#don't @ me - i realize that his interdimensional pockets probably don't work this way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silentglassbreak · 5 years

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I seen your post and decided to send a prompt you don't have to do it but maybe have Steve swimming in the lake by himself because he can't stand the sight of his own pool because he knows thats where Barb died, and Billy steals his clothes while he's in the water.

I am so excited to get my first prompt! I hope I don’t disappoint! 🖤

Until Tomorrow, We’ve Got Tonight

November is an ugly month. Steve decided this only a second ago, while he stared up at the moon. October is over, all of the Halloween decorations are put away, it’s too far from Christmas. There absolutely no good parties. Everyone is with their families. Everyone with the exception of Steve Harrington.

The day before Thanksgiving, and he was out at the quarry, waist deep in ice cold water, possibly freezing to death, and no one knew or bothered to care. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, realizing that it didn’t matter. If his parents didn’t care, why the fuck should he? Why should Nancy care? Or Jonathan Byers? Or Chief Hopper?

To his face, everyone is loving and caring, apologetic even. When he’s not there? Although he doesn’t know what is actually being said about him, he knows words like ‘pathetic’ and ‘dumped’ and ‘pussy’ must be thrown around.

His face has healed since that night, where he got his face beaten in, only to swell out and give him splitting migraines for at least a week after. Where he helped a band full of children close an interdimensional gate and fought dogs from another world. Where he had his heart broken straight in two. His face and his body no longer bore bruises or dried blood, but it was so far from healed.

The frigid water softly lapped at his bare hips, stopping just over the rim of his boxers. The smallest of breezes kicked up, brushing past his chest, making his nipples hard as stone.

Of course, he didn’t have to be here, slowly becoming a solid block of human ice. He had a perfectly useful, heated pool in his backyard. And sure, he had thought about it plenty when he first started this, a few short weeks ago. However, the image of his pool had become skewed and dark when he watched the steam lifting off the surface, the lights so inviting.

The Harrington pool was the last place Barb had been seen alive, and that was his fault. He didn’t walk her to the door, didn’t watch her drive away and insure she was safe. He was too busy with Nancy, and being the King of Hawkins, Indiana. That fact would haunt him forever, and there was nothing he could do.

So there he stood, lips blue and skin tight, where he deserved.

His palms clutching the back of his neck, his hair falling over his knuckles, he tried to keep his breathing steady, letting his eyes fall closed, attempting to prolong his body starting the process of shock for as long as he could. He did this more often than he’d admit, relishing in the numbing sensation creeping down his lower limbs. The forest was silent, as peaceful as he could’ve hoped for, until…

The sound of tires crunching gravel and dirt was almost completely drowned by the sound of an engine snarling toward the shore. Breath hitching in his chest, Steve felt the sure aggravation begin heating up his frozen chest.

Billy fucking Hargrove.

One moment of piece. One goddamn moment of silence was all he had asked for tonight. Something to help the feeling of insignificance melt away for a moment, even if it meant replacing it with ice. But, no. Steve Harrington was just not that fortunate.

“The fuck’re you doing out there, Harrington?” Billy called, now standing outside of his Camaro, lingering between it and Steve’s BMW. “You do realize it’s like forty-three degrees out here?” His voice echoed off the walls of the quarry, as if it had any right to be so fucking loud. Steve turned his head back toward the moon, deducing he was likely safe from Billy, who he doubted was brave enough to come out into water so cold.

“Yeah, I realize.” Steve did his best to make his voice just as loud, but fell just short of. The quiet surrounded him once more for only a second. Until…

“Death from freezing is an ugly way to go, pretty boy.” Steve turned his whole body this time, sighing audibly, wanting Billy to understand just how annoyed he was.

“You’d just love that, wouldn’t you Hargrove?” Billy smirked, his fingers playing with his cigarette.

He held his arms up and out, a signal of a near surrender. “It was nothing personal, Harrington.” His arms dropped to his sides. “You just caught me on an off day.” Steve snorted, but lifted his head back to the bright white moon, knowing his moment of relaxation and almost-death has ended. Accepting defeat.

“Get out and share a smoke with me, c’mon.” Billy turned and leaned his back against the door of Steve’s car, looking down at his own smoke in his hand. Something in Steve’s gut twisted wickedly, not for one moment wanting to give Billy what he wanted.

“Why don’t you come out here and make me?” Billy’s head snapped toward Steve, who was holding his arms out now, in front of him, inviting. His head cocked to the side, raising an eyebrow at the boy dick-deep in ice cold water.

“You lose your fucking mind?” Yes, Steve thought, probably. Because something about startling Billy, his grin falling and eyes widened in almost-horror, sent a hot electric shot through him, same as it always had. Steve usually ignored it, though. In the hallway at school, on the basketball court, in the goddamn showers, but here, hypothermia threatening and literally nothing to lose, Steve let it warm him all the way down. Enough to purge some confidence.

“You bein’ a pussy?” Billy turned his entire body to him then, feet stepping just a few steps forward, arms crossed over his chest. His head whipped around every few seconds, waiting for the inevitable punchline. And then it came, in the form of Steve’s clothes folded neatly on the hood of his car. His face split into a devious, sugar-sweet smile. The realization hit Steve a moment too late, and he forced his legs to move. Heavy as literal blocks of ice, muscles screaming once the blood began trying to move through his veins, he rushed toward the shore, but not before Billy plucked the pile up off of hood and took off backwards, away from the cars. Steve stopped, knowing he couldn’t leave the water now, or he would go into complete shock if he didn’t get his clothes on in at least thirty seconds. He silently worked through his mind how chasing Billy would make his heart pump harder, possibly warming up his legs. It was a gamble, but by the way Billy was waiving his clothes around like fucking batons meant he didn’t have a choice.

Steadying himself, breath visible in the night air, he launched himself toward the shore, out of the water, stumbling, until he felt that same air freeze the hair on his legs. He pushed himself toward Billy, whose smile had become glaringly wicked.

“Who wants his clothes?!” Billy’s sing-song voice made Steve angry, but his running slowed, chest feeling extremely heavy and overworked.

Approximately five feet before he reached the other boy, Steve felt his lungs threatening to burst, or collapse, he wasn’t sure which. His body didn’t feel cold anymore, it felt completely numb, like a limb falling asleep, but before the pins and needles come. His vision began to blur and his arm swiped lazily in front of him, missing Billy by a long shot. Until...

The last thing Steve saw was Billy’s hand reaching for him, eyes wide again, his voice echoing between Steve’s ears.

“Harrington!”

When his eyelids fluttered open, there was pitch blackness all around him. It made him startle, his spine jutting him bolt upright, defensive. It only took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the room, his room.

When did he get home? How did he get home? He remembered collapsing. Had he dreamt it all? He must have sat there for a solid minute before the sound filled the room.

“Morning princess.” Steve’s head jerked toward the voice, knowing exactly who it was.

“Billy?” The lamp on his desk flicked on, illuminating part of the room. His face was glowing in the soft, warm light. It was a new look for Billy Hargrove, but one Steve knew for sure he liked very much.

“Sleep well?” Steve’s face was screwed up into a kind of groggy, confused smile.

“Did you bring me home?” Billy chuckled, a soft, silly sound.

“Nope,” Steve raised his eyebrow until Billy lit a cigarette, blowing smoke at his face. “your chariot came for you at midnight. Took you away right in front of my eyes.” Steve snorted, shaking his head, erupting the headache that had been hiding behind his eyes.

A hand came up to clutch at his left eye socket. “Fuck me.” He hissed, pain rippling through him. He could hear Billy laugh harder, standing up and moving through the bedroom toward his discarded jacket on the edge of Steve’s bed. His fingers worked through the pockets, pulling a few white pills from the inside and handing them to Steve.

Before he could ask, Billy spoke, “Aspirin. Always keep some on hand.” He reached out and took the pills gingerly, dry swallowing them. “So, what was that about, Harrington?” Steve didn’t answer, willing the pain to leave his skull faster, and not succeeding. He knew what Billy meant, but he wasn’t up for explaining away his crazy today.

“You realize you could have literally died, right?” Steve huffed, feeling bratty and tired.

“Yeah, I realize.” Echoing his words from earlier. Billy was leaning down on Steve’s bed now, eyes searching Steve’s face for a better answer, narrowed with suspicion. After a beat, Billy seemed to give up on prying. Probably didn’t care enough anyway; Steve perused the idea for a few moments until he noticed Billy kicking his boots off, pulling his body up next to Steve on the pillows.

The move completely knocked Steve off guard. The way Billy pulled his shirt over his head, slipped under the comforter, and raised an arm to pull at Steve’s shoulder. Still as stone, he glared down at Billy, lost in a sea of what the fuck?

“C’mon Harrington, your skin is still too cold. You need to get warm if you want to keep your toes.” Steve couldn’t move. How did Billy know what his skin felt like? Or was he still blue-ish gray, like he always was after a trip to the quarry? “I’m not going to bite you, pretty boy. Just lay down.”

It was a reflex, a survival tactic, a pure will and need for warmth, is what Steve told himself as he sunk down onto the bed, hands pressed against Billy’s chest, shuddering at the heat they found there. His nose pressed to Billy’s collarbone, out of instinct, of course, making the blonde flinch for a split second. He felt his muscles relax, his bones uncurl. He would think about how strange this was in the morning.

“Let’s not mention this again?” Billy’s voice was rough, but not angry. Tired. Steve hummed in agreement before letting his lips part slightly, breath unintentionally brushing the skin under Billy’s jaw.

He couldn’t be imagining the sudden tension, electricity, between their bodies and in all the gaps that were now painfully obvious. Billy felt it, because he felt his muscles go taut, locking Steve into a hard grip. He didn’t know how to move or breathe with Billy this close, in such a soft way. He was already warm, but he wasn’t going to pull away.

Steve ran over scenarios in his mind on how he could nonchalantly tilt his head back, let his lips brush Billy’s chin, his cheeks, maybe even his lips. He thought he would have to make the move, until…

Billy’s head turned, pulling Steve away from his neck for the briefest of moments, before crashing his lips onto Steve’s. Harrington froze, back in icy water, but hotter than ever. He felt his face flush and his eyes fell closed involuntarily. Billy was all smoke and mint, lips slightly rough from cold air. Steve absolutely melted, moving his lips against Billy’s, hungry, angry, tired, freezing, burning, but for once, not lonely.

The kiss went on for way too long, sucking the air from both of their lungs, leaving them panting like wild dogs when they finally pulled apart. Billy pulled himself away, jumping up off the bed and several paces backward, away from Steve. His eyes were focused on the floor, hands knitting in his hair.

“I,” He stumbled over his words and his breathing. “fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why-“ He paced back and forth. “I didn’t mean-“ His hands fell to his face. “I’m not queer! I fucking swear, man!” He wouldn’t look at Steve, who was now watching, amusement filling his grin, loving how flustered Billy was. Steve did that, Steve and his kiss did that. It was so beautiful to watch.

“I just don’t-“ He grunted in aggravation. “You’re just different Harrington, always been different, and I don’t know why, but you really fucking are, and I didn’t want you to fucking freeze to death so I brought you home, and I was going to leave but I didn’t want you to wake up alone, and I’m sorry. I can leave if you want.” Billy was facing Steve, but not looking at him. His words had come out so fast, Steve wasn’t entirely sure he even caught them all.

His smile was genuine, savoring how incredibly embarrassed Billy was, and tucking it away to remember forever. Keg King taken down more than a peg. His flush was beautiful, his concern was adorable.

Steve stood up off the bed to approach Billy, who was chewing his bottom lip and letting his eyes dart between his own feet and Steve’s.

“Hey,” He ducked his eyes to catch the blue ones. “Billy?” It took a finger on his chin before he would raise his stare to match Steve’s, whose grin was a mile-wide. “So, I’m different, huh?”

Billy’s lips cracked, just slightly, in a smirk, shoulders dropping mildly with ease. His voice came out as an almost whisper.

“Fuck off, Harrington.”

#harringrove #ff #fic request #prompt #steve harrington #billy hargrove #fluff-ish?

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