more times before Billy was able to wake up without freaking out. A nurse had stood above him, saying something, but he couldn’t figure it out at first. Finally, after she repeated it a few times, he was able to gather enough to understand that he’d “lived through a fire and the mall collapsing,” but had gotten a collapsed lung and a traumatic brain injury. That recovery was going to be long and hard and wasn’t even a full guarantee.

He wondered why he was alive.

It took a few months, but Billy was finally able to walk and eat with little difficulty, though he had bad days and his hands trembled when he was stressed. Talking was still difficult. His sentences were stilted and short, words rattling around in his head, but he couldn’t get his mouth to say them. To say what he meant. It drove him crazy.

And when he finally returned home, it pissed his father the fuck off.

“Spit it out!” Neil had yelled, back handing Billy as he had been trying to respond to Neil’s question about what Billy’s plans for the future were. Because of course he was angry that Billy had lived. Was now a burden who was fucking useless, taking up space in his house. And Billy had nothing. Truly nothing. Because what could he say? I’m going to go get an apartment while I can barely ask Susan for a ride?

And of course, he couldn’t say any of that. So Neil had hit him, and Billy, well, he wasn’t in shape anymore. Had needed to relearn how to walk, so he fell. He hit the wall, knocking his head against it. And it made his head spin and spin and spinand–

And he went down, collapsing and panicking because he couldn’t control himself, couldn’t move, couldn’t stop twitching–

“Stop being dramatic,” Neil had spit out, kicking Billy in the side with his boot. But Billy didn’t get up, just laid there, crumpled, eyes wide as he jerked slightly, fingers twitching. Neil frowned. “Get up,” he ordered. Billy didn’t. “Get up,” he tried again, but sweat began to bead on his forehead. “I fucking said get up!” He kicked Billy again, harder, but he stayed down, not even emitting a sound of pain. “Fuck,” Neil hissed. “Fuck!” And he ran. Grabbed his coat and ran.

When Max came into the hall, having heard yelling and the door slam, she saw Billy and screamed. He didn’t do anything more than jerk, a small whimper escaping from his lips.

“Billy!” Max ran over, stopping at the last moment, unsure if she should touch him. Billy whimpered again, the jerks becoming slower and more irregular as his heart slowed and he let out a cry, finally able to make his mouth work. Max jumped back and paused, staring down at him with fat tears rolling down her cheeks, before running back to her room. Billy faintly heard the crackling of her walkie, though he was having trouble making out the words, everything off kilter and he felt sick. Felt like he could move but was too tired to do so. Max’s words finally started to be clear and he heard W-With Hopper and Mrs. Byers gone I-I– and Please I don’t know what to do! My mom– and then when blinked, Max was there again, wiping her eyes and crying softly.

They’d been better, though it hadn’t been hard, seeing as Billy was quiet and withdrawn, nothing like himself before. He didn’t go out, walked everywhere, and he kept his head down. Guilt, embarrassment, and discomfort filled his days and the only bright spots were when Max told him about her day. It was fucking sad. Billy reached out, movements slow, and gripped the front of her socked foot. Her breath hitched and she reached down, grabbing his hand.

“Billy?” Her voice was soft and he was so grateful. “Billy I, uhm, I called Steve and he’s gonna be here soon. We’re gonna take you to the doctor, okay? You’re gonna be fine, okay?” And when her voice cracked Billy felt his eyes fill with tears. He nodded weakly and she squeezed his fingers, only getting up when the door opened, Neil apparently hadn’t bothered to even lock it, and Steve came in, red faced and panting.

“Fuck,” he gasped, staring down at Billy on the floor, who wished he could sink into the ground and stay there.

–

A seizure. His father had slapped him so hard he gave him a fucking seizure.

“What’s best for him right now?” Harrington had asked the nurse, brow furrowed with concern. Billy hated how it gave him butterflies.

“A stable environment and rest. No drinking, no smoking, and no vigorous activity for a day or two.” Billy didn’t mention that he was already not doing that. “If he has another, come to us immediately. If he has any new symptoms, come to us immediately.” Billy tuned him out and looked out the window, feeling pathetic and angry. Max was holding his hand, both of them sitting on the hospital bed. Eventually, Steve waved the nurse off from the doorway and turned back to them.

“Sorry,” Billy croaked, feeling so fucking worthless.

“Don’t be,” Steve replied. “And I mean that. None of this is your fault.” Billy begged to differ. If he had just not let that fucking Mindflayer, or whatever they fucking called it, he didn’t fucking care, take him over they wouldn’t even be here. Steve didn’t take his silence poorly, however, and just held his hand out. Billy took it, blushing for needing help up. He kept his eyes down and let Max take his hand and lead him out. After a moment he realized Steve was talking again. “–se, I mean we have plenty of room, and my parents are never home, I’m pretty much just house sitting–” Billy blinked and looked at him in shock.

“What?” He asked, confused. Steve stuttered to a stop and looked at him, eyes wide. Billy realized, belatedly, that he hadn’t really said much to Steve, except Sorry since– Since–

“Huh?” Steve replied, staring into Billy’s eyes so intently he looked away. Max tugged on his hand.

“He said that you could stay with him. That you should.” When he looked at her, she had a determined look on her face.

“I-I couldn’t–”

“Seriously,” Steve said, cutting him off. “It’s no trouble. I mean, I still have work sometimes, but I can give you the number to call, if that works? If you can?” He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know how to talk about this. Billy could relate.

“I don’t–” Billy tried, pausing to clench his fists and eyes. “Rent?” Steve actually looked insulted.

“What? No! You can’t go back home, man,” Steve said, gripping Billy’s shoulder and pausing in the hospital entrance. He caught Billy’s eye. “You can’t. I’m not gonna take advantage of that.” A lump caught in Billy’s throat and he couldn’t say anything. So he just nodded and gripped Max’s hand tightly.

–

At first it was weird, living with another person, in a huge house, with practically free reign. Billy stayed in his guest room most of the time, coming out when Steve was home and falling asleep to the sound of Steve shuffling around. He didn’t sleep much, was always bursting with nervous energy. Was fretting over Billy in a way that no one had since his mother. It was weird, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was welcome, in fact. Just overwhelming. Billy was used to being touched, touched by those who wanted his body, wanted something from him, wanted to hurt him, but he wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to the way Steve would gently grab his elbow as he passed, would help Billy with his buttons on bad days with no complaints, would cut up his goddamn food like he was a child and it made Billy’s head spin.

Steve fretted over him like he had nothing better to do. Like he had nothing else he wanted to do. It made Billy’s stomach do flip flops.

He knew he had liked Harrington since he met him. Had wanted to fuck him at least. And now here he was, still as gorgeous and magnetic as ever, taking care of him. Billy wanted. He wanted so badly.

“Okay,” Steve said, hands on his hips. “You’re sure you’ll be fine?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s an hour.”

“A lot can happen in an hour,” Steve protested, glancing at his watch. He groaned and glanced at the door. “Fuck, I gotta get to my shift, stupid fucking Keith–” He let out a rush of air and gave Billy one last look. “Are you sure?”

“Christ, Harrington,” Billy drawled, “Max will be here and I’ll be fine.” They had made a system, Steve and Max, deciding that Billy needed to be watched over. Nevermind that he had been doing better, had been talking more, finally able to get his words out a majority of the time, and he was even thinking of starting to jog in the mornings. His doctor had recommended it, finally, and he wanted something to do. To at least pretend he could run from his problems.

But Steve and Max were anxious and goddamn worrywarts, so Steve had continued to move his shifts around so that when he left, Max would be arriving to spend time with Billy after school. It was spring semester, almost spring break, and soon she’d be able to spend more time with him and Steve could work more hours. It made Billy feel like a nuisance, despite how many times Steve told him he wasn’t. For now though, she’d have to leave to make it home for dinner.

He did not think about his father.

Steve gave him one last worried look before nodding and heading out.

“I’ll be home right after work, okay? Unless you want me to pick up, like, a pizza or something?”

“Grab whatever, I’ll eat it.” Billy chewed on his bottom lip and listened to the sounds of Steve leaving, starting his car, and driving away.

Billy thought about his plan to start jogging and, before he could talk himself out of it, was headed out the door, spare key in his pocket. He’d just take one go around Loch Nora, which shouldn’t take him more than 45 minutes, and that was enough time to quickly shower before Max arrived. He started at a slow but steady pace, feeling something in his chest unfurl in the spring weather. It was finally getting warmer, the air brisk and the sun glinting on the melting snow puddles. It was pretty in its own way, even if it didn’t hold to the ocean.

He smiled slightly and closed his eyes, feeling a little more like himself than he had in a long, long time. He jogged down the sidewalk, glad no one was out, and as he rounded the farthest corner, ready to make the final turn, he saw his father coming out of Mrs. Gardner’s house, smiling at her with that plastic face. Billy tripped over his own feet, barely keeping himself upright. He had to lean against a mailbox, unable to get his feet to move. He hadn’t seen his father in over a month now, maybe almost two. His dad hadn’t asked about him, had thrown out most of his stuff, though Max salvaged what she could, and now here he was. As the door closed and Neil turned away, smile melting off his face, he saw Billy. He froze as well, eyes sharp and dangerous.

“Son,” he said, voice dark. Billy felt himself begin to panic and tried to remember to breathe. He didn’t respond, didn’t look away, but he forced himself to move, to jog again. He felt his father’s eyes on his back until he disappeared behind the house on the corner. When he was out of sight, Billy stumbled and hid behind the bushes, glad that rich people loved large hedges. Through the leaves he saw his father’s truck make the turn, it’s pace slow, until his father seemed to give up and sped away. Because even though Billy wasn’t under his roof, his father would always want him under his thumb. Billy sat there, shaking, for a few minutes. When he could finally breathe again he stood and hopped the fences to get to the backyard. He didn’t trust the streets.

When he came around the side of the house, Max was there, ringing the doorbell frantically and pounding on the door. She did a double take when she saw him and ran over, face red with anger, but twisted in concern.

“Where were you?!”

“I wanted to go for a jog,” Billy replied, voice flat. His hands shook as he tried to put the key in the lock and Max gently took it, opening the door for them. She eyed him, knowing there was something he wasn’t saying. When he didn’t continue she tossed her backpack on the floor in the foyer and crossed her arms.

“And?” Billy couldn’t meet her eye.

“Neil was–” Max let out a strangled sound and slammed the door closed, locking it.

“Did he see you? Did he follow you? Billy, fuck!”

“Language,” he replied in a daze. Steve’s mothering tendencies were rubbing off on him. She pulled him into the living room and pulled the curtains.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you yes or no questions,” she said, voice trembling with restraint. “Can you handle that right now?”

“Yes.”

“Did he see you?” She sat him on the couch, going into the kitchen to get him some water.

“Yes,” Billy replied, hoping he was loud enough.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Yes. Son.”

“Did you say anything to him?” She set the water in front of him before sitting next to him on the couch, taking his hand.

“No.”

“Did he follow you?”

“No. Tried to. I hid.” Billy hated that just seeing his father made him choke up, made the words feel stuck in his throat. He was so grateful for Max in that moment that he pulled her into a tight hug. He hadn’t done so much, if at all, since leaving the hospital. She froze, stiff and shocked, before gripping back, burying her face in his neck.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Seeing his father had been jarring and upsetting, but he’d gotten away. Was 18 so his father couldn’t, and hopefully wouldn’t, do anything. He gripped Max tighter. “Will you be okay?” He was worried his father might have seen Max outside Steve’s and it was too much of a coincidence, them being in the same neighborhood, especially one this rich.

“I didn’t see his truck, but maybe I should go home early, just in case.” She sounded upset, like that was the last thing she wanted to do. “We should call Steve,” she said, pulling away. Billy jerked back, shaking his head.

“No, he doesn’t– He’ll worry.” Billy didn’t want Steve to fret for his entire shift, which he definitely would. “I don’t want to be a bother. It’s my fault for going out–”

“No,” Max snapped, cutting him off. “It’s not your fault.” Billy wouldn’t meet her eye and she stood, putting on Dirty Dancing. They had bonded over Patrick Swayze and it was a comfort movie for the two of them, as weird as it was. She threw herself against his side, making a space for herself, and Billy just wrapped an arm around her and let the movie play.

–

“Billy!” Steve called as he came in, bag of sodas and breadsticks in one hand, pizza balanced in the other. “I brought home Hawaiian pizza!” It made him blush, calling it their home, and since Billy wasn’t there, he let himself. His parents were out even more now that he was out of school, and more still after the Mall Incident. They didn’t want to deal with his nightmares and clinginess and if he had been a little selfish in asking Billy to stay, he would never admit it. He set the pizza down on the table in the kitchen and went into the living room, finding Billy with his arms around his knees, staring at a blue TV screen. It made his hairs stand on end. “Billy?” He jumped, like he hadn’t heard Steve come in, and the fear that flashed on his face broke Steve’s heart. “Hey, hey,” he said placatingly. “It’s just me.” Billy relaxed and nodded once, looking at the TV in shock like he hadn’t even noticed his movie end.

“Sorry I– I lost track of time after Max left.” Steve smiled and held out his hand.

“I got Hawaiian, your favorite, you goddamn heathen.” Billy smiled a little, ducking his head. Steve’s breath hitched when he looked at him through his lashes, his eyes sad and grateful.

“You eat just as much of it as I do, you human garbage disposal,” he replied, taking Steve’s hand and pulling himself up. It was their thing. Steve pretended he hadn’t eaten Cheez-Whiz on undercooked macaroni noodles, and actually had taste, and Billy let him. Plus, Steve could deny it all he wanted, but Billy knew he just didn’t want to admit the pineapple was fucking good.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve replied, something in his chest unclenching. Billy was joking so hopefully things were okay. “You and Max have a good time?” He pulled out a chair for Billy and missed the way he blushed.

“Yeah, watched Dirty Dancing.” Billy winced when Steve froze. He knew that they didn’t watch that unless one of them was having a rough day.

“Oh?” When Billy didn’t reply, just sat down and started shoving pizza into his face, Steve’s chest clenched right back up. “Billy?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled. “Just went for a jog and stressed myself out.” He wouldn’t look Steve in the eye, not that he usually did.

“A jog?” Billy shrugged stiffly.

“Yeah. Doc said I could start some light exercising.” He opened one of the cans of coke, fiddling with the tab. Steve fidgeted before sitting down heavily, grabbing a slice to munch on. He watched Billy, who kept hunching lower and lower in his seat.

“So–”

“I saw Neil,” Billy grit out, like he didn’t want to say it. Steve dropped his pizza onto his pants, cursing and tossing it back into the box before moving to Billy’s side.

“Are you okay?” Billy shrugged.

“He didn’t do anything, though I think he tried to follow me, likes to keep tabs on people.” He sniffed and gave Steve a quick look, before once more averting his gaze. Steve hated it. Wanted Billy to look at him. Wanted Billy to know he would never be angry with him, just wanted him to be happy. “Realistically I know he can’t really do anything,” he said, voice soft, “But every time I see him I just–” He cut himself off and crossed his arms. Steve placed his hand on his knee, making Billy’s eyes snap over to him, a light flush on his cheeks.

“When did this happen?”

“After you left. Before Max got here.” Steve nodded, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. Billy hadn’t even called. “Sorry,” Billy whispered.

“For what?”

“Being such a fucking nuisance.” Before Steve could tell him that he wasn’t, Billy continued, fingers digging into his sweater clad arm. “Mooching off of you because I can’t– I’m so fucking useless and stupid.” Steve squeezed Billy’s knee, which for some reason, made his face twist even more. Steve removed his hand but it didn’t seem to help. “And now my dad– I just want to be fucking normal.”

“Okay,” Steve said, licking his lips, “I’m gonna tell you something, okay? And I want you to just listen for a moment.” Billy nodded. Steve went back to his chair and wiped his hands on his pants, making a face when he got the tomato sauce he forgot to remove on one. “One, you’re not mooching. If anything, all of this is on my parents dime, and they aren’t gonna notice. Two, you’re not useless, or stupid.” Billy opened his mouth but Steve tutted him. “No, nope. You do chores without me asking and you had a fucking brain injury. You’re recovering and you’re doing so much better than anyone thought. Even Dr. Owens.” Billy blushed at that, smiling sadly. “And third,” Steve swallowed thickly and blushed, “You’re definitely not a nuisance. I offered up my place because– Well, I have the room and the money to help so why wouldn’t I but–” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that my parents aren’t ever here. Not really.”

“Yeah,” Billy replied, not sure where Steve was going.

“I’m really glad to help you but also, like, I kind of needed this too.” He picked at some fraying on his sleeve. “I don’t sleep much anymore, too many nightmares, and waking up to an empty house is–” He shrugged, throat getting tight. “I hate being alone,” he said quietly. He looked at Billy, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “I really like having you here.” Billy looked away and Steve kept talking because he needed Billy to know. Fuck it. “I mean, like, I really like having you here.”

“Yeah?” Billy looked at him through his lashes again.

“Yeah,” Steve said, taking Billy’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Billy’s eyes went wide and his face went red and Steve felt the clenching in his chest loosen more. “And you’ll always have a place with me.” He wasn’t surprised when Billy leaned over and kissed him. Just smiled when he pulled back, his breath catching at the glint of happiness and hope in Billy’s eyes when he pulled away.

“I– Is this–”

“I mean, if you really feel like a mooch, a smooch or two per day would be great payment,” Steve said teasingly. And when Billy laughed, looking more like himself than Steve had seen in months, he couldn’t help ducking in for a kiss of his own.

#anon #request #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #hurt/comfort #tw child abuse #brain injury recovery #max mayfield #angst with a happy ending #self loathing #mutual pining

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bit-of-a-fuqboi · 4 years

Text

Title: Running the bases

Steve was both shocked and annoyed when it was announced Billy had quit the basketball team to join the baseball team. Steve admits, reluctantly, that his annoyance has as much to do with not being able to creep on him anymore, as it has to do with the fact that their best chance of a championship is with him on their team. His shock was simply because, well, Billy had the kind of skills that made other guys envious. He was an amazing player. The kind to win championships. Real scholarship material. It just confused Steve to no end why he would throw that away.

It turned out he didn't. Word got around quickly that Billy's skill on the field was as good, if not better, as it was on the court. And Steve, well, Steve felt his annoyance only grow. Is there anything he can't do! Steve found himself silently fuming as he angrily chewed on his sandwich.

The sudden sound of laughter, and many stomping feet, interrupted his brooding. He looks up and sees Billy for the first time since he quit—and he’s completely geared up from head to toe in the school's green and white baseball uniform.

The uniform clings to every single contour of muscle you can imagine. He struts through the quad like he owns it, and with each step Steve is hypnotized by the bulge of his biceps through the fabric and the pop of both of his pecs in his shirt. A shirt that is tucked into the tightest, sexiest pair of baseball knickers complete with green belt and green piping down the sides. His socks hug two thick, muscular calves, and he’s got on the green and white cleats. He even has on his green cap, and the dabbed eye black across the tops of his cheeks is smeared from practice. Whoa.

"You might want to pick your jaw up from the floor Harrington, you look like your about to start drooling"

Shaken from his stupor he turns to see a girl he doesn't know smirking at him, she looks familiar though… maybe we have a class together?

"No It's not! I'm not… It's not… I mean … I don't know what you mean" Yeah that's not suspicious. Great save Harrington.

"Whatever dingus" She says with a snort and walks off. Steve is sure he hears her mutter "I don't know what they see in you" as she walks away.

With a feeling, almost like panic, creeping in, Steve has a very sudden urge to escape the area before anyone else notices his weirdness. Throwing his half eaten sandwich in the bin he makes a beeline for the school.

He makes it halfway down the first corridor before he is suddenly shoved into a storage closet.

"What the actual fuck!" Steve likes to think he yelled, but suspects he screamed. High pitched and embarrassing. Fuck! Could this day get any worse.

The light switches on, and he's temporarily blinded by the brightness but as soon as his eyes adjust he's greeted by grinning Billy Hargrove. Yep, it just got worse.

"Miss me Harrington" he asks.

"Like the clap" Steve answers automatically, regretting it immediately. Steve was certain that he just escalated the situation to a fist fight, a fist fight in a small enclosed space where he is not likely to come out on top, but instead Billy just laughs.

"I saw you checking out the new uniform." At the reminder Steve can't stop his eyes from trailing up Billy's body, but when he reaches his face he is met with an intense glare. Billy's arms are crossed and he looks about nine feet tall from Steve's corner of the closet. All those muscles... His shoulders are so broad they actually block the exit. There is no escape. Fuck! He's going to kill me, either literally or from sexual frustration, both are very real options at this point.

"So what do ya think pretty boy? Think I'll be able to slide home with how wet I'll be making the chicks at this school?" He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. No, instead he has that same invasive, hypnotizing look. The one that seems to see right through him.

To his horror Steve realises he's not scared in the least by how Billy’s looking at him. Instead, it's worse, he's turned on. Turned on by the strange intensity in Billy's eyes, by the bulges his biceps make when his arms are folded in that tight uniform, and that he could break him in half with little effort.

"So gross dude" Steve answers, all the while silently panicking as he feels pre-cum beginning to leak and soak through his fast tightening underwear.

Billy's eyes draw down Steve's body appraisingly. He licks his lips—naturally reminding Steve that they are very much still there, and very much still plush and kissable as ever—and says "So, you ever feel up a baseball player?"

Steve freezes. He’s no longer blinking. His mouth can’t close. Steve waits for Billy to laugh it off, or maybe mock him some more but instead he takes a step closer.

Slowly, Billy brings a finger to the collar of Steve's shirt and hooks it inside. "C’mon, Harrington." Then he gives it a tug, the top button coming undone with surprising ease. "Tell me you aren't curious to know what's been driving these bitches crazy. It’s the stuff of legends, man." Steve's heart hammers away. His knees quake. "Half the writing on the bathroom walls is about what I’m packing.” Billy pops another button."Go ahead,” he coaxes, his voice silky smooth and languid, “Touch me.”

Time seemed to slow down and the world around them became blurred and unfocused. All that existed in that moment was them.They stared at each other in silence; the only sound in the closet was their ragged breathing.

Steve made the decision, refusing to overthink, and reached out and ran his hands across Billy’s flat, muscular stomach. He was fascinated by the warm radiating through Billy's uniform. His fingers traced the hard muscles before moving to Billy’s hips. He took a moment to rub his palms over the belt, before slowly moving his hands around to the dimples of his ass in those tight pants.

It’s not lost on Steve that Billy's crotch is bulging dramatically. Holy shit; he’s getting off on this weird as fuck scenario too.

“Like how my ass feels Harrington?” he asks.

“Yes” Steve chokes out.

“Unbuckle me.”

Steve's didn't have to be told twice. His fingers fumble with the belt, hands shaking with excitement. Next comes the button of his pants and then the zipper, which slowly parts the dirt covered white sea of fabric to reveal his thick, hard cock enclosed in a white jock. Steve groaned at the sight. Why the fuck is he not wearing briefs? Steve looks up and Billy just cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Steve could feel his racing heartbeat pulsing in his ears. Why am I even questioning this?

Steve wraps his hand around Billy and starts to palm him through the flimsy underwear. Billy takes a shaky breath, but doesn’t do anything else. Challenge accepted motherfucker! Steve tightens his grip and picks up his pace.

At first Billy just smiles smugly, then his breathing begins to get heavier. After a minute he’s practically panting. Steve smirks “Out of breath already Hargrove? How are you going to make it around all the bases with stamina like this?”

Without warning Billy grasps Steve's shirt, pulls his face to his and fucking devours his mouth. Steve felt like he was just a piece of meat, a toy for Billy's own personal use. That really shouldn’t be hot. Steve realises he's now practically clawing Billy's back as Billy's reaches around to cup his ass. They’re both moaning into each other's mouth as their hips press firmly together.

The sound of the bell ringing brings reality crashing down on Steve. It’s the middle of the day and they are on school grounds. Anyone could catch them.

Steve breaks away from Billy and says “C’mon we need to head to class. Lunch is over. I can’t be late to biology, Mr Greene will have my ass.”

“But I want to have that ass.” Billy says as he squeezes Steve's ass cheeks.

Steve wavers for a moment, but then Billy says "It's not like you were going to contribute, or even pay attention"

What the fuck! Steve pulls completely away and scowls. "Fuck you Hargrove"

Billy lifts an eyebrow. “Did I strike a nerve? It's not like you're known for your scholastic aptitude. I was just saying there's a better use of your time”

Steve ignores him, and buttons up his shirt.

"I really didn't mean anything by it." Billy says.

Steve just glares and shoves his way towards the door. Annoyingly the shoulder charge hurt him more than the wall of muscle previously blocking the exit.

"C'mon Harrington we didn't even get to third base" Billy jokes.

Steve rolls his eyes, unimpressed with Billy's lame attempt to lighten the mood. Of course Billy refuses to give up. “You have a great grip, by the way.”

"Wasn’t much to grip,” Steve shoots back. Billy grins.

“Maybe you need another grip to remind yourself, pretty boy. I doubt you can wrap your whole hand around it.”

Steve stops with the door half open and turns to Billy. "You know, for a moment there, I almost forgot you were an asshole."

"Steve—"

"I don't want to hear it. This will never happen again" Steve says, then turns to leave. As he walks away however all he could think was "I really want it to happen again"

As he rounded the corner, Billy yells "This ain't finished Harrington.", and Steve shivers as his pulse spikes from excitement. Maybe I really am an idiot because there was no doubt it wasn't.

This was only meant to be a short thing but it got a little out of control lol The fic was inspired by someone post about a baseball au headcannon. I cannot for the life of me locate the post, if you know it please tell me and I will link.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #harringrove au #fan fiction #six sentence sunday #it got out of control #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove headcanons #harringrove baseball au

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bentnotbroken1fanfiction · 4 years

Text

Learning Curve: A teacher!Steve/SD!Billy AU

Part I Part II Part III or read on AO3

"Alright, what's the next thing on the list?" Billy asks, leading his daughter down the aisle. He'd promised Max he'd do the shopping last night, so he's here, doing the shopping while Becca practices her reading.

Go team.

"Ummm," She frowns hard at the piece of paper in her hand. "cah-eh-ree-all? Carial?"

"Cereal." He corrects.

She looks up at him, confused. "That's not how it looks though."

Yeah… "Sometimes words sound different than they look. We just have to memorize which ones they are."

She wrinkles her nose. "That doesn't make sense."

"I know," He agrees, "but that's just how it is."

She makes a face but reaches up to grab some Cheerios. "Can I get Berry Kix?"

He knows Leslie was a total health nut, but he's never thought a little sugar would hurt her. They'd always got up early on his Saturdays and went to the local donut shop. It was their secret.

Now there's no reason to have secrets.

"Yeah, put em in the basket." He says, giving in.

If Leslie were to be believed, she hadn't had sugar in two years. She still died.

A little sugar won't kill her.

He's lost in his thoughts, doesn't see Becca staring at someone behind him, doesn't realize they aren't alone anymore.

Until…

"Billy?" Ice rushes through his veins as a familiar voice speaks behind him. "That you, son?"

Oh fuck.

His breath leaves him, hand tightening around the yellow basket handle. He doesn't want to turn around. He just wants to drop this basket of shit, pick up his daughter, and run.

But he knows that would cause a scene, and he doesn't want to do that. Doesn't want to scare Becca. She's already had enough fear in her life, she doesn't need him freaking the fuck out. So he makes a decision and slowly turns around, forcing out a monotone, "Dad."

Neil looks the same, he thinks. Maybe a bit more gray, but he still has the same face. That face that can go from neutral and soft to angry and hard in a split second.

"I didn't know you were back in town." He's saying, sharp eyes looking Billy up and down. "How long have you been here?"

"Awhile." He answers flatly, and god, Billy is an idiot.

Everything had been going too well, running too smoothly, so he'd gotten complacent. He should have known he'd see Neil eventually. They lived in the same goddamn town, but a part of him had just hoped he'd never run into the bastard.

But Billy has never been that lucky

And his eyes don't stay on Billy long, they land on Becca and he automatically pulls her behind him. He can feel how rigid she goes under his hand, like she knows he's worried. Like she knows he's putting himself between her and danger.

"Who do you have there?" Neil asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"It's none of your fucking business who she is." He says, voice dangerous and cold, surprising them both. He had never spoken to the man with such hostility before. He'd been too weak, too afraid to stand up to him.

But Billy didn't have something precious to protect back then, now he does. And it's pulling on the back of his jacket, quietly pleading, "Daddy. I want to go home."

His chest aches at how unsure her voice sounds. He wants to take her home too, but if he doesn't deal with this right here, right now, it could turn ugly for them later.

"I know, sweetheart." He tells her, "Daddy just needs to talk to him for a minute, ok? Then we'll go."

"So, you're a father now, huh? Susan never told me that I had a granddaughter." Neil looks like he's a bit hurt by the information.

Him. Hurt. Hah.

He doesn't have the fucking right to be hurt, to be upset with Billy for cutting ties and keeping his daughter a secret from him.

He doesn't have the right.

"Yeah, that's because we didn't tell her until she left you." He hisses. "And as far as I'm concerned, she's not your granddaughter. She is nothing to you."

He can tell that his dad is pissed the fuck off at that. But he can also tell that he's not going to do shit about it. Because he doesn't know Billy anymore. Doesn't know what he's capable of. He only knows that he's not the same terrified boy that packed a bag and split the minute he graduated.

But even though he doesn't know Billy anymore, old habits die hard. He still manages an aggressive, "Nothing?" And steps to the side, trying to peer behind Billy. "We're family. You wouldn't be heartless enough to keep her away from her own grandfather would you?"

He shoves ten years worth of anger into a heated glare. "I put half a country between her and her other one, I'd gladly put a world between you and her if I could."

He frowns. "Don't you think you're being a little bit dramatic, son?"

"Dramatic?" He balls his hand into a fist, an act that doesn't go unnoticed by Neil. "Come near my kid and I'll show you just how dramatic I can be."

There's a heavy tension quickly filling up the space between them, and Billy thinks this may come to blows after all. He's gearing up for it, making a quick plan of action when he realizes Becca's hands are no longer gripping his jacket.

Panic seizes him until he hears her calling out, "Mr Harrington!" and he turns to see said man at the end of the isle, putting a box of cereal into his cart.

"Hey there, Becca. What are y-." He starts to say but is cut off when she plows right into his stomach. He barely keeps his balance as he wraps his arms around her, eyes rising to meet Billy's before asking, "Is everything ok?"

Neil scoffs behind him. "Oh, won't let her say hi to me, but you let her run off and hug strangers?"

Billy barely holds back a nasty retort. He's being willfully dense. He heard her calling Harrington's name too, so he doesn't look at him as he responds, "He's not a stranger." Hasn't been a stranger since Billy rolled into Hawkins and tripped over his own feet trying not to out himself to the pretty boy.

And fuck, Billy is happy to see him. If only because he's saving him from throwing punches in the middle of the Mini Mart.

Becca says something to him, and while he can't hear what she said from this far away, he can see Harrington's frown. Then he straightens up, takes her hand and abandons his cart, coming to a stop beside Billy.

"Everything ok over here gentlemen?" He asks, back straight and authoritative.

So unlike high school Harrington.

But now he's a teacher.

Right.

Neil opens his mouth but Billy beats him to it. "Of course. He was just leaving."

The man's stubbled jaw ticks but he backs down. Apparently not liking his odds. "We'll catch up another time, then." He says, and then...walks away, towards the front of the store.

As soon as he's out of sight Harrington's posture slackens and he lets go of Becca's hand. "Um, wasn't that your dad?"

He sighs, nerves shot to hell, and rests a hand on Becca's head. "Unfortunately."

"What'd he want? Becca said something was wrong."

Said little girl leans back against him and he sighs again, because he really doesn't want to talk to Harrington about this. Doesn't want to talk about it in front of his daughters, doesn't want them to know how pathetic he'd been in the past.

But he has to say something. "He just wanted to know why I didn't tell him I was in town, " He admits, "and why I didn't tell him about Becca."

He pushes his glasses up where they'd slid down his nose a bit. "Why didn't you?"

"I haven't spoken to the bastard since graduation, Harrington. He's got no reason to be in my business."

He nods. "Fair enough."

And Billy knows they still haven't gotten everything off the list, that he should stay and maybe thank the guy, but he's mentally exhausted now. Max can guilt trip him later. Between Neil showing up and now Harrington, he really just wants to go home, crack open a beer and watch TV with his kid.

"Well, we'll let you get back to your shopping. I think it's time we get going." He says, gently tugging on his daughter's ponytail to get her to swat at him and stop shutting down. "What do ya think?"

"Yeah." She replies enthusiastically. "I want to go home and see Uncle Lucas." Then she acknowledges her teacher, "See you tomorrow, Mr Harrington."

And even though he's been giving Billy some unreadable looks, he's all smiles when he talks to Becca.

That shouldn't make him feel so damn warm, but it fucking does. Because of course it does. The universe hates him. Wants nothing more than to watch him suffer and pine over something he can't have.

Or should he say someone.

#harringrove #teacher steve au #single dad billy #kidfic #two idiots that will pine #theyre bad with their feelings ok #general neil hargrove warning for this part #he's a dick #but billy will absolutely throw hands now

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unknownauthor · 5 years

Text

Who’s Crying Now

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: cheating, break up

Summary: Reader and Billy have been exclusive for a while

A/N: I feel like this is not my best work. It is my first Billy fic and I think it turned out okay. Tell me what y’all think. And requests are open❤️

I should have listened when Nancy warned me about him. But his beautiful eyes and smooth way of speaking disarmed me and I fell hook line and sinker.He charmed his way into my life, and just as easily as he had entered it….He was gone now.

It all started at school on friday. He usually picked me up from my house. This morning he didn’t. I was almost late and had to rush to class. I looked for him all morning but I couldn’t find him. I had just resolved that maybe he’d gotten sick or something and I would go check on him after school. It was only when I had to pee during Math class that I discovered the truth.

I was walking back from the bathrooms, still worried out of my mind when i saw them. I stopped in my tracks as they both looked up, smiling and giggling as they exited a janitor’s closet. Billy’s eyes widened, unable to lie as I could clearly see the lipstick on his face and neck. Emma’s telling smile said more than any excuse he could come up with.

“Y/N-” I turned and sprinted down the corridor before my name could finish dripping off his lips.

Don’t get me wrong, Billy Hargrove and I had only been dating for about a month, but I felt it was real. He snuck over to my house when his dad was being a brute, he confided in me how much he missed his mom. I had felt close to him.I guess we weren’t close enough.

“I don’t know Nance,” I said, wiping my nose again. She sat on the edge of my bed, hand on my knee and eyes filled with concern. I couldn’t go to school today, if i had seen Emma Garfield’s face I probably would have smacked the smug look right off of her. I didn’t want to see the two of them together. She smiles sympathetically, but she doesn’t understand.

“I know things are hard for you right now...But trust me, they’ll get better.”

“How/” I ask dramatically flinging my arm over my face with a loud sigh. “I really liked him.” the room falls silent. She doesn’t need to say ‘I told you so.’ she knows that I already know that. But the hole I feel in my chest is unbearable, and like the best friend I could ever have, Nancy curled up beside me, hugging me tightly and didn’t leave my side.

“Get up. Y/N. Get up.” I wake, groggy and exhausted. I had tossed and turned all night, prompting Nancy to make me some tea to try and help me settle down. She’s in my face now, trying to wake me up for school. I groan, dreading the day ahead and unable to avoid it.

“What time is it?”

“Five forty five.”

“Jesus Nance! Why are you waking me up?” I snap, pulling the blankets over me and hiding beneath them. I never get up before six thirty on a school day. Undeterred Nancy pulls the blankets away, I hiss as cool air hits my legs. She sits beside me, turning on my bedside lamp. I wince at the sudden invasion of light, she’s already dressed and ready to go.

“I’m waking you up so we can get you ready.” I sit up, brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m going to do your makeup. And your hair. We’re gonna make you look completely irresistible. And you’re going to show that asshole just what he screwed up.” she grabs my cheeks and pulls my face close, a kind smile on her lips. “You are bitchin’. Time for you to own it.”

P.O.V

Billy ran his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around as he searched for Y/N. He hadn’t been able to talk to her all weekend, she ignored his phone calls and when he had driven over to talk, her father had told him in no uncertain terms to get lost. What happened with Emma was a mistake. He knew it the moment he saw the look on her face. It hadn’t been worth hurting Y/N. No one else truly mattered.

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked Billy as he sat down in homeroom. Billy ignored his friend, eyes scanning the room, searching for her, hoping he could get her attention or maybe even slip her a note. The bell rang and Ms. Peterson closed the door, he cursed under his breath and sank lower in his seat.

“I can’t do this.” she says to Nancy. Y/N’s legs shake and her eyes fill with tears as the anxiety of everything that had happened began to fill her once more. Nancy placed her hands on her friend’s shoulders, prepared to give her one more pep talk before they joined their classmates.

“You can do this.” she fluffed Y/N’s hair and wiped some stray lipstick from her friend’s mouth before turning her around and taking her arm and arm. “Bitchin’. Remember it.”

Billy’s P.O.V

“Class starts at 7:30 sharp ladies.” I look up to see who was walking in late and had to stop myself from leaping out of my chair.

“Sorry, our pedicure ran late.” Y/N said sarcastically, tugging Nancy Wheeler with her. She didn’t even look at me as they took seats next to Nancy’s boyfriend Jonathan and Steve Harrington. I take her in, feeling my cock begin to rise in my pants. Shit she looked good. A light pink knit halter top with a white belt and black skin tight pants. Y/N hated heels so she wore plain black pants and two chunky bracelets on her wrist. A white one and a pink one. Her beautiful hair was piled high and hair sprayed to heaven, the makeup on her face was light but noticeable. She looks like a goddess and all I want is to worship her.

“Mr. Hargrove.” Ms. Peterson snaps me out of my daze and I clear my throat, looking down at my notebook. I fucked up….I fucked up big time.

P.O.V

Y/N felt great. She had seen Billy in class, the way his jaw dropped. Nancy said she could see him sweating it out. She had been proud. As the day went on the more confident Y/N felt. If he wanted someone else he could have them. Her worth wasn’t measured by him or anyone else.

It was at the end of the day she found the note. It had been shoved into her locker and fell out just as she opened the door. She bent down to pick it up, recognizing the shotty handwritting on the front of it as no one else’s but his.

Y/N,

I’m sorry for everything. I messed up. I know I’ve done a lot of shitty things but this was the worst. I am so sorry for hurting you,,,,you deserve better. You deserve better than I could ever give you.

Thank you for loving me,

Billy

#billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things one shot #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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ashfountainfanfics · 5 years

Text

“Mr. Harrington?” the nurse at the doctor’s office asks.

Steve startles and drops the old magazine he’d been pretending to look at. Billy is at his eight week check up and there’s no telling if he’s going to come out with a cast or not. Steve’s spent God knows how long in the lobby weighing both outcomes. If the cast stays on then that objectively sucks and if it comes off then great! Right?

But they had developed a routine in the past few weeks and that routine has been running through Steve’s mind.They’d wake up and Billy would try to bark out instructions to Steve on how to make a proper breakfast. Steve knows how to fry an egg now but he still burns the bacon. Billy gives him shit for it every time but sometimes he mutters a compliment on the eggs.

Billy then naps while Robin comes over for pool time. Billy fixes up lunch and leaves Steve’s out on the coffee table while Steve showers. Billy then showers while Steve eats. Steve and Billy play a game of cards; sometimes poker. It depends on whether Dustin’s over for dinner or not and, surprise, Dustin’s amazing at poker.

Then Billy and Steve settle in on the couch. They watch TV and talk. Sometimes they talk about their childhoods. Sometimes it’s about their pasts. Sometimes it’s just giving each other shit but in a good way. Other times they just let the TV do the talking for them. It ends the same, they both fall asleep on that same couch. They don’t talk about that part though because Billy’s always waiting in the kitchen by the time Steve wakes up.

“Mr. Harrington,” the nurse repeats, “Your friend asked me to give you his discharge paperwork.”

“Discharge? Is he-”

“Read the paper, Mr. Harrington,” the Nurse replies.

Steve does just that but his eyes are manic as they haphazardly search for an answer.

Ibuprofen as needed.

Follow up in two weeks.

Low level activity.

...low level activity!

The door opens and Billy’s standing on the other side, cast free. Billy smiles brightly at Steve and slowly makes his way across the lobby. He has a limp and he’s carrying both cruthces in one hand.

“Doc says he’s never seen someone recover so well,” he smiles, “and my teachers always said I’d amount to shit.”

“Mr. Hargrove,” the nurse warns with an even temper, “language please.”

Billy’s previously injured leg looks so pale and it’s leaner than the other. It’s not a dramatic difference and maybe it’s just Steve’s brain overcompensating for the bulky cast. Billy’s wearing both of his boots now and it looks hilarious paired with his shorts.

“You need jeans,” Steve laughs.

“Ya think?” Billy bites back.

The biting and snapping is so different now than it was before. Before it felt like handling the violent outbursts of a wild animal. Now it’s harmless, playful even. It reminds Steve of how puppies play with each other. Not that he would dare tell Billy that he makes Steve think of puppies. Teasing aside there’s still boundaries.

Steve keeps an eye on Billy and matches his pace. He can’t help it. He’s gotten accustomed to going Billy’s speed. They get to the car.

“Keys,” Billy demands, “I’m driving.”

Steve doesn’t question it and tosses them over. They load up and Steve has butterflies in his stomach. Billy adjusts the radio and then peels out from the parking lot.

Steve’s chest feels heavy because he isn’t sure where they’re going.

He doubts that Billy is going back to his dad’s place. For a while, Steve thought he might go back for Max but he doesn’t need to. Billy understood that since she was willing to stand up to him she is definitely prepared to stand up to her father too. But even then, if that excuse for a father figure ever lays a finger on Max, Billy’s going to do something about it.

‘I’m not afraid of shit anymore’ Steve remembers him saying one night. Steve made him promise not to do anything that would send him to prison. Billy found a compromise; he wouldn’t do anything that would get him life in prison. That was the best Steve could hope for.

Steve feels his breath hitch whenever they come to a turn but so far they’re following the same route back. There’s a little thrill as the car curves around the corner the way he hoped it would.

“You okay?” Billy asks before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah.”

“Then why do you have your head out the window like a dog?”

Steve brings himself back to an appropriate position.

“I’m trying to not to throw up,” he covers, “You drive like a maniac.”

Billy laughs and speeds up. They come up to a light and it turns yellow but Billy doesn’t slow down.

“Billy...” Steve warns.

The light turns red and Billy floors it.

“BILLY!”

Billy whoops in excitement as they get through the light unscathed. A series of angry car horns sing behind them. Steve unfolds his arms and legs from the ball he’d formed on instinct.

“You’re insane!”

“Nah, I’m free, baby!”

So much for being harmless, Steve thinks as his heart rate goes back to normal.

Billy pulls up to the Harrington residence. He shuts off the car and the radio cuts off leaving a silence between them. Neither of them gets out of the car right away. Billy squeezes the steering wheel and Steve taps his fingers on his knees.

“So you’re better now,” Steve tests the waters.

“Yup.”

“You’ve got both legs.”

Billy nods but his eyebrow is raised in suspicion. Steve can tell he’s irritating him but he can’t stop.

“You can go anywhere and do whatever.”

“Is there a point here?” Billy says with a tight jaw.

“So stay.”

It comes out quick and painfully on the nose. Steve catches a quick glance at Billy and the wide eyes looking back make him want to curl back into a ball. He could be setting himself up for a different kind of collision and unlike Billy there’s no sense of high in it.

“If you want,” Steve tries to tone it down, “You don’t have to but- you staying would be, uh, good.”

I used to be smooth once, Steve laments internally, I used to be cool.

“I’m not sleeping on the couch anymore,” Billy says after a moment passes.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.”

Steve’s chest is no longer heavy but instead has the curious sensation of being split right down the middle. Billy’s refusing the couch which must mean he’s not staying. It was stupid to think he would. Did Steve honestly think they were... well, at minimum, friends? He must have misread something along the way. Maybe all their routine came down to was tolerance. Now there’s no reason to tolerate anything anymore. Billy’s free to be wherever he wants to be.

“You can’t make up the bed tight either,” Billy complains, “That shit looked like military quarters on one side. If I wanted to sleep in some rigid crap like that I’d have joined the army.”

“...what?”

“I’m not spelling it out for you,” Billy gets out the car and slams the door shut behind him.

God knows Billy never does. Steve does understand what he’s saying though. He’s gotten good at decoding the way Billy expresses things. Everything comes out in sharp edges but if it’s filtered right Steve can hear some amazing and unexpected things; sympathy, kindness, affection… vulnerability. At the moment, it sounds like Billy is wanting to stay and not like he was staying before.

Steve knows what the bed reference is towards. The night that Billy was high and he needed a different bed Steve absolutely stayed in that bed with him. It may have seemed like a weird impulse given the kiss that preceded it but Steve was worried. It didn’t seem right to leave Billy alone. He slept on top of the covers though. He didn’t want them touching then. He didn’t trust it.

Steve fumbles over his seatbelt and manages to meet up with Billy. He’s leaning against the front door and already smoking a second cigarette. He puffs away at it anxiously but the expression on his face is stern. Steve gets closer than he’s dared to before, maybe an inch away. He’s close enough to touch him and he finds it infuriating that he wants to.

“Look,” Steve says, trying to wear Billy down with a serious gaze, “I know that you’re not good at saying what you mean and normally I get it anyway. And I think I get what you’re saying now but I need to know because if I do this, if we do this, it has to be for sure.”

“Know what?” Billy say before taking another drag.

Steve’s been dancing around his own feelings for two months, constantly in and out of what can only be described as a gay panic. It had been exhausting. Ultimately, he settled on acknowledging what Billy makes him feel but not acting on it unless Billy initiates it again. It felt less complicated that way. Now that initial move has been made… probably. Steve needs the clarity and for the first time in their new rapport he’s demanding it.

“Did you just ask to sleep in my bed? With me?”

Billy puts on his best ‘fuck you’ grin before blowing out a slow, steady stream of smoke into Steve’s face.

“Okay,” Steve rolls his eyes and starts to turn away.

It could have been easy to stop right there. They could let all of this go and write it off as a bad joke. Steve could go back into that house and dance around hidden signals and off remarks for God knows how many more months. Or maybe that was the clarity he needed. Billy doesn’t reciprocate and his cryptic shit really isn’t so cryptic.

Fuck that, Steve decides.

He literally grabs the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth and before Billy can be pissed about it he pins him to the door with his forearm. The cigarette lands in the dirt and Steve can’t tell why his blood is boiling. Is it because he’s mad? Or because he’s finally touching Billy? Or both?

“Tell me what you want,” Steve growls, “or get the fuck out of my house.”

Billy looks furious but Steve stands his ground. Even if Billy decides to kick his ass and take off with his car at least Steve will know where they stand. He’s done playing games.

“Kiss me,” Billy says through bared teeth.

Steve does a mental double take. He brings his arm down so Billy isn’t trapped against the door anymore.

“Really?”

“Am I speaking goddamn Spanish!?” Billy shouts, “Fucking do it alre-”

Billy doesn’t get to finish because Steve’s lips are on his mouth and it feels good. It feels better than the last time and different. Billy isn’t playing casanova. In fact, the something almost shy about him.

Steve stick a leg in between Billy’s as he plants his hands on either side of his head. Billy moans into the movement and Steve swears that he’s melting like butter under him. Billy hooks a hand into the front of Steve’s jeans and pulls him even closer.

This is happening. In broad daylight. With everyone sober. Steve’s whole body wants to crash into Billy’s. It’s a hunger and an inevitable gravity.

Steve detours his kisses along Billy’s jaw and lands on his neck. He gets to work on leaving a mark because Steve can’t stand the idea of not marking him. That primal part of his mind goads him into it. He’s gentle at first but builds into a hard bite. The animal in him pushes further and he starts rutting against Billy.

“Fuck,” Billy murmurs pleasantly.

God yes, Steve thinks as Billy’s sounds curl up into him and caresses his every nerve.

“Fuck,” Billy groans again before his tone shifts, “Wait. Fuck! No, hey!”

Billy pushes Steve away hard. It feels like being cut off in the middle of a current. He doesn’t understand at first. He tries to think why Billy would stop. What in God’s name could have stopped that?

Did...did someone see us? Is someone else here!?

Steve panics. He knows what it means to have a certain kind of hate. He knows how violent that hate can get. He looks around frantically and steps back.

“I am NOT your bitch, Harrington!” Billy screams out, “You touch me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you!”

Dumbstruck, Steve tries to cultivate a response. This wasn’t even in the realm of possible reasons to stop what they were doing but here it is anyway. No danger. Just insecurity.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-”

“Fuck you!”

The heartbreak settles in now. He wasn’t trying to treat Billy in any kind of way except well. What did he do wrong? Was he too aggressive? Too dominant? The last thing he wanted to do was give Billy a reason to push him away and then he literally pushes him away. Billy’s back to biting and clawing and not in the good way. He’s feral again and Steve desperately wants to go back just a handful of seconds. Billy was so close to being okay with all of this.

“Billy... I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly, “We can do this different. Or not at all if you’re not okay. I don’t- I never ever want to make you feel shitty, okay? Never.”

Billy takes this in and lights up another cigarette. He sits down on the front steps leading up to the door and blows a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth. Steve cautiously sits down next to him. The concrete is hot under him and he imagines that it’s not very comfortable for Billy either. But Billy doesn’t let on.

“What do you wanna do?” Steve asks.

Billy straightens out his formerly injured leg. He very slowly and purposefully moves the toe of his shoe out and back. Another long drag and Steve’s wondering if Billy’s ever going to talk again.

“-ry,” Billy whispers so quietly that only the last syllable is audible.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s an apology. Steve was expecting another argument, another round of silence. He’s not sure how to respond yet.

“I’m new to this gay shit,” Billy continues.

“Me too,” Steve chimes in quickly.

Billy drops his cigarette down and grinds it out with his boot. He turns toward Steve and attempts eye contact. He then immediately drops it and turns back.

“I’ve never-” he looks like talking is both embarrassing and painful, “I don’t get involved with people. Y’know, with feelings and shit. I think it’s fucking stupid.”

This isn’t helping Steve’s heartache at all.

“But you’re not stupid.”

Billy offers his hand palm up, fingers spread. He doesn’t look at Steve but his hand stays open and waiting. They could have more of a conversation but this feels pretty clear.

Steve mimics Billy’s eye line. They both stare off into the distance with cool expressions. Steve then crosses his wrist on top of Billy’s and laces their fingers together.

—-

“I have a job!”

Steve shouts his news as he enters his parent’s house. He races to the living room and manages to hop over the back of the couch. He lands with a flop next to Billy who’s got his nose in a newspaper.

“I have a job,” Steve repeats with a smile, “and my only uniform is a vest.”

“Don’t phrase shit like that. Sounds like you’re only wearing a vest. Like no pants or something.”

“I didn’t think of it like that but not wearing pants would sweeten the deal.”

“You don’t have the balls to go out naked in public,” Billy mutters as circles one of the ads in the paper.

Steve laughs.

“I used to,” he points out, “but streaking lost its high in junior year.”

Steve moves in closer to Billy. The spaces between them always feel so heavy and there’s only ever room between them for conversation or kissing.

Last night they slept together in Steve’s bed and before they drifted off they had made out for hours. They didn’t speak a word to each other though and that was for the better. Talking about it muddled things by bringing attention to details Steve wasn’t sure they could handle. Or more accurately details that Billy can’t handle. Steve feels like he’s adjusting fairly well to the whole liking another guy thing.

Nonetheless, Steve can recall the heat and sweat of last night in quick flashes. Billy still smells the same, a sweet sort of musk. Steve wants so badly to press his lips into where Billy’s shoulder meets neck but he has to be cautious. Now isn’t the right time.

“You find some leads?” Steve distracts himself with the task at hand.

A few spots have been circled on the wanted page: box boy for the local grocery store, assistant to a mechanic, and-

“Police officer?” Steve asks incredulously.

Billy snaps the newspaper back to himself. He wasn’t expecting Steve to read over his shoulder. He hadn’t been expecting him to be so close really.

“You don’t think I could be a cop?”

“I didn’t know you wanted-“

“Who fucking says I want to?”

There are days where it feels like it’s never going to get easier with him. In fact, Steve catches himself wondering briefly if they ever really move forward at all. Any time he thinks he’s getting close enough toward- well whatever it is they’re gravitating toward - they slip back a bit. It’s always Billy too. Steve tries but it’s like Billy gets skittish… in a loud and yelling sort of way.

“I think it might be helpful. To be a cop. That’s all.”

“How?”

“You’re a real dumbass sometimes,” Billy narrows his eyes but settles down:

“Then enlighten me, oh wise one,” Steve bites back with just the right amount of sarcasm.

It works and Billy relaxes.

“Shit happens here. A lot. The only cop any of you know is dead so-“

“You want to replace Hop?”

“I want to be useful,” he says it quietly and stares at the floor intently.

“I’ve been on the other end of your right hook. You’re more than useful.”

Billy mumbles something but Steve can’t catch it under the gravel of the other boy’s natural tone. He leans into Billy’s space to hear him better.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Billy notes quickly while keeping still.

“I really didn’t.”

“Fucking hell! I said-“

Billy turns to face Steve and he’s suddenly very close. So often he moves in wild and unpredictable ways but the speed with which he moves and the suddenness he’s stopped could give a man whiplash. His nose is just an inch from Steve’s. When he meets his eyes they become soft, almost bashful.

“- I’m sorry…for hitting you back then. I’m sorry”

Steve doesn’t dare to break their shared gaze. It has that hot and thick feeling to it. It’s both intoxicating and important. He swears there’s a cheesy love song playing distantly in the background but he waves it off as just being in his mind.

This is the second apology Steve’s gotten. Something about Billy saying sorry knocks the air out of Steve. Even now he’s trying to steady himself in the wake of it and the sudden tension.

“Make it up to me,” Steve finds the perfect tone between a demand and a request.

Billy responds to it by cupping a hand to Steve’s face. His fingers feel warm against Steve’s cheek and he wants more.

“You got my eye pretty bad,” he elaborates.

Billy guides the back of Steve’s head into a slight tilt down. He gives a gentle kiss over his left brow.

“And the mouth. You drew blood.”

Billy moves gracefully to the corner of Steve’s mouth. He leaves a kiss there before moving to the middle and kissing Steve softly and languidly.

“And my ribs,” Steve complains between kisses.

“I know.”

It’s a tender concession. Steve is enthralled by this version of Billy: the side of him that is sweet, compliant even, and wanting.

Billy presses his body weight into Steve and Steve adjusts so he’s lying on his back. Billy’s on top of him. Steve allows it as Billy follows the map Steve’s given him. He lifts Steve’s shirt and wordlessly leaves his apologies on his rib cage. He then starts moves to his abs and Steve can’t deny the growing arousal and how Billy is purposeful getting closer to it.

Steve’s head is swimming. He can only hope for what he thinks is coming to him but he doesn’t dare interrupt or confirm. He’s letting Billy set the pace. Billy has the power here and Steve’s okay with that. Steve doesn’t need power like Billy does.

If Steve had been paying more attention he would have known that the music he heard earlier was not in his head. In fact it had been playing in the other room. If he wasn’t letting his thoughts wander into less PG territory he would have heard that music shut off or he would have heard a door open and maybe he would have heard footsteps. But he didn’t. The only thing Steve and Billy hear is the very loud outburst from Max as El stands next to her watching the two of them with a confused expression.

“OH MY GOD!” Max keeps yelling, “OH MY GOD! OH GOD!”

So much for third base.

—-

Steve can hear Billy and Max having it out downstairs. Steve thought the girl’s massive freak out would make it difficult to pull her best friend away but it didn’t. El seems to understand that the siblings needed to talk- or yell technically.

Now El is sitting at Steve’s lifelong neglected study desk with the chair spun out so she can see him leaning against the wall by the door. Neither of them can make out words from the noises downstairs but the emotions are certainly audible.

“So,” Steve begins, “You and Max hanging out here now?”

“Not enough room at Joyce’s house,” El notes, “And Max’s house is too empty. She says it is like a ghost house.”

Steve feels a sharp pain at the idea of Max being lonely. He knows that Billy wasn’t great company but he was company nonetheless.

“Billy said it is okay. Is it okay?”

Steve doesn’t mind any of his gaggle of children hanging around. In fact, he feels better with them here instead of getting into trouble. He wasn’t expecting Billy to offer their place up to Max and El as a retreat though.

“Of course you can hang out here. Our casa es su casa.”

A confusing wave of feelings smack into Steve has he realizes that he just self referred to his home as belonging to both himself and Billy.

El brings her legs up to sit crisscross in the chair. She’s got a scraped knee on her left side. She’s that age. The age where you can have a boyfriend and a scraped knee. Steve is awkwardly aware of how little she may know about what she saw. Or worse, how much she does know.

“So, Billy and I-“

“Is Max okay?”

“She will be. She’s just surprised.”

“Bad surprise?”

“Well,” Steve attempts to explain, “Not bad. Maybe bad for her? But it’s not bad. I don’t think.”

Steve realizes how hard it is to explain something when the person explaining isn’t even sure about the explanation.

Steve sighs and slides down to sitting on the floor. El has a calculating look on her face. Steve wishes that her weird intuition would fill in the blanks for him. When she starts to speak, Steve puts hope in that silly wish.

“Max did not know that you and Billy want to get married?”

Steve manages to choke on air.

“What!?”

El explains that Chief Hopper once sat down with her and explained that sometimes adults who aren’t married sometimes date. That dating sometimes leads to living together. Usually when that happens the adults want to get married and sometimes do.

“...and then sometimes they do something only adults do and there is a baby,” El concludes.

Steve holds his head up with a hand covering his mouth. He’s nodding like El is making perfect sense but internally he’s screaming.

“You are Billy are adults-“

God that sounds weird out loud to Steve but she’s right. Billy and Steve are both eighteen. A few more months and Steve will actually be nineteen. Steve doesn’t necessarily feel like an adult though. He’s had sex and worked a job. Neither of those things feel exclusive to adulthood. How do you know you’re a real adult?

“-and you live together,” El continues.

It occurs to Steve that maybe Hopper never used the words ‘man and woman’ in his talk. He must have leaned on the word ‘adult’ in the hopes of El taking home the message that only grown ups do these things and she’s a child therefore she can’t do them. Not the best or most informed sex talk but that had to have been the intent.

“Ah! Yes okay,” Steve decides to define it more, “So, yes we live together-“

“And you were kissing.”

“Billy and I can’t get married,” Steve says quickly to gloss over El’s interjection.

This gives the girl pause. She sits up a bit straighter and fixes Steve with a concerned look.

“Can’t?”

“Well… no. It’s against the law.”

El looks completely lost. He brow is knit. Steve is starting to sweat and he wants so badly to leave this conversation. El doesn’t see the problem with Billy and Steve kissing and living together. Hell, she thinks they might get married. Steve wishes more people were like her. He wishes he was like her.

“Most people,” his voice wavers a little, “are used to only boys and girls, men and women, kissing. That’s what they call normal.”

Steve doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to face that reality. He wants it to stay quarantined in his bedroom. It’s safe there and the world outside is so… not safe.

“They don’t understand when boys like other boys or girls like girls or a man with a man or- you get it?”

El nods.

“So if they see that or they hear about it or they even think it, they get really angry.”

This is my life now. This is what can happen if we stay together.

Steve’s throat is closing up and he struggles hard to keep going. El gets up from her chair and sits in front of Steve.

“Sometimes they get so angry that they hurt people. People like…me. And they get really angry, like kill someone angry. I know because I used to be angry too.”

Steve wants a time machine. He wants to take back every single utterance of the words “queer” and “fag.” God, what if they actually were gay? He made them feel like this. Like nothing feels safe. Like wanting to die.

Steve feels tears crawling up through the limited space in his throat. He holds them there. He doesn’t like to cry. He won’t do it.

“It’s called being gay,” he forces himself to breathe, “and people call you bad words for it. Fag. Queer.”

Steve drops his chin to his chest. He grabs fistfuls if his hair. He wants to scream. He wants to beat the shit out of himself. Because he’s been the asshole throwing punches and calling names. And now he’ll be on the other end.

“I’m such a piece of shit” he finally laments.

“No.”

Steve looks up. His nose is congested and his ears feel hot and tired. On reflex he eases the grip on his hair.

“No?” he asks.

“You are not shit.”

It’s hilarious really; how she can say that with such a serious face. It’s even funnier how the phrase give Steve permission to breathe again.

“They are shit. They are bullies. You are not a bully. You are nice. You are my friend. You protect my friends and give us snacks. Bullies don’t share snacks.”

If it were possible Steve would adopt this child. He can see what Hopper saw in her. She’s complicated and naive but she’s kind. She’s just a good kid. One that any parent would be proud of.

“You’re right,” Steve laughs mostly to himself, “bullies don’t share snacks.”

El laughs with him and she does it legitimately. She’s right about the other stuff too. Steve isn’t a bully, at least not anymore. Even before Billy, he managed to put his old shit aside and accept Robin. His old self would have been enraged that he’d been rejected. He absolutely would have passive aggressively slipped that information to someone shittier than him. There would have been a mob in a matter of days, torches and all. The old Steve would have let her burn and acted like he hadn’t handed them the matches to do it.

That’s not who he is now.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Steve says, “Billy and I are a secret.”

“Friends don’t lie,” El says, looking almost hurt by the assumption that she’s being asked to.

“It’s not lying. If too many people know it can put us in danger. It’s like-“

His eyes light up.

“Your super powers! Those had to be a secret right? So you’d be safe. It’s like that.”

El understands this perfectly.

“I will keep you and Billy safe,” she says with a mild determination, “I promise.”

Steve realizes that the fighting has stopped downstairs. He wonders if that’s a good thing or not. He stands up and offers a hand to help El up.

“We should check on them,” Steve notes as El pulls on his arm.

As Steve prepares himself for whatever scene awaits him downstairs, he makes it a point to stay in front of El. Her powers had made her strong but with or without them Steve is going to protect this kid. Even if it’s just keeping her safe from little bull shit things.

Speaking of bull shit, he’s going to have to figure out a way to let Joyce know that El needs an actual sex talk but that’s a problem for another day.

#stranger things have happened ff #Chapter 3: Stay or Go #sthhch3 #harringrove

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