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eddiebillysteve · 2 years

Text

cat and mouse

(( harringroveson prison au ))

chapter six | find the rest here

pairing | billy hargrove/steve harrington + billy hargrove/eddie munson + billy hargrove/eddie munson/steve harrington

summary | a soft mungrove flashback / finishing the shower scene / some mistakes being made over breakfast 💀💀💀

a/n | the italicized part in the beginning is a flashback!! as always please take notice of warnings but this one is fairly tame - but the next one will not be!! feel free to send me any asks/messages/comment on the work itself because i live for it! find it on ao3 here !!

warnings | nsfw, lil bit of humiliation, mentions of murder/punishments, dom/sub talk, billy being possessive and controlling, daddy kink, steve being a gay panicked confused mess, general prison talk, stuff like that !!

" My old man would be so fucking ashamed of me.”

Billy opened his eyes when he heard a voice in the dark. He wasn’t sure if Eddie knew he was still awake or not, but it hadn’t been that long since they’d finished playing. If he really wanted to go unheard, Billy thought, he would have waited to hear soft snoring before speaking out loud.

“He’d hate me. I bet he knows I’m in here, too.”

There was sniffling, and Billy knew Eddie was crying as he got the words out. He knew he should have pretended to be asleep, listened silently, but there was something tugging him to the bottom bunk.

He kicked off the covers and jumped down, straining his eyes to see Eddie through the darkness. His back was to Billy and the opening of the bunk, his body curled into the wall.

“I thought you were asleep,” Eddie’s voice was a quiver.

“No you didn’t. You knew I was awake. You want to talk, then talk,” Billy’s voice could have been hard and snappy like it usually was, but it wasn’t. It was soft, gentle, and not in the fake mocking way, either. It was an invitation for his pet to keep going, to explain why he was upset and to talk about his father and what was bothering him so badly.

The next thing he knew, Hargrove was crawling into Eddie’s bunk. He’d just been in the same position a few hours prior, but that time he’d pressed Eddie into the mattress and pounded into his ass again without an ounce of comfort to be given.

Eddie never cried. He didn’t even cry the first time Billy fucked him, or hit him, or passed him over to one of his buddies in exchange for a package of cigarettes — but he was crying now.

And it was throwing Billy off.

Once he was under the covers, he pulled Eddie’s body against his own. He’d never cuddled anyone before, but it felt right, and clearly his boy was desperate for it from the way his body immediately morphed into Billy’s like they were meant to be together. “A reward for being so good lately,” Billy murmured to him, regaining his footing as the one in control, starting to play with Eddie’s mane of hair. He twisted it around his fingers, waiting for him to speak again. It didn’t come, though, so he spoke again. “Who gives a shit what your father thinks, sweetheart. Fuck him.”

“You don’t get it,” Eddie murmured, his skin hot against Billy’s skin. He couldn’t believe they were skin to skin, wrapped around each other and legs tangled, without Billy’s dick buried in his arse.

He didn’t think Billy had a soft side. Not one like this.

“He’s in prison. Up in Michigan. He was arrested when I was six and he’s got life. I know he knows I’m in here and I’m not like him, Hargrove. He’s…” He had to pause to try to find the words. “He’s like you. In charge and shit. He’d want to die knowing his blood is such a little bitch.”

Billy wondered, as he explained, why fathers had to be such assholes. They were life ruiners, every last one of them. “You can call me Billy.” The words came out before he even knew what he was saying, and his hand shifted to massage Eddie’s scalp. “When we’re alone. You don’t have to call me Hargrove. Just Billy or Daddy. But I catch you saying it to anyone else or in public and I’ll knock all your teeth out.”

“Billy,” Eddie repeated, ignoring the threat and testing the word out. He could barely believe what he was hearing. “Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“Don’t wear it out,” Hargrove teased, and it was the first time his voice sounded playful since Eddie had arrived.

In another life, Eddie wondered if they would have been boyfriends. He wondered if they’d live by the ocean, like the one in the pictures plastered on Billy’s bunk’s wall, and if they’d go on dates to the drive in and dance around in the kitchen of their little cottage. He wondered if he would have taught Billy to play D&D, and if Billy would have taught him how to surf in return.

“You remember when your dad got arrested?”

Billy’s voice broke through his thoughts, snapped him back to reality. They were in a pitch-black cell, barely fitting onto his bunk. They weren’t in a big, comfy bed, listening to Megadeth and the sounds of the waves crashing outside.

They weren’t boyfriends, either. He was just Billy’s current bitch.

“Yeah. Was right before my birthday. I was eating cereal by the TV and he was bagging coke on the table with one of my buddies and then they burst in. I spilt my cereal all over the carpet and started crying because I thought I’d get in trouble. They dragged him out kicking and screaming. He was so pissed. But he wasn’t scared. He was in prison before I was born, everyone already knew of him. Knew what to expect.”

Billy listened silently. He knew the fear of spilling anything too well. Neil would have smacked the shit out of him whenever he spilt even just water. “And your mom? Where was she?”

“Dead. Never met her. She died giving birth to me. Don’t really know anything about her. Not even what she looks like,” he told him. “I like to think she was excited to be a mother, but the reality is I was probably a mistake. She was probably a prostitute or one of my dad’s buyers. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was conceived in exchange for a hit.”

Billy was silent again. It was a sad story, almost as sad as his own. He wished his Mom had died when he was too young to remember because he could have created a version of her that was perfect. Instead, his mom chose to leave. She had seven years with him, and then left him behind like he was nothing. He hated her, but he loved her and he fucking missed her so bad it hurt every second of every day.

His life would have been completely different if she just hadn’t left.

“Earth to Billy,” Eddie whispered, reaching up to touch his face. His touch was hesitant, like he was waiting for Billy to snap at him not to touch, but it didn’t come. “What about your parents?”

“Don’t have any.”

His voice was sharper, harder, and Eddie immediately made a mental note never to ask about his parents again. He had to have them, but it was obvious he just didn’t want to talk about it.

“I get it. You don’t have to talk about them. Fuck them,” Eddie whispered. He could feel Billy’s smile grow under his fingertips.

“Fuck them.”

***

When Steve came, he came hard. And fast. Too fast.

His cheeks burned with embarrassment; Billy had barely gotten a hand wrapped around his cock before he was releasing. The feeling of a big hand that wasn’t his own wrapped around him alongside the horrifying words being murmured into his ear had been too much for him to handle.

He’d never felt like a worse human being in his entire life. He felt fucked up, like there was something so wrong with his body for reacting to a frightening man’s touch. The tears streamed down his cheeks the second he came down from the high of it all and he tried to hide beneath his wet, freshly washed hair. Billy’s amusement radiated from him, and it made Steve want to shrivel up and die.

“Jesus, you’re pathetic. Didn’t even last two minutes, sweetheart. Your old girlfriends really didn’t treat you good, did they? They even let you stick your dick in them every day?” Billy was grinning from ear to ear and only let go of Steve’s softening cock to bring his hand to his mouth. It was only once Harrington met his gaze that he went right ahead to lick the beads of cum off his hand. He made a show of it, making sure Steve knew just how he could use his tongue. “How sweet you are, Stevie. You’re gonna be a real good seller, I know it.”

***

“They’ve put you in laundry with us. I’ve made sure of it. But there’s a few things you need to know, sweetheart.”

The boys— Billy, Steve, Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan— had met back up in the cafeteria for breakfast. Steve was focused on his coffee, the mug burning the palms of his hands. He was pleasantly surprised that inmates were even allowed to have coffee.

“You hear me, Bambi? Eyes up here,” Billy spoke again, and Steve forced his eyes up. He was dazed, distant, hair still damp. Eddie had tried to talk to him on their walk from the shower block to the cafeteria, but he hadn’t heard a word. His brain was still processing what he had just done. “You’ve already learned that I’m in charge around here, and we must run things quite strictly. That means anyone who breaks my rules gets punished, not just my pets.”

“What rules? The same as mine?” The words came out before he could stop himself.

Billy grinned. He couldn’t help it. It just sounded so sweet, hearing him accept his rules. “Good boy for acknowledging your rules,” he reached out and squeezed Steve’s thigh under the table. “You get a special set of rules because you’re a special boy, but these are more general rules. Rules every prisoner must follow.”

“Like no trying to take over,” Argyle spoke with a mouth full of cereal.

“Right. No trying to take over my position. If I even hear a rumour that anyone’s thinking of taking over my position, they’re taken care of quite quickly. If I hear of anyone snitching, they’re out. Done. You understand, Stevie?” His voice was quiet, a whisper, but he was staring deep into Steve’s eyes. He wouldn’t have said it if the officers at the doors weren’t some of his, but he didn’t need Steve announcing everything out loud.

“You kill them?”

Billy would have laughed at how innocent, dumbfounded and straight up clueless Steve looked if the words hadn’t come out so loud. His hand was back on his thigh, squeezing hard enough that his little pet started to squirm and try to push him away. “You never say that. Ever. You understand me? The next time those words come out of your mouth, it’s your funeral.”

“Let him go. He’s learning, he’s going to mess up,” Eddie reached over to try to pull Billy’s hand away. Hargrove was strong, Eddie knew it all too well; Steve would be left with a pretty hand shaped bruise soon.

“Oh yeah? You wanna tell him what happens when he messes up?” Billy let go of Steve to shove Eddie’s hand back at him. “Don’t tell me a cat finally got your tongue now, Eds? You’re always so eager to talk to your new best buddy.” He snorted and turned his attention back to Steve. “You’re real lucky to be my pet now, Stevie, because you get a few more chances than the others. You mess up, and I beat your ass. Literally. I won’t stop until you can’t sit down without crying,” his voice had shifted into a hiss. “But you know what happens to the people that aren’t my pets, baby? The people I’m not so kind to? They get punished in the laundry room. I’ve got someone coming in tomorrow, you’ll get to have a little taste of what happens then.”

Steve could feel the panic rising in his chest. Billy was going to kill someone in front of him and he wouldn’t be allowed to do anything, to stop it or yell for help.

Because if he did, he’d be next. He’d be the one being murdered by the man that had just gave him the best orgasm of his life.

“Relax, baby,” Billy grinned the same mean grin he had earlier on. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s just a punishment, not a murder. Can’t believe you already think I’m that much of a monster when I haven’t even done anything to you yet. I’m hurt.”

He started to get up then, his tray practically untouched. He wasn’t big on breakfast— Argyle reached over and immediately swiped the bowl off it to give himself a second helping of cereal.

“Wait, where are you going?” Steve blurted. The only thing scarier than being with Billy inside the prison was being without him. He could feel the eyes on him, all the men waiting to swoop in and grab a piece of him. He felt like he’d already be dead if it wasn’t for Billy’s protection.

“Outside to work out. If you think I’m such a monster, you can stay here all on your own and see how long you last. Eds, up. Come on. Follow me,” he instructed, then he looked to Argyle. “Pretend he doesn’t exist, amigo. See how well he fairs on his own.”

Billy would never let anything serious happen to Steve without his permission and presence, but a little fear would make him more compliant and needy. The sooner he realized he needed Billy’s protection — and to stay on his good side — the better.

“Wait, no,” Steve fumbled to get up to follow them, but Billy completely ignored him and started to lead Eddie outside. “Wait! Billy, wait.”

Hargrove came to a complete stop, fast enough that Steve crashed into his back and then went stumbling backwards. The silence that followed was deafening until Billy’s voice broke through it like a knife. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Every eye in the cafeteria was on them; Steve could feel it, Eddie could feel it, Billy could feel it. Half the men had their mouths hanging open with surprise that Steve had the balls to call Hargrove by his first name, and the other half couldn’t believe that he even had a first name.

“I just said wait,” Steve started, but he clammed up upon seeing how horrified Eddie suddenly looked. He hadn’t even realized what he’d said, what private name he’d used right there in the cafeteria where too many inmates had heard them.

A name he didn’t have permission to use.

“It just slipped out earlier when he was afraid. I didn’t mean to say it. You’ve never had another pet before, I figured you’d have told him—” Eddie started, reaching for Hargrove’s hand, but Billy simply held a finger up to silence him.

“Cell. Now. The both of you. Be naked and on your fucking knees waiting for me unless you want to make this even worse on you.”

#harringrove #mungrove #billy hargrove #eddie munson #harringrove au #harringrove fic #mungrove au #mungrove fic #harringroveson fic #steve harrington #prison au #tw: possessive behavior #tw: prison #my writing

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passivenovember · 3 years

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Let the Great World Spin.

Steve made the mistake of asking what Billy's major in Romantic Literature was, exactly, like two minutes after moving the last box into their new apartment. He tucked each corner of a baby blue fitted sheet into one side of the mattress while Billy worked on the other and wondered aloud If spending all day writing artsy-fartsy poems would be able to pay the bills.

Billy had frowned, and.

Clenched his jaw. Raised a dismissive hand when Steve began his usual parade of that's not what I meant and hey I'm sorry when Billy snatched his special box of shit--

A treasure chest containing rolls of floss, tube tops made of repurposed bandanas, one vintage lava lamp and a stack of True Crime trading cards--four from Dustin and one from Max--

Off the dresser before moving into the living room.

Steve followed, because.

Yeah.

He watched from the tasteful archway as Billy threw his box on the coffee table, lava oozing through ridges and tears in flimsy cardboard, and made up the couch with sunburnt looking cheeks.

Billy passed out there, with book on his chest, every night for a month.

So.

Naturally they were off to a great start.

Steve tried to apologize but Billy wasn't merciful. As annoying as it was cute, he couldn't deny it was one of his favorite things about Billy, the way he made people work for a spot in his life.

Steve tried to sweeten the deal.

A new Metallica tape here. Primary status library card there, but.

Billy wouldn't give.

Ever the poet, he didn't bury corpses in the sand until grand gestures were made. Declarations. Speeches. So on Friday night after spending two hours at the pub and returning home to find Billy asleep on the couch with a towel around his head, Steve climbed onto the coffee table and started talking.

"Billy Hargrove," Steve announced.

Billy started drooling on his chin.

Steve cleared his throat, embracing a more heroic stance; hands on narrow hips, foot on Billy's cardboard treasure box. "William Patrick Hargrove."

Billy startled awake, towel going lopsided as he sat up. He stared wildly around the room, raising his copy of Let the Great World Spin and aiming it at Steve's head. Poising the paperback to crack walls made of flesh and bone.

Steve held out his hands. "Wait, I just--"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I have something to say."

Billy snatched the towel from his head, folding it with as much grace as a hurricane. "What time is it, Harrington?"

Steve checked his watch, blinking sharply as the numbers started doing the macarena. He sighed. "Doesn't matter. Look--"

Billy looked.

Steve lifted his arms. Cleared his throat and repositioned himself on the coffee table to show that, after tonight, they would never have to be alone again. Billy's mouth cocked patiently as the third leg on the coffee table snapped and Steve fell headfirst into a mountain of beanbags.

"Fuck this," Billy stood, grabbing his paperback from where it lay discarded over ratty green carpet. "Let's go to bed already."

Steve gaped at him. "You don't wanna hear what I have to say?"

"What, you gonna finally admit that you love me, or something?" Billy scrubbed adorably at his eyes, and.

Steve clambered to his feet, noticing for the first time that Billy looked tired, and admiring the way his curls stuck out in every direction like a wad of blonde pipe cleaners. Steve opened his mouth to speak. To preach, but Billy was already hobbling away, sweatpants wedged up his ass.

"Love you too, shithead, 'm fuckin' tired."

Steve wanted to burst into song.

Or burst into tears, but.

The bedroom door slammed shut.

Apparently, scribbling love stories on the backs of takeout menus can funnel into all sorts of practical things. Like kitchens full of new pots and pans, monthly oil changes for Steve's car, and a pantry stocked with individually wrapped protein bars from the organic store across town.

They finally start sleeping in the same room again when Billy lands his first job as a research assistant.

For Steve this means getting to quit his shitty job at Family Video and focus on school, in between guitar lessons and trips to the farmers market.

For Billy, this means spending fifty hours a week in the office of a PhD. that definitely wants to fuck him and focusing only on school.

Forgetting their anniversary in favor of Shakespeare's Life and Work, Masterpieces of World Literature, an Entire course on John Milton's Paradise Lost. Steve forgives him until a lecture series on Folklore has Billy crying every night over the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Asking Steve red-eyed, coffee induced, panicked questions like; "Would you follow me into the underworld?"

So Steve holds him. "Of course I would."

"Even after I missed our anniversary?"

And Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, so.

He goes to bed alone, just like every night, while Billy falls to pieces in the next room.

It's maddening.

The tentative bones of each of Billy's fingers are sure to peek through before graduation. Skin caught between the pages of books, left behind like loose pencil shavings as Billy puts one pad in front of the other, marching on his way to The Great Big Somewhere.

By March, Billy's a shell of a man. Sleeping less than five hours a night, burning through packs of tea candles because he studies under a haze flickering amber, like some sort of medieval poet, and only eating one meal a day if Steve cooks it for him.

And Steve's worried.

Crying on the phone to Joyce. Throwing up in the toilet when Billy passes out at the supermarket. Preparing himself to be a widow at twenty-five.

So.

He decides to say something.

The first time he brings it up Billy pours rice milk into his lap.

The second time he bursts into tears over a stack of files.

So.

Steve decides to put a sock in it.

But then it's April. Spring Break. Steve expects that they'll follow through with their plan to visit Hawkins, but right as their bag is packed to board the train home, Billy insists on staying back to finish his dissertation.

Steve throws his suitcase at the wall. Billy bursts into tears and locks himself in the bedroom. One phone call to Joyce and half a sentence from Hooper proves it; Billy will starve to death if Steve leaves him alone.

So they stay in New York. Cooped up in their massive, empty, hard-earned apartment while Billy writes about love without ever showing it.

Steve thinks about leaving.

Just.

Packing his shit in the middle of the night, sticking a note to the fridge with the magnet Billy had made for their first anniversary, but.

This will pass. That's what Steve keeps telling himself; Billy will have his Masters soon, that precious slice of paper that burned their relationship to the ground, and then they'll move to a house on a lake like Steve's always wanted, and.

Love won't exist between the pages of a book anymore it'll be real. Like first meetings on a high school basketball court, secret kisses at the top of a Farris wheel, Sunday mornings in green meadows.

Love will fall just like it used to.

Bright red across hardwood floors.

The last and final straw comes at 4:45 in the morning.

Billy punches their lamp off the table in his sleep, shouting about the structure of a novel and cutting his knuckles open and that's it.

Steve has, well and truly, had enough.

He tells Billy just as much over a stack of alcohol wipes and a fist that, luckily, doesn't need stitches. Steve tries not to cry, and then tries not to weep, and.

Fails.

When the love of Steve's life falls to his knees and says, "I'm exhausted," and it feels true.

Like red books full of hymnals.

Steve fails when Billy hugs him around the waist and says, "I only ever write about you," and it feels heavy.

Like shattering church windows.

Steve cries and he hates himself. And Billy. And the universe; nuns and religion. Mountains, valentines day cards, bouquets of lilies, and poetry most of all. When his fingers card through fuzzy blonde curls.

Steve tugs his poet closer, and.

Decides to follow him anywhere.

#harringrove #harringrove april #day three #spring break #angst with a happy ending

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thatoneharringroveblog · 3 years

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I can feel your heart beat playing on my right side

Harringrove Oneshot

Ever since they got together, Steve hated falling asleep without Billy. He hated falling asleep with him and waking up without him even more.

He was constantly terrified he would wake up and find out it had all been a dream. They never saved Billy. He actually died from the gaping hole in his chest. Steve never actually got to hold. He never got to tell him he understood him. He forgave him.

Billy had gotten used to the fact that Steve needed constant reassurance. He understood why Steve instinctively reached out in his sleep to set his hand on his scarred chest. He understood why, when waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, Steve’s first instinct was to reach out and find Billy’s pulse, counting it until he fell back asleep.

However... his understanding did not seem to be reaching Mother Nature tonight. Billy had been holding his bladder for what seemed like forever now. He knew that if he left and Steve woke, he would have hell to pay.

He lied there until it was absolutely unbearable to hold it any longer. He moved as carefully out of the bed as he could and rushed his way to the ensuit bathroom to Steve’s room. If he went quick enough, Steve would never know he was gone.

He was just finishing and starting to zip up his pants when he heard his name mumbled from the other room.

Shit.

He rushed his way to finishing up as he heard a crash and a much much louder cry of his name.

“Stevie! Stevie, baby.” Billy came rushing to grab Steve who was frantically flying around his room (really their room at this point). Steve tended to injure himself when he panicked like this. Billy was going to do everything in his power to stop it.

“No! Don’t take him! You can’t! I need him!”

“Baby! No one’s taking me! I’m right here!”

“No! You’re not really him! You’re not real!”

“Yes, I am! It’s me, Stevie. It’s me!” Billy took one Steve’s hands and placed it right over the scar on his chest. “You feel that, baby? You feel the scar? You feel the heartbeat underneath?” Steve’s breathing had started to slow, but it was still far from where it needed to be. “I’m here. I’m here, and I’m real, and I’m not leaving. I can’t leave.”

“You can’t leave.” Steve’s voice had calmed but it was still shaking with an occasional sob.

“That’s right, Stevie. I still have to take you to see California.”

“You have to take me to the ocean.”

“That’s right, baby! The ocean!” Billy had gotten Steve calm enough to guide him back to the bed and lay him down. “And we’ll go to Disney, and you’ll get to call here and brag to Robin when it’s snowing here and we’re out surfing in Cali.”

“She’ll be so jealous.”

“Yeah. She will, Stevie.”

They lay there for a bit as Steve comes fully back into his senses before he speaks up. “You weren’t in the bed.”

Billy sighs. “I know, baby. I feel bad, but I really had to piss.” Steve snorts and Billy continues. “I held it as long as I could, and, when I couldn’t any longer, I tried to go fast enough that you wouldn’t even notice. I guess I’m just not fast enough.”

Silence falls on them for a moment again, and, this time, Billy’s almost asleep when Steve says, “I love you.” Billy’s silent for a moment, processing what he’s been told. “I know I don’t say it, and I know it scares you, but I do. I love you. I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to. It’s why I get so scared when you’re not here. I’m terrified I just made this all up, and I’ll never get to experience this.”

Billy sighs and pulls Steve’s head so it’s tucked into his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, pretty boy. I’ve gotta make sure someone’s around to keep you in line.” Billy feels Steve’s smile on his chest. “And for what it’s worth, I love you, too.”

Steve pushes himself closer to Billy and closes his eyes, on the verge of sleep. “Everything, Bill. It’s worth everything.”

#harringrove #fanfic #writers #writers on tumblr #short story #this has probably already been done #but I haven’t found one that quite fit my headcannon #stranger things #st #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ptsd #Billy lives #harringrove fluff #light angst

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keroujack · 4 years

Note

Omg could you do number one from that prompt list? For harringrove 💕

absolutely, my dear, sweet anon ❤️ enjoy!!

1. “If this is you flirting, I don’t like it.”

If there were nine periods in an ordinary school day, Billy was asleep for eight of them.

Well. Seven. He didn’t mind gym.

Or lunch. So six.

Billy slept through six periods in an ordinary school day and only woke up for three.

Seventh period gym. Fifth period lunch. And fourth period English.

Fourth period English, where Steve Harrington sat a row up, a seat over, and Billy was in the perfect place to annoy the living fuck out of him.

Because really, what else was he supposed to do? He was bored, he’d already read The Catcher in the Rye, and Harrington was right there.

A row up, a seat over.

Billy had sort of been walking on eggshells since that night in November, since the apology he went out of his way to make a couple weeks later.

It had been little more than a huff, a short set of words that lacked any real eye contact, a nervous habit Billy tried to make up for with genuine sincerity. Was glad and slightly relieved to know his tone had done the trick when Harrington said that it was alright, that he appreciated the apology and that they could leave all that shit in the past.

Which meant they were on even turf again.

And Billy’s hands, they were itching,

His hands were itching, Harrington was a row up, a seat over, and it had been too long since Billy had seen any fire in those big, brown eyes.

And besides that, games were more fun than books anyway.

It was early April, Hawkins was too slow, and Harrington was too close.

He was the easiest, prettiest target.

So Billy set a plan into action one calm Monday morning when he ripped a thin sheet of loose-leaf out of his notebook as slowly, as quietly as he could. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared about making any noise, liked to make a show out of a mid-class disturbance and wanted to turn a couple heads in the process, but Harrington was only a row up, a seat over.

Billy didn’t want him to turn his head.

Not yet anyway.

Once the page was free, loose, he started at folding it down into the smallest possible triangle he could manage. Decided to be a little meticulous about it, took his time and pressed his thumb into the lines of hard creases, felt it get fatter, thicker with every press, every fold.

When it was small and perfect, when his mouth was pulled into a smile and he had something bright bubbling at the top of his chest, he teed the little triangle up on one corner, stood it up between his desk and the pointer finger on his right hand.

Got it set, took aim. Held his breath and squinted and flicked the fat wad of paper with the middle finger on his left hand.

And nailed Harrington right in the back of the head.

Harrington’s hand shot up and Billy caught his cheek between his teeth to bite back a wider smile. Bit back a laugh at the confused look that twisted Harrington’s face as he felt at the back of his head.

Brow knitted tight, mouth a thin line. Hand in his hair to feel where the paper had hit him as he looked down at the floor.

He leaned over in his seat when he spotted it, reached down for the folded-up, little triangle with his free hand and looked over his shoulder once he was upright again.

Scanned the room behind him for some sort of idea as to where the paper had come from, who had thrown it, but Billy kept his eyes forward, kept his arms crossed over his chest.

Kept totally still until Harrington gave up and had no other choice but to turn back around and shove the folded-up little triangle into his backpack. To drop it.

Billy was warm. He had knots twisting white-hot in his stomach with something like satisfaction, something like victory, but he dropped it, too.

You know. Until the next day. When he did the whole thing all over again.

Folded a thin piece of paper into the smallest possible triangle he could manage, teed it up with his right hand, flicked it with his left.

And nailed Harrington right in the back of the head.

He was quicker to turn around today, Harrington. Billy only had half a second to focus his eyes on the front of the room and clasp his hands together on his desk before Harrington turned to look behind him.

So quick that Billy forgot to bite back the smile pulling at his lips, the same one pulling at the corners of his eyes as Harrington’s burned a hole in his skull.

With it, his too wide smile, Harrington’s sharp look, he knew Harrington knew, knew Harrington knew it was him, but he just kept his attention forwards. Didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t want to give Harrington the satisfaction of catching him red-handed.

So he waited. Ignored the spark in his chest, ignored the heat of Harrington’s eyes, and waited. Waited and waited and waited and watched Harrington turn to face forwards in his peripheral vision after what had to be a solid thirty seconds of glaring.

Billy let himself relax then, let out a breath and took that as his chance to take a look himself. Let his eyes wander a row up, a seat over. Watched Harrington reach down for the folded-up, little triangle so that he could stuff it somewhere in his notebook.

Watched his shoulders draw up a little higher. Watched the line of his jaw tense and ease. Watched his hand tighten around his pen and his leg bounce beneath him.

Harrington’s nerves were singing, burning. Billy thought if he closed his eyes he’d be able to smell the smoke. And he wanted more of it.

Wanted more fire.

So what else could he do but flick that stupid wad of paper at him all over again on Wednesday?

And Thursday?

And Friday?

Friday was the day that Billy finally slipped a little. Nailed Harrington in the back of the head with a folded-up, little triangle and met his eyes when he turned to look over his shoulder.

Looked back at him. Wanted to see the irritation for himself, needed to see the fire crackle in his eyes. Met Harrington’s glare with a smile and a wink that made him huff. Just a short little breath that Billy could hear, wished he could feel on his neck.

Because apparently Friday was the day Harrington was finally ready to slip a little, too.

He reached down for the folded-up, little triangle, but he didn’t shove in his backpack or his notebook. Didn’t get rid of it.

No.

He kept it in his hand. Poked at the pads of his fingers with the corners, first his thumb, then his pointer, his middle. And again. And again. Just this slow cycle of twisting and turning and prodding that Billy couldn’t take his eyes off even if he wanted to.

Was so distracted by it, so focused on the easy movements of Harrington’s hand that he didn’t quite hear the bell ring.

Didn’t move fast enough before Harrington stood, took a step over, a step back, and stopped right in front of his desk.

Billy’s heart started to climb as his eyes did the same, leaned back and looked up at Harrington with a smile pulling at one side of his lips.

Spoke with a lazy, “Can I help you?” that made Harrington tip his head to one side.

But he didn’t speak right away.

Just watched Billy for a long second, eyes hot with something, something like fire, fire that sent a flush to creep up Billy’s neck that he hoped to God Harrington couldn’t see.

And then he was smiling, Harrington. He was, he was smiling. A little.

Had this teeny, tiny quirk at the corners of his lips when he dropped that folded-up, little triangle in the middle of Billy’s desk and leaned down. Dropped his voice down low. Let his breath ghost over Billy’s face.

Let his eyes linger in Billy’s for three full seconds before he said, “If this is you flirting,” and flicked his eyes down towards the paper, dragged them back up Billy’s face, shook his head once and finished off the sentence with a soft, “I don’t like it.

And Billy felt his jaw go slack. Felt Harrington’s laugh on his cheeks as he stood tall and walked away.

Left Billy to stare at his back while his heart lodged itself in the back of his throat because of all the things Harrington could have said there-‘fuck off’, ‘get lost’, ‘leave me alone’-of all the things Billy thought he was going to say, that was not one of them.

If this is you flirting, I don’t like it.

And he’d been-he had been smiling. When he said it. Got real close and smiled and dropped his voice down low and put Billy on his heels. Knocked him flat on his ass.

Made Billy wonder if maybe he wasn’t the only one here trying to play with fire.

Because if Harrington wanted to play with fire, if he wanted Billy to flirt, he could do that. He’d been trying to flirt with Harrington since the day he fuckin’ landed in Hawkins, but he’d never actually imagined having the chance to like, be overt about it.

Had never actually imagined being invited to flirt, no less being invited by somebody like Steve Harrington.

But Billy had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Didn’t need somebody like Steve Harrington to ask him twice.

So he spent the rest of the day, all weekend thinking about how could do exactly that.

Come that next Monday, come fourth period English with Harrington sitting a row up, a seat over, Billy already had an idea. Well, he had a few, but there was one he had a better feeling about than the rest.

One he didn’t exactly have to go out of his way to follow through with.

He tore a sheet of paper out of his notebook as slowly, as quietly as he could, but he didn’t fold it right away.

Not today.

Not before he uncapped his pen and wrote, ‘Your ass looks fantastic in those jeans,’ right in the middle of the page.

After that, he went about his normal business. Folded it, took aim, nailed Harrington in the back of the head, but when Harrington turned to glare at him, Billy gestured with his chin towards the floor.

Towards the folded-up, little triangle.

Harrington followed his eyes and reached down to pick it up. Looked at Billy again with a pinch caught between his brow, but Billy didn’t let his expression change, just nodded towards it again and was glad he didn’t have to clarify any further when Harrington unfolded it.

Ran his eyes over it slow, again a second time. Let out a laugh so bright, so loud on the third go that he had at least four people look over and tell him to shush.

Dumped kerosene all over the fire in Billy’s stomach and made him want more.

More of that laugh. More of that feeling. More of that fire.

Gave him no choice but to do it again the next day. Tuesday.

No choice but to tear a page of his notebook and write, ‘You’ve got a really nice laugh,’ in the middle before he folded it down and nailed Harrington in the back of the head with it. Watched him reach down and open it without prompting. Read it.

Looked over his shoulder at Billy with a smile so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

Billy wanted more.

So he did it again the next day. Wednesday.

‘I like it when you smile at me.’

This one turned Harrington’s cheeks pink, sent a flush up the line of his neck that Billy wanted to feel beneath his palm. Fire safe to touch.

Fire Billy wanted to see again. Wanted more of.

So he did it again the next day. Thursday.

‘Anybody ever tell you how pretty you are when you blush?’

This one turned Harrington’s cheeks rosy and red just like Billy wanted, but it also made Billy’s heart beat faster.

Made pride bloom in his chest when he realized he was four for four. Four days in a row. Batting a thousand.

But he still wanted more.

So by Friday, when Billy was four for four, sitting in fourth period English with Harrington a row up, a seat over, he got a little braver.

Tried to ignore the shake in his hand as he pulled another sheet out of his notebook and put his pen to the paper. Wrote the words slow, spent a long second on every letter and let his pen linger on the question mark.

Folded it, slower, let his heart rate speed up, faster, and felt his chest twist and clench as he got it down into a small triangle, teed it up, flicked it.

And nailed Harrington right in the back of the head.

Held his breath as Harrington opened it up and ran his eyes over the words.

‘What do you think about catching a movie tonight at 9?’

He couldn’t quite breathe while he waited for some sort of reaction. For Harrington to turn and look and smile. Or maybe for him to turn and look and shake his head no.

Harrington do any of that, though. Didn’t turn. Didn’t look. Didn’t smile at him over his shoulder. Didn’t let Billy see the fire in his eyes. His cheeks.

Instead, he folded the paper back down and stuck it in his pocket. Opened his own notebook. Turned to an empty sheet. Ripped it out and wrote something down and folded it up into a tiny, little triangle.

A fat wad of paper Billy watched him poke the pads of his fingers with the rest of the period.

The same wad of paper he dropped in the middle of Billy’s desk when the bell rang and didn’t wait for him to open before he walked away.

Maybe waited around the corner, poked his head in at the edge of the doorway to watch Billy unfold it with shaky, unsteady hands. Watched a slow smile take over his face at the words looking back at him.

‘You pay for tickets, I’ll pay for popcorn.’

Heard him laugh when his eyes landed on the bottom.

‘P.S. I definitely like this better.’

Yeah.

Billy knew how to flirt.

He even had a date with Steve Harrington to prove it.

And 9 o’clock just couldn’t come fast enough.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #my fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Anonymous

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mourntheantagonist · 4 years

Text

we all need someone to stay

Here’s an excerpt from something I have been working on for a while now. I would definitely appreciate feedback because I have been considering dropping this story. Enjoy!

read on ao3

The first time it happens Billy is mortified.

The two had fallen asleep in Steve’s bed clothed in pajamas with a good one foot of distance between them. Steve was sprawled out on his stomach with his arms above his head on either side of his pillow, while Bill slept on his left side, facing away with his hands tucked beneath his head. Their only point of contact was at their feet where their toes gently touched one another.

At some point in the night Billy abruptly wakes up from a nightmare. He doesn’t remember at all what it was about, but he can tell it was a nightmare judging by his uneven breathing and the dampness of the sheets beneath him. But oh god. It’s not sweat. The flannel pj’s are sticking to his thighs and he can feel the dampness half way up his back. Billy can tell by the temperature that it couldn’t have happened long before he had woken up. Oh god, oh god, oh god… Billy is panicking because he has no idea what to do. He can’t bring himself to move. He’s stuck. Tears are filling his eyes as he curses to himself and tries desperately to come up with a way out of this.

But then he feels Steve's body shift to move closer to Billy, and he all but sobs the words. “Stop Steve!” He says it loud enough that Steve is pulled from whatever half-sleep he was currently in. Steve doesn’t move after that, stuck in an awkward position of propping himself up on one elbow and the other arm hovering aimlessly. Billy can’t make the tears stop and he tries desperately to quiet them but it’s no use.

“Billy, are you okay?” Steve asks hesitantly. Billy continues to choke on his sobs and stays as still as humanly possible. Like if he’s still and quiet enough he might disappear.

“Get out.” It’s a quiet demand. It’s not harsh. It’s desperate. “Please.” Billy is sobbing louder and Steve is unmistakably not moving, and Billy has no choice but to plead. “Please Steve, get out. Get out. Get out.” He’s speaking at only a whisper now.

Finally he feels the bed beneath him shift but god dammit he’s not leaving. Instead Steve finishes the motion he had currently been frozen in. Billy is continuing to plead with Steve as he moves closer. Getting louder and louder until Steve’s knee makes contact with the sheet just behind his back. Steve is frozen again as the realization sets in, and Billy is holding his breath making silent wishes of death. “Oh.”

And that sets Billy off into a fit of sobs. Because now Steve knew. And Billy knew that Steve knew. “Please leave.” And finally Steve seems to listen as Billy can feel the dip in the mattress suddenly disappear. Billy’s hands are covering his face but he can see between the gaps in his fingers that instead of doing as Billy said, he crouches at the side of the bed near and looks at him with those damn sad eyes.

“Billy can you please look at me?” Steve asks softly. Billy just shakes his head and continues to beg Steve to leave. However, Steve stays motionless. The only motion he makes is to slowly plant a soft kiss to the side of Billy’s head. “Billy I’m not mad. Please just look at me.” He whispers in his ear. And against his better judgement, Billy lifts his head slightly and moves his hands lower down his face. His eyes remain closed. Steve figures this is the best he’s going to get out of him. “Billy it’s okay. Accidents happen.”

And god that was supposed to help but it stung. Billy wanted him to yell at him. Tell his he’s disgusting because he fucking pissed the bed. He wants him to yell at him for acting like a fucking five year old. He wants him to yell at him for how broken he is and throw him out. But he won't do that and it pisses Billy off.

Because of course Steve is perfect, and Billy doesn’t deserve perfect. He makes a final plea for Steve to leave that inevitably fails.

Then Steve latches on to the covers that were the only thing keeping Billy from collapsing in on himself. He begins to pull them off of Billy and out of pure instinct Billy grabs onto Steve’s wrist hard and aggressive. His eyes are open now and they are staring at each other. Billy’s eyes pleading with Steve’s to stop, and Steve’s giving him the same sad eyes. Steve stares right into his very soul and says it again. “Billy it’s okay.” And for a moment too long he lets himself believe it and quickly the covers that protected his dignity were laid out on the floor. Billy was fully clothed yet completely exposed and he wanted nothing more than to just die right there on the spot. He wanted whatever bit of mind flayer that was left in him to kick in and have him explode into a pile of flesh.

But Steve doesn’t run away from the sight. Instead he takes hold of Billy’s hand and gently rubs circles with his thumb. “Let’s get you cleaned up babe.” Billy has given up any fight he may have had left in him and lets Steve pull him up from the bed. Steve doesn’t let go of Billy’s hand as they make their way towards the bathroom. Every movement Steve makes is slow and careful. Steve gives Billy a chaste kiss before releasing his hand from Billy’s. “It’s alright” he says before taking hold of the bottom of Billy’s shirt to take it off. Once it’s over his head Billy’s arms immediately fold over themselves. Steve doesn’t know if it’s because he’s embarrassed, or if it’s to conceal his scar. Steve gives another kiss to his forehead before crouching down and working at the tie of Billy’s pajama pants. Billy can’t stop the tears from coming again. All he does is look at the ceiling and try to ignore what is currently happening. It isn’t long before he feels his waistband fall from his hips and a cool breeze meets his legs. He takes a deep breath and harshly shuts his eyes.

He doesn’t open them again until he feels Steve’s hands on his hips. Some time while his eyes were closed Steve had stripped down as well. He pulls Billy towards the empty tub. After some shifting around Billy finds himself sitting in between Steve's legs and his head resting against Steve’s chest. Steve uses his foot to turn the shower on. It’s ice cold at first but quickly warms up. Steve has one arm wrapped around Billy’s waist, hand rested upon Billy’s own that blocks his scar. Steve’s other hand is gently brushing Billy’s hair back and out of his face. He spends the duration of the shower whispering affirmations into Billy’s ear.

“It’s completely fine Billy.”

“I’m not upset.”

“It was just an accident.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Steve really wants to say “I love you” but he knows neither of them are ready for that yet.

Billy doesn’t remember when he started sobbing again.

It’s almost five in the morning when they get out of the shower. Billy’s sobs have subsided and his tears are masked by the water dripping from his hair to his face. Steve tosses him a clean pair of underwear along with a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Steve leaves the bathroom, taking both of their dirty clothes with him. Billy waits until Steve has shut the bathroom door before he feels like he can move. He takes his time getting dressed. He doesn’t think he can look him in the eyes again. He is completely and utterly humiliated, as he should be.

Finally Billy pulls the hoodie on and splashes some cold water from the sink onto his face before exiting the bathroom. The bedroom is empty and the bed is bare. All evidence of what took place was stashed somewhere else and Billy feels like he can breathe just a little for the first time since he woke up. But that’s quickly cut off by the sight of Steve entering through the bedroom door. He’s dressed now, currently drying his hair off with a towel. Billy is expecting him to bring it up again. He expects him to say something about the missing sheets or the fact that they’re both awake at 5 in the morning. But he doesn’t.

“You wanna go get an early breakfast at Benny’s before I have to go in to work?”

And they do. The drive over is as awkward and silent as the meal itself. They only ever speak to order their food. Billy nurses his coffee and avoids eye contact with Steve and they don’t bring it up. Billy hopes that they can just forget it ever even happened.

It happened for the second time four days later.

This time Steve realizes it before Billy. That’s because a.) Steve can’t sleep and b.) their sleeping position. Unlike last time, Steve and Billy are wrapped up in each other. Steve is spooning Billy. His arms wrapped completely around him, and his right thigh is wedged in between Billy’s. It’s around two in the morning when he starts to hear Billy whimper in his sleep. He can feel Billy’s heart as it begins to race and his breathing becomes uneven. He considers waking him up from the nightmare but is quickly pulled from that thought as he starts to feel a heat run down his thigh. It takes him too long to actually pinpoint exactly what was happening because Billy is finished before he can think about pulling away.

Steve feels awful about this because he can’t even imagine how all of this makes Billy feel. He knows how embarrassing this must be and how emasculating it is and he doesn’t want him to feel that. Especially after everything he’s gone through. So instead of pulling away he pulls Billy closer. He pulls him into the tightest embrace he can manage without hurting him because Billy needs to understand that Steve is not going to run away from him for something he has no control over.

Steve waits several minutes before attempting to wake Billy. He spends those minutes contemplating exactly what he’s going to say to ensure Billy knows it’s okay.

“Hey Bills,” he starts as he squeezes Billy just a little tighter.

“Hmm?” Billy responds, still half asleep and blissfully unaware.

Steve nuzzles his head into Billy’s neck and plants a few soft kisses giving Billy a chance to come to. “You had another accident, but it’s okay.” Steve instantly feels Billy tense up but Steve just pulls him in tighter and tighter until Billy can calm himself down.

“I’m sorry.” He finally chokes out because of course Billy’s started to cry and it absolutely breaks Steve.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” Steve moves a hand up to stroke Billy's hair. “Let’s go take a shower alright?” Billy just nods his head and pulls himself from Steve's embrace and out of the bed. He refuses to spare a glance at the bed behind him. He simply makes his way to the bathroom on his own, expecting Steve to follow.

He won’t look at Steve, because he knows that if he has to look at the pitiful look on his face he won’t be able to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape at any moment. He goes straight for the shower and turns the water on, letting it heat up before diverting to the shower head. He quickly strips off his pajama bottoms and underwear and gets in before Steve even enters. But it doesn’t take long for familiar hands to wrap around his waist. Steve rests his head on Billys shoulder and holds on tightly. While Billy has gained back a lot of his strength over the past month, he still struggles to stand for long periods of time. So the embrace is more than just an act of comfort, it is an act of physical support, and it makes Billy feel safe and protected, even now. Somehow after the first time the two were successfully able to ignore it. They could easily write it off as a one time thing that wouldn’t happen again. But now it did. Now it was a thing. Just like how the panic attacks became a thing, and how the passing out became a thing. Billy couldn’t handle another thing. Especially not if it’s this. But Steve was so good with all of the things that Billy had, and Steve had his things too, but this was entirely out of left field and Billy cannot seem to wrap his head around how good Steve is handling this too.

“Why aren’t you angry?” Billy found himself asking. He didn’t mean to say it, but it just slipped out because for god’s sake why isn’t he furious?

“What’s there to be angry about?”

Was he being intentionally dense or did he really not know? For some reason that response made Billy angry enough to burn some confidence into him. “Steve I fucking peed on you! I am disgusting! How are you not livid!?”

What Billy did not expect in response was a laugh. A laugh?

“William Hargrove, I have had your dick in my mouth. I have swallowed your jizz. You think a little pee is gonna scare me away? Not a chance.” Even with the vulgarity of it all, it was one of the sweetest things he could have said in that moment. But still Billy had to continue with his tour of self-deprecation.

“It’s- Steve. I’m weak. I’m pathetic. Can’t you see that? Look at me!”

Okay, now Steve’s angry. He forcibly turns Billy around so that he’s facing him and pulls him in for a bruising kiss. It’s quick and aggressive and it leaves Billy dazed. His head is still cupped in Steve’s hands, and he is forced to look Steve in the eye. Their foreheads are near touching. “You are not weak or pathetic. You are the strongest and bravest person I have ever met. This,” he points to his scar, “changes none of that.” He plants another kiss to Billy’s lips before he continues. “And neither does the bed-wetting okay?”

Billy winces at the description. Like yeah, that’s what it is but it sounds childish and the last thing that Billy wants is to be treated like a child.

Steve sighs to shift his tone to one that is softer. “I know that you’re embarrassed but please try not to be. You have been through too much to be beating yourself up over something as small as this. We’ll work on it okay? Make sure you go before bed and avoid liquids. Because I don’t want to stop waking up next to you, and if it means I have to wake up in a puddle so fucking be it.”

And Billy is at a complete loss for words because he is falling in love with this guy. The guy who still wants to be around him despite all of the baggage that comes along with him. How is it that Billy gets to be this lucky? How is he allowed to be this lucky? Suddenly Billy realizes he’s started crying again for a completely other reason. All he can do is wrap his arms around Steve’s bare body and bury his face into his chest. Because he can’t say it out loud. But he loves him. And maybe if Steve’s able to deal with all his shit, maybe he loves him too.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #ahhhhhhhh #mandi writes tresh

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withoneheadlight · 4 years

Text

| kegboys | billy & tommy speak a bit of spanish. translations at the end |

"Do you have to eat your ice cream like that?"

Steve looks up at Billy with a frown, licks at his thumb, his middle finger. Takes another mouthful.

"Lai-wah?"

They're sitting on the sidewalk in the back of the Starcourt, entrenched in a patch of shade, Tommy in between the two of them, the soles of their snickers slowly cooking over the boiling pavement. It’s the third day in a row that Hawkins has reached the thirty-five degrees mark, and Tommy can tell Billy is growing restless, wearing his skin thin, like he's burning from the inside out with the heat of the season.

"Less like you're blowing it, more like you’re eating it" his voice sounds hoarse, dangling on some kind of edge.

It sounds hungry.

Steve keeps on looking at him like he doesn't understand, eyes round and big. Manages to catch some syrup right before it slides down the edge of the cone, but gets a bit of cream on his nose. Wipes it with his palm.

He looks devious and adorable and Tommy wants to lick him whole. He hopes it doesn't show when he says,

"I think he means a little less–uhm—dirty?"

Because when it comes to Steve and Billy, shockingly enough, Tommy is the one mediating.

And no, the heat is not helping.

"Dirty" Steve repeats, lips pursing, and takes all of his force of will not to stare at how red they look, how much they stand out of his skin, out of the electric-blue of that fucking uniform "Billy thinks I'm dirty" he crosses his legs at the ankles. His socks are pulled up. Tommy has never wanted to kiss this bad someone that wears his goddamn socks pulled up.

Steve thinks he looks ridiculous in that uniform. He doesn't know shit.

"For the lack of a better word" Billy smirks, canines bare. Looks at Tommy like he's thinking it too, that there isn't really a lack of words, there are plenty.

(Like filthy. Like obscene. Like hot as fuckin' fuck. Like I want you to do to me what you're doing to that fucking ice cream)

Steve rolls his eyes. The ice cream keeps on melting, dripping all over his knuckles. He sticks out his tongue and licks them clean, a long stripe all the way up to the tip, his mouth full of syrup and whipped cream and cookie bits and when Billy breathes out a ragged holy shit, he looks fucking pleased.

"Well, maybe Billy," he says, looking intently at Billy "shouldn't get all that squeamish. Considering the amount of disgusting shit he makes me witness on a regular basis"

It's not like he's not right. Usual circumstances, Billy is gross, he's nasty, but right now, and for some whimsical reason he's eating his ice cream with careful, deliberate precision, making it turn against his tongue, not missing a drop. And Tommy doesn't want to wonder how would it be to have all that meticulous intent aimed onto a different place but he does. He does. Even if it's not as if something like that could ever happen. Because Tommy knows about Billy and Billy knows about Tommy, but that only means they can torture each other about how much they lust and long and pine for Steve. That's all.

(They've only kissed once. Only to know what it feels like. Two days after getting so drunk together, so thoroughly high, that Billy ended up confessing the inconfessable "I would kiss him all day, Tommy, I swear. I would sit on his lap and do nothing fucking else. Just kiss him," two days after Tommy's ribcage pressed inwards, clutching at his heart "Sorry, Hargrove. But I saw him first", two days after Billy laughed at his face "Like that's gonna make any difference." They kissed because there's no one else, because when Billy asked, he did it straight into his ear, voice dripping down the hem of his shirt, sliding his sternum, and lower "If you want, I'll let you pretend I'm him". A single kiss that lasted for fifteen minutes straight and ended the moment Tommy began to feel his cock filling up in his jeans –the moment he began to realize that knowing that Billy Hargrove kisses as if he wants to drag you out of your own skin, that his mouth tastes sweet and warm, spicy with the aftertaste of nicotine, that it feels nothing like he imagines Steve’s would– is a little more risky than he had anticipated)

"I'd do that, but you're getting all filthy, King Steve" and the tone of his voice could pass for mean it wasn't because Tommy knows he always sounds meaner when he's horny (they've touched each other only once. No kisses. No closeness. Just hands. Cramped in the minuscule rectangle of Tommy's bed, because "What it is Tomas? Are you too scared try?" "I'm not scared" "Then pull your pants down" And Tommy shouldn't know he can't stop talking ––dirty, violent, like a fucking heart attack–– while he's coming but he knows, God he knows. "And we don't want those poor costumers getting the wrong impression about what was their lovely Scoops Sailor doing to stain that uniform, do we?"

Tommy sighs inwards. Takes a bite of his almost finished freeze pop. If it wasn't because the idea of his two best friends having a crush on him wouldn't occur to Steve in a million years they'd be totally screwed. It's not like they've been exactly subtle. Especially Billy.

"Mmhh. Guess who's not getting free ice cream next time?" says Steve, tone as bratty as it gets. Daring.

Billy bares his teeth.

"You're forgetting I have Robin, pretty boy"

"Oh. But you are forgetting whose side Robin is"

He’s smiling that angelic smile he always puts on whenever he is about to screw you. Opens up his mouth and sucks on the ice cream, lips pressed around the tip, lets out a groan of pure pleasure and swallows "It’s still too dirty for you like this, Hargrove?" he asks pointedly and Tommy shouldn't, really shouldn't be staring at him but––

(Tommy and Steve have never touched, never kissed, but Tommy knows that he snores softly when he falls asleep with his head buried in your neck and that you can tell how he feels by the way he’s saying your name. He knows how big he feels, how hot, when he gets hard against your thigh, even if it was just once and by pure accident, the two of them rubbing against each other while fighting for the remote, Steve red up to the roots of his hair, repeating "Sorry oh my god Tommy I'm so sorry" and Tommy feeling so thankful for the rough fabric of his jeans being tight enough to hide his own erection)

And there are a million other things that Tommy would like to know, a million times, but he can't.

He can’t)

"-mmy?"

"Uhm?"

"Can you help me clean this up?"

Steve manages to catch the drop of ice cream that's sliding down his neck, licks at the corner of his mouth, but he still has syrup just below his lower lip, on his cheek, and it's not the first time Tommy wets his thumb and wipes whatever he's gotten onto his face, there's been hundred before, but this time Steve looks at him with eyes blown into an impossible dark and Tommy is achingly aware that Billy is watching them too. His heart beats in his throat while he wipes Steve clean, ––his skin soft, sun-warmed–– while bringing his pad into his mouth to clean it up, tasting strawberry and vanilla. And it would also taste like caramel and cinnamon and that spicy aftertaste of the nicotine, if he turned right now and Billy let Tommy kiss him a second time.

(And Tommy will never know, but sometimes he wonders how the three of them would taste like together. Because sometimes Billy comes up from behind and leans all his weight against Steve's back, embraces him, when he's studying or eating at the cafeteria or sitting at the edge of the pool. Sometimes he sits beside him in the back of the car or at the movies, puts an arm around him and Steve lets him, always lets him. Allows Billy to insert himself point-blank into his personal space and Tommy should feel jealous, should feel weird, but what he feels is the blood rushing to the center of his body, pooling in there like an itch he shouldn't dare to even think about scratching)

Tommy hears the click of a lighter, catches the smell of the smoke. When Billy speaks, his voice doesn't reach Tommy's brain, it goes straight down to his cock.

"Cuidado, Tommy. Si lo sigues mirando así se va a dar cuenta de que es a él al que quieres comerte"

When Tommy turns to look at him, he merely raises an eyebrow, and it looks like he's trying not to grin but his teeth widen around the filter like he can’t stop them.

Because Tommy knows about Billy and Billy knows about Tommy, but this is all they do. Picking at each other. Playing games too close to the fire. And Tommy's skin feels burnt, aching, like this thing inside of him is about to peel it up, crawl outside of him.

"Vete a la mierda" he says, makes it a warning, but Billy blows the smoke to his face, blows a kiss after. Tommy pushes him "Gilipollas"

"Oh but of course" starts Steve as he gets up, brushing off any dust that might have got stuck to his pants, throwing the rests of his ice cream in the trash "You two are such a good example of fucking good manners, aren’t you?" He smacks Tommy on the head, steals Billy’s cigarette and takes a long, deep drag “Maybe instead of sitting here doing nothing for the rest of the fucking afternoon you two would grow a pair and talk about making a move about that thing you keep bickering about so secretly all around me” he says in one sitting, looking them alternatively in the eye, and Tommy only realizes that his mouth is hanging open when Steve leans in and places the cigarette between his lips “I'm starting to get a bit tired of waiting."

“But you don't spe–” Tommy starts, but Steve cuts him off before he can finish.

“Oh. No I don’t. But Robin does. I guess it's a good thing that you two were dumb enough not to take it into account" cocky, a little wicked “I'm out at eight”

The door closes behind him. Billy reaches out to retrieve his cigarette. Inhales so deep that in his lungs mustn’t be any room left for the oxygen.

"Fuck"

They hold each other's gaze.

Fuck.

He’s feeling the heat in a lot more places now than only those reached by the burning sun.

At eight.

Translations:

“Be careful, Tommy. If you keep looking at him like that he’s gonna realize its him what you wanna be eating”

“Go fuck yourself”

“Asshole”

#kegboys #key boys #harringrove #tomgrove #stommy #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #tommy hagan #tommy h #tommy hernández #keg gang #xkegboys

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fanficmarvelchick · 5 years

Text

Monster

Summary: You and Eleven were both experimented on and escaped together to Hawkins. You were in hiding and the last thing you expected was to meet a particularly confident bad boy with a secret heart of gold. (Billy Hargrove x reader)

Warnings: some violence

Word Count: 4.8k

You couldn’t quite tell if you hated being kept away from practically everyone in Hawkins or if it was just being kept away from Billy. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand why you couldn’t talk to him, or be friends with him, but you hated isolation.

It’s taken you years to break out with El. She was the last straw for you. You could handle the experiments. You could handle being locked in a dark cell for weeks at a time, but seeing her go through the same thing broke your heart. Eventually you’d convinced her to break out and the two of you went on the run. Truthfully, you’d have taken anything over being in that place, getting experimented on practically every damn day.

You’re abilities weren’t exactly stress free, and to you they felt generally unhelpful.

You were able to heal anyone and bring things back from the dead (well, only small animals like mice seemed to be able to come back to the real world).

To the untrained eye this might seem like an incredible ability, to be able to stop peoples suffering and take care of the people you love. But everything comes with a price.

For you, the bigger the injury the more pain it caused. Whenever you would heal another person, it was as if you were transferring their pain to yourself. You could feel exactly what they felt until whatever wounds they had were gone.

This still didn’t come close to the time you were forced to bring a mouse back to life. A mouse which they forced you to kill in the first place. The pain you felt was indescribable and dark. You eyes became black as you felt a burning sensation beneath your skin, flowing through your veins.

You’d vowed to never do it again. You’d pretend that you weren’t able to do it anymore. That you’re ability had faded. The scientists didn’t exactly believe you, but you were stubborn enough to stick to it.

When Hopper took you in with El, you told him about it. He promised you that you’d never have to do anything like that again, that he’d take care of you and the people around you.

He was the one who allowed you to go to school, though only under the condition that you spent your time with Steve, Nancy, or Jonathan.

You figured this would be easy. You liked all of them and they knew about your abilities. You also weren’t the most sociable person. Being locked away for most of your life can do that to you.

You remember when Billy arrived. As you were a very quiet person, you were able to listen in on peoples conversations about it.

Only minutes after his arrival and everyone had an opinion on him. All the ladies were swooning and all the men were jealous.

When he strolled into the school with a denim jacket and a cigarette hanging from his lips, you found yourself agreeing with the ladies. The way he walked like he owned the place and the surge of confidence flowing through him had you wishing you could speak to him. You knew you weren’t allowed and due to your gratitude to Hopper, you decided you’d let it go.

Months went by without anything different. You’d continued to spend your time with Steve and Nancy. Two people who definitely did not like Billy. You’d sit with Steve, listening to him complain about the new guy and how annoying he was. You realised pretty quickly that Steve felt threatened in his presence. This was something you’d never understand. You couldn’t really imagine feeling threatened by just another teenager, especially since you’d been faced with much worse in your time.

Your days soon began to change when you were in your English class and your teacher lost it. She’s snapped at this disruptive class and decided on a seating plan. The truth was you didn’t give a shit. It was like you talked to anyone anyway.

You were placed directly at the back of the class and right next to Billy Hargrove. What a surprise, you thought to yourself. Out of all the people, it had to be this boy.

It took only a few seconds before you noticed him open his mouth. He was not going to spend the class actually paying attention so he figured he’d annoy you instead.

“So what’s your story, huh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning towards you.

“Excuse me?” You replied, unsure of what he meant.

“Oh come on” he grinned. “No one can be as shy as you and not have a story”

“Uhh, I don’t have a story” you said quietly, glancing around the room.

“Why don’t you talk to anyone around here?” He asked, deliberately prying into your life.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I” you replied quickly, giving him a shy smile as you twiddled your fingers. He gave you a smirk as he nodded in response.

“How’s it feel to be responsible for the seating plan? I mean, you’re definitely the one who caused it” he said with a smile, causing you to let out a chuckle.

“Shh, keep it down” he joked as he gave you a slight nudge with his elbow. You couldn’t even hide your smile if you wanted.

“Be quiet!” The teacher yelled, snapping her head towards Billy, feeling her blood begin to boil as she looked around at the class.

You let out a small giggle as you ducked your head down.

“That’s you she’s talking to” he whispered as he leant over.

“Definitely” you agreed with a smile.

When the class finished, you felt yourself for the first time thinking that the class went well. Being the quiet one and not talking to anyone usually resulted in boredom and an overall feeling like you were going to fall asleep.

As soon as you walked out the door, Billy appeared by your side.

“So eager to get to the next class?” He questioned, letting out a laugh.

“Wouldn’t quite say that” you replied.

“Are you saying you’re not the complete nerd that everyone thinks you are?” He grinned as he looked down at you.

“Maybe the real nerd has been you all along” You retorted with a chuckle.

“Oh shit you got me. Don’t tell anyone or my reputation will be ruined.” He replied, trying to hold onto a serious expression.

The two of you soon parted to go to your set page classes. As you were sitting in your next class you felt yourself smiling, so much so that Steve kept giving you strange looks.

“What’s got you in such a good mood? Not that it’s a bad thing” he asked, giving you a smile.

“She was talking to Billy in her last class” Nancy replied before you had a chance, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Whoa, whoa. Billy? As in Billy Hargrove? King douchebag of the school?” Steve said, giving you a shocked expression.

“You should not be talking to him. Literally any other living thing would be a better idea than that asshole” he continued, pursing his lips as Nancy nodded in agreement.

“I don’t know... he didn’t seem so bad” You replied quietly, keeping your head down as though you were being interrogated.

The weeks began to go by and you deliberately didn’t tell anyone about Billy. You hated how much your friends did not approve of him.

Billy continued to talk to you, chatting you up at any moment with little jokes and flirtatious comments. It had become his new mission to get you to loosen up.

“You still haven’t told me your story” Billy said as he walked up behind you in the car park. “You know I thought we had something special, Y/N” he added, giving you a sad pout and a frown.

“Alright here it is” you said, watching him lean towards you in excitement. “I’m a secret agent sent from the future”.

“I knew it.” He replied. “Everything about you screams badass secret agent, capable of assassination at a moments notice” he laughed as he walked with you.

Steve came walking up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder, distracting you for a moment.

“You ready?” He asked, pointing towards his car. He’s being driving you and Nancy to school for the last few months now since you’d never been given the chance to learn how to drive.

Before you could answer, Billy stepped in to face Steve.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’ll take her home” he said.

“I think she’d rather go with me Hargrove” Steve replied, pressing his eyebrows together as he looked at you.

“Why don’t you let her decide” Billy said, looking at you with a smirk.

You didn’t have time to answer before Steve grabbed your hand and began walking to the car.

“Enjoy your night” Steve said with a big smile as he waved off Billy, causing you to let out a sigh as you were pulled away.

You spent the drive ignoring Steve. You hated that you didn’t have a choice. You hated being forced to avoid Billy and anyone else.

The day Nancy and Steve broke up felt like a small relief for you. Steve has now become so caught up with the break up that he didn’t have time to focus his attention on you.

You’d told each of them that you were spending time with the other whilst you secretly spent a majority of your time with Billy.

Billy had approached you after school at your locker when the bell rang.

“You ready to go?” He asked with a smile.

He’d been driving you home in secret for the past few weeks. Though you didn’t let him take you to Hoppers house. You told him to drop you off earlier and he never pushed to ask why. Truthfully, he was happy that he could finally drive you at all now that Steve wasn’t in the way all the time.

You nodded with a smile as you began walking to his car. He knew you wanted to keep it a secret that you were spending time with him so he was quick and discrete. He was also glad that Max wanted to hang out with her friends after school so he had time to talk to you instead.

When he pulled over at the usual spot he’d drop you off at, he turned off the car and leaned towards you.

“We could just sit here for a while” he suggested, looking you up and down for a short moment.

“You know I can’t” You replied, letting out a breath and you looked down.

“I really like hanging out with you... I just want you to know that” he said quietly with a serious expression.

“I like hanging out with you too” you replied softly, a small smile creeping across your face.

You watched him lean towards you, only a few inches away from your face as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you felt yourself move towards him. He took this as a sign of encouragement before he closed the gap, pressing his lips against yours as his hand rose to cup your cheek. You felt yourself reciprocating, pushing back against him as you reached out, your hand pressing against his chest.

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t stop the smile appearing on your face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” he laughed as his hand move to grip yours, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his.

“I couldn’t agree more” You replied with a grin as you squeezed his hand.

“I wish I could show you off to the world” he said, gently biting his lower lip.

“I guess I’ll have to be your little secret” you said with a small smile as you leant forward once again, softly pressing your lips against his.

The two of you went on like this for months. At school you’d act like you barely knew each other, trying so hard to make sure no one knew. It was a nightmare.

He’d always find ways to sneak touches or kisses. He’d find a way to catch you alone during the school day and would immediately be all over you, joking around with you or kissing your neck.

You’d sneak out in the late night and he’d be parked up the street, waiting for you so you could spend the night together.

You’d either spend the night sitting in his car talking until the sun came up, or he’d take you out. Either way, it’s all you could think about every night. You found yourself more and more drawn to him.

When the summer came and school finished, you could barely contain your excitement. Outside of working shifts as a lifeguard at the local swimming pool, he’d be with you. Lucky for you Hopper was often out and El knew how to keep a secret, especially since her and Mike were otherwise preoccupied.

You’d planned a night together after one of his shifts. He said that he’d take you out for dinner and then to a hotel for a proper night out. You couldn’t stop thinking about it all day.

That was until he didn’t show up.

All night you waited for him to pick you up. You couldn’t stop yourself from worrying. He had never once been late to be with you, he’d never even come close.

The next day you went to his work, knowing he had a shift scheduled. When you arrived and noticed he was in the locker room, you decided to follow him.

“Billy..?” You asked as you walked in, seeing him sitting on the floor of the shower with water running over his face.

“Hey...” you said softly. “What’s going in?”

He didn’t look at you but you could see he was shaking. He was curled up, holding his knees against his chest. You reached out your hand to touch him and he quickly grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t..” he said quietly.

“Billy, please tell me what’s wrong” you begged.

“Just stay away from me!” He said firmly as he flicked your hand away and stood up, quickly running out of the locker room.

You just stood there for a moment, your mind raising as a wave of confusion hit you. He’d never acted like this; you were beginning to worry.

Days went by like this.

He refused to talk to you, practically bolting away from you whenever he saw you.

You felt yourself panic, going over everything you’ve done and wondering why the hell he was acting like this.

Eventually you felt so confused and hurt that you told El. You confessed to everything. The secret relationship you’d had and how he’d been treating you lately.

You’d been expecting her to comfort you, giving you some type of comfort but instead it looked like a light bulb lit up in her head.

She didn’t waste a single second before telling you about him, about seeing him leaning over Heather. The blood ridden whistle in his bathroom and the similarities he was sharing with Will when he was possessed by the Mind Flayer.

You couldn’t believe it. Yet it made sense.

He’d never acted like this before and a part of you was grateful knowing that it might not be him doing this.

When El and her friends told you about the plan to lock him in the sauna, you were all for it. If this Mind Flayer piece of shit was in him then you wanted to know and you were going to find a way kill the thing yourself if you had to. There was no way you were going to let Billy be controlled by this thing.

When the door slammed shut on him in that sauna and he turned around, his eyes locking with yours.

“Y/N....?” He asked quietly, frowning as he took in a breath.

“What’s going on? What are you doing?” He asked as he glanced around, his confusion growing even more when he noticed Max.

“Open the door!” He yelled as he began to panic.

“Turn it up, Will” Mike said as Will increased the temperature.

You watched as Billy began to back up, his chest expanding rapidly as he began to breathe heavily. His hands rose to his head as he started to panic before your eyes.

“It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault!” He yelled as he collapsed to the floor.

You quickly walked forward, peering through the small window as you watched Billy sit on the floor.

“It’s not my fault, Y/N!” He yelled, his eyes tearing up.

“I’ve done some... bad things. Really bad things” he said as he looked up at you, his hands shaking.

“What did you do, Billy?” You asked softly, trying not to panic.

“It’s not my fault! He made me do it” he replied as he gripped his knees.

“Who made you do it?” You asked.

“I don’t know, it’s like a shadow” he responded, ducking his head as he tears began to pour down his cheeks.

“Please believe me, Y/N. It’s not my fault!” He pleaded before holding his head in his hands.

You couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up, seeing him like this made your heart ache.

“I believe you, Billy” you said. “It’s gonna be okay”.

You watched him continue to shake and shrink in on himself. You wished so badly you could go in there and wrap your arms around him. You wanted to stop him feeling like this and you wanted so badly to kill the Mind Flayer.

“Step away from the door” Mike chimed in causing you to turn around.

You barely had enough time to process before Billy launches himself your way, his hand smashing through the glass.

You felt Max pulling you way as Billy struggled to open the door. You’d never been frightened of him before but you were scared shitless watching him break out. The anger on his face sent chills up your spine.

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself backed against the wall as Billy came charging towards you. You were frozen, standing there waiting for him to attack you and you couldn’t move a muscle.

If it wasn’t for El, you would have let him kill you.

You hated how weak you felt as El stood in front of you, protecting you from Billy.

She was the only one who stood a chance against him and even she had been struggling. When his hand from gripped around her neck, you finally moved.

You sprinted up behind him. Wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulder as you attempted to pull him away. Though it proved to not be very powerful, it did distract him enough for El to get away.

She collapsed against Mike as Billy turned to face you. Black veins were bubbling beneath his skin as he clenched his jaw. In all the anger in his body, you couldn’t help but notice his tearful eyes.

You noticed his feet planted on the ground as if he were struggling to stay still. If only you had known the battle going on in his head. How he was screaming for the Mind Flayer to stop, to not force him to hurt you. He couldn’t imagine being the one to cause you pain, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d ever hurt you and he was begging for you to run.

In this moment of him standing still, you used it to move it of his way. He thanked god you didn’t try to come at him, knowing you’d never stand a chance against this horrid version of himself.

He’d never felt so frightened in his life. The fear of hurting you had him cowering in the dark corner of his mind.

When El was able to fight him off, sending him through the wall. He didn’t hesitate before running. He would not fight you.

You refused to accept that he was lost. That you couldn’t save him.

Once the Mind Flayer had taken shape and targeted El, you realised the kind of danger you were all in.

You’d all been hiding in the Mall once Billy appeared in the car park. You were sucked behind the car, sitting closely beside Nancy as the two of you tried desperately to stay quiet.

Due to Lucas and his smart thinking, he was able to distract it long enough for you to run.

He quickly handed out fireworks and you all scattered, firing them off in order to distract it from El... who was clearly the prime target.

When Billy stormed in, you began to truly panic.

He’d been dragging El across the floor towards the Mind Flayer, ready to offer her up. You began running down to the first floor as she began to scream, attempting to fight him off to no avail as her abilities appeared dormant.

You were trying so desperately to get to her. Watching him push her to the ground and lean over her. Your mind was racing faster than you’d been moving. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him and yet here he was, ready to sacrifice your own family.

You were stopped in your track as you noticed a change in his eyes. He was leaning over her as she began to speak to him, his eyes softening by her words as he began to tear up. You had no idea what she had been saying, but you could help but notice the tears falling from his eyes as her hand rose to his cheek.

You watched from a distance as Billy began to rise, turning away from El as he looked up at the Mind Flayer. His shoulders were broad, fists clenched and his face full of anger.

It happened so fast. You watched the creature launch at El and couldn’t stop the scream pour out of you as Billy jumped in the way. He was attacked from all sides, blood staining his white shirt as he yelled in pain.

When it ripped through his chest, that was when you finally unfroze, racing towards him.

He collapsed to his knees before you came running up behind him, arms wrapping around him as he fell against you. His head pressed against your chest as you gripped him tightly, tears falling down your cheeks as you stared at him in shock. You didn’t notice the monster beginning to cave in on itself as it died. Your attention being so painfully focused on the man dying in your arms.

His eyes locked with yours as you rested his head in your lap, unable to stop yourself from crying.

“..Y/N” he choked, staring up at you as he struggled to breath.

“I’m s-sorry” he said quietly, his eyes moving towards the ceiling as his final breath was taken away from him.

You felt his entire weight in your arms as your mouth opened, trying to find anything to say. Your eyes moved rapidly over his face, refusing to accept that he was gone.

You pressed your forehead against his as your hand tightened around him. The palms of your hand began to tingle and heat up as your heart rate quickened. Your eyes clamped shut as you winced in pain; the heat spreading rapidly through your body.

You could feel sharp pains in your body, as through your skin was being torn and ripped away from you.

The pain he felt was so horrific, your chest feeling as though it was shattering beneath your skin. El was attempting to pull you away as you yelled in pain, tears rolling down your cheek.

Your vision went black before you could see him. Before you could see the wounds on along his body closing up, before you could feel his pulse coming back. You could only remember falling back against El before you became completely unconscious.

Light was stinging at the corner of your eyes as you opened them to see the ceiling. You frowned for a moment, feeling like everything had been an extremely vivid and painful dream.

You lurched forward in a panic as you looked around the empty room. It was your room for sure, but it was so quiet. You rushed out of the door as your heart races, eyes tearing up as you thought back to Billy.

Your body stopped suddenly, staring up into the eyes of Billy as he stood at the other end of the lounge. His lips parted as he thought of something to say but he came up with nothing.

You were moving so quick yet your body felt numb. It felt like someone was controlling you as you ran to him, jumping up and wrapping your arms and legs around him.

He immediately wrapped his arms tightly around you as he pressed his head into the nape of your neck, his eyes tearing up as he held you in his arms.

Your feet dropped to the floor as you stared up at him, eyes scanning his face. He was okay. He was alive. He was beautiful.

“Billy...” you whispered, your voice cracking as you felt yourself tear up.

His hand rose to your cheek as he sucked in a breath. He leant down slowly before pressing his lips softly and hesitantly against yours. His hands were resting on your waist as he kissed you, touching you as if you were made of glass.

He wanted to hold you so tightly against him, to pick you up and spin you around. He wished him could kiss you with every fibre of his being, but the fear of hurting you was still inside him.

You pulled away slowly, your eyes still closed for a moment as you let out a breath, savouring the feeling of him being right here in front of you.

As the weeks went by, he became slowly more comfortable with you again. But he was still so quiet. He never once talked to you about what he did and what it felt like.

You definitely didn’t want to push him but you knew how much it must be bugging him. There were moments when you’d catch him just thinking to himself, a sad look on his face and you knew he was going through memories of what happened.

The two of you were lying in your bed one night, facing each other and intertwining your fingers.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You said quietly, giving him a small sympathetic smile.

He just looked away as he took in a deep breath.

“I can’t...” he replied softly.

“Whatever you did Billy... just know it wasn’t your fault” you said, your hand moving to rest on his cheek.

“It doesn’t change anything” he replied quickly as he looked into your eyes. “It was still me. I’m the one who hurt those people”.

“Don’t say that. You didn’t do those things. It was that piece of shit monster” you stared, unable to change your mind on the matter.

“But it was my hands, I could’ve killed El. I could have killed you” he replied, his hand rising to grip yours as he pulled your hand from his cheek.

“You died, Billy.” You said softly. “You died saving our lives”

“If that doesn’t prove you’re a good person... than I don’t know what does” you added, leaning in closer and squeezing his hand.

“I still don’t know how to thank you saving my life.” He replied before his hand loved to your waist, pulling you closer towards him.

“You don’t have to” You said softly. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, unable to understand how you could look pass the things he’d done. He couldn’t change how he felt about you, being more and more grateful everyday that you were here with him.

“God I love you” He whispered, inches away from your face.

You felt yourself freeze for a moment. He’d never said that to you, or anyone else for that matter. Your heart was racing as he stared into your eyes, but you did not need to think about a reply. It was simple.

“I love you too, Billy. So damn much” you replied, leaning in to kiss him again as he arm wrapped around you completely.

You spent the night in each other’s arms, holding onto him tightly, as though he might disappear if you were to let him go.

The two of you had been through too much now for you to drift away from each other. After all... you did have shared trauma.

-Hope you enjoyed! :) Thank you to @ateliefloresdaprimavera for the request!

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove oneshot #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things 3 #stranger things imagines #billy hargrove fic #dacre montgomery #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

Text

Strategic Proposal 6/6

Part One/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Part Six

Steven Harrington and William of Hargrove, knights of the realm, tiptoed through the halls, their bare feet warmed by thick rugs. Steve nodded as each guard saluted, tugging Billy along by the hand as he laughed harder every time a guard’s eyes assessed Steve’s woolen undergarments, and then dropped to his bony white feet, and their brows furrowed.

“Sssh,” Steve whispered, as the halls widened, and the ceilings heightened. He stumbled tiredly, but set his jaw with determination.

“Where are we going?” Billy asked, still smiling, and wiping his eyes.

“To celebrate,” Steve whispered back, rubbing his eyes, and half-wishing he was asleep in bed—but Billy kept glancing down at their joined hands, and squeezing Steve’s with a little laugh, and Steve’s determination to treat him properly firmed.

The doorway he’d been seeking was up one of the long, curving staircases at the end of the Great Hall, a massive pair of oaken doors with gilt reliefs of the royal crest—the queen mounted on a unicorn rampant—and enormous, always-lit torches.

The guards saluted, a quick bang of their fists over their hearts, and then surveyed Steve, frowning.

“What are we doing,” Billy hissed.

“Celebrating,” Steve said. “Let us in.”

“...of course, Captain,” said the one on the left, and they opened both doors.

“We would never question your orders, Captain,” said the one on the right, staring straight ahead.

“We would never stop you from barging in on the queen at three o’clock in the morning,” said the one on the left, and Steve narrowed his eyes at her. His beloved husband was laughing at him.

“We are sure you have good reason, Captain,” said the one on the right.

“We’re sure Her Majesty simply forgot to inform us you were expected,” said the left one, and Steve glared at her, then the other one.

“Do you hear anything?” he asked Billy, dragging him inside as the doors closed behind them. “I nearly think I heard voices.”

Steve squinted into the dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace, wincing as Billy’s nails dug into his arm.

“Is this the queen’s bedroom,” Billy asked, barely a whisper.

“No,” Steve told him, patting along the wall for the cupboard he sought. “Just an...antechamber...ah!” He felt around several bottles, then sat back, discouraged, to yawn hugely. “...I don’t know which one it is.”

“God’s precious heart,” Billy muttered, and then light flared next to Steve’s face, making him jump. Billy held out a candle. “...if we’re going to rob the place, let’s at least do it quickly.”

The bottle of brandy, half-empty and sealed with the Queen’s own seal—gleamed from the lowest shelf, and Steve grabbed it, and two cups.

“...cups,” Billy whispered, his eyes widening in horror. “We are in the queen’s— we should go—”

“I’m tired,” Steve huffed, meandering across the room to drop in front of the massive fireplace, and stare into the banked embers. He patted the rug next to him, and poured the brandy into both cups—and finally, Billy padded over and sank next to him, eyeing the room nervously.

Steve eyed the brandy, swirling it in the warmth in front of the fire, and sighed, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We should go back and sleep. I—it was—”

“...it’s very fine brandy,” Billy offered.

“Is it?” Steve asked softly, taking a sip. It was good, like sweet heat in his mouth. “Oh,” he said. “It is.”

“...why are we here?” Billy whispered, his smile lit up warm in the light of the fire.

Steve leaned over and kissed him, and Billy scooted closer, leaning against his side. “I thought…” he sighed, leaning his face in his hands. “I want to start over. I want to do better.”

“You do well enough,” Billy told him, sipping at his cup, and smiling.

“I told Saint George I’d commission a marble statue of him for his chapel,” Steve confessed, “—with you as the model.”

Billy choked on his brandy, coughing.

“It needn’t be naked,” Steve whispered urgently. “I did say it would be naked, but. Perhaps the saint doesn’t wish to be seen naked?”

The brandy nearly spilled as Billy coughed harder, hitting himself in the chest. “Why,” he gasped. “Why—why would you—”

“I was speaking...aimlessly,” Steve sighed, finishing his brandy, and pouring more. “I don’t even remember all of what I promised—”

“The Captain of the Queensguard, forgetting promises?” Billy asked, smiling over, and wiping his eyes.

“I offered anything that came to mind,” Steve laughed, squeezing the cup until the edges dug into his hands. “In hopes I would find you. I expected only your...ashes,” he whispered, his vision blurring as Billy pulled him close, kissing his hair. “Anything I could think a saint might want.”

“I believe usually people offer their own deeds,” Billy whispered, smiling, and kissing his cheek. “Beasts slain. Battles won in the name of Saint George.”

“All I could think of was you,” Steve sighed, and then wheezed as Billy’s arm tightened.

Billy buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, shaking, and Steve felt a burst of fondness before realizing his husband was laughing.

“Heartless,” he whispered, kissing Billy’s curls.

“I am grateful you didn’t offer all of me,” Billy hissed, filling his cup of brandy. “Return to human sacrifice.”

“I would never offer a human being,” Steve huffed. “What use does a dead saint have for the most beautiful…” He trailed off, clearing his throat, and Billy elbowed him.

“Do not stop there,” Billy hissed.

Steve snorted. “Most faithful and loyal of knights,” he whispered back, squeezing Billy’s shoulders. “Brave, and clever, but not too wise.”

“...particularly that last,” Billy sighed, watching his brandy swirl in the cup.

“In choice of lovers,” Steve whispered, and Billy bit his lips together. “...you chose better for me than I did for myself,” Steve told him, and Billy took a deep, shaky breath.

“I love you,” Billy hissed, and Steve laughed, nodding, and squirming closer, suppressing another yawn.

“It’s returned twice fold,” Steve whispered, and Billy’s fingers tightened painfully on his shoulder.

“No, I—I need to—tell you.” Billy took a long breath, then buried his face in Steve’s neck. “I—I came to—to—I was sent.”

“Sent?” Steve repeated, questioning muzzily in the back of his head whether alcohol had been a good idea. “What do you—sent by whom?”

“When my father received your proposal,” Billy whispered against the side of Steve’s head, “—he was pleased for a—a different reason—than I. He asked that I...send him word of the happenings here, that I—” he cut off with a strange noise in the back of his throat, and Steve sat his cup aside, listening. “He had...treasonous designs...on your queen.”

Steve waited, listening, wishing he’d drunk less, and slept more. He opened his mouth, saw his husband flinch, and closed it again, leaning to kiss Billy’s curls instead. “Tell me,” he whispered.

“He sent me to spy,” said Billy, his gaze steady on the flames. “He plotted against your beloved queen, he—he planned to lead the chimera into a city—”

“Good god,” Steve breathed, imagining it. Billy flinched, closing his eyes.

Steve pulled Billy into his arms, whispering ‘thank you’s into his hair. Billy froze against him, and Steve pulled away, rewriting the past months in his head as Billy made a soft noise deep in his throat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve. “...wait,” Steve said, running his thumb over Billy’s clenched fist. “Wait. Is—is that why you—you came here—”

“I needed help,” Billy hissed back, yanking Steve closer by the sleeve. “I thought you’d listen, I thought you loved me—”

“You never told me,” Steve whispered. “Why…” he started, narrowing his eyes at them, as Billy smiled tightly and looked away. “Is that why you came? Is that why you...married me,” he asked. His stomach felt as though he was falling from a great height, and he winced, remembering Billy’s face when Steve told him to refuse the marriage.

“You sent an offer of marriage,” Billy growled back, shoving Steve’s shoulder. “Yes! I knew his plans, I needed a reason to see you, to tell you—he read every letter—I waited for—for your invitation, for a date— but then my father ordered me to—” He stopped, swallowing.

“You were stubborn with me, to save Her Majesty,” Steve mumbled through his fingers, thinking. There was a soft, light feeling in him at the thought of Billy uprooting his life to save his queen and country, but also a weight in his throat at the idea the wedding had been fake for both of them, just when he’d started to believe it was entirely real.

“For you,” Billy said.

“What,” Steve grated out.

“I betrayed my father, I—I fought the chimera, for you,” Billy said hoarsely. “I couldn’t let him...trap you, let the chimera kill you—”

“To save the queen,” Steve nodded, and Billy laughed, his voice unsteady.

“To save your queen,” he said. “She is...the kingdom, but she is—more.” His voice cracked. “To you.”

Steve thought about Her Majesty—her quick thinking when attacked, and the memory of his knee-weakening admiration for her after she leveled the crossbow, struck her target, and reloaded, calm in the face of oncoming death. His sympathetic pain for her, when she agreed to marry a woman she only knew by letter.

How much Billy knew of him, he realized, gleaned from his letters. “She’s more than my queen,” he agreed, “—but you are...more than...that. Still.”

“I win second place at the tournament,” Billy laughed, and Steve narrowed his eyes. “I miss your heart, and take a small purse of gold to pay my expenses—”

“No,” Steve hissed. “First place, in the tournament of—of my—affections.” He ignored Billy’s snort, and pressed on. “The favor is yours. My hand and my heart, rightfully won.”

“...for saving your queen?” Billy asked, watching Steve’s hand, and Steve grabbed both of his, running his thumb over his husband’s wedding ring.

“I did not think about my queen when I rode for you,” Steve whispered, cocking his head to try and catch Billy’s eye. “I wasn’t thinking of the chimera’s path, or its cave of bones, except to try and keep you from them.”

“My father lured it from the wilds,” Billy murmured, watching Steve’s thumbs stroke across his knuckles. “Killed its young—”

“You are not your father,” Steve reminded him, and Billy made a noise in his throat like he’d been punched. “You are not him,” Steve whispered, lifting Billy’s hands to his mouth to press kisses across his husband’s knuckles, and Billy yanked his hands closer, leaning in open-mouthed for firm, brandy-flavored kisses. Steve started to talk, panting for breath, but Billy laughed and crawled closer, sliding his arms around Steve’s neck, and Steve tipped back onto the rug with a huff of breath as Billy settled on his chest.

“Good evening.” The sleepy voice of their queen wafted from less than a foot behind Steve’s ear, and his whole body jerked, slopping the brandy in his face. Billy started snickering, wide-eyed, and Her Majesty sighed. “...don’t waste it.”

“I apologize for both of us,” Billy whispered, glancing guiltily behind her. “I hope we did not wake the Royal Consort?”

“You did,” said the queen, dropping to sit next to them, and gathering her robe around her. “I have been banished from the bedroom until the noise has stopped.”

“Oh no,” Steve mumbled, through his hands.

His queen grabbed the poker, and prodded the fire. “Your husband came to us the first day,” she said. “—with letters, and maps. He asked for protection.”

“Why did you keep it secret?” Steve asked, sitting his cup aside, and Billy swallowed hard, smiling at his hands.

“You barely tolerated me, I couldn’t—” he wheezed as Steve strong-armed his husband into his lap. Billy laughed, leaning into him, and submitted to being wrapped entirely in Steve’s arms and legs.

“I told him you would forgive him,” said Steve’s queen, tossing another log into the fire, and scooting closer in an undignified squat.

“By the time I thought you would forgive me for my father,” Billy said, his voice rumbling where he was pressed to Steve’s chest, “—I had been lying for months.”

“Is the noise over?” Nancy asked, her eyebrows raised, and Steve nodded, squeezing his husband tighter until he made a squeaking noise deep in his throat. She rose, stopped, looked them over, and smiled, shaking her head.

Steve watched her go, opening his mouth to ask Billy how long she’d known that their entire courtship had been a lie, then sighed, and shut his mouth again.

“What ails you,” Billy mumbled.

“You’re more important—” Steve told him, but Billy cut him off.

“More important than what,” he asked warily, tensing in Steve’s arms, and Steve sighed.

“Are we done celebrating?” he asked, squinting at his cup in the warm glow from the fire. Billy shrugged his shoulders, and Steve nodded, clambering to his feet, swaying with brandy and exhaustion, and holding his husband close.

“What now?” Billy asked, grabbing the brandy, and Steve stopped to pull him into a kiss, open mouthed and tasting of long-ago fruit from the liquor. Billy tasted of summer, and Steve closed his eyes, warm and soft between the low heat of the fire, and his husband’s sunshine. He burrowed into Billy’s neck, sliding his arms up the thin woolens they wore to sleep on cold nights, under the thick cloak of the Queensguard.

“You smell like you dried on the line,” Steve mumbled. “In the sun. Outside.”

“...I didn’t,” Billy whispered back, holding him close, and shaking a little, like he was laughing.

“Mmm,” Steve sighed, tightening his embrace to feel the soft wool, and the heat of Billy’s muscled weight against him. “Starting over.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Billy asked, letting himself be drawn back towards the door. He had the same tired giggles as before, and Steve kissed his temple, leaning their heads together for a moment before dragging him out the door, and down the hall.

“Follow the captain to make sure he doesn’t fall and drag his husband down the stairs,” said one of the guards at the door, crisply, and Steve raised his chin and ignored them even as the other one fell into step with them.

“Celebrating, this time,” Steve sighed, “—properly.”

“Will there be a feast?” Billy whispered, and Steve nodded, smirking at his own forethought.

“Of course. Our squires will have brought...bread,” he suggested, not wanting to promise anything better, in case it was indeed simply bread. Given Dustin’s disgust earlier, he suspected it might be full of mealworms.

When they reached their rooms, the platter before them bore fruit, fresh bread, and a roast pheasant, and Steve took a relieved breath. “Bless your sister, for my squire certainly didn’t supply that.”

“A feast in bed is better than our first feast,” Billy said, waving to the watchful guard as he held the door for Steve and the tray.

“Mmm,” Steve muttered, sitting the tray on the side-table, and sliding his fingers into Billy’s hair to kiss him again. He grabbed a drumstick—his stomach growled—and he pulled Billy over to his desk.

Billy mumbled inquisitively into Steve’s mouth as he was hauled around the room, waving a hand at the bed, but Steve handed him the box of replies to Billy’s letters.

“I also...if you...wish, read these,” Steve told him. “They’re probably not any good, but they’re real, I wrote them.”

Billy was very still, his gaze fixed on the pile, and Steve leaned in to press another kiss to his cheek.

“My handwriting probably suffered, by the end,” he whispered. “It wasn’t good to start with.”

“...you wrote me letters?” Billy asked, glancing back at the desk as Steve drug him towards the bed, unsteady with exhaustion.

“Read them later,” Steve told him, and Billy’s frown deepened. Steve couldn’t help imagining how Billy would crow over his honest attempts at love letters. “When I’m not around,” Steve hissed, his cheeks heating.

Billy shot him an alarmed glance, but his mouth quirked—likely at Steve’s hunched shoulders and blushing cheeks—and Steve sighed.

“I—did not mean to—deceive you,” he groaned, and Billy raised his eyebrows. “My queen—”

Billy rolled his eyes, stalking back towards the pile of letters, but let Steve catch him around the waist. He sighed. “I’ve heard enough about your queen—”

Steve tugged him over to the desk, and pushed him into the chair. Billy stared straight ahead, and Steve sat the inkwell next to his hand, then leaned to breathe in his ear. Billy startled, glaring at him, and Steve kissed his open mouth. “There,” he whispered. “Now, try and write a letter of warning, without me seeing. I’ll lean here, with my elbows on the desk—”

Billy snorted, his mouth twitching as he glanced around, and watched Steve bite into his drumstick. “She stood here?”

“Mmf. Or sat on the desk. I tried to write you about tournaments, I thought ‘I’ll challenge him, then I’ll see him, and explain—’”

“She was having none of it?” Billy asked, laughing, and Steve leaned in to lift his husband’s chin into a kiss. His lips were soft and still a little rough from the heat of the chimera’s poison, and warmer, Steve had noticed, the longer he held his husband’s face.

“She insisted I tell you I loved you,” Steve said, holding Billy’s head still when he tried to duck away. “I should read them to you now. Now they’d be true.”

“Would they?” Billy laughed, biting at Steve’s fingers. “The poems?”

Steve grimaced. “I am sorry about the sonnets—”

“Did you even read them?” Billy asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Steve said stoutly. “Yes, I did. And they were the least awkward to recite, when my queen asked which I had chosen.”

“Ohhh,” Billy nodded, sighing.

“—but the love declarations,” Steve enunciated clearly, “—they’re true. Now.”

“Maybe I’d like to hear them in your words,” Billy said, “—instead of your queen’s,” and Steve frowned at him. Billy laughed. “Am I in love with you, or your queen?” he asked. “I’ve wondered, since you explained the letters. Who told me about the treaties? He’s the captain of the Queensguard, I reasoned, he might be present—but perhaps it was queen, telling the only person she could of her frustration, because who can a queen complain to? Are both of her knights in love with their queen? How courtly.”

“No!" Steve whispered, his eyes wide with horror. "No, no, it—it wasn’t—”

“Who sent me pressed flowers from the fields south of Byerston? They arrived crumpled, but I unfurled them—” Billy cut off, laughing, and pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes reddened. “I—I researched your sketch, I found out their names, I imagined you thinking about me—”

“Billy.”

“What do I do with love letters from the queen?!” Billy shouted, flinching back from Steve’s hand. “Do I sell them? Letters penned by the queen, pretending to be in love with me?”

“Billy—” Steve said, grabbing his husband’s sleeve, and pulling him close. He'd wakened, a bit, with the way his heart was pounding. “Let me—”

“I have pressed, crumpled flowers in a book by our bed,” Billy laughed. “I imagine sometimes they’re from you.”

Steve kissed him, just a soft peck, but every time Billy opened his mouth and took a breath, he did it again. “Let me speak,” he said, once Billy’s eyes fluttered shut, and he opened his mouth to Steve’s lips.

Billy nodded, and Steve kissed him again.

“I wrote them,” he whispered, and Billy’s chin jerked up again.

“No, you said—”

“She...required I tell you...what I had told her was the truth,” Steve admitted, grimacing. “That I missed you, and loved you, and wished to wed.”

Billy took a shuddering breath, biting his lips, and Steve cupped his chin with both hands, rubbing his thumb along Billy’s lower lip.

“That is three lines, Billy,” Steve whispered. “How many letters did I write you?”

Billy shoved away. “Don’t—don’t try to make those letters about me. They were—they let you spend time with her.”

“What?” Steve squinted at him, and then grabbed for him again. “No! Billy, no, listen. I wasn’t—I wasn’t in love, but—”

Billy made a strangled noise in his throat, shaking his head, and Steve kissed his lips. “I wrote you every night while we traveled,” he whispered, and Billy nodded, wiping his eyes roughly with his sleeve.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded. “I knew when you never wrote back. Some of it was...travelling. I didn’t know where to send them.”

“I wrote whatever I was thinking at the time,” Steve told him, sighing. “Robin didn’t need to hear how I...questioned—��

“You didn’t care what I thought...of you.”

“I didn’t think you’d read them,” Steve admitted. “I...enjoyed writing you. While m—” Steve paused, awaiting a slow, half-drunken messenger from his own mind. “While the queen,” he corrected, and it felt odd in his mouth to not claim her as his very own monarch. It was worth it, though, to see Billy’s blink and slight smile. “While the queen managed treaties, or undid her royal—” he waved his hand around his head, “—diamonds and—things—behind a curtain, in the royal tent, I would write you. She would wander by, and I'd wave her off.”

Billy bit his lips together, running his fingers over the folded letters, and Steve reached down and lifted his hand to kiss it.

“Do you know the first time I ever told Her Majesty, Queen of the countries of the Wheel, to piss off?”

Billy snorted. “Never?” he asked dryly, and Steve leaned forward to whisper against his husband’s ear.

“It was while writing to you,” he breathed, and Billy shivered. “I didn’t think you’d read them,” he said again, kissing along Billy’s jaw. “I thought you’d refuse me after the first one you opened. I wasn’t trying to…” he laughed, feeling his cheeks heat. “I wrote about whatever I saw, anything I thought, anything that wasn’t a secret of state—”

“Why,” Billy whispered, shaking his head, but smiling.

“Billy of Hargrove,” Steve said, moving the box of letters aside, and dropping astride his husband’s lap, “—nobody else in the world has ever wanted to just let me talk.”

“What,” Billy laughed.

“Definitely not someone who wanted to marry me,” Steve told him, sliding his arms around Billy’s neck, and arching their bodies together as Billy took a shuddering breath, leaning his head back against the chair. “You read all that, and you… loved me,” Steve whispered. “How is that possible.”

Billy rubbed his hands up Steve’s ribs, and down to stroke his thumbs over the soft wool covering Steve’s behind. “Mmm,” he said.

“I expected more of your letters to say ‘please stop writing’,” said Steve, humming tunelessly as he ran his thumb gently along Billy’s lower lip. “None of them did. You asked about things.”

“I didn’t know what I’d finally done right,” Billy whispered, “—but I wanted to keep doing it.”

“You used your real name, for one,” Steve huffed. “How was I supposed to know? ‘Dark Knight of the Roses’ indeed.”

“I sent you roses,” Billy hissed, pinching him, and Steve swore, jerking away. Billy yelped as he was squished against the chair, and Steve started laughing. Billy shook his head, smiling.

“You didn’t tell me it was you,” Steve said, leaning back in to kiss him, lightly. “Every tournament, sending challenges…” he kissed his husband again, “—in disguises—” he laughed against Billy’s lips. “How was I to know?”

“I was in my tent! You could have come and asked,” Billy muttered, red-faced. “Robin came and laughed at me.”

“She knew!” Steve paused, blinking into the middle distance. “And—and Thomas, he knew?”

“Everyone knew,” Billy hissed. “It was not a secret!”

“I thought it was people challenging me because I’m the captain of the Queensguard,” Steve said thoughtfully, stroking his hands over Billy’s cheeks. “It never occured it was the same man, painting over his shield and picking fights with me.”

“...it wasn’t that strange,” Billy bit out, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“But it’s good you’re strange,” he said, dropping a few kisses across Billy’s freckles, and feeling them heat. “You’re so strange you wanted to listen to me.”

“Not so strange,” Billy said, and Steve kissed him until he stopped trying to talk.

“Come to bed,” Steve told him, pulling the letters away, and embracing his husband tightly. “Come and sleep.”

Billy’s eyes lingered on the letters, but he nodded and allowed himself to be drawn away and held while Steve threw the blankets back. He grabbed Steve around the waist and fell backward, yanking Steve off his feet with a startled yell.

They rolled themselves more into the center of the bed, clumsily yanking the blankets up, and Steve kissed his husband’s face in the darkness under the covers, feeling him laugh, and squirm closer.

“I liked your letters,” Billy whispered in the warm, close darkness.

“Even when I described my horse,” Steve snorted, kissing his husband’s cheek while trying to find his mouth in the dark.

“Even then,” Billy mumbled sleepily, and Steve laughed, holding him close.

There was a banging on the door, and Robin leaned in to their room, paused, and yawned, the circles under her eyes probably nearly as dark as Steve’s own. “Her Majesty requests your presence,” she said, and Steve nodded, then realized she was looking at Billy, and she had a slight grimace. “...at your leisure,” she said, when he sat up in bed with a groan, and rubbed his face.

Steve swung his legs out of bed, and she frowned at him, grimacing. “Ah,” he said, watching her, and then frowning over to see Billy’s shoulders hunch.

“Might as well get it over with,” he said, and Steve grabbed his wrist.

“What’s happening?” He glanced at Robin, then back to Billy. “What?”

Robin bit her lips, frowning at Billy, who shook his head.

“No matter,” he said, and Steve got up to walk around and squeeze his husband’s shoulders.

“Is—are you—is everything—” he tried to ask, and Robin sighed.

They stood there for a long moment, before Billy rubbed his face again, groaning. “Fine. Come along, then. Fine, you’ll— fine.”

Robin relaxed, and winked at Steve. He would have been reassured, if Billy’s hand in his wasn’t sweaty and trembling. Billy dressed in silence, glancing over, then looking away when Steve tried to catch his eye.

“I need a morning kiss,” Steve said hopefully, and Billy smiled, his shoulders loosening as he stepped closer and leaned in. It was hard to imagine, Steve thought, with his hands on his husband, and his lips on his husband’s mouth, that there had been a time he’d have hurried to his queen.

“I’m sorry,” Billy whispered, flicking a glance at Steve, then down, with a tense grin. “I’m half-wild, after all,” he laughed, and Steve cocked his head in confusion as the knock came on the door again.

“Is there anything you didn’t tell me,” he asked, cupping Billy’s face, and Billy shook his head.

“...no,” he said hesitantly.

“Then it’s fine,” Steve told him, smacking a kiss on his cheek, and dragging him out to the hall.

The queen was not in her counting house, but she was checking on her treasure, watching while the royal alchemist and bard, Byers, dipped the unicorn horn in various glassware. “...it still works,” he said. She nodded, smiling, and then saw Billy—but her expression didn’t change until she saw Steve, and he was both grateful that the frown didn’t hurt him as it once would have, and wary. Billy snorted a laugh, and Steve realized he’d stepped between his husband and everyone else.

His queen smiled, a little sadly, and led he, Billy, and Robin to a a small table, where she moved a diamond scepter aside, and dropped into a chair with a heavy sigh. She kicked off her shoes. Billy waited, tense and ready as a drawn bowstring at Steve’s side, and Steve bit his lips together, trying to resist the urge to shake everyone, and demand answers. Her Majesty steepled her fingers, regarding Billy. “You are well?”

“He’s been arrested for...inciting the chimera,” Billy said hoarsely. “—and rebellion. He’s to be...” he cleared his throat, and went on hoarsely, “--executed this morning.”

“What,” Steve whispered, squeezing his husband’s shaking, sweaty hand.

“You have done a great service to the crown,” Nancy said, and Billy snorted, setting his jaw. “...we are extremely grateful. Do you still wish to keep it between us?” She waved to Alchemist Byers, who brought over the two horns—now cleaned—on a velvet pillow.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Billy gritted out, and Steve registered that both Robin and his queen were waiting for Billy’s preference, while he curled in on himself like a porcupine.

“...your husband came to us that first day,” said Robin. “He said he had information about...a treasonous plot to…”

“I told them I had been sent to spy,” Billy said, shrugging, his smile forced. “I’ve followed their orders since.”

“We would give you public honors,” said the queen. “At a ceremony.”

Alchemist Byers grinned. “Thirteen feet tall,” he read resonantly, “—and six feet abreast—”

Steve squeezed Billy’s hand, biting back a smile at the exaggeration, but mostly at the idea of having Billy at his side, receiving honors.

Billy’s hand closed hard on his, cold and a little sweaty. “Mmn,” he said.

“I wanted to personally thank you both, and...ask,” said Her Royal Majesty, Queen of the Countries of the Wheel, but she looked a little preoccupied, Steve couldn’t help thinking. “Also, there’s...another matter.”

The Herald began again, more quietly, and Steve realized he was practicing the speech. “What is going on?” he asked, then flushed at his own familiarity. “My queen.”

“Your father has been detained for treason,” the queen told his husband, and Steve stumbled over his own tongue as he swallowed back his interruption. “His attempts at conscription have been derailed, and the ambassador is safe. Thank you for your information, and aid in this matter.”

Billy nodded, and Steve stared.

“You and yours are under our protection,” she continued, grimacing. “Particularly your squire, Max. We have arranged safe passage for her mother.”

Billy drew a shaky breath, nodding.

“She may no longer be used as ...leverage against you,” said the queen, and Billy nodded again, wiping his eyes. “You have no need of...connections made only in the name of safety,” the queen said, gently, and Steve felt like he’d swallowed more than an interruption.

“Whatever you choose to do,” Robin put in, glancing down at Steve’s outstretched hand, and biting her lips together.

“Your actions were out of desperation, and we hold no grudge,” Steve’s queen said, but she was watching him, not Billy. “—but we thought it...advisable,” she said, wincing, and exchanging a glance with Robin, “—to...ask, before celebrating the heroism of your union tonight, do you wish to—”

“Do you want to continue this marriage,” Robin interjected, and Billy started laughing, high-pitched and unsteady.

Nancy sighed, opening her mouth, and Steve grabbed Billy’s shoulder, yanking both Billy’s hands to him, and taking a deep breath.

Billy’s eyes gleamed with tears over his smirk.

“Is it a farce?” Steve asked, and Billy shrugged his shoulders, watching their clasped hands.

“Is it?” he replied hoarsely, and Steve frowned, thinking.

He clasped his fist to his heart. “In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” Steve said, thinking rapidly, and stealing liberally from his oath of knighthood, “I pledge myself, from now and forever, to this man, William of Hargrove. I declare to take freely and solemnly an oath of—of—” Steve stopped to think, as Billy stared at him, his eyes starting to shine with tears. “—an oath to love, honor, and—and trust. With this oath I state my strong and irrevocable intent to pledge my sword, my forces, my life and everything that I own to the —the love, defence, honour and further knowledge of—of this man, my husband,” he whispered, feeling Billy’s hands tighten on his.

Billy swallowed hard, setting his jaw.

“To love him and help him, his loved ones and friends with my sword, my advice, means and wealth, my credit and everything in my power, and favour him, with no exception. In freedom of mind and body I do...wish that...this man be mine,” Steve said, dispensing all the parts about spreading the word of God, and squeezing Billy’s shaking hands. “What say you, William of Hargrove?”

Billy swallowed, biting his lips together, and glanced at the throne. “...tell me what to say,” he said under his breath, his lips barely moving. “Do you want me to refuse,” he whispered, swallowing back tears.

“Say yes,” Steve hissed back, glaring, and Billy snorted a wet-sounding laugh. “If—if you want to. Only if you want to.”

“Then why didn’t you have me ask,” Billy hissed back. “You know what I want. What I’ve always wanted—”

“Then ask me!” Steve told him, loud enough that he saw Robin’s eyebrows raise out of the corner of his eye. Billy tugged at their linked hands to wipe his nose on his own wrist, and Steve waited, then stepped closer and whispered, “Ask me.”

“If you tell me no, I—I’ll—” Billy laughed again, and tears welled up in his eyes as Steve grabbed his face.

“Ask me already,” he told his husband, who was starting to giggle. “Billy,” Steve growled. “Stop laughing, and—”

“I don’t know,” Billy grinned at him, leaning in for a kiss, which Steve submitted to with bad grace, though he couldn’t help quirking his mouth at Billy’s smile. “Maybe I should make you ride for days,” Billy whispered. “...forget all about you—”

“You looked different at school,” Steve hissed, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t forget you, exactly, I had no idea you were—”

“I should make you beg for it, this time,” Billy said, and Steve sighed and dropped to one knee, which led to Billy trying to yank him back up by the hands, apologizing profusely to Steve’s queen and her guard. “I didn’t mean it! Get up,” he muttered. “Get up, stop, get up—”

“Please marry me,” Steve asked imploringly, holding Billy’s hands and belt so he couldn’t flee. “My love. My own, my—my shepherd’s pie,” he begged, as Billy tried not to lose his balance laughing. The other people in the room had stopped speaking, probably out of disbelief watching Billy try not to tip over as his husband, the honorable and renowned captain of the guard, threw both arms around his hips and sang his praises. “My, ah, my—my venison chop, my hot cross bun—”

“Stop! Stop!” Billy snickered, wiping his eyes. “Stop, stand up—”

“Not—not until you bless me with your—”

“Stop!” Billy wheezed, glancing warily at Steve’s queen, who was trying to hide a wide smile.

“Billy,” Steve said, yanking his husband’s knees so Billy yelled, and fell to kneel astride Steve’s lap, their faces almost touching. “Marry me forever. No lies.”

“No lies,” Billy repeated, leaning to try and kiss Steve’s hair.

Steve let go enough to look up. “Stay married to me? Say yes.”

“...yes,” Billy mumbled, groaning into his hand, but Steve could see his grin.

“We can have two ceremonies at once, a wedding with...medals. Honoring you for fighting the chimera,” announced the queen, smiling so brightly he loved her, for a moment, nearly as much as he loved Billy Hargrove.

Steve grappled his husband close, yanking him around enough to hear him laugh, and then kissing his hair, before stopping to clasp both hands around Billy’s jaw. “You have to say yes, at the ceremony,” he said seriously, squishing his husband's smile. “Unless you don’t want me.”

Billy nodded, leaning to breathe shakily against Steve’s shoulder. “Your proposal helped me save my sister,” he whispered, “—but that—that is not why I rode for days to see you. Before y-before I was asked to come. You were strange in the letters, I thought—I thought if I could speak to you—”

“You could find out what was happening?” Steve whispered back, embracing him to feel the tight muscles of his shoulders. He kissed the side of his husband’s neck. “...thank you for waiting,” Steve said, sighing.

“You’re slow,” Billy hissed back, his voice cracking.

“I will be faster, when next someone wishes to marry me—” Steve told him, laughing, and Billy punched him in the ribs.

“I am not allowing a harem,” he hissed, but Steve was laughing too hard to respond.

Steve awoke to the sensation of frost in his nostrils, and a chill, possibly evil wind between his toes, brushing at the hairs on his leg. “Mmph!” he whined, yanking his leg under the coverlet, whereupon Billy squawked, and shoved him back over with both feet.

“Get out of here, Jack Frost,” he hissed, and Steve huffed, yanking at the blankets.

“Let me in!” Steve growled back. “It’s freezing!”

“Stir up the fire!” Billy growled, kicking out until Steve staggered out of bed rather than land ass-first on the slate floor.

“You stir it up,” Steve muttered, stomping and shivering over to jab at the smoldering ends of the log he’d thrown in before bed. He jabbed some thinner pieces of wood into the low, glowing flames, and waited for the fire to lick around before adding another log. “Won’t even warm me up. Some husband you are.”

“Your lying letters didn’t mention you were an ice-beast of the frozen north,” Billy mumbled through the blanket, and Steve snorted, wandering around and pulling the curtains as the flames leapt up the bark of the new fuel.

“Threw me out of our marriage bed,” Steve sighed. “I love you no more.”

“Oh, yes you do,” Billy spat, then went still for a long moment, before pushing himself up on his elbows, squinting into the light as Steve forgot how cold he was, and ran to jump onto Billy’s side of the bed, crawling up over the mounds of wool and down to press kisses all over his husband’s face.

Billy rubbed his face sleepily, then narrowed his eyes.

“You know I love you,” Steve said, beaming, and Billy groaned.

“...idiot.”

“You know I am,” Steve agreed, letting himself fall forward again to kiss Billy’s cheek, and mouth, and nose, and even his eyebrows before Billy shoved him away, laughing. “I love you,” Steve whispered.

“I know,” Billy mumbled, smiling. “Come back under the covers, before you freeze.”

“Gladly, my own,” Steve said, hopping down off the bed, and crawling up under the side of the blanket, and curling around his husband as he squawked and gasped, trying to wriggle away from Steve’s shivering flesh.

“I don’t want you anymore,” he groaned, and Steve squeezed him, humming happily. Billy squirmed around in his arms to embrace him in return, sighing contentedly. “You don’t deserve me,” he whispered, shuddering without scooting away as Steve wrapped his goosebumped legs aroung Billy’s.

“That’s always been true,” Steve whispered back, and Billy laughed. “Does it change anything?” Steve asked, sliding his now-warm hand around the back of Billy’s ribs, and up his shoulder blades.

“...not if you don’t want it to,” Billy murmured, squriming closer. “Never.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, burrowing his head closer to kiss Billy’s warm mouth, and feel him grin. “I never want you to change.”

“I will,” Billy whispered. “I’m not immortal—”

Steve kissed him again, and whispered back, “I want you to always be you.”

#harringrove #Idiot knights in love #Steve goes to ridiculous lengths being ridiculous #Billy starts to believe #platypan fic

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hippiebuckyharrington · 4 years

Text

Yeah, It’s Me.

This is an almost very late birthday gift to my dear @negativenuggetz. You deserve the world, and I hope you had a wonderful birthday! Thank you for being wonderful and always cheering me up. You deserve so much more than this, but I hope you like it!! (Mind the read more)

Read here on ao3!

5. "Coffee." Steve muttered, and slid a mug toward where Billy was just staring out the tiny window in the kitchen of their apartment.

Billy smiled a little, wrapping his fingers around the warm mug. He took a grateful sip, and sighed a little. Steve always knows how to make the coffee exactly the way Billy likes it. He almost makes it better than Billy himself make it.

"You work today?" Steve asks. Billy nods. "Need a ride?"

Billy nods again. He doesn't really talk much since July a year ago. Doesn't have much to say anymore. Though that's not quite true. He's not sure he can ever explain how traumatic it was to speak in a voice that wasn't his.

"I've got work today, but I can drop you off, and then if you don't mind waiting about 45 minutes after you're done, I can pick you up again." Steve says, smiling happily. He slides some bacon and eggs over to Billy. Billy eats quietly, and Steve chatters away about something Billy doesn't listen to. He’s been distracted since last summer, and Steve never blames him for that.

Billy clears his plate, and wordlessly wanders into his room to change for work. He pulls his hair back as best he can, it's growing out since the summer, and Billy really likes its length now.

Steve is changed for work too by the time Billy is, his name tag affixed to the horrible grey shirt he has to wear at the Video Store. He's yawning and watching TV.

Billy wanders back into the kitchen to try and cobble together a lunch. He doesn't do very much of the shopping, his hours at the garage are long, and he's almost always exhausted when he gets home. Steve always shops for them. Billy always means to help more, but it never works out. He’s always so tired.

"Oh! Here." Steve calls, coming over and handing Billy a brown paper bag. Billy blinks.

"Lunch?" Steve says and shakes the bag a little at Billy.

Billy nods, and takes the sack from Steve.

"Ready to go?" Steve says, and at Billy's nod he grabs the keys and leads the way to the car.

The Camaro, Billy's first love, is still out of commission after the summer. He’d get it fixed, tow it to the garage and fix it when things are slow, but the car is collecting dust in the back drive of Cherry Lane. Billy can't get it. Much as he wants too. Neil’s got it held hostage. Steve gives him rides and seems all too happy to mother hen him but Billy misses his baby.

They pull up to the garage, and Steve smiles at Billy, bright and open. Billy's heart aches, how did Steve Harrington get so pretty.

"Have a good day! I'll be back at 7!" Steve chirps. Billy nods.

"Bye Harrington." He whispers.

Steve grins and pulls away from the curb once Billy gets out of the car. Billy clocks in and checks the list of cars, and the mechanics assigned to them.

"Hey there kiddo!" Bernie calls from the main garage.

"Good morning." Billy calls back. Bernie is Gary's wife, the two have been working at the garage for over 30 years.

Bernie chatters away all shift, but Billy doesn't mind. She talks about cars, and the people, and she doesn't care that Billy doesn't really answer.

"Your roommate drive you in?" She asks when they take their lunch break. Billy nods. He opens the paper bag and finds an apple, a sandwich, a candy bar, and a sticky note with a smiley face drawn on it. Billy rolls his eyes and starts in on the turkey sandwich.

"Roommate make the lunch too?" Bernie asks. Billy nods.

"You in love with him too, or is it just him?" Bernie asks. Billy chokes on his sandwich and gapes at her. She grins. "I ain't gonna tell anyone. I'm just askin."

"I…." He says. And then swallows thickly. "He's just… he likes taking care of people." Bernie grins.

"Sure, he does." Bernie says. "But I think yall love each other." She goes back to her cold pizza nonchalantly but Billy ignores her resolutely, desperately disputing what she's said in his head. It’s not true, Steve is straight.

He ignores her all afternoon, but when Steve's red Beemer pulls up, she wiggles her eyebrows at him and smirks. He blushes and scurries out to the waiting car.

"Hey!" Steve chirps when Billy climbs in. "How was your day?"

"Fine." Billy says, and can't help but watch Steve out of the corner of his eyes. Steve prattles on about some story at work.

Billy smiles at him a little and closes his eyes, listening to Steve complain about some annoying kid who apparently switched all the tapes and cases on the horror shelf, so he and Robin spent all shift sorting it out. It’s really nice, and Billy tries not to think about it too much.

4. Billy is drunk. Quiet drunk. Quit Drunk. Qu... Qu... Very Drunk. Whatever. He's drunk, for the first time in a while. He fumbles with his keys for ages on the front step, mostly just dropping them and picking them back up over and over.

Heather had shown up a few hours ago, barging through the apartment door and demanding that Billy join her for a party in Roan. Billy hadn't quite had a reason to say no, so he went with her. It had been loud, and exhausting. But it’d also been good, he'd drank warm, flat beer, danced with Heather, and smoked a little. And Heather had stayed sober and driven him home, and watched him carefully to see if he needed anything at the party. He’d even flirted a little. (The guy did NOT look like Steve, shuddup Heath.)

She's sitting in her car by the curb to watch and make sure he gets inside the apartment ok. She’s mostly just laughing at his many failed attempts too hard to actually help him.

He eventually does, and stumbles inside. It's dark, and he squints around. He turns and fumbles with the door trying to close it. (His foot is in the way, which takes him way too long to figure out). A light clicks on in the hallway.

"Bills?" Steve's sleepy voice calls. "You home?"

"yeps!" Billy chirps. Steve laughs.

"How ya feelin?" Steve mumbles.

"Goooooods." Billy slurs. Steve laughs and motions Billy into the kitchen.

He pulls out some leftovers from his dinner, spaghetti and garlic bread, that he heats up and slides over to Billy. Billy tucks into the food and eats quietly, this time because he’s inebriated. Steve sits at the table, adorably sleepy, in old basketball shorts and a giant stretched out hoodie, that he's pulled over his hands. He smiles softly at Billy whenever Billy looks at him.

"Tell me about the party." Steve whispers.

"Itssss fine. Loud." Billy says.

Steve nods. "I believe it. I'm glad you went."

"You are?" Billy whispers.

"Yeah, you're looking more like your old self." Steve says. Billy is too drunk to piece that bit together, so he just finishes his food.

Steve sits there and watches him for a while, knee pulled up, cheek resting on it. Billy shoves the plate away. Steve stands up and clears the plate. He ruffles Billy's hair a little on the way to the sink. Billy sighs happily, and rests his forehead on the table.

"Stevie, I'm vary drunk. Berry Drunk. Very Drink. Drunk. Issss drinked." He mutters. Steve chuckles from behind him.

"Yes, I can tell." He says.

"I'm soooooooooo sleepy. Hey Pretty Boy! Can Isss ask you something?" Billy mumbles.

"Of course, what's up?"

"Do weeeee has ice scream? Frozen milk? You know? The sugar and the cold. You know?" Billy says and then sits bolt upright. "Stevie! Oh mys god, tell me we have icescream!!"

Steve laughs. "We always have ice cream Bills." He pulls out the tub and dishes it up, sliding it to Billy again. Billy grins and digs in. Steve rolls his eyes and goes back to the dishes.

Billy almost falls asleep into his ice cream, but he finishes it. He only drops the spoon four times and he even tries to clear the dish. It's just basically a lot of fumbling around and Steve takes the bowl from him, laughing.

"Come on, bed time." Steve says, tugging Billy toward the bedrooms.

They rented this tiny two-bedroom apartment above Melvald’s after the summer, as soon as he was released from the hospital. Billy couldn't bear to live with his dad anymore, and Steve's parents kicked him out when they found out that he hadn't gotten into college.

It's got two tiny bedrooms, and one bathroom. Their furniture is all mismatched, and Billy is sleeping on a mattress on the floor, but they are out from under parents that hated them.

Steve eases Billy down onto his bed, and helps him out of his boots.

"Stevie?"

"Yes Bills?"

"I'm tired." Steve laughs.

"I know, we're getting you to bed." Steve says. "You want your jeans off?"

"You jus' tryin tah get me nekkkkkkid." Billy slurs, doing that closed eye drunk squint thing.

Steve laughs. "Sure, that's what I'm trying to do." The sarcasm is lost on Billy, but he’s not really paying attention.

He hauls Billy up, and helps him undo his button and fly, then slide out of the jeans. (Billy had worn underwear to the party because he knew he wouldn’t be getting any.)

Steve has to basically shove him back onto the bed, and he pulls the covers over Billy.

"Goodnight Bills." Steve whispers, and combs his fingers through Billy's hair for a minute. Billy's eyelids droop.

He's asleep before Steve even leaves the room.

"So, this boy put you to bed?" Bernie creaks the next day, in her raspy voice.

"Yeah." Billy says.

"Fed you, took off your pants, shoes, and put you to bed?" She asks, one eye brow creeping up.

"Yeah?" Billy says, eating the sandwich Steve made him.

"Boy, that man loves you." Bernie says. Billy rolls his eyes.

"He does not, straight remember?"

"Sure, he is, you keep thinking that." Bernie says, getting up to greet a haggard looking man walking toward the garage.

3. "Ok, so, I work all weekend, but the kids wanted to come over Saturday night, for movies. Dustin already gave me a list." Steve says, eyeing the notebook page where he'd scribbled his schedule. "I know they are a lot, but Max misses you."

"Ok." Billy says, and then slides the piece of paper with his schedule over to Steve.

They do this every two weeks, when they get their new schedules. Billy needs rides, he doesn't like the bus, and his coworkers can't pick him up often. Bernie takes him home sometimes, but Steve doesn't mind helping.

"Holy crap, Billy! Why are you working like 10 hours on Saturday?!" Steve cries, gaping at Billy's schedule.

"Only time we could get the school buses in for detailing before school starts." Billy mumbles.

"It's Hawkins, there's like four school buses." Steve mutters.

"They take a while, and we have some other cars that need finishing." Billy says. Steve sighs.

"That sounds like hell. Well, I can take you to work, and pick you up if you want that day, Tuesdays and Wednesdays you'll need a ride home." Steve says. Billy nods and makes a note on his schedule to ask Bernie, or maybe Sam. Sam works at the garage too, but he's attending college a few towns over, so he can't work as often.

Steve moves on, puttering around the kitchen making a grocery list, and Billy drifts off to read on the couch.

The week passes like usual. Work is busy, but Billy loves getting a car running again. He also rarely deals with clients. People expect a certain amount of brusqueness from their mechanic, and they don't mind if he doesn't talk much as long as the cars run again.

Saturday morning, he and Steve get up bright and early. Steve gets ready for work, makes them both lunch and coffee. He takes Billy to his job, two hours before Steve has to be at his own.

The school buses are all nightmares, and even with Sam, Bernie, Gary, and Billy all working on one, it takes them nearly the whole shift to get them working again on the school’s budget. They also get two of the really nice cars in from Loch Nora, for oil changes, but their owners demand full inspections. By the time the shift is over, all of them are exhausted, sacked out around the break room, with the fans going full blast. They all have shoved their coveralls down to their waists, and everyone's under shirts are riding up.

"Are those from…" Sam asks. Billy glances down and sees the edges of his scars peeking out under his white tank. He blows out a slow breath.

"Ay! Sam! Fuckin' rude man!!!" Bernie snaps, her usually cheerful demeanor squashed by so many hours working.

Sam looks sheepish and goes back to standing in front of the fan.

The official public story is that Billy was caught in the mall fire rescuing El and the kids. He was badly burned and had to be in ICU of the hospital for three weeks. That's all people know.

Billy self-consciously pulls down his tank and drops his head back to the couch.

"Billy?" Steve calls.

"We're in here hun!" Bernie calls. She's known Steve for years, her daughter used to babysit him when he was little.

"Hey Mrs. Hannan, Mr. Hannan." Steve says.

"You can call me Bernie; we've been over this honey." Bernie says. Steve rolls his eyes and nods. Gary nods at him, but doesn't say anything, he's exhausted.

"Ready to go Billy?" Steve asks. Billy nods and gets up, nodding to everyone.

"See you Monday Billy." Bernie calls. Billy nods again and follows Steve to the car. They are both quiet on the way home, Steve knows Billy is drop dead tired.

Once they get home, Billy nods at the kids piled all over the couch and heads to the shower. Max waves and settles back against Lucas.

Billy takes a long shower, trying to work all the grease out of his hair. He doesn't quite manage it, but he gives up when the water runs cold. He hops out of the shower, slinging the towel around his waist. He wipes off the mirror and stares. The scars have fades to pale pink right now, but they are raised and a little lumpy. He sighs, hating them. But the doctors said there was nothing they could do for them. He just has to live with them.

He pulls on a comfy shirt and flannel sleep pants. Billy steps out of the bathroom and tosses his work clothes toward the laundry pile in his room.

"Billy? Dinner's ready!" Steve calls.

Billy doesn't reply just heads to the kitchen. He stops short in the doorway. Steve is fighting back the kids from the piles of food on the table, armed with an apron and a spatula. One plate is piled with steamed broccoli covered in cheese, steaming still. Another is filled with crispy breaded fish, and there is a mountain of French fries next to it.

"I said wait! Billy gets to get food first!" Steve says, physically holding Dustin back.

"But I'm hungry!" Dustin whines.

"Tough shit, you guys are animals. Jesus." Steve says, and then grins at Billy.

"Hey! Come get food! These kids are gonna demolish this." Steve says, glaring at Lucas when he moves closer. El giggles.

Billy walks over and grabs one of their mismatched plates. He takes several pieces of fish, handfuls of fries, and a huge serving of broccoli. The second he clears the table, Steve sighs.

"Alright, go ahead you monsters." Steve says, and steps back as the kids swarm the table. Billy sinks onto the couch, and takes the cold beer Steve hands him. Billy takes a careful bite of the fish, and nearly groans at the taste.

"Is it good? I asked my aunt in Maine for the recipe, she used to live in Cali. Finding fresh Cod was a bitch. Is it good?" Steve asks softly. Billy nods.

"I love fish and chips, and broccoli." Billy says. Steve smiles.

"I know, I asked Max what your favorite food was. Your day was so crazy, I wanted to make you something good for ya." Steve say, and then leaps up to break up Mike and Dustin, who are fighting over the food.

Billy frowns at his food, but he's too tired to wonder why Steve went to all this trouble. He doesn't know where one would even buy fish in Hawkins, but it's the freshest he's had in a while. (Still not as fresh as Cali, but fresh for Indiana.)

He's so tired, and the food is perfect, so he shrugs it off and tucks in to his dinner. The kids all pile on the couch or floor with their plates and Steve puts in some alien movie that the kids watch raptly. Billy falls asleep half way through, with Max leaning against his side. Steve helps him to bed again, smiling softly.

Bernie cackles on Monday when Billy tells her about the dinner, and mutters at him about roommates and being in love. Billy wonders how life got to the point where his best friend is a fifty-year-old mechanic. Her and his roommate. Life is weird.

2. Billy has come a long way in the months since the July 4th battle. He saw a therapist for a while, and still goes in every few weeks for check ins. He took his meds diligently, and was given a prescription for depression and anxiety, that he mostly doesn't take, it's for emergencies.

Billy probably should have taken one before bed. He'd been yelled at by a rich housewife, who thought he'd broken her car (he hadn't), then Sam had dropped an entire tool box, causing Billy to startle so bad he'd spilled hot coffee all down his front. That had immediately reminded his of constantly being scalding hot with the monster in his brain. Then he'd dropped a tool on his foot. To top it all off, he'd forgot to tell Steve that he worked later today, so Steve wasn't able to pick him up, and Billy had had to catch Hawkins’ only bus, which was crowded and awful. Billy was quiet all through dinner and had gone straight to bed after, falling into an exhausted sleep.

It hadn't been peaceful for long.

In the nightmare, Billy was walking through the mall, begging the Mind Flayer not to do it, to find someone else. It had whispered in its horrible voice, that Billy was the best choice, and together they would create perfection. Billy was so tired, and couldn't fight. Couldn't fight as it killed the kids, one by one, Max last. He'd screamed, begged her to run, but she hadn't, couldn’t. But then the mind flayer dragged Steve, bruised and bloody, forward. Billy had screamed and fought, begging not to kill Steve. The mind flayer hadn't cared, and had bent to kill him.

Billy sat bolt upright with a scream, clawing at the shirt plastered to his chest with sweat. The light in the hallway clicked on, and the door banged open as Steve rushed in. Billy jumped and pressed himself into the corner, staring in horror at Steve.

"Billy, it's me, you're safe." Steve whispers, crouching near the bed.

"Steve…." Billy breathes.

"It was just a nightmare, you're ok." Steve says. He gets up quickly, turning on the floor lamp in the corner, and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few seconds later with a glass of water. He sets it near Billy, but doesn't hand it to him. Billy would be grateful if he had any thoughts to spare.

He chugs the water, and the looks at Steve for a long moment.

"You ok?" Steve whispers.

Billy takes a deep breath. "Mind flayer is gone right?" Billy whispers. Steve nods.

"Yep, we killed it, don't worry. We got it." Steve whispers. Billy nods.

"It was just a nightmare, I promise, you're safe." Steve says again.

"Don't think I can sleep anymore." Billy whispers a few minutes later. Steve frowns, checking the clock, proudly displaying one am.

"You need to sleep Bills." Steve whispers.

"Can't. Nightmares travel in packs." Billy mutters. Steve laughs.

"What if I stay?" Steve whispers.

Billy levels him with a look. "I'll sleep on the floor, but sometimes having someone nearby can really help." Steve whispers. Billy sighs.

"If you need to." He whispers.

Steve smiles, and gets up. He leaves the hall light on, and then turns out the light in Billy's room. Billy lies down, and wordlessly lifts the covers to let Steve in. Steve slides beneath the covers and sighs. "Not a word Harrington." Billy grumbles. Steve chuckles lowly.

"Wasn't gonna tell a soul, but we've been living together for too long for you to call me Harrington again." Steve mutters.

Billy just grunts. "Go to sleep Bills."

"You sleep, Stevie." Billy mutters.

They both lie there for a while, and Billy's head spins. Steve is here, in his bed, breathing softly. Which brings up the whole mess Billy has been ignoring for too long: that he's utterly gone on Steve Harrington. Has been since first seeing him a year ago on the basketball court, all sweaty and flustered.

And it's only gotten worse since moving in together.

Although, its mellowed slightly. In high school, Billy wanted to fuck Steve's brains out, or maybe have Steve fuck his brains out. Either way, Billy only really wanted to have sex with Steve. But since the mind flayer, and almost dying, and then moving in with Steve, the feelings have mellowed.

It's more focused on Steve himself. Billy wants a life together, to share a bed with Steve, to hold him, to be held by him at night. To sit next to him on the couch and lean into him, because he's exhausted. To hold his hand on the car ride home, to kiss him quick when he gets home. To go out with Robin and Heather to restaurants, so that they can go on dates. He wants the freedom to roll over right now and throw his arms over Steve, snuggling closer.

"You ok, Billy?" Steve whispers.

"I thought you were asleep pretty boy." Billy mutters.

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. Billy rolls his eyes. Steve chuckles.

"I practically felt you roll your eyes." Steve sasses. Billy chuckles a little. They lapse into silence again.

"I'm not gonna bite ya, Bills." Steve mumbles.

"I know." Billy whispers. Steve shifts around until he's lying on his side facing Billy.

"Go to sleep, you look exhausted." Steve whispers.

"Thanks, Steve." Billy snarks. Steve laughs.

"Fine, I'm exhausted. So quit thinking and go to bed." Steve snaps. Billy laughs, and takes a deep breath. Steve's eyes have dropped closed, fluffy hair flopped around the pillow, and long lashes dusting his cheeks. Billy takes a slow breath, trying to match the rhythm of Steve’s.

His eyes drop closed, and before he knows it, he's asleep.

Billy wakes up to Steve's alarm blaring in the other room, snuggled into Steve's arms.

"I can feel you overthinking, already." Steve mutters. "Give me a minute, I didn't want to get up and wake you." Steve squeezes Billy tight for a moment.

Then he gets up and goes running into his room to dress for work. Billy sits alone in his room, trying desperately to find his footing again.

Steve doesn't bring it up at breakfast though, or for the rest of the day, so Billy grudgingly leaves it alone.

1. Billy sort of falls into a downward spiral after that night. He withdrew more into himself over the next weeks, and is quiet at work, home, and everywhere in between. He had nightmares every night. And every night Steve slipped into his bed and held him. Billy pretended it didn't mean anything, but he clung to Steve.

"You don't have to talk about it." Steve whispered one night, running his fingers through Billy's hair. "But I'm here if you want to."

Billy nodded a little, and pressed closer, letting himself have this comfort, as much as he could.

"I'm scared." Billy confessed, a little while later. Steve was quiet, but Billy could tell he was listening. "I'm scared it'll come back, and that it'll make me hurt you and the kids."

"Oh Bills." Steve says, pulling Billy closer. "It's gone we got it, killed it, closed the gate. And even if it came back, we'd stop it again." Steve pulls back a little and looks Billy dead in the eye. "I will always come to find you, always. I promise." Only Steve can look this serious at butt fuck o’clock in the morning, talking Billy down from nightmares. Billy sighs and snuggles closer.

"I'm gonna hold you to that Harrington."

"You got it Hargrove."

They curl around each other and fall asleep like that.

Eventually Steve just starts going to bed in Billy's bed, which finally stops the nightmares.

Billy feels like maybe it's something they should talk about, something they should address. But Steve doesn't bring it up, just continues to live his life like normal, so Billy does as well.

But every morning he wakes up in Steve's arms, it's hard to remember that they aren't together like that. And that Steve is straight.

As October wears on, it's hard to remember that they haven't always done this. Billy tries really hard not to think about it, but it's almost constantly on his mind.

"You ok?" Bernie asks on their lunch break. Billy just grunts. "That aint an answer."

Billy sighs, and mumbles an answer under his breath.

"Didn't quite catch that hun." Bernie says, far too chipper.

"’M in love with my roommate." Billy mutters, and pauses, holding his breath. He can feel his heart pounding. Coming out in the past has not gone great for him.

Bernie whoops and thumps his shoulder. "Damn right you are!!" Billy raises an eyebrow at her. People in California were a little more liberal with this, they didn't care much. (In some neighborhoods they did, but in most they didn't). But this is a small-town Indiana: they aren't the most openminded people.

But Bernie is smiling so big, Billy's a little worried she's gonna hurt herself.

"So, you two handsome young men together yet or what?" Bernie asks. Billy rolls his eyes.

"Gross Bernie. He's straight remember?" Billy says. Bernie rolls her eyes.

"Please, I've seen the way he watches you, he's not straight."

"Creepy Bern." Billy says. Bernie grins and bumps their shoulders together.

"I think he's in love with you, that's all I'm saying." Bernie says.

They sit in silence for a while, Bernie munching on her pretzels, Billy eating his apple and mulling that over.

"Bernie?" Billy asks.

"Yes, Honey?" She says immediately. Billy is struck by how much she's like a mom to him, and how much he appreciates it.

"You don't mind that I'm…." Billy trails off.

"Oh honey, of course not. My daughter, you remember Shawna?" She asks. Billy has met Shawna like one time, she lives in Seattle. Billy isn't sure what she does. "Shawna lives with her girlfriend in Seattle. Shawna is a lawyer out there, and Christina is a teacher." Bernie sighs a little. "They have to pretend to be roommates, but me and Gary know that they are together. I love her with my whole heart, no matter who she loves."

Billy blinks a few times and accepts the hug Bernie pulls him into.

"You're wonderful, don't let anyone tell you different." She murmurs and then releases him and gets back to work.

Billy thinks about it all day, and on the entire bus ride home. It’s funny how casually Bernie said something that he’s gonna think about for the rest of his life.

He unlocks the door at home and steps in to see Robin and Heather curled together on the couch, and Steve sitting in the sagging armchair.

"Hey Bills, how was work?" Steve asks. Heather and Robin twist around and grin at him.

"Fine. Hi Heath, Buckley, what are you all doing here?" Billy mumbles.

"Steve asked us over for movies." Robin says.

"Yeah, I wanted to be around their gross happiness." Steve snarks.

"Gross happiness?" Billy asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"I asked her out like a month ago, and she said yes. Which you'd know if you hung out with me anymore." Heather snarks. Billy grins at them.

"Sorry, work." He says, and goes to shower.

When he gets out, the others have ordered pizza and are gathered around the coffee table. They don't hear Billy coming back down the hall way.

"Come on Steve, just tell him. Yall already sleep in the same damn bed, I think he's there." Robin says. Heather nods.

"You are the only person he trusts; I swear, I think he's into you too." Heather says, shoving pizza in her face.

Billy backs up and deliberately steps on the trick board in the hall way.

By the time he rounds the corner, Steve has a plate of pizza ready for him. Billy sits down and smiles at him.

"You've got some grease in your hair, Bills." Steve says, reaching out to comb it out with his fingers. It's a little stuck in there, but Steve gets it eventually. Billy is helpless to do anything but stare at Steve the whole time.

He blushes a little when Steve finally looks away. Robin and Heather shoot Steve meaningful looks, and everyone turns back to their pizza.

After their meal, Robin puts on the Breakfast Club, and curls up with Heather on the couch. Steve settles back in his chair, Billy leaning against it. Steve reaches down and gently kneads the sore muscles of Billy's shoulder, without being asked.

Billy tries very hard to forget what he heard. But his mind whirs the entire time, wondering if Bernie was right. And what Heather and Robin possibly meant by what they said.

+1. Billy wakes up at eleven on his day off to some moron honking out in the parking lot behind Melvald’s. Billy's window faces the parking lot, and the honking literally will not stop. Billy groans and glances over at the other side of the bed. It's empty, which is odd, because he always wakes up to Steve. He frowns and stands up, the hoking continuing behind him. He turns to peer out the window, ready to flip off whoever is honking. His jaw drops when he sees what's outside.

Billy grabs his boots and puts them on while trying to run to the door. He falls a few times and barely makes it down the stairs without dying. But he stops short on the gravel of the parking lot and gapes at the car sitting there. Steve climbs out of the driver’s side and Max jumps out of the passenger seat, both grinning.

"Holy shit." He whispers. Steve's smile stretches a little wider.

"Surprise!" Steve cries, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Billy is speechless, gaping at the car.

Max apparently can't keep quiet anymore, she's practically vibrating with excitement. "We got it back from Neil, for your birthday!!! I had Mrs. Hannan at the garage fix it up during your off days, or the days you wouldn't notice. It runs like new and Neil gave me the keys." Max cries. Billy really thinks he might cry.

"You got my Camaro back." He whispers. Steve nods.

"It was all Max really. I was telling her that I wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday. She suggested getting the car back." Steve says.

"How?" Billy whispers.

Max sighs a little bit, and smiles. "I just kept bringing it up that it was taking up space every day for a while." She smirks. "He hates clutter, you know that. So, one day he was standing there glaring at it, so I said maybe Steve wanted it."

Steve jumps in. "I drove over there and bought the car. Max and I drove it to the garage and talked to Mrs. Hannan. She promised to fix it. It was done yesterday, but I wanted to wait until today." Steve says. He tosses Billy the keys, and Billy smoothly catches them. He just stares transfixed at the car.

"She's here." He whispers. Steve and Max crack up.

Max runs over and hugs him hard. "Happy Birthday, Billy. I love you." She says in a whisper.

"I love you too." Billy says. "Thank you."

"Of course, you earned it." Max says.

"I forgot it's my birthday." He whispers. Max laughs.

"It's ok, you've been working so much.” She doesn’t say that he’s been through a lot, but they all know it. “But Steve remembered, and I did, so don't worry."

Billy hugs her again, and walks up to the car, trailing finger tips on her hood.

"I'm gonna take Max back to the Wheelers’ house. Go driving, I know you want to." Steve says, grinning, and jumps back into his own car. Billy wonders briefly if he caught the bus to the garage or something to pick up the Camaro.

Billy slides into the car and can't keep the smile off his face as he peels out of the lot. He whoops and goes flying down the dirt roads near Hawkins like he used to.

He had worried that being back in the car would bring up bad memories, but it doesn't. It's just freedom, and wonderful.

He drives for an hour and a half before he goes back home. He's exhilarated when he gets back, and baking the car into a spot next to Steve’s makes his smile stretch.

He's still grinning when he walks back inside. Steve is sitting on the couch and grins back.

"Good to have the Camaro back?" Steve asks. Billy nods.

"Hell yeah. Thank you, Stevie." Billy says.

Steve just beams, and then turns back to the TV. Billy hangs his keys up on the other hook by the door, and settles on the couch to watch too.

Steve gets up later to figure out dinner, and Billy goes to his room to grab his book. He doesn’t mind a lowkey birthday, because just him and Steve is perfect. There’s a wrapped package sitting on his pillow.

Billy goes to open it, but stops and opens the card.

Bills, I know I got ya the Camaro back, but I thought you should have this too, cause it’s your birthday.

Love, Steve

Billy gapes at the card. Then it all sorta slots into place. All the little things Steve does for him. The rides, the lunches with sticky notes with silly doodles, the dinners made painstakingly from scratch, the casual touches and the way Steve mother hens him always. They are sleeping in the same bed for god’s sake!

Steve got his car back, from Neil who surely didn’t offer a fair price. Billy rips open the package and swallows when he finds a new Stephen King novel, and several new pairs of earrings. A dangling spike like the one he lost last July, a skull post earring set, and two sets of silver hoops with thin dangly knives and feathers respectively.

Billy swallows and dashes out to the kitchen, where Steve is comparing two take out menus.

“Hey Bills, you want Chinese or Thai?” Steve says.

“You love me.” Billy whispers, still in shock.

Steve sighs and sets the menus down. “Listen, I don’t need anything more, I’m so happy with what we’ve got now, like seriously, so happy. I totally get it if you aren’t into me, it’s all good. I’m fine, I just want you to be happy.”

“You’re straight?” Billy mumbles.

“No? I’m bi. I like both? I came out to you when we moved in?” Steve says. Billy believes him, but he hardly remembers that.

“Oh.” He says. Steve frowns.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel any pressure, I can move back to my own bed.” Steve mutters.

“I kinda thought we’d move to your room. Your bed is better.” Billy says, that old snark making an appearance. Steve’s head snaps up.

“What?” He says. Billy crosses over to him and grabs the front of his shirt.

“I’m in love with you too.” Billy whispers. Steve’s eyes widened.

“It’s you, and I can’t believe it took me almost a year of living with you to see it, but we have spent too long apart.” Billy whispers. They both sway toward each other, mouths meeting in the middle. Steve’s arms wrap around him, and Billy holds on tight.

“I love you.” Steve says, breathless.

“I love you too.” Billy replies, and holds one tight. They don’t need any more words.

The transition from roommates to boyfriends is seamless. They do move into Steve’s room, and turn Billy’s old one into a guest room. The sex is great, when they eventually get there. Being openly loved by Steve doesn’t magically solve Billy’s body issues, but Steve is patient, loving, and wonderful.

The kids are all disgusted and simultaneously glad. Robin and Heather apparently have been betting on how long it would take them to get together. (Heather made 20 bucks.) Bernie whoops so loud when Billy tells her, that Gary comes running down from the upstairs office to make sure nothing bad has happened.

She crushes him into a hug and Billy holds on just as tight. “You deserve this, every moment of it! You deserve the world and that boy is gonna give it to you.” She cries. Billy laughs, and when Steve picks him up, Bernie wolf whistles until Steve kisses him, right there in the garage.

#Harringrove #HAPPY BIRTHDAY #roommates #pining #5+1 things

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cockasinthebird · 4 years

Text

Drama Club AU

First kiss

There's undoubtedly a lot of “almost kisses”.

Someone asked, and this got long AF so I’mma just put it under the cut

The first time, Steve trips over a cable that's in the way of his mark, and oh no Billy totally didn't put it there just to be annoying, whoops, but then- by reflex, as Steve's foot gets caught and he falls, Billy catches him.

And oh no Billy's like really fucking strong, the way he just holds on to Steve like he weighs nothing.

And oh fuck Steve is like really fucking pretty up this close, those dark honeyed eyes and beauty marks, even in the too-bright light of the spots hanging above them.

There's a magnetic feeling between them.

But then someone runs over to ask if they're ok and the feeling is gone and Steve stands back up.

Doesn't shout at Billy or get all mad for being in the way as usual. Just straightens out his brightly colored polo and says something like “Yeah, just wasn't looking where I was going, don't worry.”

And doesn't look at Billy the same way for the rest of practice.

The second time it almost happens, Billy's walking around with a tall stack of boxes filled with costumes that needs to be put away.

People ask if he needs a hand or anything but “nah it weighs basically nothing.”

Steve's staring at the script, mind occupied only by that as he mumbles his lines and trots back and forth backstage, nearly carving his route into the floor there.

And they don't notice each other till after the chaotic tumble to the floor, papers flying, boxes opening up to spill their contents all over the floor.

All over where Steve and Billy land, together.

Billy on top, heavy and muscular and pressed against Steve with all his weight. Removes the green shirt that blinds him to see Steve there, face framed by a bright pink feather boa that has fallen around his bright pink face.

All very meet-cute I know and I fucking love it, fight me

They can feel each other's rapid heart beat, feel the magnetism again, like they're caught in one another's gravitational orbit.

It's very clear on Billy's face that he's thinking- considering something. Bites at his lower lip, looks down at Steve's perfect mouth.

And Steve simply... waits. Flat on his back, eyes staring up at the blue waters that are obviously staring at his mouth, pays close attention to how warm Billy's body is, as he continues waiting for the other to make a move.

It's as quiet as the grave here, where they are all alone.

But Billy moves away, stands up and starts gathering everything, apologizes for not having seen Harrington walking there, despite how he usually always knows where he is.

Steve helps gather up the stuff, eyes going quickly between the scattered costumes and Billy's golden hair.

Their fingers meet and it's the first time they look into each others eyes again after having gotten up. And they freeze there, just for a moment before Steve moves his fingers closer, into the heat and up the skin, the sensation there tingling. Then Billy moves away, again.

At that Steve stands up, gathers his papers and tries not to run as he goes for the dressing room, slams the door and locks it, back pressed to it. Mind a confusing jungle, heart racing, skin tingling.

Billy will remember this tonight. Will remember Steve when he's asleep.

Steve starts noticing how Billy's always in the way somehow, whether directly or by proxy, when he leaves a few tools accidentally on Steve's dressing table, more cables on his marks, purposefully walks in the way when they pass backstage, always grinning.

But he can give as good as he gets. Starts hiding the tools to send Billy out on a wild goose chase, steps on the cables as Billy's trying to pick them up, whoops, leaves his own stuff all around on things that Billy has to move, doesn't step aside when Billy's carrying something a bit too heavy and needs to pass.

One time, Steve's sitting on a prop that has just finished drying after having been painted, talking to a co-star, when Billy approaches.

“Have to move this,” he says and gestures to whatever it is Steve's sitting on top of.

The girl leaves with an alluring smile meant for Billy, but he doesn't care right now, because Harrington's not moving.

“Get off.”

“Why? I'm taking a well earned break, gotta rest often since I am the male lead, after all.” All cocky.

Billy's tired, he's been lifting all kinds of extra heavy shit today, won't even have the energy to lift weights at home later. And there's clear anger in his eyes, born of exhaustion and fed by the way Steve's smirking.

Puts his hands on either side of Steve's hips. Leans in, hips between knees, noses a hair's width away.

So close, that Billy can smell the expensive shampoo Steve uses, and whatever it is that keeps that dark, luscious hair standing the way it does.

So close, that they can taste each others breaths, feel each exhale against their lips, the heat that builds.

They have never been so close.

Steve looks down at where he can practically already feel that mustache tickle. “Fine.”

And they linger for just a few seconds too many after that one word, before Steve jumps off and walks away, looking back to see Billy staring.

There would be plenty other times like this.

But the first time they kiss is after Billy's been accepted as Steve's understudy.

They've grown closer, fast, but still not friends, because friends don't look at each other this way, don't look over shoulders or through the corners of their eyes.

All that changed, though, when Billy becomes an actual threat to Steve's stardom. And Steve's seething, quietly of course, with rage when the teacher tells him to help Billy learn all the moves and lines before the big opening, and that yes he has to, show some camaraderie, Harrington! We're all a big family here, and we support each other.

But Billy's got a lot to learn still, in general about the whole theatre thing, because he knows nothing besides how to angle the light right and a natural born singing skill.

And Steve got a big empty house. And he asks if Billy wants to come over for practice, loudly, to make sure the teacher knows how seriously he's taking this.

Considers sabotaging Billy, play with him a bit and make him squirm under Steve's superior artistry and expertise. But no, he... he doesn't want Billy to feel bad or self conscious, not sure why he feels that way though, but he'll be nice enough.

Billy's heart all racing, sitting in the camaro and fixing his hair. Hopefully no one saw him come this way, if anyone sees his car in front of the Harrington mansion, rumors will grow. Can't decide if he should open a button more on his shirt, or if it's low enough to show off his tanned pecs.

Then they're in the living room. Steve doesn't want to bring them upstairs into his bedroom, no that would be too... personal. And this isn't personal, the two of them all alone, no this is just acting.

But Billy can't focus for shit.

Steve decided to play the romantic lead, his female counterpart, for the sake of getting Billy used to having to play off of another person like this, and it's just easier to know when to talk when another person reads aloud the other half of the dialogue.

And it is enchanting to watch Steve lose himself in a role, so deeply devoted, knows absolutely every single line, word and punctuation to the script of whatever they're rehearsing. Oh how he moves so elegantly, speaks so eloquently, it is obvious that he was born to do this.

Of course it's irritating to be ogled this way... or is it thrilling? Steve keeps going, Billy keeps following, and Steve knows where this scene is headed, what's soon to come up.

Wonders if Billy will go through with it. Hopes.

Stands as close to Billy as he can without anything touching, and recites the line in the script saying: “and then they kiss.”

And he waits, wants to move in those few remaining inches, wants to feel that stupid fucking mustache. His heart beats on his lungs like drums, an internal drum roll that deafens him and he bets that Billy hears it too; must be able to sense it vibrating through the air.

Billy's never been hotter, as in the heat here is worse than any summer day back in California. Jaw tense, heart in his throat. Knows what he wants to do, what he should do- what he should practice, according to the script. Fucking do it Hargrove, fucking just, do it. Do it!

And it is the most intense thing he's ever felt, grabbing Steve by the face and pushing himself into those lips. Those lips, those lips... they've been haunting his dreams, accompanied by those dark eyes, skin full of moles and beauty marks. It's as if he's been hungry for years and can finally eat.

Steve's... speechless... wants to touch- can he touch? The body heat, the muscles, the weight of him, all things he remembers so vividly, from when Billy fell on top of him, from dreams. And he tries, cautiously, grabs lightly on the red shirt, hand clutching the fabric, pulling him closer.

And Billy lets himself get pulled closer and closer and closer, till their bodies align like the stars in the sky. Feels like he's soaring up there now, when Steve opens his mouth to invite him in.

Their heart beats sync up, skin burns wherever it touches, lips together like pieces of a puzzle that paints such a pretty picture.

#Oh man #Theatre Kids AU #Drama Club AU #Whichever works #Harringrove #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #First kiss #Long post tho #Stranger things #AU #Drama Club #Theatre #My Writing #Katerdaddy asked #@Katerdaddy #I am in love with this AU #Fight me #Please

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flippyspoon · 5 years

Note

“and then everything just disappears.” for the prompt

Steve was asleep like this happened everyday.

If Billy hadn’t known this was still Hawkins, Indiana, he might have thought that was true.

It was shocking enough that King Steve “The Hair” Harrington had up and kissed him. For all Billy knew, Steve got it on with guys left and right. Although he’d never heard a rumor.

They were still naked in Steve’s bed.

“Stay,” Steve had murmured, before dozing off.

You didn’t have to tell Billy twice. Now he swallowed, his gaze still fixed on Steve in the dim light of the bedroom.

Steve had kissed him everywhere, even along the hard ridges of his scars. Steve had looked at him like he wasn’t a monster.

It had been so sudden. They’d just been watching Animal House (again) and as the credits rolled, Steve had stared at him. Billy had allowed himself to stare back.

They hadn’t said a word which Billy figured was better. He had no idea what the rules going to be or what Steve was going to say now. All he knew was, they were friends and hopefully they still would at least be that.

He had been holding it together pretty good for a while now. In fact, he was doing pretty well. He had a job he didn’t hate and he still went to therapy once a week because he knew now how to handle his shit. And sometimes there was shit.

“There’s always going to be shit,” Owens had said once, shrugging.

If Steve flipped and pushed him away, that would be an epic amount of shit.

The thing was, he was pretty sure Steve wasn’t going to.

Hmm.

Billy chewed his lip, enchanted by Steve’s nose, the tiny moles on his cheek, his soft hair…

The sex had been great but just a little bit hurried.

Billy hadn’t gotten the chance to do what he was now thinking of doing, even if he’d had the courage.

But Steve was dead asleep.

So Billy reached over and ever so softly stroked Steve’s hair. It was soft. His own hair was soft too, what there was of it. It was still growing out from having been buzzed short by the doctors. It curled past his ears now. Steve had said he liked it.

Steve sighed in his sleep and it startled Billy who yanked his hand back.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled softly at Billy, scooting closer atop the sheets. “Mmm. Are you alright? Can you sleep?”

Could he sleep? The dude he’d considered an untouchable dream since his first day in Hawkins was just now cozying up him, gently resting a hand on his chest and absently tracing one of his uglier scars.

“Mm, I dunno,” Billy mumbled.

He sounded as awkward and shy as he had when he’d first come back from the hospital. He’d been like a different person and now he was a different person still. When he was relaxed and hanging out with Max or Steve or Robin nowadays, he felt the most like himself. He could kid around and tease with a sharp tongue and sometimes be grumpy and sometimes cackle with glee and other times he was quiet and content or a little dark and broody and that was also him now, apparently.

“Are you hungry?” Steve said, his brow furrowed with worry. His leg was rubbing up against Billy’s. He craned his neck to kiss Billy’s shoulder.

“Um, no…”

Steve looked at him, seeming worried. But then he smiled, chuckling. “Are you sure this is alright? If this isn’t cool-”

“No, I...it’s cool. It’s good.” His voice was too loud suddenly. He reached up to take Steve’s hand as if holding him there.

“Okay,” Steve whispered.

They rested there silently awhile and the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Dr. Owens or one of the shrinks who was always trying to explain how he might deal with feelings and situations these days pestered him in his head.

There were a lot of conversations about feelings in therapy.

“You’re good at feeling emotions, Billy,” Dr. Owens had said. “No problem there. We just need to figure out how you can express them in healthier ways. Deal with them before they deal with you...”

He should tell Steve how he felt.

Ugh.

Sometimes Billy couldn’t leave Dr. Owen’s office until he finished the sentence “I feel” five different ways.

It had sparked a habit.

He felt like a complete dork.

He also felt much better than he ever had before.

He shut his eyes and said, “I feel...I’m happy...to be...here. With you.”

Jesus Christ.

He opened his eyes and looked at Steve who was positively beaming at him. “Me too. Tell me why?”

“What?”

He hadn’t expected that.

Steve leaned on his hand, still tracing his curious fingers along Billy’s scars. “Tell me why you’re so happy to be here?”

“Because I’m...glad that happened.” He was turning purple with embarrassment.

This is bullshit.

“Why?” Steve whispered. He leaned over and kissed that scar he’d been tracing, his plush lips traveling to Billy’s throat. Billy breathed, his arms coming up to wrap around Steve who was now climbing on top of him.

“Because…”

“Why…?

“Because when I’m with you everything else disappears,” Billy said. Steve stopped and braced on his arms, looking down at Billy with wide, brown eyes. “I don’t mean since we’ve been hanging out,” Billy went on. “Or since I got back. I mean since always. Since the beginning. S’like…” He smiled up Steve, running his hands up that toned back he’d loved to watch tense up with irritation in gym. “Steve Harrington goggles. Everything else goes away. Except now it’s different. It’s...clearer?”

“Ah...clearer?” Steve said. He looked a little lost as if Billy was speaking some other language.

But what was that weird old fashioned thing Susan always said? In for a penny, in for a pound.

“I just...I think I’d be good at it now,” Billy said. “If you want?”

“Good...good at what?” Steve said. His voice cracked all over the place.

“Good at like...being in love with you,” Billy said. He reached up to touch that soft hair again and stroke Steve’s cheek.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, and he nodded dumbly. “Okay. Good. Yeah…” He leaned down and kissed Billy, their mouths sliding easily together, tongues meeting and lazily dancing a little before Steve lay down half on top of Billy, and gazed back at him, blinking.

“Are you alright, Harrington?” Billy said. He couldn’t stop the dopey smile on his face now. He had his arms full of Steve Harrington who seemed to actually like him or was at least willing to let Billy love him. He was dizzy and his mouth already hurt, as if somewhat unused to all this joy.

“Yeah, Steve said. “Just...can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

I can do it, Billy thought. I can be good at it.

It suddenly seemed as if all that intensive therapy that sometimes involved a lot of sobbing and screaming and storming out of rooms had all been worth it if he could think to himself without feeling shitty about it, that he might actually be good at loving Steve Harrington.

“I’m real, pretty boy,” Billy said, grinning as he held Steve close. “Just you wait.”

#harringrove #harringrove ficlet

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a-jynx · 4 years

Text

A Family’s Matter |Part 1: Another Paradise

They fell in love, they moved away to California, they got hitched and had a shotgun wedding. A surrogate was kind enough to give them their daughter, Maxine. Billy got his dream job, along with signing up to take over his own mechanic garage... Their lives seemed perfect - well, almost perfect.

Pairing| Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington

Warnings| Cursing, mentions of abuse, small amounts of drinking, smoking, physical fighting, blood {chapter will have warnings appropriate it!}

Taglist is opened and people can be added or removed! Just let me know!

Please, enjoy it! Feedback is the glue to my writing! 💕

----

Have you ever found paradise? Not THE paradise, but… the paradise that belongs to - you? That holds you tightly in the middle of the night after a nightmare? Makes your coffee the way you like? Or, perhaps gives you a life that you believed you would never live?

Because Steve James Harrington did.

The cold winds and bone-chilling pasts that lived back in Hawkins, Indiana still haunted the back of his mind - scratching at his brain and thoughts as if trying to claw it’s way back into his mainframe. However, he escaped that. He escaped that cage that was made of homophobes and tall trees, the small town sitting pretty in the middle of fuck-ton nowhere. But, here he was. The California sky bright and blue, the practically white sun glaring down and easily - quickly - warming the Harrington-Hargrove apartment. Steve could live with a smile, a genuine one, almost all the time. He lived happily with his Billy Boy by his side… He couldn’t be happier.

“Steve! Have you seen my button-up?!” Billy called from their bedroom, the sound of his boots stomping around on the soft carpet made Steve smile to himself.

“Babe, it’s in the bathroom on the back of the door... Y’know? Where you hung it after you took your shower?” Steve couldn’t help but laugh to himself while waiting for the coffee to finish before turning to be greeted by the sight of his husband sautering in. He looked good - better than he had back in that hellhole. Billy Hargrove’s signature mullet had been chopped when they first arrived home, the long lush curls now sitting on top of his head while the sides and back were shaved. The greased white tanktop, the baby blue button-up that flashed his name stitched on. Then the dark denim jeans that hung around Billy’s hips loosely while his work boots squeaked against the small tiled kitchen.

“Find it?”

“Obviously,” Billy grinned as Steve took a step forward, meeting him halfway as their lips clashed sweetly. It wasn’t rushed, secretive… It was sweet, caring, and chaste. A squeak escaped Steve’s throat as Billy gripped his ass, his lips peeling into a shit-eating grin before Steve reached up, smacking his shoulder.

“Hurry up and get to work! I’m sure Andy and Matthew are already there and waiting for you,”

“Let them wait,” he mumbled against Steve’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into his throat with a gentle, opened-mouth kiss.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good way to run your business,” Steve snorted, shouldering away his husband, who merely whined at the lost before standing back up. “I’ll swing by at lunch, okay? Hell, I’ll even make your favorite and bring it by.”

Billy hummed, grinning almost wolfishly before swooping in to gather another kiss before slowly moving towards the front door. He stopped short of the door, scooting around the pack n’ play, bending down and pressing a kiss to his daughters’ thick chocolate curls while swiping his rough thumb across her soft cheek, already feeling the warmth practically leaking from her skin.

“I’ll see you later, Max-a-million.” He whispered softly, careful to not wake the sleeping infant.

Steve moved towards the loves of his life, carefully stepping to stand next to Billy before pecking his cheek and gently tugging him towards the front door. “Y’ know if you keep staring at her, or kissing me, you’ll never make it to work,” he grinned as Billy snatched his backpack from the coatrack before pressing another kiss to Steve’s temple.

“This is very true, that’s why I usually leave earlier,” he smirked as Steve gently shoved at his back, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe with a smile. He stepped backward, closing the door with a soft thud, however… Maxine began to sniffle and squirm against the soft pad beneath her.

“Oh, my little, Maxi! I know, I know, I miss him already too,” he paused, lifting the squirming infant with a little shush, tapping his palm against her bottom as he held her close. “We’ll see him later, but you gotta be a good girl, okay?” Steve grinned to himself as the sour face that had covered his daughters’ face quickly subdued as he tottered from side-to-side, holding her against his heart.

----

Hours pass, Maxine was asleep in her pack ‘n play again after finishing her early lunch, Steve was cooking away in the kitchen to get Billy and his lunch finished before having to pack up the Camaro to head towards the garage. Humming softly along to ‘Juice’ by Lizzo before a loud, frantic knocking came from the front door.

Peaking his head from the kitchen, he wiped at his hands before glancing towards Maxine, who was sleeping peacefully still. Swallowing at the lump building in his throat, gently tossing the hand towel onto his shoulder, before taking a few careful steps towards the door. He shouldn’t be afraid to open their front door for Christ's sake... Billy had made sure - a million times - that they were going to live in a good neighborhood where they could see the beach, walk to the garage, and raise their child… But that doesn’t mean nothing bad could slither into the happy home they’ve set up.

Gently opening the door and fitting himself against the frame and edge of the white door, Steve glanced up to meet the frantic and almost wild-looking eyes of a young woman. The thick waves of hair on her head were a little greasy and matted looking, the AC/DC shirt she wore was torn while the shorts around her thin legs seemed to almost fall off. He blinked before his vision settled on her face - Jesus - her left eye swelled black and blue while a bit of blood ushered from the corner. Taking a mental note of that…

“Can I help you?” His voice wavered as she audibly swallowed, licking her lips before shooting him a sheepish grin.

“Hi, uh… This is probably very, very strange but… This is the Harrington-Hargrove residence, right?” Her voice came out faint but rushed almost panicked sounding. Steve frowned, before sliding himself further into the little hole, blocking any way to see his sleeping daughter.

“Yes. Is there something you needed?”

“Oh, oh thank God! Uh, first off, hello, I’m actually your neighbor from apartment 12? My name is Y/N and I… I understand you’re married to Billy, the mechanic, right?” Her brows furrowed in worry as Steve blinked. Sure, he was used to people showing up to their door asking about Billy, but they usually could find the shop no problem…

“Yes… He’s working as we speak, I’m sorry but is there a reason you’re here or… Or do I need to call the police?” Steve’s voice wavered, but he held it as the woman’s - Y/N’s - eyes grew wide.

“No! No, please, you don’t need to do that, I just… Dammit, I’m terribly sorry, but I need some help. My car shit on me last week and I… My job is threatening to cut me loose if I can’t show up on time,” Steve’s eyes narrowed, searching the woman’s face for any sign of lying or fibs.

“I’ll pay! I’ll… I’ll pay whatever you want, hell, even the last couple bills I have to my name, just, please… I - I need to keep this job. I need the money.” She whispered the last part, her brows furrowed as Steve swallowed, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip before sighing.

“I’ll… I’ll have a talk with him later tonight, though, I can’t promise anything…”

“Yes! Of course, thank - thank you, really. I… I can’t show you how grateful I am for you even ask. As I mentioned, I live in apartment 12, my names Y/N L/N and I…” She paused, making Steve cock a brow as she stood straight, grinning gently. “I hope to hear from you two soon. Have a good afternoon, Mr. Harrington-Hargrove.” And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone. The only sound being the small smacking steps from her bare feet hitting the pavement.

Gently closing the door, Steve leaned against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Blinking, he glanced at the clock and grew wide-eyed, he needed to hurry and pack everything for lunch - now. Quickly moving back into the small kitchen, he began to pack up small tuber wares of chicken alfredo with a bit of extra sauce in Billy’s because that’s how he likes his pasta - extra saucy.

Packing them away into his own bag, he gathered up a few extra things for Maxine to play with before gathering her into his arms and moving outside, locking the front door and moving downstairs with her snuggled against his hammering heart. His steps only faltered for a moment as he passed the apartment 12… It was eerily quiet. Like the forest back in Hawkins, the eery feel that surrounded his hometown somehow had wiggled its way into his paradise. Shaking his head, he quickly moved to where the Camaro was parked, sitting Maxine into her car seat before putting the food bag in the floorboard underneath her. Climbing into the old girl, he paused for a mere second, breathing in the leathery, smokey, and sweet scent that filtered throughout the muscle car. It smelt heavily of his husband and he was in another small paradise.

“Alright, Max-a-million, let’s go see papa!” Steve grinned as little grumbles came from the small car seat, making his grin grow wider as he put the car in reverse and took a steady stroll towards the shop. On the way, Steve tapped his fingers along to the radio, the salty scent from the ocean soaking into his nasal cavity, mixing with the imprinted scent of Billy - he felt almost dizzy. He felt good. Happy. But, his mind kept warping back to that girl, the creepy vibes that followed her to his homes’ door. It felt like the Upside Down all over again…

Shaking his head, he pulled into his usual parking spot, climbing out and only to be greeted by the other workers and customers he’s come to know and love. Gathering the food and his little girl, he quickly wandered inside, looking for his husband in hopes he could help keep his mind at ease… And the eery thoughts in the back of his mind.

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Ooo, part one of the Mechanic!Billy prompt I’ve come up with! I hope this makes sense and turns out as good as I hope/plan! <3

Taglists: @transbillyhargrove @trashmouth-hargrove @stranger-h @harrington-s @awickedplacethisis @may-the-moon-love-me-back @harringrovetrashh @supermegapauselouca @hargrove-billy @hargrovesharrington @harringhoe @greyspilot @flippyspoon @bakausagiwithwings @your-pretty-bambi @strangerfictions @myboyfriendsteve @marythemudblood @memes-saved-me

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