#promot: Steve Harrington's childhood tree house + candy cigarettes

[weird-an]

Billy always feels like a kid when he climbs up the wooden ladder.

When Harrington first told him, Billy laughed. Of course Harrington would have a fucking tree house. Not a few planks nailed together with a piece of cloth on top, but a proper tree house every five year old dreams about. Full of pillows and blankets. Fairy lights bathing the tree house in a golden light.

According to Harrington, Billy can hang out here whenever he wants. And Billy does. He doesn't tell Harrington, but he has slept here occasionally, because the blankets are soft and comfortable. One time he passed out, head pounding after Neil decided to stop drinking from the bottle and decided to throw it around.

He isn't sure if Harrington knows. He could see the light outside his window, so Billy rarely switches it on. Because if Harrington wants him around, he gets usually bend over the nearest surface or bed.

The tree house is a good hiding spot. Harrington doesn't know what a great gift he gave Billy with that. Not that Billy plans on telling him. They don't usually talk much, too busy with sucking each other off or fucking. They have sex, smoke a joint, because Harrington tries to quit cigarettes which is hilarious to Billy and then Billy leaves and goes back home to Neil and his anger.

It would be perfect. If it wasn't Harrington occasionally kissing him too long, too hot, asking Billy what he likes and touch him carefully like Billy's about to break. But maybe Harrington just misses having a girlfriend.

He is sure Harrington didn't realize that Billy would take his offer and actually come here.

But he does. It feels safe. No one knows about it, no one can get him here.

This is why Billy is here today, too. Neil has been in a mood all week which usually means for Billy to better stay out of the house. He still got a purple shiner as a birthday present.

Billy stretches himself out after piling two pillows on top of each. Rich people are insane, he thinks. This fucking tree house is better than his room at Cherry Lane. It's not even nine, but he's so tired. He sleeps at home, but always feels tense, always listening to the noises or his dad's footsteps. He sleeps better when he's here.

He must have dozed off, because he blinks, one eye bleary, one throbbing and Harrington is right above him, stroking a curl out of his face.

It's weird. It's Harrington's tree house, but they have never been here together before. Harrington surely wouldn't like the thought of Billy coming here that much.

Harrington grins at him, moles dancing when his lips stretch wide. He looks so fucking happy, like he's glad Billy is here.

"Your treehouse looks like a whorehouse," Billy says and it's a stupid lie, because he has to pretend it's the first time he's here, because it's so fucking cozy and his stomach flips, because now he's with Harrington, because the blankets are so soft and it's warm and this isn't what they're doing... ever.

"Shut up." Harrington rolls his eyes.

Billy sits up and wonders if he should already take his shirt off, fingers fiddling with the hem.

"I've got something for you," Harrington says with a crooked smile and Billy halfway expects him to pull down his pant- when Harrington holds a bag of sour candies out for him. His favorite. Fuck knows how Harrington knows this.

Billy takes one, but doesn't dare to eat it. If he eats it, he might owe Harrington or something. He doesn't want to owe anybody.

Harrington's face falls and a few more lightbulbs must have died, because its somehow much darker inside the treehouse now.

"Max lied, didn't she?" Harrington crinkles his nose. "You don't like sour candy, don't you?"

Why the hell is Harrington talking to Max about whatever candies Billy's likes? Why the fuck does Max even notice what candies are in the Camaro's glove department? Is Billy still asleep? Did Neil finally hit too fucking hard?

"I have candy cigs, if you like those better," Harrington rambles and Billy stares from the pink candy wrapping to Harrington and back. Harrington behaves like he has fucked up somehow and Billy can't stand it.

"No, these are fine." He unwraps it and puts it in his mouth. Sweet and sour twirl into each other on his tongue. Jesus, he doesn't know when he last ate that. Not ever since he moved to Hawkins, because he had a diet to stick to. Hawkins didn't feel like there's much sweetness in his life anyway.

"Good," Harrington says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Billy's forehead. Like Billy is worth something and not a toy to be played with. Like they're lovers. "Still tired?"

His smile somehow makes the room brighter. Billy stretches his arms and suppresses a jawn.

"I could blow ya, Harrington." And then fall back right to sleep.

"It's Steve." Harrington's smile falls a little. The light dampens a bit. "That's not what I'm here for. I saw the lights and I wanted to check on you."

Oh. He must have turned them on without thinking. Billy blinks, wondering if he's still asleep. He tries to remember the last time somebody checked on him that didn't end up with a belt on his back.

"I'm fine, Har -" Steve makes a face. "Steve."

He's always so adamant that Billy should use his first name. Billy tries to avoid it. Because if he starts to turn Harrington into Steve, he's fucked. That would mean his racing heart isn't just because of the black eyes and his dad's yelling earlier.

"Do you want some Advil?" Steve asks, fingers brushing along his temple, close to the bruise.

"Nah." Billy drank a few beers on the way here. It does the same job in numbing the pain.

"What happened?" Steve looks like he already knows what happened. Like he just needs Billy to tell him, because he doesn't want his suspicion to be real.

Maybe it is the tiredness, the stupid fairy lights or Steve's fucking softness that make Billy say: "He's just in a bad mood. It'll pass."

Neil Hargrove has his ups and downs. Angry, bitterness and then the few moments when they share a beer and he asks Billy how his days was, almost caring. Deep inside, Billy is scared that his dad is the only person that ever cared for him. That this is the only kind of love he'll ever get. That he deserves.

Steve makes a strangled noise and Billy stares at him, nostrils flaring and so angry like Billy has never seen him before.

"He can't do this, he can't..." Steve bites his lips. "You're.. you're his child."

Steve says it like Billy is a kid. Which he never got to be ever since his mom decided that he wasn't worth keeping.

Billy wants to say stupid stuff about turning 18 today and that maybe Neil does it because Billy is his kid and not despite that, but Steve shuffles closer and puts his arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

Billy shudders.

"I'm sorry," Steve mumbles and its fucked up because this isn't his fault, it's mostly Billy's. "I'm here for you, okay?"

It's a bitter sweet lie Billy would love to believe. That he wants to eat up, just like the sour candies. He wants Steve to hold him. He wants Steve to be Steve and not Harrington.

Steve strokes his hair and Billy just nods, because he wants Steve to mean it. He wants this to mean something, so much it hurts more than his swollen eyelid.

Steve holds him tighter until Billy lies on him. Billy melts against him. Steve smells like the sour candy and fabric softener.

Billy falls asleep, listening to Steve's heartbeat, wrapped in fluffy blankets under golden lights. He hopes they will wake up like this, too. It's the greatest birthday present he could have wished for.

@harringroveweek: Thanks for organizing this beautiful event! <3

#harringroveweek #harringrove #i have another wip for this day but i didn't finish it in time but will post someday on ao3! #billy x steve #promot: Steve Harrington's childhood tree house + candy cigarettes #tw child abuse #harringrove fic