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passivenovember · 3 years

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@coffeeandchemicals (I’m doing all three because ily) asked: For the drabbles, 55 or 60 or 72 with harringrove! Please and thank you!! 💙

60. Before you decide to murder me, let me explain.

Strain Through a Clean Napkin.

The tiny wicker cabinet is all but hidden from view because, well. It’s hideous.

Turquoise, and like. 70s vibrant. Janky and scuffed, covered in glued-on seashells and so not what Mrs. Harrington allows to orbit their perfect world. It clashes terribly with the cheerful pink walls of the powder room, and.

It’s handmade--has Steve written all over it from the way the wicker door on the left hangs a little bit crooked. He imagines Harrington sat on a wooden bench, googly eyes and pipe cleaners littering the table in front of him as he constructs a treasure chest. The contents unknown. Some of the seashells have fallen off over time and leave wax stepping stones in their wake.

Billy almost misses it the first time he jerks off before their study date just to be safe and instantly falls in love.

He washes his hands in the sink, not bothering to dry them before wrenching the doors open and snooping through its many shelves and hidden corners.

He expects to find, like. Q-Tips, maybe. Nail clippers. Lube if it’s a good day, but. Instead comes face to face with lotions and potions and little bottles full of magic.

Glass jars with handwritten labels stretching as far as the eye can see.

Billy wipes his hands on his pants before lifting them to eye level, because. The labels, they.

Say things. Cute, disgusting things like, “Hair Milk: Lavender and Honey,” things that Billy can’t even begin to understand on a good day.

He gives the first jar a quick shake, watching mesmerized when the contents float and swirl in the pale yellow liquid. Dried flowers, maybe? Rosemary and something softer, something like--

Billy pulls desperately at the cap. Yanking and tugging gently, so as not to shatter the jar or like, spill Steve’s potion on the ground and burn a hole halfway to China. “Come on, useless piece of shit.”

He bites down on the pretty round topper.

Pulls at it with his teeth until the bottle gives way. The yellow liquid sloshes down his chest, tangling with the wiry patch of hair he’s got going, and--

“Fucking, shit.” Billy grabs a wad of toilet paper and scrubs. It smells yellow. Summertime peaches, melted ice pops, vanilla and orange, and fucking.

Steve.

It smells exactly like Steve. Billy lifts the bottle to his nose, eyes falling shut in a crescendo of soft, breathy sighs as he takes greedy gulps of this fuckin. Steve concentrate.

And okay. He jerks off in this bathroom two times a week before settling in for three torturous hours of Steve’s thigh pressed against him and Steve running his hands through his hair while he reads over the notes and Steve licking his pretty pink lips.

And, yeah. Billy just came, but. He’s is holding Steve in a bottle, and like.

Billy will take twelve.

He can’t get his hands in his pants fast enough. Billy gets the zipper down, wrapping his hand around himself, and. Yup. Works himself over with the vial shoved up under his nose like a fucking. Insane person. Considers sneaking it home, this bottle of magic.

Storing it in his pocket for safekeeping after tacking the pretty round cap back on, nice and snug so it doesn’t look like he’s pissed his pants when he sits on the overstuffed couch in Steve’s den to go over their chemistry homework.

Billy startles at that, hand stalling mid-stroke.

He’s been helping Steve with Chem for fucking.

Months.

Twice a week, Stetson’s orders, so the kid’ll actually pass this time and here Steve is. Mixing chemicals in his bathroom like some kind of.

Scientist, or. Witch. Something.

“Little shit,” Billy murmurs, but it doesn’t. Burn, doesn’t. Sizzle like it usually does. He thinks about taking his hand from his pants. Thinks about, like, pulling them all the way off. Bending over the sink and switching things up a little when someone knocks on the door.

Bangs on it, more like.

Billy starts, pouring half the bottle on his dick from fear. It’s cold. Colder than it was before.

Steve clears his throat from the other side. “Billy, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m--”

“You sure? Was worried maybe you fell in.” Bambi jokes, and fucking. Jiggles the handle. As if Billy would be stupid enough to leave the shit unlocked.

With his pants around his ankles and Steve’s name burning through his tongue on every stroke.

“Yup, hold on a sec and I’ll be--”

“It’s just. You’ve been in there for a while and I. Need help with this equation?”

Billy scrambles. Turns on the faucet, soaps up his dick to get rid of the Steve which burns because. “Who has peppermint wash in their restroom after Christmas, fuck.”

“My mom likes the smell--”

“Jesus Christ--I know, Steve.” Billy must make some kind of noise. Must wince in pain, or swear or bang his fist on the counter because Steve’s jigging the handle again, voice tight with worry.

“Bills?”

He winces. “Yeah, just gimmie a minute here, I’m uh. Allergic.”

Silence. Steely and cool, and.

“I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone.

“Oh shit.” Billy swallows around something. Fear, or like, arousal from the fear of Steve barging in here while he’s got soap dick and a bottle of Steve wetting his skin from sternum to groin.

He waddles around the room.

Tries to pull his pants up, winces because yeah. The mild allergic reaction, kinda. Makes it impossible to slip in and out of skintight denim.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Billy waddles some more. He searches the cabinets for a robe, maybe. Settles on a towel hung loosely around his hips just as the door swings open and Steve’s there with a packet of oatmeal and a little white pill in his hands.

Looking windswept and pretty, and.

Pissed.

He takes in the room. The peppermint soap, and the open cabinet in the corner. The three additional seashells that fell off when Billy was tearing the place apart looking for a robe, and.

The empty jar of lavender honey hair milk.

Those brown eyes finally settle on Billy. On the towel poorly concealing his erection, because. Anaphylaxis be damned, apparently.

Billy shows his palms. “Before you fucking murder me, let me explain--”

“You didn’t think to read the bottle?”

Which. “Huh?”

Steve shakes his head, “The soap. You didn’t read the bottle before. Doing whatever it was that gave you a reaction?”

He shoves the pill into Billy’s open palm before he can say anything else. Stalks over to the sink and fills a cup with water. “Here,” Steve says. “Drink it, dumbass.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Billy swallows the pill, wincing as the rough fabric of the towel grates against his erection.

Steve hasn’t stopped staring, and.

Billy hasn’t moved to hide it, so. “Sorry about your bathroom.”

“Eh, is what it is.” Steve starts putting the place back together. Wetting a hand towel and scrubbing at the water on the carpet. His head is bent over the sink when he says, “Wanna tell me why you were digging around in my cabinet?”

Like Billy wasn’t just relaxing into the hilarity of the situation. Billy sits on the edge of the tub, opening the packet of oatmeal with his teeth.

“No, not really.”

“Don’t think that information’s important if I have to drive you to the hospital?” Steve leans against the counter, a pretty soft smile tugging at his lips, and.

It does nothing to help the tenting of Billy’s towel so he turns on the faucet in the tub. Dumps the oatmeal in and like, goes to town on trying to make sure the temperature won’t burn his dick off.

“Don’t wanna tell me why you were taking a bath in my hair milk?” Steve leans over, trying to catch Billy’s eye. He grins when Billy ducks his head. “I use that stuff everyday. Got an extra tub whipped together, so. I can forgive you this time.”

“I know, I.” Billy’s cheeks are on fire. He shrugs his shoulders. “Smelled good.” He says, because. It’s the truth.

Steve blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yup. That’s it.” Billy says. He runs his fingers through the water, mixing until the surface turns murky from the oats.

Steve hums. Pushes off the counter and digs through his little wicker cabinet for a knife, or maybe that nightmare bat Billy’s seen tucked in the corner of every room in this house at least once.

Billy pretends to be interested in filling the tub to the right level, eyes sharp on the give and take of the water when---

“Not allergic to aloe Vera and Chamomile, are you?”

Billy shakes his head. Steve hums again and settles in next to him, thigh pressed against Billy’s as he removes the cap from two short vials and dumps the contents into the water.

Steve leans back. Billy leans forward, because.

He turns on him, eyes narrowed on Steve’s face. “How does everything about you smell so fucking good?”

Harrington’s face lights up. “Oh, I smell good, huh?”

Billy holds out a palm. “Lemme see that shit.” The vials, when Steve hands them over, are lime green and pink with residue. The liquid is smooth, silky like it was spun fresh this morning. Billy makes a face. “How’d you get it like that? You a witch?”

Steve chuckles, soft and sweet. He leans in close, watching the water fill the tub with dainty pink bubbles. “Nah, just. Strain it through a napkin, is all.”

Billy tosses the bottles at Harrington’s head. “You don’t need my help in chemistry, do you.”

“Nope.”

“Then why am I wasting my two nights off stuck here with you, Harrington?”

Steve turns to look at him, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “Because you’re cute. And I like having you here.”

Oh.

Billy feels like he’s on fire. Searing a hole through the carpet, already halfway to china when Steve cups his cheek and fucking.

Pulls him in. Separates Billy’s lips with his tongue and makes soft noises that almost get drowned out by the roar of the faucet next to Billy’s head.

When Harrington pulls away his cheeks are pink. Like bubbles, like secret potions. He grins. “Got lots of stuff in my cabinet.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy sounds out of breath, even to his own ears.

“Yeah.” Steve tugs at the towel hugging Billy’s waist. Doesn’t even notice the hives, which. Okay. Billy forgets all about it when Steve leans in close. “Mind if I join you?

#harringrove #so okay #I have no fucking clue what this is #kellie I swear to GOD every freakin time #.every time I write something for you I legitimately never stop #I hope this is fine #maybe gives you some haha's on this tuesday night #ilysm

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