#harringrove fanfiction

[half-oz-eddie]

The Straightest Guy In Hawkins

(Internalized) homophobia tw

"I'm gonna fuck so many bitches this summer." Billy bragged, as he lied on Steve's bed, tossing his baseball into the air.

"Uh huh..." Steve passively responded, continuing to work on their project.

"So many hot babes with big tits and—"

"Couldja shut up and help me with this project? God, You've been pissing me off lately."

"What'd you say? I'm pissing you off?!" Billy sprang up.

"Yeah. Ever since we went to your house to work on this stupid project and I saw that magazine, you've been going overboard to try and prove to me that you're super straight, the straightest guy in Hawkins." Steve rolled his eyes. "Y'know what? I don't care if you're straight, not straight, doesn't matter."

"Well I am straight." Billy pointlessly insisted.

"Good for you! I'm not, and I don't give a shit."

"You're...not?" Billy questioned in disbelief.

"No."

Billy chuckled in response. "Does daddy Harrington know you're a fa—"

"No!" Steve exclaimed. "He doesn't. And if I told him, I don't think he'd care. I don't think my parents even see me half the time, alright? So-so just drop it. Like I said, I don't give a shit if you like guys or girls or both or neither. I just wanna get this project done. We have 3 more days and a lot to do."

Silence filled the room. An uncomfortable, lonely silence. Billy froze. He wanted to speak up, be honest with Steve, but he knew being honest with Steve would lead to his haunting crush on him surfacing again.

"I'm...not." He blurted out. "I'm gay, actually."

Steve set down his pencil and turned his attention to Billy. "Does your dad know you're a—"

"No." He fearfully shook his head. "He'd kill me. Like...actually murder me. He already thinks I'm a failure. If he found out I was a gay failure, he'd probably beat me until I stopped moving."

"So...am I the only person who knows?"

Billy shrugged. "Aside from the 2 guys I've hooked up with."

"In Hawkins?"

"Nah, you're the only other queer I've met around here."

"There're others, trust me. You have options."

The silence returned again. Steve could sense that something was still troubling Billy.

"What is it? You worried I'll tell?"

"Not really...forget it. Let's finish the project."

"C'mon. Talk to me. You've already told me your deepest darkest secret, what could be worse than that?"

"The fact that there's...someone I like. But I can't see them because it runs the risk of my dad finding out."

"Who is it? I'll tell you if he's queer or not."

Billy gently shook his head.

"Is it Eddie? He's definitely queer, I know for a fact—"

"What?! No! ...Wait, you hooked up with Munson?" Billy wondered, shielding his jealousy.

"I—no, we...we kissed once at a party, during a drinking game, but there was tongue, and he was totally into it, so I'm pretty sure—"

"It's..." Billy sighed. "It's not him."

"Is it Jason?" Steve chuckled. "God, I hope not. That guy's probably straighter than you could ever pretend to be—"

"Not him either." Billy snapped. "Let's just finish the project, okay? I'm sorry for...pissing you off, or whatever."

Billy joined Steve at the table where they focused on nothing but the project.

"So I think...we just need to put a little more information in this paragraph so it's longer, and then we'll be done. Then we can type it up."

"Lemme see."

When Billy absentmindedly reached for the paper, his hand accidentally touched Steve's and he sharply pulled away.

"Sorry." He apologized.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "That's the second time you apologized to me."

"And?"

"And. You never apologize. What's up?"

Billy shook his head. "I'dunno what you're talkin' about."

"Billy—"

"Can it, Harrington. I'm trying to read this."

"You're not even looking at it!"

Billy slammed the paper down and stood suddenly, knocking the chair to the floor. "I'm going home."

"What?! You can't just leave, we didn't—"

"I'm tired of you questioning me. Now you're pissing me off."

Steve picked up the chair, watching disappointedly as Billy grabbed his jacket.

"I didn't mean to piss you off. I shouldn't have been pushing you so much about a touchy subject in the first place. It's my fault."

"It isn't."

"Huh?"

"I said it isn't!" Billy snapped. "See you tomorrow."

Steve slumped in his seat when he heard Billy's camaro skirt out of the driveway. Even though he apologized, he still wished he could do more for Billy.

The following day, Billy didn't even show up for school. Steve worried Billy was avoiding him completely, and began to worry about their incomplete project.

When he arrived home, Billy was already there, smoking a cigarette on his porch.

"Hope you're not ashing in my mom's rose bush." He said with a smile.

"Wouldn't dream of tainting Mrs. Harrington's precious roses." Billy sneered.

"Missed you at school today—well, I didn't mean like, I missed you, but—you were...you were missing."

"Had some shit on my mind, so I ditched today."

Steve opened his mouth to ask, but he knew that wouldn't be a smart idea. He'd probably just chase Billy off again.

"Ready to finish this project, then?"

Billy tossed his cigarette into the street. "Yeah, let's get it over with."

They finished the project in 40 minutes and Steve offered Billy a beer to celebrate.

"Think we're gonna get an A?"

"Pretty sure. We followed all the instructions to a T."

"Yeah. Yeah we did." Steve agreed.

"About yesterday, I'm—"

"No. Don't even bother trying to apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry."

"Oh yeah? For what?"

"I kept prodding into your business. I pushed you. I didn't mean to."

Billy shrugged. "'Kay, whatever."

"So, you accept my apology?"

"Will you cry if I don't?"

"Maybe." Steve answered with a pout.

Billy smiled. Not cynically, not mischievously, just...a smile. A pretty one, at that.

"Hey, listen. You wanna, like...hang out? Grab dinner, go to the movies, whatever?"

"You buying?"

"If I buy, it's a date."

"Then no." Billy declined. "Not interested."

"Not interested in a date?" Steve paused. "Or not interested in me?"

Billy leaned in, the once cute smile turning mischievous. "What makes you think you could pull a guy like me?"

Steve leaned in, but far closer. He licked his lips and smirked. "Wishful thinking, I guess." He half shrugged. "Hoping the guy you like could be me."

Billy bit his lip, his smile widening. He pulled Steve in by his collar and kissed him.

It was chaste and no words followed, but it spoke loudly enough to answer Steve's question.

"Pick me up tomorrow at 8. And don't let on that we're like...y'know. I don't need my dad to suspect anything."

"Don't worry. It'll be our little secret."

Steve stole another chaste kiss before Billy pulled away, leaving him hoping for more.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #ivy.doc

[thissortofsorcery]

I can so imagine a scenario where Billy and Steve have been screwing around for months, like months, and while Billy has plenty of experience with sex, he’s never slept with anyone quite like Steve.

Steve who holds his hand during sex, Steve who gets off on Billy’s pleasure, Steve who kisses him before and after and during, who likes cuddling, who doesn’t avoid being seen with Billy at all and actually starts hanging out with Billy at school and out of it, who invites him to play basketball in the park and to get food after, and to stay over at his house like every weekend.

Naturally, Billy thinks they’re dating.

But they never talk about it. Somehow, for months of this, it never comes up in conversation how to define their relationship. It’s not exactly necessary, both of them being content as they are with what they have with each other. Whatever they think it is.

Until, of course…

Senior Prom.

Billy’s been dodging prom invitations left and right for two weeks now, leaving a trail of pouty glossed lips behind, claiming he has no interest in going to “the party equivalent of daytime tv”. Steve hasn’t said anything about it except a half-muttered comment that he went to Junior Prom with Nancy, after which he immediately changed the subject. Billy assumed he didn’t want to go either.

Which is why Billy’s surprised when he hears through the school grapevine that Becky Olson asked Steve to Prom and he said yes.

When Billy shows up at Steve’s house after school that day, he’s rage smoked half a pack of cigarettes and stewed in his anger all through the afternoon. Even Max heard about it all the way in the middle school, and offered to take Steve’s bat to his balls. Billy drops Max off at home after promising that if he doesn’t kill Steve, he’ll let her at him.

He lets himself into Steve’s house (Steve always leaves the door unlocked for him) and goes straight to Steve’s room (it’s routine by now), where he finds him sitting on his bed, going through cassette tapes.

“Hey, man,” Steve says. Entirely unconcerned.

Billy’s nostrils flare.

“What the fuck, Steve? Is that what you’re gonna say? ‘Hey, man’?”

Steve does look up then, and frowns at Billy, fucking confused. Like Billy’s saying nonsense.

“Yes? Hello? How was your day?” Steve says, nose scrunching up. “What am I supposed to say?”

Billy can’t fucking believe this. This whole time, Steve’s been so- Now he’s acting like he didn’t even do anything.

“Maybe start by telling me what the hell you’re thinking going to prom with some chick!” He yells, like he hasn’t been cursing her name for at least two hours.

Steve gets up from the bed then, runs a hand through his stupid hair, crosses his arms. Billy can see he’s closing himself off, going on the defensive right off the bat.

“Why are you mad at me about this? You don’t even wanna go,” Steve doesn’t raise his voice, but his words echo in the room same as a slap on his face would.

“I don’t know, Steve, maybe I’m mad my boyfriend’s going on a date with some girl!”

This isn’t making any fucking sense. Steve isn’t like this, an inconsiderate asshole going behind Billy’s back. He’s sweet. He’s always been sweet.

There’s something wrong here, and Billy can’t put his finger on it, and it just makes him angrier.

Steve rears back, brows going up, up, up towards his hairline, eyes wide, a sea of white around brown.

“Boyfriend?” He repeats. Licks his lips. “How- Why would you say boyfriend?”

Billy’s stomach sinks, takes everything in his abdominal cavity with it. He feels hollow, weighed down. All the fight has been sucked out of him.

That’s why the conversation felt off.

"Because we've been dating for like, three months, Steve," Billy says, or forces out, and his voice comes out shaky.

They were. He thought they were. Steve’s been- He holds Billy’s hand. They go on dates, as much as they can while staying under the radar. Billy stays over most weekends. It’s never been like this with anyone else, for Billy, not even in California. Even Before.

Steve’s eyes are still wide, but his eyebrows are doing the puppy dog thing, turned up at the inner corners like he’s hurt.

“I…” He starts, stops. Decides on something else. “We never talked about this.”

Billy rears back this time, feeling the sentence like a blow, and Steve follows him with a step forward, hand reaching out.

“I mean- shit,” Steve says, stammers, runs a hand down his face. “I didn’t know you felt that way. About me. I thought you didn’t-”

“What the fuck did you think when we were going on fucking dates, Steve?!”

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, and it stings. “We do everything together!”

“And suck each other’s dicks, too!”

“I thought-”

“Thought what, this was some friends with benefits shit? If you’re my best friend and we’re boning, how’s that different from a relationship, Steve?!”

“We never talked about it!” Steve finally raises his voice, and the sound of it stuns Billy.

Steve makes an aborted motion with his hand, then again, before closing it into a fist by his side. He rubs at his eyes with his other hand, but not before Billy sees they are wet.

“I’m not going to assume you’re in love with me, Billy! What if I’m wrong? What if I spend months thinking you love me and it turns out to be bullshit?”

Steve’s breathing hard as he finishes speaking, cheeks blotchy red, and hands shaking. He looks terrified right now, terrified Billy’s going to give up on him and leave, going by how he glances from Billy to the door; terrified he’s hurting Billy, because he keeps reaching out but doesn’t step any closer.

Billy feels something click, then, a piece of the puzzle that was grating on him with jagged edges smooths outs and slots into place. That’s the Steve he knows, with his head tangled in so many feelings he can’t parse them out, but never uncaring. Never cold.

“Well, I do,” Billy says, stepping closer to Steve.

He walk forward until their toes are almost touching, until Steve has to tilt his head down to look Billy in the eye. Billy takes a breath and raises an eyebrow, raises his chin, gives Steve his best smirk like wants to eat him alive. Takes a chance.

“I do love you. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Steve’s eyes jump between his, mouth parted, like a man lost searching for something. Like he’s looking at something holy. Billy feels tentative fingertips at his elbows, then fingers running up his triceps, until finally one of Steve’s hands closes around his arm. The other continues up, up, a long tingling line to his neck, and Steve cups his jaw like something precious. Rubs his thumb on Billy’s cheekbone, feather light, but Billy feels it like a brand.

“You mean it?” Steve’s voice comes out in a ragged whisper, breath spilling over Billy’s lips.

“I do.” They’re so close. Billy wants to take in all of Steve’s face, the way he’s looking at Billy, with his eyes half lidded and his lips parted, like he’s everything Steve could ever want.

“Basketball in the park,” Steve says, out of nowhere, voice still low. “In February. You complained about the cold the whole time but you still kicked my ass. I bought you a burger at the diner, after. That was our first date.”

Billy’s face splits into a grin so wide his cheeks hurt, and he bunches his hands in Steve’s dumb polo shirt, pulls him closer until Steve has to lean down those two inches to press their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Steve whispers against Billy’s lips, “I’m so in love with you.”

Billy nods, barely moving his head, unwilling to part where they’re touching, “‘m in love with you.”

Their lips really touch then, feeling like the first time even if they’ve kissed a thousand times before, are as familiar with each other’s mouths as they are with their own.

The scrape of Steve’s teeth against Billy’s bottom lip pulls a moan out of Billy, and he presses himself tighter to Steve’s body, pulls at his chest, his hips, wants to climb inside him and never leave.

No one’s ever felt like this. No one’s ever made Billy feel like this, this wanted, this needed, like the world starts and ends with them, together. That’s why Billy was so sure they were together. It couldn’t be anything else.

Steve’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Billy, and he’s not gonna let him go without a fight.

#my take on the fwb thing #I always lose my head when characters go “but it’s obvious you’re together” #also my hc that Billy’s good at reading people #and Steve needs to be explicitly told things #they’re just different #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #sorcery writes #mine

[shieldofiron]

Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was  Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice”, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979. 

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,” 

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes: 

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it. 

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

#harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #steve x billy #harringrovefic #harringrovefanfic #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove fanfic #stranger things #my writing #DJATS au #Daisy jones and the six au #tw drugs

[sadhours]

Harringrove at Tina’s party pleaseeeeee. Steve is a sobbing mess over nancy and just wants to forget and who better than to assist him with that than Billy???? Also Billy just leaving Steve covered in his cum and crying over his new conflicted feelings like ughhhh

Hi I love you. This was fun to write. It uh, gets a lil sad at the end.

Cw: 18+ minors dni, Billy using Steve. Some degradation. Smut and angst?

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

The words repeated heavy in Steve’s head, over and over and over until his stomach churned with dread and disgust. Nancy thought they were bullshit? While Steve thought they were what? In love? He feels like a fool but what the fuck else is new. The eyes on him as he stalked after her and her stupid punch stained shirt tell him he’s gonna hear about this all week at school. Guaranteed to be blame of the punch spill anyways.

He had fully intended to stay relatively sober at this party when he arrived but now the slice in his heart needs mending and ya know what, that bottle of Jack he earlier denied is calling his name. So he goes to find it, eyes scanning the crowd until it falls on that annoying man, pecks peeking out behind a leather jacket and of course, the stupid fingerless gloves he’s wearing are wrapped around that bottle of whiskey Steve is suddenly desperate for. Fuck it. He’s King Steve, this beautiful asshole called him that earlier, when he puffed his chest and glared into Steve’s soul. He can fucking take the whiskey from him. In fact, he has to. Pushing through the crowd, Steve gets his fingers around the neck of the bottle and tugs. Hargrove raises his eyebrows, lips turning up into a smirk but he doesn’t give, grips the shaft of the bottle tighter.

“Need something, King Steve?” his honeyed voice purrs and it boils Steve’s blood.

With a curl of his upper lip, he growls back, “Yeah, fork it over, prick.”

“Oh,” Billy cackles, “Yes, your majesty. Here.”

Steve rips the bottle from Billy’s hand and takes a dangerous swig of it, the amber liquid burning down his throat. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the blue ones glued to his face, something insidious behind them. Steve doesn’t care, chokes down another fiery swig and exhales, his stomach swirling with heat from the booze. Hargrove keeps eying him with intrigue, a playful tilt to his smirk that makes Steve weary. He goes to stomp off, then fingers are wrapping around his wrist.

“Something bothering you?” Billy asks with a duck of his head, shining teeth bared in a smile Steve doesn’t exactly trust.

“Yeah, you.”

“Feisty, nice. I’ve heard that about you,” Hargrove beams, keeps his grip firm on Steve’s wrist and tugs him into the bathroom he’d just been told he was bullshit in.

He locks the door behind him, leans against the door and looks at Steve differently. Almost hungry?

“What’s this about? Let me out,” Steve seethes and moves for the doorknob but Billy blocks him.

“C’mon,” he pouts, “something’s bothering you, what is it?” Hargrove tilts his head, “Something to do with your stuck up girlfriend?”

“Shut up,” Steve hates the way his eyes well up with tears, hates the way his stomach drops at the mention of Nancy.

“She dump you in here?” Billy asks with this shit eating grin that makes Steve’s skin crawl.

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Steve tries, ashamed of the way his voice cracks when he says it.

Hargrove pouts again, snatches the bottle from Steve’s grip and swallows some down before setting it on the counter, “C’mon, you’re King Steve, right? Bitches come and go.”

“Stop,” Steve whimpers out, bringing his hands up to his face in shame as the tears trickle down his cheeks.

Billy crowds him then, presses the small of his back against the counter and gets real close to his face. It’s threatening at first but something about Billy’s whiskey and nicotine tinged breath on his face is… hot? Oh, god. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s the whiskey, even though he hasn’t really had much. It’s the rejection doing it. He’s not even into guys. Why the hell is Billy Hargrove of all people making his dick twitch? It makes such little sense that he’s full on crying now, sobbing into the minuscule space between them. And Hargrove’s hands grip his waist, and then he… he fucking licks the tears off of Steve’s cheek and Jesus Christ, he’s hard in his jeans from it. Steve chokes out another pathetic sob before he shoves Billy back, glaring down at him fiercely.

“The fuck is wrong with you, faggot?” Steve seethes out, pushing down another sob.

Billy scoffs, raises a brow and moves his hand to cup Steve through his jeans, “I’m not often wrong. And I’m not wrong this time, faggot.”

Steve closes his eyes as he whimpers, the warmth and firmness of Billy’s palm against his pulsing erection confirms it for the both of ‘em. Steve likes this. He actually fucking likes this. And it’s definitely because the whiskey and Nancy breaking his heart and not actually because he’s attracted to Hargrove. He thinks for a brief moment before he’s reaching back for the bottle of Jack and downs some more. He sets it back down and rolls his hips into Billy’s hand, letting another slew of tears escape his eyes. Hargrove presses into his strained erection and licks his cheek again. And it’s the oddest thing. Steve feels heat pooling in his stomach from it. Maybe it’s the whiskey. The safer thing to think is it’s from the whiskey and not from the weird, gay degradation happening.

“Poor King Steve,” Hargrove whispers in his ear, “Crying over some mediocre pussy.”

Steve can’t even fight back anymore, he’s over the fight and all he can is welcome the pleasure erupting over his body from Hargrove fondling his cock and balls over his jeans. It’s pathetic, he knows that but it feels too good and he wants more. No, he needs more. Tells Billy as much with a whimper and another roll of his hips.

“I’ll make you cry like a bitch, too,” Hargrove mumbles into the shell of his ear before dipping down to bite his lobe and tug.

The cries turn into moans as Billy bites down Steve’s neck and undoes his jeans, shoving them down his thighs and wrapping his fingers around Steve’s aching cock. The leather from the gloves is an interesting sensation, Steve likes it a lot. It’s obvious by the way he’s thrusting up into Billy’s fist and whining.

“God, you’re whiny,” Billy observes, jerking Steve’s cock dry in his palm, “That why the princess dumped you? She get fed up with how much of a bitch you are?”

“Shut up,” Steve says behind gritted teeth, fingers moving to grip the counter behind him.

“I haven’t even done anything,” Billy comments? pulling back as he scoops the precum bubbling from Steve’s dick on his fingertip and brings it up eye level, “Even your dick is weeping.”

Billy apparently thinks he’s hilarious by the way he cackles, but then he’s licking the slick from his finger and Steve’s knees almost buckle from the sight. He thinks this might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, and that’s alarming but something for him to consider after he’s blown his load. Hargrove drops to his knees and squeezes the base of Steve’s cock, looking up at him under thick lashes. He’s so pretty, Steve wants to touch his face, drag his thumb along Billy’s cheekbone but he doesn’t let himself. His leaking, pulsing hard on is proof enough he thinks Billy is pretty, doesn’t need to push his luck anyway. He thinks Hargrove might bite his fingers if he does so, or maybe worse, his dick.

Plush, pink lips circle the head of Steve’s cock and he’s letting out a gasp, shocked by just how much he likes the sight. He wants so desperately to touch the boy before him but he won’t let himself, no matter how much those dirty blonde curls are begging to have Steve’s fingers in them. Hargrove’s mouth is so warm and so wet as he takes Steve down. Better than any hole he’s ever been in and that’s… another thought for later. His cock twitches in Billy’s mouth, and he smirks around it, letting Steve know he felt it.

“Fuuuck,” he whines out, lips parting in ecstasy. The arousal he feels now is white hot, intoxicating more than any swig of whiskey. If he’s not careful, he’s libel to fall in love with Billy Hargrove this instant and nobody needs that. Pupils blown, Billy looks into Steve’s eyes while he sucks him down deep, so deep. Steve can feel his tip hitting the back of Hargrove’s throat and the fucker swallows. Steve’s seeing stars for a second, forgetting that he was trying not to touch Billy as he slips his fingers into that dumb fucking mullet. Tugs while he moans lowly, earning another smile around his cock. God damn, this idiot is pretty and Steve hates him and loves him all at once. Wants to punch his dumb face and kiss it at the same time.

Hargrove moves a hand up and cradles Steve’s balls in his palm, bobbing his head up and down like he was fucking born to do this. How did he get so good at sucking cock? Steve suddenly feels excited at the prospect of knowing this secret about Billy, maybe he can use this against him. But then again, it’s his dick down Hargrove’s throat. One of these might be gayer but Steve can’t even finish these thoughts because Billy’s giving him the blowjob of a lifetime and Steve’s pathetically on the brink of orgasm. Can’t even warn Billy before he’s shooting down his throat.

“Christ,” he chokes out, bucking his hips into Billy’s face as he chases the pleasure and this guy is a champ. Billy grabs a hold of Steve’s thighs and takes the face fucking, then leans back on his haunches as he grins up at him.

Steve’s panting against the counter, coming back down to earth when Billy opens the cabinet to the left of his leg and starts rifling through it.

“What are you doing?” Steve wonders, voice wrecked.

“Said I was gonna make you cry like a bitch, didn’t I?” Billy quips around a dangerous smirk, holding up a bottle of baby oil.

“What?” Steve asks, eyes wide. What the hell is Hargrove gonna do with that oil?

“Turn around,” Billy rises to his feet, eyebrow lifted like he dares Steve to disobey.

“Dude— no,” Steve gapes, “I—“

“Pretty boy, I said turn around,” Billy levels, eyes dark and Steve does, in spite of everything telling him not to. Hargrove’s lips are on his ear, “Lemme show you something that priss never could.”

Suddenly, there’s a slickness pressing to his asshole and Steve chokes out a gasp, looks at himself in the mirror and his face shows the shock he feels. Billy hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder and meets his eyes in the mirror as his fingers rub circles against Steve’s hole. It feels nice despite the panic rising in his chest, and Steve doesn’t tear his eyes away from the reflection of Billy’s.

“I’m gonna make you feel better than that bitch ever could,” Billy tells him, voice low and raspy which causes another stir to Steve’s softening cock. Then Billy’s finger pushes past the tight ring of Steve’s asshole and it’s a sharp pain but at the same time it’s overwhelmingly pleasant. Punches a moan out of Steve’s throat and he drops his head, eyes on the sink but immediately, Billy’s hands on his throat and urging his head upright again.

“Look at yourself,” he insists, curling his finger and then bites Steve’s jaw. “Such a pretty boy.”

Steve whines, not recognizing himself in the mirror. Billy’s sliding in another finger as his tongue soothes the tender skin his teeth assaulted, eyes trained on Steve’s flushed face. Billy’s fingers twist and prod until they hit a spot inside of Steve he didn’t know existed and he cries out, vision blurring as Billy continuously rubs at the spot. The stupidly gorgeous face he sees in the mirror looks smug, but Steve’s a little too preoccupied to be mad at it. Hell, he barely notices when Billy’s adding a third digit to his hole. Steve whimpers out, knuckles turning white where he’s gripping tightly onto the countertop.

Hargrove bites at his jaw again, thrusting his fingers in quick succession and each time they poke Steve’s prostate he moans, feeling his eyes cross as his cock springs back to life. He scissors his fingers, stretching Steve’s hole as he groans lowly and rolls his hips.

“Think you’re ready?” Billy asks, voice teetering on desperation and it’s really nice to hear. Steve’s nodding his head, all the panic from before evaporated at this point.

Billy pulls his fingers out and Steve fucking whines, more pathetic than he’s sounded all night. It’s short lived, Billy’s quick with slathering his cock in the oil and pressing his head to Steve’s eager hole. Obviously, his cock is thicker than his fingers and Steve’s feeling that panic return but Billy pushes the head through and Steve cries out, tears prickling his eyes at the sensation because it is painful but his balls tighten from it and his eyes roll back. It’s painful in the delicious kind of way. He couldn’t even remember Nancy’s name in this moment if he tried. Heads empty, nobodies home. Just clouds of God, that’s nice and oh, wow there’s a cock in my ass. Billy’s hand meets his throat again and he purrs in Steve’s ear, “Look at me.”

Steve didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes, but he opens them and his vision is flooded with the reflection of himself, Billy’s face pressed next to his and that leather clad hand around his neck. He looks to Billy’s eyes in the mirror, a little upset with how much it makes his heart swell. Steve’s easy. Billy saw he was upset and did something to make him forget about it. Fuck, he might be in love. Nope. Steve, stop it.

Billy sinks in a little deeper, draining the air of Steve’s lungs as he does so, “Fuck!”

“I was right, huh?” Billy says, breathless as his face contorts in pleasure.

“Uh huh,” Steve breathes, would agree with anything the blonde says at this point. His heads all warm and fuzzy and Billy’s really pretty. The angles of his face irritated Steve before, got a hint of jealousy in his gut but now he just wants to touch them.

Hargrove groans, digging his nails into Steve’s hips as he drives deeper into the brunette, “So fucking tight.”

And then the head of his cock meets with Steve’s prostate and Steve’s eye roll back in his head. He would’ve collapsed to the floor if it wasn’t for the grip Billy has on him. Doesn’t realize he’s crying again until Billy licks his cheeks again, hips still as he allows Steve to adjust to his length. Hargrove’s breath is heavy on his face, fanning across his sticky cheek in waves. Billy starts rolling his hips, languid and deep and each stroke makes Steve feel like he’s floating higher and higher away. His reflection looks as fucked out as he feels, his eyes glazed over and wide, lips parted in an O and his cheeks are wildly flushed. But this sensation is fucking otherworldly and his cocks at full attention, begging to be touched even though he just came. His chest feels tight while he spews out these breathless and high pitched moans. Hargrove looks as smug as can be, cheek pressed against Steve’s with this fucking grin on his face, like he’s so proud of himself.

“When I heard about you,” Billy grunts, “I didn’t think you’d be this fucking easy.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly rough thrust that’s got Steve’s toes curling in his shoes.

Steve couldn’t talk if he tried, brains too fuzzy with euphoria and fuck, is he drooling? Yep, he is. A string of saliva drips from his lips down onto the bathroom counter but he can’t be bothered to wipe his face, he can’t fucking move at all besides his hips. They keep pushing back to meet Billy’s thrusts.

Hargrove wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock and strokes him at the same pace he’s drilling into him. And fuck, fuck, oh fuck. Steve cries out, eyes squeezing shut as he spills spunk all over Billy’s fist. He’s never cum that quick in his life. He’s out to lunch, man. Seeing stars, seeing God. When he’s coming back to earth, Hargrove’s laughing, clearly pleased with himself. He bends Steve over the counter and hammers into him, hard and quick. The roughness of his hips slamming into the counter launch sharp pain down his legs and he’s crying out again, gripping onto the counter for dear fucking life. And then a totally new sensation has him babbling and moaning as Billy fills him with spunk, a guttural grunt falling on Steve’s ears. But as quick as he feels it, it’s gone. Billy’s pulling out of him and he feels a little pat on his head before he hears the door open and close. Steve sinks down to the floor, curling up in the fetal position as he processes what the fuck just happened. And he’s sobbing some more, his heart twisting with a pain he’s never felt before. His thighs are slick and sticky and his ass is fucking sore but worse than that, he’s alone. Steve feels used up, stupid and more confused than he’s ever been.

#harringrove #harringrove smut #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy x steve #request

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

This is my contribution to the @harringrove-relay-race ✨ Thank you @chrisbitchtree for passing the baton ❤️

Dangerous Girl

Bull Rider Billy & Buckle Bunny Steve (CW: feminization, barebacking)

Also on AO3

The buzzer sounded and Steve blinked for the first time in a little over eight seconds.

Just like every other time, it had been the longest eight seconds of Steve’s life.

He watched as Billy seemed to effortlessly jump off of the wildly bucking bull before running a few yards to safety. Steve felt his entire body unclench, only becoming aware that he’d tensed every muscle as they released, achingly slow.

Fiery blue eyes caught Steve’s and he felt himself freeze again. Pinned by the heavy gaze that was interrupted only by the guard of a helmet.

Billy should’ve looked ridiculous as he took off the helmet, shaking out the blonde curls of his mullet and grinning wickedly. Except he really didn’t and Steve’s heart raced as Billy licked his lips, eyes still locked on Steve, causing all of the buckle bunnies around him to titter excitedly.

They all thought Billy was eyeing them. That they’d be the lucky one to ensnare The Billy Hargrove.

Steve knew better though.

Knew that no matter how hard he tried to fight it, that’d he’d be the one warming the bed in Billy’s travel trailer yet again. It happened every time Billy came back to Texas.

Steve would be drawn to whatever rodeo circuit Billy was currently dominating. Would hang on Billy’s fence just like those desperate buckle bunnies. He’d then make his way to the local bar and bend over the pool table to flirt shamelessly with Eddie or Argyle or whichever other bull rider was willing to put themselves into the line of fire that night. Eventually Billy would have enough and drag Steve out and fuck him six ways to Sunday.

He didn’t know why he bothered trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t happen.

It’d been happening since they were teenagers and Billy was just touring the local circuit. It didn’t matter how terribly he’d broken Steve’s heart when he’d signed up for a PBR membership at 18 and taken off to tour the entire continent, leaving Steve behind in their small, backwoods, Texan town.

The moment Billy had been back in Texas, Steve had dragged Jason and Robin to an event three hours away in Dallas just to let Billy defile him in a bar bathroom because they couldn’t make it out of the bar. Jason and Robin had not been amused on the drive home the following day.

He’d seen how they’d eyed Eddie and Heather though. They didn’t have much room to talk.

He drove the two and half hours to Houston a few days later by himself, just to do it all over again. He followed Billy to every single Texas show, turning around and heading back home just to wait another year then rinse and repeat for the last four years.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Billy broke eye contact and shuffled out of the arena. The spell broken, Steve removed himself from the fence and started trudging out towards his truck to drive himself to the local bar.

He was busy watching the way his boots kicked up dirt with each step which is why he let loose a scream when he suddenly found himself being yanked backwards and slammed up against a travel trailer. Steve’s scream was muffled by plush lips pressing against his, stubble scraping the sensitive skin of his face as fingers tangled in his hair.

Steve melted into the kiss, the familiar smell of Billy’s sweat and cologne hitting his nose just as his tongue forced its way into Steve’s mouth. Steve whined into the kiss as a strong hand grabbed his thigh and hiked it up so that their hips could press together a little tighter.

Hands lifting to grip the leather vest tightly, Steve finally found enough will power to push Billy back just enough to get some air.

“What the fuck, Billy?” Steve gasped, head thunking back against the metal of the trailer.

He was saved from the pain of collision by Billy’s hand cradling the back of his head.

“Couldn’t wait for all the bull shit at the bar,” Billy admitted, panting. “The way you were hanging on my fence with your fucking tits out almost got me bucked two seconds in.”

Steve glanced down at his chest where he’d left his pearl snap button up undone obscenely low. It was the same amount of buttons Billy usually had undone when he wasn’t buttoned up for riding. It was only fair.

“I don’t hang on your fence,” Steve muttered, rolling his hips and grinning when Billy cursed and stopped cupping the back of Steve’s head to plant it against the trailer.

“Don’t lie to yourself, princess,” Billy hissed, rocking against Steve in a dirty grind. “My own personal buckle bunny, getting wet just from watching me ride.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Billy,” Steve scoffed, eyes fluttering closed as they continued to rut against each other slow and filthy. “You’ve got plenty of bunnies to choose from.”

He’d meant it as a jab at Billy but Steve felt pain lance through his chest at his own words.

“Don’t care about any of them,” Billy grunted, burying his face in Steve’s neck and mouthing at the sensitive skin. “You’re the only bunny I care about hanging on my fence.”

“Bullshit,” Steve whimpered as Billy bit down.

“Bull true,” Billy mumbled, dropping his hand from the trailer and grabbing Steve’s other thigh.

Steve jumped so that Billy was supporting all of his weight and his already skin tight wranglers became suffocating. Billy gave Steve’s neck one last bruising suck before lifting his face to kiss him senseless again.

Letting his hands wander to plant against Billy’s drenched button down, Steve felt the strong muscles shifting under the fabric and sighed into the kiss. Fuck, he’d missed Billy. Only getting to see him a few times a year wasn’t enough and Steve yearned for more.

“It’s just you, Steve,” Billy breathed as he pulled away, pushing his sweaty forehead against Steve’s. “You know that, right?”

Steve hoped against all hope that it was true.

It’d been just Billy for him since he was 14 and Steve’s family moved to the sad little town of Hawkins, Texas.

“Then take me to bed and prove it to me, cowboy,” Steve dared, smiling when Billy’s grin turned sharp.

Billy pulled them away from the trailer and started marching along the length of it until they were inside. The smell of horse, cologne, and something quintessentially Billy that had Steve clenching in anticipation.

When Billy reached the steps to his bed, he set Steve down letting him climb up the short ladder and slapping his ass for good measure. Steve turned around to glare and was met with Billy’s self-satisfied grin.

“You knew what you were doing when you put on those jeans, princess,” Billy said like that explained everything.

It did.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows as he watched Billy climb up onto the raised area that constituted the trailer’s bedroom. Billy paused at the edge of the bed, kneeling between Steve’s knees

“You wet for me, princess?” Billy asked, sliding his palms up Steve’s denim clad thighs, eyes burning as he looked up at Steve.

Nodding, Steve bit his lip as he considered telling Billy just how wet he actually was. He wanted it to be a surprise though.

Billy gently removed Steve’s boots with an ease that never ceased to amaze Steve. He felt like he was going to war every time he tried to take them off himself.

He slowly moved on to Steve’s belt before working on his button and fly. Billy was moving so slow it was painful and Steve’s dick twitched as the pressure of his tight jeans released. With a smirk, Billy teasingly pulled down Steve’s jeans and briefs before settling back between his thighs.

His broad shoulders forced Steve’s thighs apart far enough to make his hips twinge. Steve held his breath in anticipation as Billy kissed his way up the inside of one of his thighs before parting Steve’s cheeks with his thumbs and choking.

Steve bit his lip against the smile fighting its way across his face as he felt Billy’s breath stutter against his dick.

“Fuck me,” Billy breathed reverantly as he dipped a thumb inside of Steve’s already lubed and stretched hole.

Steve groaned at the sensation of finally being filled, back arching against the bed.

“Watching me ride really got you fucking soaked, huh?” Billy asked, voice thick and gruff as he dipped a couple of fingers inside of Steve.

Gasping and falling back against the bed, Steve whined as Billy stroked his prostate with gentle pulses of his fingertips.

“Need you in me,” Steve pleaded, pitchy and whiny in the worst way as he squirmed. “Been thinking about it all day, waiting for your ride.”

“I can’t -“ Billy cut himself off as he shifted around, yanking his boots and clothes off in a flurry that contradicted his slow, teasing approach from moments before. “I can’t do foreplay right now, princess.”

Billy flushed at the admittance, tossing his last piece of clothing to the floor and grabbing Steve’s thighs. He hauled Steve up the bed and situated himself so that he was hovering over him, lining up and looking at him in askance.

“Don’t need it,” Steve whispered, grabbing Billy’s pendant where it was dangling in his face. “Need you in me right now.”

Nodding, Billy lined up and pushed in tenderly. His face was red, veins popping as he tried to hold himself back.

Steve didn’t want him to hold back. It’d been months. Steve wanted the raw, desperate, reconciliation sex they always had. The kind that made his toes curl.

“Give it to me, cowboy,” Steve demanded, tangling his free hand in Billy’s curls.

“Christ, princess,” Billy moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed himself to fuck into Steve fully. “You got me so fucking pussy whipped.”

It was a gross statement, practically a line if he really thought about it. The way Billy had said it, like a confession had Steve feeling split open and unmoored.

“Yeah?” Steve checked, running his fingers through Billy’s curls.

“Yeah,” Billy croaked, eyes opening to gaze down at Steve.

Steve nodded to show he was ready and wailed as Billy started to fuck into him without abandon. He had to drop his grip on Billy’s necklace for fear of ripping it from his neck with how forceful his thrusts were.

It was the same, toe-curling, eye rolling rhythm they always had but something was missing and Steve couldn’t put his finger on it.

He didn’t have long to consider it as Billy angled his hips down so that he was brushing roughly against Steve’s prostate with each quick thrust. Steve looked up to gauge how close his head was to hitting the wall when he saw it.

“No hat?” Steve gasped, his voice nearly breaking, making Billy freeze as he gaped down at Steve.

It was silly, but Billy always wore his hat when they met up at the bars afterwards and Steve was feeling a little off kilter due to its absence. Billy’s surprised expression slowly melted into a lascivious smirk.

“Is that what does it for you?” Billy asked as he grabbed the black Stetson off its hook above the head of the bed.

He plopped it on top of his dirty, sweaty curls before quirking a teasing eyebrow at Steve.

“Shut up and fuck me, cowboy,” Steve mumbled, face flushing as he squeezed Billy’s hips with his thighs.

“As you wish, princess,” Billy agreed, before fucking into Steve so hard that he jolted up the bed.

Steve moaned, hand flying up to brace against the wall so that his head didn’t slam into it. He grinned up at Billy, hiking his legs higher on his waist to allow Billy to deepen the angle.

It was like a lightning storm every time they came together and Steve was helpless but to give in. It only got more overwhelming as Billy started running his mouth.

“We’re gonna go the bar after this,” Billy promised, breathless with exertion as he continued to fuck into Steve at a ridiculous pace.

“My cum’s gonna be dripping from your pussy when you bend over the pool table like a slut.”

Steve whimpered as he imagined it. Feeling Billy’s cum slide out of him as they hung out with their friends.

“Everyone always wants a piece of you,” Billy grunted, hands twisting in the sheets on either side of Steve’s head. “But everyone will know you’re my bunny.”

The crackling electricity of arousal hummed insistently in Steve’s belly.

“How?” Steve asked through stuttering breaths as Billy’s hips snapped into his at an unparalleled pace.

“Gonna put my necklace on you,” Billy panted, mouth dropping wide and tongue wetting his bottom lip as he struggled to keep his insane rhythm while coming down from the adrenaline rush.

Steve’s hand flew back up to the necklace in question, tightening up reflexively around Billy.

“Shit,” Billy choked out, eyes screwing shut as he trembled above Steve. “Pussy’s so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, wrapping a hand around himself, orgasm buzzing close at seeing just how overwhelmed Billy was.

“Yeah,” Billy breathed, letting his eyes open so he could look at Steve again. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

“Show me how pretty I am,” Steve demanded softly, muscles tensing as his fingers and toes tingled. “Cum in my pussy.”

“Gonna fill you up,” Billy promised gruffly, rhythm growing sloppy. “Make you mine.”

Whimpering, Steve started stroking himself faster as he practically vibrated out of his skin.

“Come on, cowboy,” Steve urged, screwing up purposefully tight. “Show me who I belong to.”

“Belong to me,” Billy groaned, fucking into Steve impossibly harder, hand flying up to cradle Steve’s head so he didn’t hit it against the wall. “My princess.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, vision blurring around the edges as his toes curled against Billy’s back, shocks of arousal sparking through his veins dangerously.

“Only one who gets to fuck this pussy,” Billy grunted, trembling above Steve as his eyes widened and his breath started to stutter.

“Only one,” Steve promised, voice going high as Billy fucked into him just right. “Give it to me.”

“Oh fuck,” Billy groaned before his breath caught.

Steve watched his muscles strain as Billy shook above him and Steve felt a shock of warmth spill inside of him.

Moaning loud and obscene, Steve gave in to the lightning bolting up his spine and through his limbs as he came all over his belly in strong bursts. The sensation of Billy’s thrusts getting sloppier and wetter had him clenching reflexively causing them both to whine.

Billy fucked him through the aftershocks of their orgasms as Steve’s muscles went limp and Billy’s breathing caught up. He slowed his thrusts to gentle rocks and Steve released Billy’s pendant and grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into a kiss.

Obliging easily, Billy slipped his tongue past Steve’s lips and let himself explore as he trailed callus rough fingertips up and down Steve’s thigh. Steve let himself relax into it fully, sinking against the mattress.

He hummed as Billy pulled back just enough to look at Steve’s face. His fiery gaze burned through Steve despite how gentle it was. Steve would never get enough of it.

Steve whined softly as Billy pulled away further, but settled as Billy fiddled with his necklace. Steve lifted his neck so that Billy could close the clasp and fell back against the bed once it was in place against his chest.

Billy stroked an exploratory finger over the pendant where it rested against Steve’s chest before pressing his weight down on Steve once again.

“Join me on the circuit,” Billy whispered, tilting Steve’s face so that he was staring directly into Billy’s fiery blue eyes.

“Billy,” Steve protested, eyes fluttering closed as he fought the itch in his nose that signaled oncoming tears.

They went over this every time. It broke Steve’s heart more and more each time. He didn’t know how Billy could stand it.

“Not now,” Billy amended, nudging their noses together. “In a couple of months when you graduate.”

Steve sighed and let his eyes flutter close. He’d be officially done with college in just a few short months. He’d be expected to start working for his father in just a few short months so he could take over the company eventually.

Could Steve survive eight or more years of only seeing Billy for a handful of days each year?

He opened his eyes to stare up into Billy’s, the absolute certainty and love reflected back at him making the decision for him.

“Okay,” Steve relented, grinning softly at the pure, unadulterated joy that spread across Billy’s face.

Billy whooped, grabbing Steve’s waist and rolling them over so that Steve was straddling his waist. Billy took his hat off, plopping it on Steve’s head and smiling so wide it had to have hurt his cheeks.

“The boys are gonna be so jealous when they find out I locked down the prettiest buckle bunny on the circuit,” Billy gloated, eyes glimmering with unbridled glee.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to call me a buckle bunny if we’re actually together,” Steve scoffed, smacking Billy’s shoulder.

“I can if you keep hanging off my fence, looking the way you do, watching me win all those buckles,” Billy teased, biting his tongue when Steve pinched his side.

Rolling his eyes, Steve readjusted the Stetson on his head and Billy’s gaze went molten.

“Looks good on you, princess,” Billy whispered, callused hands running up Steve’s thighs.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, rolling his hips back against Billy’s twitching dick.

“Mmhmm,” Billy hummed, grabbing Steve’s hips and holding him in place as he grinded up against his ass. “Think you should wear it while you ride me.”

Steve gasped as Billy’s cock settled between his cheeks, their rhythm growing harder and more frenzied.

“Think I’ll last all eight seconds?” Steve teased, whining as the head of Billy’s dick caught on his rim.

“Only one way to find out,” Billy challenged, guiding himself back into Steve and sliding home.

Steve made it significantly longer than eight seconds and left Billy wheezing about how Steve should upgrade from being a buckle bunny to a bull rider.

Please look forward to the lovely, wonderful, and amazing work from the next contributor, @imsodishy.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #oopsiewrites #harringrove fanfiction #bull rider Billy #buckle bunny Steve #cowboy Billy #harringrovefic #harringrove relay race #harringrove fanfic #stranger things

[harringroveera]

“We got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington!”

“Yeah, eat it, Harrington.”

Steve pushed his sunglasses over his head, staring at the guy in front of him, with golden curls under the dim light of the room, beers dripping down his bare chest and stomach, making his skin glisten.

Billy Hargrove was his name, and he only knew it because he’d overheard it from Tina and Vickie when they were talking about his ass.

Blue eyes looked back at him, and Steve swallowed, tipping his chin up to exert confidence.

“Is that so?”

“Unless you wanna go against him,” Tommy quipped, egging him on further.

“So this is the King Steve everyone’s been talking so much about,” Hargrove said, taking a step forward. “I expected someone better looking at least.”

He widened his eyes, his lips parting in pure shock as Hargrove smirked at him, like the cocky asshole he was.

“And who is this?” His eyes darted away to Steve’s right side, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. “Why the long face?”

Before Steve could register what was going on—he could barely even react—Hargrove crossed the little space in the room, grabbing Nancy by the face, and he kissed her.

Steve’s stomach dropped at the sight, of Nancy clutching at Hargrove’s jacket, her nails digging into the leather. She didn’t push back, and Hargrove didn’t pull away.

And there Steve was, standing frozen on the spot like a stupid statue, watching some new guy kiss his girlfriend. Like an idiot.

The moment they broke away from each other, Steve finally found his voice to speak up about whatever had just happened.

“That’s my fucking girlfriend,” he murmured. “What the fuck, Hargrove?”

“Oh, shit,” Hargrove said, turning to him with the corner of his lips turning up. “Sorry, man, guess I gotta make it even now.”

He flattened his hand on Steve’s chest, shoving him against the wooden surface, before he kissed him.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement, and to say he didn’t enjoy it would be a complete lie.

Hargrove’s lips were soft against his, and wet, tasting of beer and smoke. Their mouths slotted together, and Steve found himself moving on his own, returning the kiss with the same passion Hargrove put into it.

No wonder Nancy didn’t push him away, because Hargrove kissed like a god, like he wanted to drink down the sound Steve made and consume him whole. It felt almost too forbidden for him to want more of it.

He splayed his hands on Hargrove’s sternum, feeling his damp and warm skin underneath his fingers, gliding them up to the curls of his hair and tugging at them, dragging out a low groan from the other guy.

The music was still blasting in the house, and he could hear the faint sound of surprise from some people around him, but he truly could care less. All he wanted was to kiss Hargrove.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve whispered against his lips when Hargrove pulled away, attempting to break off the kiss.

“Just taking a breath, Harrington. Don’t intend on stopping any time now.”

The smirk was sly, almost predatory, and Steve claimed his lips in another kiss. Deeper this time, with tongue, and he could taste Hargrove more clearly, feel his body flushing against him more warmly.

Hargrove’s hands were sliding down his sides, pulling at the belt of his jeans to haul him closer. The kiss was fervent and hot, stirring something in the pit of his stomach, and Steve did nothing but keep Hargrove close to him.

He didn’t want to let him go, or to end what was going on, which surprised him, to put it mildly.

Well, until something shattered loudly, and Steve finally yanked himself away from Hargrove’s incredibly tempting lips.

It was just some guy, apparently, who broke a precious vase in Tina’s kitchen, now listening to her scolding while he wiped his hands on the white cloth he was wearing, burping out a drunken sound instead of apologizing.

He looked back at Hargrove, at the pair of blue eyes that were fixed on him, at his swollen lips, and he was very aware of how Hargrove’s hands were still on his waist.

Of course, once he reeled back into reality, he remembered what had happened, and who was here.

He turned to look at Nancy, who was staring directly at them with her mouth slack and her eyes widening. The look of betrayal painted her face.

“Nance,” he uttered. “Nancy, wait, I can explain. I didn’t—”

“You know what?” Nancy held her hands up in the air, shutting him up instantly. “Have him, Hargrove.”

“What?”

“Yeah, take him, whatever. I don’t care. You look better together anyway.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Hargrove said. “You’re giving me your boyfriend?”

“Why not? Seems like you two get along well, especially with that kiss,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “And I will go get drunk. Have fun.”

When she turned on her heels and walked away, Steve looked back at Hargrove with a scoff.

“Did she just break up with me?”

“You did kiss me, Harrington.”

“You kissed her first! And she liked it!”

“What? Are you saying you didn’t?”

His words faltered in his mind, and he gulped. “I…did not say that.”

“Good, I was hoping for that answer,” Hargrove said, cocking his head to the side. “Wanna go to the bathroom and finish what we were doing?”

“What? Now?”

“Unless you don’t want to.”

Hargrove withdrew his hands from his waist, and Steve frowned. He looked around the room, and no one was paying attention to them at all. Even Nancy was standing in the kitchen, chugging down the alcohol while Byers talked to her.

His heart drummed in his chest, and Hargrove was still waiting for him, patiently, with that damned smirk on his face, like he already knew what Steve was going to do.

He groaned, grabbing Hargrove by the wrist. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

#harringrove #even steven #yes this is what happened #i guess that’s fair tbh #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy & nancy friendship supremacy #it’s rare that i even write a ficlet anymore but i tried not to make it long #harringroveera #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #my writing #nancy wheeler #steve x billy #steve harrington x billy hargrove #a lil jancy at the end? #inspired by a scene in 2 broke girls #everyone’s just so stoked they left okay #and yes I completely erased the homophobia in this time for this fic #harringrove ship #harringrove imagine #harringrove au #harringrove headcanon

[californiaboytoybilly]

Chasing Shadows (in the grocery line)

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! (@harringrove-relay-race)✨

I was passed the baton by the lovely @imsodishy, and I'm honored to close out the relay race with this piece. I've loved seeing all the beautiful creations coming out of this event and I'm blushing at even being considered alongside creators like these. summary:

What had he done to deserve this?

Billy's chest grew cold and achy as he stared at a tousled blonde head of hair, looking at his mother for the first time in years. Except she wasn’t his mother. Just a woman who could be her long-lost twin, if not for the color of her eyes — a cold gray compared to his mother’s ocean blues. tags: pre-relationship, post s2, panic attacks, implied/referenced child abuse, billy sees a woman who looks like his mother and doesn't handle it well, steve harrington is a sweetheart, emotional hurt/comfort, billy hargrove needs a hug word count: 3.4k

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Hawkins Indiana had been personally designed to be Billy’s own realm of hell, he was sure of it. 

It had been one thing to shoulder the previous levels of misery this town had to offer. The simpering girls with jelly spines in their pastel sweater sets and Indiana’s hilly, woodsy stretches of land with not a drop of saltwater in sight. Did it matter that every single house looked like it had been popped out of one of three molds? He only had to tolerate this place until the day he turned eighteen, at which point he intended to jump in his car and drive until he got back to California. 

It wasn’t worth bothering to ask why he would have earned such a punishment. He was at least self-aware enough to know he wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of kindness and social grace- he was sure plenty of people had quietly wished him to fall into the flames on more than one occasion. 

But this… what had he done to deserve this?

His chest grew cold and achy as he stared at a tousled blonde head of hair, looking at his mother for the first time in years. 

Except she wasn’t his mother. 

Just a woman who could be her long-lost twin, if not for the color of her eyes — a cold gray compared to his mother’s ocean blues.

His breath caught in his throat, bile lingering on the back of his tongue, but he couldn’t look away. It was like the supermarket tiles had grown vines, wrapped around his legs until he couldn’t have moved even if he’d been on fire. 

The woman was around the same age his mother had been the last time he’d seen her, too. Her face was youthful, untouched by age or stress or misery. Features soft in a way only reminiscent of the version of Dianna Hargrove that came out when Neil was away. 

The pounding of his heart was making him dizzy, the woman he couldn’t tear his gaze from utterly oblivious to the damage she was doing to him on a molecular level by simply existing here, in this place, at the same time as him. 

Panic was creeping up his throat- or maybe he was going to be sick. That was also a strong possibility. His vision was starting to pulse at the edges. He needed to get out of here; he needed to—

A hand clasped down on his shoulder, warm and firm, and Billy couldn’t control the violent flinch it earned from him. The hand moved immediately at the jolt, lifting in a gesture of surrender. 

Wild blue eyes followed the arm attached to the hand towards its owner. He took in spattered moles that itched at his brain but couldn’t quite connect why through the wash of panic until he turned his gaze up the rest of the way. 

Steve Harrington stared at him with eyes that were too soft, too big and concerned. He wasn’t used to seeing that expression on Harrington’s face and the perceived pity made him bristle. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He muttered, but it lacked the bite that may usually have been present. Billy hated the way his voice trembled like a scared little kid, keeping his gaze as far away from the dairy aisle as he could now. 

Harrington paused, brows furrowing in the middle, and he let out a little sigh in response to Billy’s order. Less irritated by his attitude than normal, more resigned, like a toddler had poured juice on his shoe. He wiggled his fingers as though in reminder that they were nowhere near Billy now, which made the blonde grit his teeth together. 

Then- in a voice a little too gentle- he spoke up. “Sorry if I made you jump. Just ah… looked like you were going to barf. Thought I’d make sure that you were–”

“I’m fine.” Billy interrupted, but the last syllable was weak, to say the least. “I’m fine, I have to go.” He dropped his full basket on a nearby shelf, ducking past Steve as his cheeks started to burn red with humiliation.

He’d be lucky if Neil didn’t kick his ass for not getting the groceries like he was instructed, but he couldn’t stay in this store even one minute longer if he wanted to preserve even a shred of his pride. Bruises would heal, they always did. 

At the door, in his hurry to get out, he almost smacked right into one of Susan’s friends. Cindy, if he wasn’t mistaken, was a brunette with hair bigger than a minivan and a gossiping tendency to match.  

“Well hello there, Billy.” She said in a sickeningly sweet voice, unknowingly just barely avoiding being told to fuck off. He had to remind himself that if he did, she’d run home and tell Susan and then he’d have a lot more problems than a panic attack and a few bruises to deal with today. 

He greeted her kind of flatly in response, but tried to smooth his face into something less shaken and more charming when she raised an eyebrow at his tone. “How’s the husband?” He tried again, even if his lungs still felt like they were in a vice grip.

She sighed dramatically with an eye-roll. “Probably sleeping in his recliner, as usual. Pretty sure he’d rot in that thing if he didn’t have to get up to eat.” 

Billy regretted asking immediately but nodded sympathetically, internally begging her to just fuck off and go do her shopping already. “Can’t live with him, can’t live without him, huh?” 

Cindy scoffed and twirled her hair, eyeing him a moment too long. “Oh, I’d do just fine without him. Unfortunately, the house is in his name.” 

Billy inched towards the door, just barely shuffling his feet an inch at a time to put more space in between them. Just when he was trying to think of an excuse to leave without having to pretend he cared about her shitty marriage, another shrill voice called out her name and she spun to find them.

Sandy, not Cindy. At least he didn’t actually call her by the wrong name out loud. 

Using her distraction, Billy all but threw himself through the glass doors and walked as fast as he could towards the alleyway between the store and the hair salon next door. An employee in a red store vest was smoking a cigarette against the wall, but Billy’s fracturing grip on his emotions must’ve resulted in a slightly terrifying expression on his face.

Dropping his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, the teen- who Billy thought he vaguely recognized from school- faux casually booked it out of the other side of the alley before Billy had to yell at him to do so. 

Finally alone, Billy dropped down to sit on the red metal bench they’d thrown back here to rust away and put his head in his hands. It was barely three seconds before a strangled sound, not entirely unlike a sob, dragged itself painfully out of his throat, his shoulders curling into a hunch. 

With his eyes closed, he saw the woman again. The way the fluorescent lighting had sat so harshly on her corn-silk hair, the glint of silver rings on slender fingers. A shudder rolled down Billy’s spine as the version of her in his mind's eye turned to face him, eyes blue now instead of gray. 

“Billy, baby? Is that you?” She said so softly, voice lilting in surprise. She reached out a hand towards him, her own basket dropping to the too-white tiles as the eyes she shared with him welled up with tears and–

“Hey!” She spoke again, but her voice was lower. Too deep, not her voice at all. It wasn’t until the third repetition that the illusion shattered, careful footsteps on the concrete snapping him free. Billy’s head shot up immediately, pulse picking up speed, only to see Steve Harrington once again. 

“Don’t you have anywhere better to be?!” Billy snapped, his bitter attitude flaring up to protect the oozing, throbbing hole that had been torn straight through his abdomen. “Or are you so fucking obsessed with me that you’ve decided to follow me around and be a pain in my–” 

“Damn it, Hargrove. Just… take a breath. I’m not going to fight you.” Steve sighed and moved closer, like he wasn’t even a little afraid of Billy’s temper. As though Billy hadn’t left him a bloody, bruised mess in a fit of anger barely six months prior.

“What do you want, Harrington? I’m not in the mood.” He said finally, all the fury draining from his voice. He just didn’t have the energy to fight right now.

He was tired and sad, his chest felt empty, and he missed his fucking mom.

“I know you said you were fine, but you’re clearly not.” Steve said, hovering around the edge of the bench. He shifted back on his heels, heavy-looking plastic bags dangling from his fingers. The tears he’d shed embarrassed Billy. He could feel them clinging to his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop them from falling even now and it was too late to hide them. 

“Why do you care?” Billy muttered bitterly. “I’m an asshole to you. You hate me, I… I hate you.” That last one was a lie, and he knew it, but he wasn’t willing to acknowledge that to himself right now. “Shouldn’t you find this funny?” 

Steve set the bags down, using his knee to nudge Billy out of the way before sitting down on the bench like he belonged there. Billy eyed him warily, lip hauled between his teeth now. 

“Who said I hate you?” Steve said, tone still soft but with an edge like a teacher asking him for the date in history that the Old White Man of the Week had died. Billy felt any answer he may have so much as considered die in his throat. 

“And even if I did hate you- which I don’t- I still wouldn’t find you being miserable funny.” Billy wanted to protest the description of his mood, but it was more accurate than he wanted it to be. 

Eventually he managed a half-reply, “Didn’t mean you had to follow me.” 

Steve shrugged and settled further into the bench, leg just barely pressing against the blonde’s own. “Yeah well. Like you said before, I had nothing better to do.” There was a small smile audible in his voice, and when Billy peeked back over at him, he figured out that Steve was trying to lighten the mood. 

He didn’t exactly know that Billy was bleeding out beside him in slow-motion, so he had no way of knowing a joke wouldn’t patch it up. But the attempt was… oddly nice, even if Billy was still struggling to accept his presence as genuine at all.

“Just having a shitty day. It doesn’t matter.” Billy breathed, turning his gaze towards the gravel-strewn alley ground once more. A soggy flyer was balled up by his feet, which he aimed a kick at to get some of his tension out. It bounced off the rim of a rusted coffee can full of cigarette butts and then rolled off down the alley. 

Beside him, Steve made a buzzer sound under his breath and even as his chest gave another dull throb, Billy found himself snorting a quiet laugh. 

“I can still kick your ass on the court, missed shot or not.” Billy said defiantly, but his voice conveyed an attempt at reciprocated humor, even if it sounded a little flat. Steve just shrugged again. 

“Eh, you’ve got me there.” The brunette acquiesced instead of even playfully fighting him and damn it all, why the hell did that have heat flooding back into Billy’s cheeks? 

He knew why, but again, now was not the time. 

“Can’t believe Steve Harrington spends time buying his own groceries. What, give the staff a day off?” Billy said before Steve could inadvertently compliment him again, picking at the skin of his palm as a tactile distraction. 

“These aren’t mine actually, and believe it or not, I clean my own house, too. I know, shocking.” Steve drawled in a dry, light tone. Had he shifted closer? Billy could swear that he could feel more of Steve’s leg against his own than he had a minute ago. 

“You do grocery shopping for other people?” Billy cocked his head. That was an even more bizarre concept, for some reason. 

Steve shook his head, but his answer was no less cryptic. “Not often, just… sometimes I make an exception.” 

“Ooookay.” 

They both trailed off, silence creeping into the alleyway once again. Billy wasn’t sure when he stopped crying, but when he lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes, his face was dry. 

Maybe Steve wasn’t a horrible distraction.

Billy opened his mouth to speak, anything to fill the silence. He’d always liked silence; silence was the opposite of everything home was. But for some reason, he hated it right now. 

The problem was simple- what did he even say? He was still residually embarrassed and worn out. They’d never had a genuinely friendly conversation before- and Billy doubted this one counted as that either, at least not at the beginning- and he was genuinely grasping at mental straws trying to find a topic. 

Hey man, while we’re having a somewhat normal conversation, mind telling me what was in that syringe my shitbird sister stabbed me with? 

Also, I just casually hallucinated my mother in the grocery store because hey, if there’s a God, he loves taking his morning shit in my cereal. 

Yeah, he was sure that would go over super well. 

Billy’s hand lifted to rub over the spot on his neck that the needle had gone into, a slight shiver running down his back. That had been a weird fucking night. 

Steve seemed to notice his movement, because he turned his body towards Billy a little more. Billy suddenly felt very observed, and he shifted in place before digging into his pocket for a cigarette. 

As he inhaled a deep drag, he felt a little of the rigidness leave his posture. Even with the blonde woman still faintly burned into the edge of his vision, it was helping considerably. 

“Hey uh…” Steve started, then trailed off. He clearly also didn’t know how to break the silence between them. “Are you going to Jennifer’s party?” He said finally. 

Billy couldn’t help but smile at the obvious grasp of a topic, letting smoke curl out between his teeth. “Nah. I have to babysit.”

The displeasure in his voice was obvious. Even if he and Max were still in a weird, post-syringe purgatory phase of their hot and cold relationship, he didn’t exactly enjoy sitting at home and doing fuck all nothing but trying to keep her from sneaking out again. 

“Max?” Steve probed, but it barely sounded like a question. 

Billy raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d willingly watch any other snot-nosed kid in this town? If I needed money that badly, I think I’d be happier scrubbing out public toilets with a toothbrush.”

Steve choked on a laugh, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. Billy may be a little into the way he looked when he was angry, but he was unfairly attractive when he smiled like that. Fuck. It made Billy want to piss him off just so his brain stopped turning all useless and fuzzy. 

“Mm, yeah, that’s fair. Can’t really imagine you playing tea party.” 

Billy made a disgusted sound, forcing himself to look away from that smile. “Yeah, I’m good. No thanks.”

Steve rubbed his palms on his jeans, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “I should… get going.” He said apologetically, getting to his feet. “I have to get to… uh. Well, a job interview. At that new mall that just opened up.” He scrunched his face, looking disinterested in the concept as a whole. 

Clearly, this job interview wasn’t his idea.

Billy attempted to conceal his disappointment with the loss of body heat at his side, already sensing a small amount of the calm that had settled into his chest fading away. He cleared his throat. “Alright..”

Steve looked at him for a moment longer, then glanced over his shoulder towards the opening to the alley. Was Billy imagining things, or did he look as disappointed as Billy felt?

Though trying to get the words out felt like dragging a sandbag through four feet of water, Billy eventually managed to get out a quiet- “Thanks… for ah- coming out here.” He said slowly, not looking anywhere close to Steve while he did so. He heard a quiet hum in response.

Steve was smiling again when he looked back up and Billy felt that damn fuzziness start creeping back into place. Fucking Harrington and his stupid, pretty smile. 

“Not a problem…” Steve said, sounding genuine. “For… what it’s worth, I hope your day gets a little better.” Billy had to bite his tongue not to laugh sarcastically at the sentiment. He knew deep down it would only get worse. 

But he’d long since gotten used to evading the truth when it came to stuff like this. 

“I’m sure it will.” He lied, fingernails biting into the palm of his hand. 

Steve didn’t look convinced, the corners of his lips twitching downwards. If he did know Billy was lying, he chose not to call him out. Billy appreciated it. He’d already been far more vulnerable in the last half an hour than he liked. 

“I’ll… see you around, Billy.”

Billy. Not Hargrove or an insulting name. He was Billy now. It made his nerves skitter sparks, fingers twitching. 

Steve started to walk away, slipping his hands into his pockets. It was that movement that made Billy realize something. “Hey, Steve–”

The brunette turned to look back at him, waiting. 

Billy gestured lamely to the grocery bags on the ground. “You forgot your bags.” 

Steve looked a little red in the face, but he simply shrugged. “Like I said… they aren’t my groceries.” Then, like he hadn’t just thoroughly confused Billy, he left the alley entirely and vanished around the corner. 

Regardless of whether they were his or not, he was sure whoever Steve had been shopping for would’ve liked to actually get their groceries. He was surprised he had even managed to get all this. Wasn’t his basket basically empty when he’d approached Billy in the store...?

Billy blinked, eyes snapping to the bags on the ground with a new level of focus. Steve’s basket had had nothing but a jar of sauce in it. He was sure of that now. There were far too many bags sitting around his feet for Steve to have had time to get all of it and go through the checkout in the time Billy had been held up by Sandy at the doors. 

He hesitantly reached down to the one nearest his foot, pulling it open. As he scanned the contents, Susan’s grocery list flashed through his mind. By the second bag, his mouth was hanging open a little, and he abruptly realized what Steve had done all at once. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered, a little breathless. 

Steve had bought his groceries for him. He’d grabbed Billy’s full basket off the shelf, and he’d gone and fucking–

Billy’s face pinched into something conflicted as he tried to battle back the wash of confusing emotions now flooding through his body, fingers shaking slightly on the handle of the bag. Relief, gratitude, confusion, and something soft and warm and terrifying. 

Without even knowing the punishment that would’ve awaited him when he came home empty-handed, Steve had waltzed right in and somehow saved him from it.

He looked back towards the opening of the alley, even though he knew Steve was long gone now, with a dangerous fluttering taking over his chest. There was no coming back from this moment in time, that wave of warmth now far too strong to battle back even with his carefully honed talent of repression.

Steve Harrington had a terrible habit of messing up Billy’s plans- and brain- but this was a whole new level. This time, he’d gone straight for the heart.

Oh, Billy was so fucked. 

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #billy x steve #hargrovecentral #harringrove relay race #harringrove fanfiction

[billlydear]

pairing: billy hargrove x steve harrington / WC: 4501

summary: based on this post by @ariesbilly (i was anon), el shops rather creatively for billy's birthday and steve has some things to say about his new look

this will be crossposted on AO3 as soon as i've got the time to set up a new account there. i hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving some feedback! also, i've got a harringroveson spidey/venom au in the works, so please let me know if you'd like to see that :-)

Billy’s genuinely, truly concerned when Jim pulls him aside at his little birthday dinner, and not just because he’s still a tiny bit wary around the man. He hasn’t done anything awful yet, so far there’s not a bone in his body that resembles his dad’s, but Billy’s lived with Neil all his life, and Jim only a few months. He’s getting better, but he’s not there yet.

“Listen,” Jim murmurs, taking the hand he’d used to usher Billy into the kitchen off of his arm. Billy appreciates it, it’s like Jim knows he doesn’t like being grabbed; like he pays attention to Billy’s comfort.

“She’s come a long way,” Jim praises El, “-but gift giving for anyone but Max is… hard. She just shops for herself, it’s like-” Jim rubs an exasperated hand over the scruff on his chin, leaned up against the kitchen counter while Billy leans in slightly to hear his low voice, “It’s like she finds something she likes. And since she likes the person she’s giving it to, she equates the two. ‘Thinks that whatever she likes, they’ll like too. That’s why I drink out of that glittery cup every morning,” Jim gestures to the tumbler currently drying on the rack, ‘BFF’ written in white loopy letters on the plastic, “She’s got the spirit, just not the know-how. And I was really trying to get her to branch out for you, I took her to the mall but she beelined for Claire’s, and-” Jim sighs, shooting a cautious glance back to the living room where the girls are waiting with their gifts, “Just- please act like you like ‘em. If you want, I’ll give you the receipt, and you can return them for cash, just- humor her. Please.”

“Okay,” Is all Billy says, really all he can think of saying, and Jim reaches out to pat his bicep.

“Thanks,” His shoulders slump in relief, “Alright, birthday boy, let’s get going.”

Billy’s used to birthday gifts, but not nice ones. If he was lucky, he’d get gas money for the week from his dad, but that’s only because Susan insisted on acknowledging the day. Gifts have always been an obligation, never a gesture, so sitting on the couch in front of three tissue-paper-stuffed bags is a bit daunting for the man.

“Mine first,” Max demands, pushing her bag forward. Billy sends her what he hopes she perceives as a smile, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. They’ve gotten a lot better with each other now that Neil’s not goading Billy anymore, and Billy’s glad for it.

Inside there’s a gift card to a surf shop he’d worked at one summer back in California. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything on it - for all he knows, she found it in a box of his old stuff - but just seeing the logo of the place makes him nostalgic, and his barely-smile blooms into an unbridled one. The gift of memory is one he didn’t know he’d appreciate this much.

“Damn,” He huffs out a laugh, plucking the thin plastic out of the tissue, “Where’d you find this?”

“I wrote to my grandma,” Max confesses, “There’s 50 bucks on there, but for the record, all I sent her to put on there was 20.”

Billy remembers Max’s grandma; they’d visited her once. She was awesome, but the kind of awesome that made parents distrust her, and contact was lost after the move to Hawkins. The old lady had crammed Billy and Max into the back of her cluttered bug to get ice cream after Neil and Susan had gone to bed, and it was nice for Billy to hear she was still doing well.

“Thanks,” Billy laughs, almost a scoff as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. She pretends to hate it, maybe she does a little, but she lets him, which is like another birthday gift: Annoying Privileges.

He sees a flash of black as he puts the gift card back in the tissue, and it explains why the tiny plastic was wrapped so excessively.

Don’t show Hopper, the note reads, with an arrow down, so he discretely peels away the paper to find three cartons of cigarettes beneath it. He’ll worry about how she got them later, for now he shoots her a smirk that she returns.

“Alright, mine’s kinda-” Jim fumbles for his bag, “-tied into hers. Here, kid.”

The tissue crinkles under Billy’s fingers, and he peers down into the blue bag to see a paper.

He pulls it out, squinting at the fine print.

It’s a hotel booking. A hotel in California, shit, right by the beach.

“I already called you off of work,” Jim smiles at Billy, “It’s about a month from now. Only condition is you take the girls with you, they’ve got their own room and we’ll send ‘em with gas money.”

Max’s grin is bright, and Billy knows this is just as much of a gift for her as it is for him. His chest feels tight, like each word on the page had sucked air out of his lungs until there was none left, and now he’s struggling to breathe. He’s wanted to go back since the moment he left, but his dad never would have let him, and moving in with Jim and El then immediately fleeing the state seemed rude, so he’s grateful for the push. He doesn’t even know how to begin thanking Jim, so he starts with the words themselves.

“Thank you,” Billy croaks, trying not to let a gush of emotions overwhelm him. “Seriously, I-” His voice wavers and he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and pinching his fingers along the folded crease of the paper to thin it down even more, “Thank you, Jim.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jim reaches out again, gives him that little pat pat to the bicep instead of trying to hug him. Billy thinks just for that, he will let Jim hug him next time.

Once Billy’s regained his composure and only let one gruff sniffle slip, El is handing over her bag.

“Mine was not as much money as theirs,” She looks serious, like Billy’s going to backhand her for not renting them an RV for the trip, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jim starts, ready to console her and teach her an etiquette lesson, but Billy lets out a weak chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, El.” He tugs at the tissue paper, “One time I wrote I.O.U. on a piece of paper for Max’s birthday.”

El’s brows furrow at the unfamiliar phrase, and Max leans in, “It means I owe you, like, ‘I owe you one’. He didn’t get me anything.”

“I offered you something,” Billy gripes, pausing in his unwrapping efforts, “Not my fault you chucked it out.”

“Oh, no,” Max laughs, “I still have it. But I wasn’t gonna waste it on arcade tokens. I’m gonna make it count, you’re gonna bail me out of a bad party or lie to the cops about-”

She reconsiders, looking at Hopper who’s stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowed at her, “-Nothing. Lying to cops is bad.”

“Nice save,” Billy deadpans, ducking his head back down towards the bag. The tissue inside is messy, he can tell El did it herself. 

Beneath the first layer of tissue, the stuff crumpled up to give the present volume, there’s six individually wrapped packages. Billy’s stomach does a little flip; call it nerves, call it endearment, but whatever it is, he reaches for the first package without paying it any mind.

His fingers peel at the tape sticking it all together, and his strong grip rips the tissue. He goes with it, tearing into the gift, and a purple plastic card falls into his hand. It’s punched in two places near the middle, and inside each hole is an earring. They’re- not his style.

They’re studs, little balls of gel in rainbow colors with squishy spikes sticking out of them. They honestly look like something a kindergartener would make with a hot glue gun, but there’s an expectant smile on El’s face and Billy finds himself smiling back at her, genuinely so.

“Thanks, El,” He flips the package over, price tag ripped off messily and silver backings staring at him, “These are cool.”

“I know you like earrings. There’s more,” She prompts him, the section of her hair that she’s tied up bouncing as she leans forward enthusiastically, “Open them.”

“Okay,” He laughs, setting the earrings aside. The second package yields another pair, this time two pieces of bread with little smiley faces on them, one painted brown for peanut butter and the other purple for jelly.

“That’s cute,” Billy laughs breathily, “That’ll go good with my purple button up.”

“Mhm,” El nods, hair once again bouncing, “That’s what I thought.”

As Billy expects, each package contains a pair of earrings. He gets tiny springs, a gradient of pink to purple to blue covering the curved metal, and they look like they’d be permanently damaged if he stretched them out even once. Then a pair of jellyfish-inspired ones, a clay head with a smile on its face connected by metal rings to all of the tentacles dangling below. Next are lollipops, stiff sticks leading into plastic that’s swirled in design and shaped like a bear’s head with yet another smiley face. Each little black curve on the earrings’ faces only makes his own grow. The fifth pair are meant to look like goldfish, suspended in resin that fills the bowl to make it look like they’re swimming in water. It’s the most intricate pair of earrings he’s ever seen, he’ll give Claire that. The final pair is much bigger than the others, and when he unwraps it, a pom-pom sticks out.

They’re big puffballs, tie-dyed pink and purple, connected to a peace sign stud that goes through his ear. They’re obnoxious, something you’d only see on a child whose grandparents had bought the biggest pair of earrings they could find because their vision was too poor to appreciate any smaller designs. Nevertheless, Billy pops the squishy backing off of one of them, and sticks it between his teeth. He slips his own earring out of his ear, and tucks it into the breast pocket of the shirt he’s wearing. He sticks the puffball into his ear right then and there, and El’s grin is almost unbearably wide.

“It looks pretty,” She gushes, and Billy laughs.

“Thank you, El.” He gives her the obligatory brotherly hair ruffle as well, but she looks honored compared to Max’s exasperation. In leaning forwards to reach her, the metal point of the second earring digs into Billy’s palm where he’s holding the card still, and he glances down at it thoughtfully.

“Here,” He thinks fast, plucking the backing off of it and handing it to El, “Let’s match.”

She looks at it wide-eyed, caught off guard, “You want me to wear the other one?”

“Duh,” He nods, hand still outstretched, “How else are people gonna know who bought them for me?”

She’s more than happy to snatch the second earring from him, sliding it into her own pierced ear and shivering slightly at the feeling of the fluff brushing against her skin. 

“Alright,” Jim claps, a loud, striking sound, “You guys look great. Cake time?”

“Cake time,” Max agrees, already rising to her knees to stand and head for the kitchen, “Chocolate, Billy, your favorite.”

Billy’s all Thank you’d out. Not because he’s not thankful for this, because he’s more than that, but because he’s said it so many times today that the words are starting to lose their meaning, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be insincere, so he’ll save the ‘Thank you’s for when they really count.

Max and El settle on the floor in front of the tv to watch the movie they’ve picked out, clearly one that Jim hadn’t seen until now.

“Oh, not Terminator,” He reaches for the television to shut it off, but both girls scramble to fight him off, “It’s rated R, girls!”

“It’s Billy’s favorite,” Max huffs, and that’s not true, but he knows nothing in the movie will shock her, and El grew up being bounced around dimensions, so she probably won’t lose any sleep over a bit of blood.

“It’s true,” Billy drawls settling back on the couch with his cake and his beer (that Jim only reluctantly handed him because it’s his birthday), “But it’s fine, Jim, we don’t have to watch what I want, they can turn on My Little Pony or some shit.”

Jim wonders briefly how he’s been outsmarted by two tweens and a teenager. If he says no, he’s the asshole that ruins Billy’s birthday. If he says yes, the girls are going to see gratuitous shots of naked Arnold Schwarzenegger that he’d rather them not witness.

“You cover your eyes for the first scene,” Jim finally concedes, narrowing his eyes at Max and El, “I mean it, no peeking or I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay,” They agree, already far too amused for Jim’s liking, and Max turns to grin mischievously at Billy. It’s nice, he thinks, to do dumb shit with her. Like real siblings.

The movie starts, and Jim’s a bit too preoccupied eagle-eyeing the girls to make sure they’re not seeing anything raunchy to notice that Billy’s paying more attention than he ought to be. But once the man straightens back up so does Billy, mentally so, and turns his attention to Jim when he leans over towards Billy.

“Hey,” Jim’s whisper is gruff, but El doesn’t hear, “Thanks for that. She’s really happy.”

“No problem,” Billy admits, “They’re… different, but they’re kinda cool.”

Jim laughs, and Billy gets the sense that Jim doesn’t think he’s being sincere, but really, he is. The earrings themselves aren’t kinda cool, a year ago he’d rather have pitched himself into the quarry than wear rainbow-colored springs dangling from his ears, or a smiley piece of peanut butter toast, but what’s kinda cool is that someone gave them to him because they thought he’d like them; because they like him. 

What’s kinda cool is love, Billy figures out that night, and his cake tastes a little sweeter because of it.

--

El doesn’t usually accompany Billy to work at the auto shop, but that’s only because he leaves too early for her to be awake yet. She’s recently discovered sleeping in, and sometimes she’s not awake before two in the afternoon. Now, though, she’s bursting with excitement for the California trip, even though it’s not for another month. Billy hadn’t slept with the puffball earring in, but he’d put it right back on this morning, and so had El. They’re sitting behind the counter now, planning an itinerary for the trip he’s not too stressed about, because he knows El will lose the paper before they leave in a month.

“And we have to go to In-n-Out,” She decides, “I know those are in California.”

“Yeah,” Billy laughs, “They’re not that good. I mean, I like ‘em, but there’s good burger places everywhere. They have these palm trees though,” He moves  his hands to cross over each other, “They cross like an ‘x’, it’s pretty cool. My friend tried to climb one once, we got kicked out.”

El giggles, and her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the expression. Billy likes it, he wonders if his own eyes scrunch when he laughs. But he doesn’t do it very often, and especially not in front of a mirror, so he might never know.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, so Billy turns his attention to their customer log instead. There’s a man coming by in two hours to pick up his car, but the repairs are complete, so Billy doesn’t have to do anything about it. And there’s another customer coming at five for an oil change, but it’s only eight in the morning. He hears the scrape of wheels on gravel, and he cranes his neck to see over the reception desk and out the door.

Fuck. It’s a red beemer, one he knows almost better than his own car because of how frequently he’d crammed his camaro in beside it in the high school parking lot. It’s Steve Harrington’s car, and that means Steve Harrington came with it.

Billy tugs on the hem of his tank, tightening the shirt over his chest. It’s not that he wants to look good for Steve, it’s just- well, no, that’s it. The banter he’d shared with Steve over their time at Hawkins High was the most tension he’d felt in his entire life, and it came at a time when he sought thrill and excitement the most; apparently being sweat-covered, shirtless opponents on the basketball court does things to a man’s head. He’s not naive enough to think he’s gonna be able to sweep the guy off of his feet with one suave remark, not when just last week Max had somehow convinced the man to give her a ride back home from Jim’s place after a sleepover, and Steve had seen Billy bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and pajama-clad. He’d tried to own it, leaned back on the couch with his legs spread, one arm up on the back of the couch and exposed by the shirt he was wearing as he nodded with a lazy grin at Steve, ‘Morning, Harrington’. If he’d squinted, he could see a bit of pink coloring Steve’s cheeks. But a success or not, the experience was embarrassing, and he’s glad that he’s a little more put together today. 

Billy forgets just how put together he is today. He feels the soft brush of the fuzzy earring against his neck right as Steve starts towards the store, and his stomach drops.

He has a very important choice to make.

He can take the earring out, giving him a better chance at this coy little game they have going, and subsequently insult his new sister, or, he could leave it in, puff up his chest with pride, and greet Steve with confidence, ultimately risking his win.

He almost tears his ear from how hard he rips the earring out.

“Harrington,” Billy drawls, “Car trouble?”

“Battery’s dead,” The man huffs, and there’s sweat beading at Steve’s hairline, “I had to push’er down the street, I was getting groceries.”

Billy feels like a cartoon character; he almost audibly gulps at the thought of Steve muscling his car down the road. He wonders if Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing if he really did dry swallow. He wonders if Steve would watch.

“Tough luck,” Billy sends Steve a lazy grin, passing the sign-in book over the counter with a pen, “Just fill that out, I’ll get your service started.”

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, “Got an estimate?”

“Depends,” Billy shrugs, “I might do you a favor and replace those ugly seats you’ve got, too. That’ll cost extra.”

“Like your car’s hot shit,” Steve scoffs, but his tone isn’t demeaning, and Billy’s chest does that weird tight thing again when he realizes they’ve advanced to friendly banter, “Do you know how ugly that blue and yellow license plate looks against the blue of your car?”

He laughs, but before Billy can quip back, say that it’s California grade, that he’d rather die than replace it, the door to the back opens up, and El comes out.

“Steve!” She smiles sweetly, “Is your car broken?”

“Yeah,” He laments, eyeing her accessory, “Woah, crazy earring.”

“Billy has one, too.” She brags, then notices it’s missing from his ear. Billy’s stiffened where he’s rifling through the desk drawers for a form to give Steve, and before he can make any excuses, El spots the puffball where it’s fallen to the floor.

“Oh!” She lunges for it, handing it to Billy with a sweet smile, “It fell out. Here it is.”

Billy has another choice to make.

Scoff at her, say ‘nice one’, and tell her to put her earring back in. Or, take it from her and embarrass himself in front of Steve.

This time, he decides she’s ultimately more important.

“Thanks, El.” He grins at her, taking the puffball from her hand and hooking it expertly through his ear. It dangles against his neck, and he passes the form over to Steve who’s looking between the two of them with some sort of guarded amusement.

“Fill this out, too.” Billy instructs, “And I’ll start on your car.”

“O-kay,” Steve complies, more of that amusement painting his features as he ducks his head to fill out the form, “Pink looks good on you, Hargrove.”

Billy shuts the door to the back room as a response. He feels like punching the wall, because did that mean ‘good’ as in good? Or good as in ‘ridiculous’? He’s well aware Steve had a mean streak in high school, and Billy isn’t interested in being bullied.He’s never worried about being bullied by his peers before, he was always on top. Now it’s different, this isn’t high school and he doesn’t have backup boys to make his posse. It’s a one-on-one fight, and Steve’s got the advantage. And- and if it did mean good, what’s he supposed to do with that information? Wear a pink shirt the next time he sees Steve? Go as Pink Panther for halloween? He considers just about everything but dying his hair, mind swirling with possibilities.

He starts on Steve’s car to distract himself, and he barely manages to gather the courage to take his shirt off to push Steve’s beemer into the garage like he’d originally planned. He still does, of course. But it’s a hard decision to make.

--

“Steve,” El steps out from behind the counter, walking over to where Steve’s flipping through an old Highlights that Billy’s boss keeps there for kids, “What did you get Billy for his birthday?”

The man flounders, “Uh, when’s his birthday?”

El’s brows furrow, “It was yesterday. You didn’t get him anything?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, El. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to, though, ‘probably didn’t hurt his feelings.”

“But friends give each other birthday presents.” She insists, “Why didn’t you?”

“He’s not my friend,” Steve grimaces slightly, but backtracks when El only gets more scandalized, “We- I… Ugh,’ He groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “We, like, hated each other in high school or something. I think he’s only nice to me now ‘cause he has to be, we’re all friendly, y’know?”

“Billy likes you,” El promises, “That’s why he comes out of his room when he knows you’re coming over. And why he always takes us to get ice cream. He likes seeing you.”

“Uh, I think-” Steve stammers, heart pounding so viciously he can hear it, “That’s probably… not what that means. Hey, um, do you have any water I could have? I’m really thirsty from pushing my car.”

He’s out from under her scrutinous gaze for long enough to compose himself, tamping down any hope she might have given him. It doesn’t help that he’s first heard Billy’s genuine laugh today, and the vision of the man’s bright eyes, scrunched and wrinkled at the corners have been plaguing him ever since. Things need to stop piling up, he decides.

When she gets back she sits in the chair beside him, one leg bent beneath her and the other firmly planted on the floor, “You should get him a birthday present.”

Steve hums, bringing the cup she hands him to his lips to buy him time to respond. Eventually, he settles on, “I’ll try to find something,” and she seems to like that answer, so she lets it go.

“I got him earrings,” She explains, and pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place in Steve’s head, “The ones that he’s wearing now. And five other pairs.”

“Wow,” Steve nods, feigning awe even though he knows Jim probably paid for them himself, “That was nice of you. He liked ‘em?”

“Yes,” She nods, “He likes earrings. And he said he’s going to wear them with me when we go to California.”

“California,” Steve echoes, brows raised, “That’s nice. When are you going?”

“In a month,” El recites, “Billy’s from California.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, eyes drawn to Billy’s framed employee picture on the wall, noticing the tan adorning the smooth skin of his handsome face, “I know.”

--

“Okay,” Billy turns to look at the girls in his backseat, bright smiles on both of their faces, “Gas money?” 

“Check,” Max slides him a wad of cash, and so does El.

“Snacks?” Billy pulls his wallet out, stuffing the bills inside.

“Check!” El takes over this time, a plastic bag in her hand that’s filled with enough ziploc bags of goldfish to last them halfway through the road trip. 

“Bags?” 

“Check,” Max jabs a thumb towards the camaro’s trunk, “We didn’t forget our suitcases, Billy.”

“If you did, and I hadn’t asked, you would have blamed me,” Billy narrows his eyes at his stepsister, “Don’t make me push you out of the moving car.”

What can he say: things are better, they’re not perfect. She knows he’s joking, though, she sticks out her tongue in response.

“I have one more thing,” El calls, effectively breaking up Billy and Max’s banter. The two look curiously at her, and she passes Billy an envelope, thick towards the bottom left corner.

“It’s a late birthday present.” She informs him, “Open it. It’s for the trip.”

“El,” Billy tears at the envelope with a confused furrow in his brow, “You got me stuff for my birthday. Why more?”

“It’s not from me,” She admits, “Just open it.”

The envelope was sealed well, by whoever sealed it. Billy all but mangles the paper to remove its contents, and when he does, a pair of earrings falls out, mounted on a purple plastic card. Claire’s.

There’s a pink and white striped surfboard on the left side, and a glitter-covered palm tree on the left. There’s a note inside too, and Billy peels it apart much more cautiously than he had the envelope.

Billy,

Happy birthday. Enjoy California.

- Steve

P.S: I wasn’t kidding. You look good in pink.

Billy nearly rips the earring card trying to wrench the surfboard off. Once he gets it out, he slides it into his ear, passing the palm tree back to El and grinning at the girls through his rear-view mirror. He admires the way that the earring looks against his tanned skin, and- oh, look at that; his eyes do scrunch when he smiles.

“Ready?” He raises a brow, sunglasses perched on his head and lost in his curls  in wait of the California sun.

“Ready,” They confirm, and El’s nod sends the palm tree earring swinging beside her face.

Billy revs the engine, and it’s never been a happier sound, “California, here we come.”

#harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove fanfiction #billy x steve #billy hargrove #billy and el #billy and max #billy and hopper

[half-oz-eddie]

Billy and Steve had been dating for a week. Sex happened more often than not, but cuddling never occurred.

Steve would stare at Billy’s back as he slept on his side, stiff as a board like a soldier in line. Was he comfortable? Did he ever get a good night's rest?

He decided tonight would be the night he’d try to cuddle with Billy.

He scooted a little closer, carefully draping his arm over Billy, unintentionally startling him awake.

He flinched, deeply inhaling as Steve’s arm made its way around him.

“It’s just me, babe.”

Billy’s body relaxed slightly, and he’d gone back to sleep in the same position.

Not wanting to disturb him more, Steve went to sleep a few inches away with his arm draped across Billy’s side, his hand ghosting his torso.

The next night was the same, but Steve really wanted to cuddle with Billy, so he tried again.

He scooted even closer, pressing up against Billy’s stiff back.

Billy began to relax his body, softly sighing and leaning more into Steve.

“I’ve never done this before.” Billy mumbled. “Feels nice.”

“It does feel nice, yeah.”

“Can I...turn over and sleep on you?” His voice was small and bashful, like he was asking for a hugely inconvenient favor.

“Of course.” Steve welcomed him, lovingly opening his arms.

Billy turned over and pressed his face into Steve’s warm chest, instantly falling asleep as Steve’s hand made its way through his hair, massaging his scalp.

This was all he wanted.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #ivy.doc

[thissortofsorcery]

Steve won’t admit this on pain of death, but he kinda loves it when Billy comes over.

Billy likes to make his entrances dramatic, so he either leans on the doorbell or pounds on the door like the world’s ending, even if Steve can hear the Camaro driving up from a block away and is already on his way to the door. Tonight Billy shows up after eight o’clock, bundled up in his leather jacket and a scarf and carrying a six pack. His shoulders are loose when he takes his jacket off and stamps his boots on the welcome mat, and he’s smiling easy.

“What were your plans for tonight, princess?” Billy grins over his shoulder, toeing his boots off. Steve watches his earring catch the light.

“Uh,” Steve looks pointedly at his socked feet and pajama pants, “watching TV, mostly.”

Billy shoves the six pack on Steve’s chest. “Lame. Your night just got a whole lot better, pretty boy.”

And he walks away in the direction of the living room without looking back.

When Steve gets there, Billy’s shirt is already thrown on the couch, and he’s tugging his socks off. His jeans are undone. The curtains are already open to reveal the backyard, steam rising from the still surface of the pool.

“Billy, no.”

“C’mon, Harrington, don’t be a pussy,” Billy says, pushing his jeans down his thighs with some difficulty. They’re tight. Steve’s not watching the denim catch on the fine golden hairs adorning his skin, his eyes are not tracing the soft skin of his inner thighs.

“You were wearing a scarf when you came here,” Steve says, picking up a discarded sock and throwing it in Billy’s face.

“So we’ll run to the pool.”

“You can run to the pool, I’m staying right here,” Steve flops down on the couch and picks up the remote, sets his jaw to stubborn and stares at the TV.

Then Billy’s crotch is is front on his face. His undone pants, belt hanging on the loops, red underwear peeking from underneath blue denim. Shameless. Entirely unaware of what it does to Steve.

“Come ooooooon,” Billy says, with that look on his face, that glint in his eyes that Steve’s familiar with. He knows how this is going to end before Billy finishes speaking. “Where’s your fire, King Steve? Live a little.”

Steve gets to his feet. Billy sways back, but his feet don’t move. They’re inches apart. Steve can feel his heart beat in his ears, the tip of his fingers. Billy’s eyes are boring into his own, big and blue.

Somehow they always end up here. Standing close enough to touch, but not touching. Always stepping away first.

Billy’s radiating heat, always is, warm and inviting, and Steve’s skin tingles when he touches two fingers to the center of Billy’s chest and pushes.

“Race you,” he says. And he trips Billy.

Billy doesn’t fall, but he catches himself on the arm of the couch, and that’s enough time for Steve to get his sweatshirt off and run halfway to the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hears Billy swear behind him, and barks out a laugh, then Billy’s yanking him back and pulling the door open, running ahead in his underwear.

Steve doesn’t know which one of them jumps in first, it’s more like they push each other in. It’s all elbows on ribs on the way back up, trying to shove each other under for another second, and they both break the surface laughing, water streaming from burning nostrils.

They horse around in the pool for a while, dunking each other and being dumb, until they realize they left the beer in the living room. Billy pulls himself out of the pool, shuddering when the cold air hits his skin.

“Fuck,” He shouts, and Steve laughs, swimming backwards away from the edge.

“Your idea, man.”

“Fuck!” Billy shouts again, running back outside with the six pack, which he dumps beside the pool before cannonballing in.

Billy pushes his wet bangs out of his face when he comes up, and grins at Steve with his tongue out, “Can’t believe you were going to mope in front of the tv all night, man. It’s Friday night.”

“As opposed to what?” Steve laughs, “Is there a party I wasn’t invited to?”

“Nah, that’s tomorrow. But my calendar was open tonight and I thought I’d save you from boring yourself to death.”

“Hot date blew you off or something?” Steve asks, unconsciously moving closer. He and Billy are floating close together, swaying with the water. It feels natural. Feels right. Being this close to Billy, being warm from his proximity, not just from the warm water of the pool, it makes his stomach flutter, makes his breath hitch.

“Or something,” Billy says, and his voice is low. The air feels charged with something, and it’s not the first time Steve’s felt pulled in by Billy, like there’s something buried in their chests tugging them close. They keep coming together, and then somehow falling apart, again and again, like ocean water lapping at the shore.

Billy’s right, though. Steve was bored, flicking through channels, contemplating making food or jerking off just for something to do, until Billy walked through the door. Now he hasn’t stopped smiling since.

Billy’s smiling right back, that wide, toothy smile that Steve gets when they’re alone. He hasn’t pulled away yet.

“Well, I’m flattered to be your second choice,” Steve says, flicking water on Billy’s face.

“Not what I said,” Billy says, splashing him harder.

Steve splutters, laughs, and wipes a hand down his face. When he opens his eyes, Billy’s floated even closer.

“Then what did you say?” Steve asks, licking chlorine off his lips. He watches Billy’s eyes track the movement, sees the hunger in them. Recognizes the way of the water. It’s about to pull back.

Something in him breaks, and he can’t let it. Can’t bear it if Billy cracks a joke and swims away.

Steve’s hand comes up to rest on Billy’s jaw, and Billy’s eyes go wide. He’s looking at Steve like he lost it, like Steve’s brain finally leaked out of his ears and left only stupid behind, but Steve has never been more sure of anything in his life. He’s not mixing his signals, here.

Steve runs his thumb on Billy’s bottom lip, says his name, Billy, in a murmur, and Billy leans back, uncertain. His eyebrows are pulled together in a frown, something almost aggressive if Billy didn’t look so confused. Any other time, Steve could misinterpret this, but his thumb is on Billy’s lip and he can feel the way his breath is shaking.

Steve kisses him.

Billy’s mouth is slack, open in confusion, so Steve only catches Billy’s upper lip between his own, and it’s just like Steve imagined it, soft and supple, tasting like cigarette smoke. Steve pulls back a bit, and he was just going to kiss him again, really, but Billy suddenly surges up, closing his mouth around Steve’s, pressing them together from chest to thigh.

All thoughts are gone from Steve’s mind, then, and he can only focus on Billy, Billy, Billy, and the way his skin feels where they’re touching, slick from the water, and the pull of Billy’s fingers tangled in his hair, and the weight of Billy’s thighs when they come up to bracket his hips underwater.

When they pull away, breathing heavy, Billy’s looking at him with soft wonder, like he can’t quite believe what just happened. So Steve kisses him again, and again, on the lips, on the cheek, on the corner of his mouth.

“Steve,” Billy says. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while.

“Yeah?” Steve pulls back to look at Billy, waits for him to elaborate. But Billy doesn’t say anything, can’t seem to decide on what he wants to say or ask, just keeps chewing on the inside of his cheek and frowning more deeply by the second.

“Hey,” Steve says, bringing them together again, hands on Billy’s chest. “I really like you.”

Billy looks up at him them, “Yeah?”

Steve nods.

“I kinda love it when you come over,” Steve admits, trailing his cold nose along Billy’s wet cheek. He feels Billy shudder under his hands, feels Billy’s fingers squeeze his waist, and rubs his own hands up Billy’s arms to his neck. Cups his face. Kisses him again. “Love it when you’re here.”

Billy opens his eyes with a laugh, a huffy, weak one that feel real nonetheless, “Shut up. You’re a sap.”

Steve watches Billy’s eyes flick to his mouth, wide and round, like he’s thinking of kissing him again. He doesn’t move to do it, though. That just won’t do. Steve places a kiss on the corner of Billy’s mouth, another on the dead center of his lips, and feels the air move when Billy takes a sharp breath, like they’re sharing air.

Then one of Billy’s hands is coming up to fist his hair, yanking a moan out of his mouth along with it when their lips part. Steve can feel it in the way Billy presses his body close, a burning line of heat even under the water, the way Billy holds him tightly, the desperation in his grip, the longing in his teeth where they bite down on his lip.

Billy wants this as much as Steve does. He just won’t let himself believe he can have it, but it’s fine. Steve can convince him, one kiss at a time.

#I FINISHED IT #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #mine #sorcery writes

[shieldofiron]

When I See You Smile

Also on Ao3

He can't pretend it doesn't hurt a little.

Dustin and Mike Wheeler chatter about it on Max's little radio, how Eddie and Steve are spending so much time together, and how Steve had come out to them very seriously as bi, and Eddie was gay so they were hoping...

And Billy's hopes, the tiny thread of hope that he'd been nourishing without realizing it, withered and died right there.

Because Munson is a dealer, and kinda loud and annoying. But Billy is a murderer. He still has nightmares about it, waking Max and Susan some nights. What kind of monster kills their own father, inter-dimensional parasite or not? And it wasn't like Billy had been some kind of catch before that.

Steve smiles when Billy comes by the store anyway. Like he's not a murderer, a puppet for an inter-dimensional being, but a person. They had the same taste in movies, and sometimes they would sit there just talking for hours. Steve had been nice after starcourt, and it had made the crush that Billy had secretly harbored in high school bloom into a full on infatuation.

One sided infatuation, apparently.

So it was real cute, actually. Munson and Ste-Harrington. He decided that it would be cute, and it wouldn't hurt any more. Hell, if Munson and Harrington started dating, maybe then...

He didn't know what maybe was, but he was trying to be positive about the whole thing.

And when he sees the van parked by the video store, he just turns right around.

"Racking up those late fees, huh," Steve says with a grin when he finally does bring them back.

"Got a lot on my mind," Billy mumbles in response, hurrying because he thought he saw the van pull into the lot. And he's fine with Steve dating whoever he wants, of course Steve can date whoever he wants.

Billy just doesn't have to be there while it happens.

"Wait, uh..." Steve ducks his head down, and his hair falls over his eyes in that adorable way that makes Billy want to brush it back behind his ear. "How'd you like Ladyhawke?"

Billy glances back over his shoulder, his heart racing when he sees Munson waltzing up, "Good. Gotta go, Steve."

"Wait-"

"You are never going to believe the news I have for you, big boy," Munson smacks the door open and Billy winces.

"See ya," Billy waves his tapes in the air and ducks out the door that's still swinging closed from Munson's dramatic entrance.

He can't see Steve's expression, and he doesn't want to see how Steve smiles for Munson. Billy bets it's real special, all dreamy and doe eyed. So he just ducks into the camero and speeds away over Max's protests.

"You forgot milk duds, dick," She hisses.

"I had to get out of the way," He hisses right back.

"Of what?"

"Budding romance," He says, half sarcastically, throwing his hand in the air dramatically.

Max doesn't say anything back, but she must know. After all how many times has she dragged him practically kicking and screaming when he and Steve got to talking about movies and then tv and then sports...

Billy's certainly not about to come out to a bunch of snot nosed brats. But Max knows. She's heard what his dad called him enough to know what he is.

And it's fine. If there was only three gay guys in town someone was bound to be the odd one out.

That night she totally sides with him for movie night and they watch This is Spinal Tap instead of Against All Odds. She and Susan do watch along obligingly, Susan even chuckling at the 1960s jokes.

That night he can't sleep, tossing and turning in his bed when he thinks about Harrington's smile and that lock of hair.

---

Munson must be able to tell something is up because after that he starts acting really squirrely when Billy's trying to meet up. Which sucks because he could really use the weed right now.

Heartbreak being a bitch and all.

He's waiting in his car for Max to check out the videos she wants when Steve comes barrelling out of the Family Video, headed straight for Billy.

Billy blows a plume of smoke out the window.

"Alright, Harrington?"

"No," Steve isn't smiling. He looks downright pissed. "I'm not alright. You got some kind of problem with me and Eddie, Billy?"

Billy sucks in a drag and squints at the back of the van parked right up front of the store.

"Problem with what?"

"You know what."

Billy shrugs, "Enlighten me."

Steve huffs, and then deflates, "Look, I know you're working on being better. I heard about you working on basketball with Lucas, and I think that's really... great. But... I..."

Billy waits. And waits.

"You what?"

"You really don't know?" Steve blinks at him, and a shot with those big brown eyes sinks another of cupid's arrows deep into Billy's heart. He pushes his aviators up his nose to hide his face.

"Know what?"

"I thought," Harrington's blushing, and it looks so cute with the green of his vest. "That you heard that I like... that I'm... bisexual. And that Eddie's... um... And you had a problem with it."

Billy snorts, though he doesn't mean to. And Harrington cocks his head to the side.

He doesn't have a problem with it. He has an ache, a pain deep in his chest that he knows there's no cure for. It hurts so bad it makes him a little angry, a little reckless.

"That would be pretty hypocritical of me," Billy says with a sharp little laugh, "Not that I'm you know... dating material. For any gender. In any sense of the word."

Harrington just looks down, "I don't know about that."

Billy huffs, "You don't need to flatter me. I'm no threat to your boyfriend. Though you can tell him I'm gonna actually need to score soon or I'm going to go mental. My stepmother's into wreath making. You know what a wreath can do to a guy's reputation?"

He wants Steve to laugh. He wants Steve to smile. Even if it's just for a corny joke. Even if it's just as friends. He'd officiate their wedding if Steve would just throw Billy a smile once in a while.

"Boyfriend?"

"Oh. I mean," Billy waves his hand in the air, "Pre-boyfriends. Fucking. Whatever it is you all are doing."

Steve's cheeks are really pink now, "We're not... I mean... I like someone else."

"Oh," Billy pushes his aviator's up, trying to school his expression into something calmer, less manically happy. "I'm sorry, I just assumed-"

"No, I... we just gotta stick together, right. L and G and B and T... all... together," Steve makes a weird sort of half sigh sound.

"Yeah," Billy doesn't know where Steve is going with this, "That's you and me. Two B's. Sticking together."

He's never said it out loud before. He always imagined it would be terrifying, but Steve's smile smooths over some of the panic in the pit of his stomach.

"So you're not... sticking together with anyone, exclusively?" Steve rocks on his heels.

Billy snorts, "No. Plenty of girls to be not so exclusive with, but... no."

"Do you... want to do that with me?"

Billy's heart stops still in his chest. He doesn't know what expression he's making but he knows that Steve is smiling. At him. His eyes are crinkled up at the corners, and he...

"I like you, Billy," Steve's hair flops down and it's so easy to brush it back behind his ear. "Thought you were finally gonna break my teeth in about it, so I thought I'd do it first."

And Billy can, so he does. And for the first time in what feels like weeks, Billy smiles back.

"I would never," Billy sucks in some courage with his next drag, so he can say in a dry whisper, "Your smile is the best part of my day."

#ShieldofIron #harringrove #billy hargrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #steve x billy #harringrove fanfiction

[sadhours]

Part two my queen my love my beautiful

Gotta do shower sex after basketball practice like… just need that tension and and Billy calling Steve a bitch idk need it badly

The longing… the vulnerability between the both of them…. Billy wondering how many of Steve’s buttons he can push because *surely* he’s not that easy???

Also

*slides 2 dollars over* *whispers* billy spitting on Steve’s face/mouth please….

I can’t say no to you 😩

part one

The next morning at school, Billy is kind of looking for Harrington. Not outright. He knows he’ll see him at practice but still, he finds himself craning his next over the crowds in the hallways in hopes that he’ll see some floppy brown hair. He’s actually in like, shock that it even happened last night. But Billy’s kind of obtained this skill, and maybe it’s not a morally good skill but he can pick up on vulnerabilities and use them to his advantage. He still thinks it was mostly fate that Wheeler decided to dump Steve at that exact moment. Because of Tommy, Billy was aware that they kind of had a rocky relationship anyways but he was anticipating playing the long run. Prod and poke at Harrington until he snapped. And then there he was, trying to rip that bottle of whiskey from Billy’s hands and his big, brown eyes just looked so sad. A kind of sad that lit a fire in Billy’s gut. It wasn’t news to him that he had a bit of kink for tears, he’d made girls cry before and he used to feel a bit of shame when it excited his dick. He hadn’t ever made a guy cry before. And he preferred them. So seeing those puppy dog eyes trying to convey dominance had him acting on impulse. It was really, so unreal that the events rolled out how they did.

As anticipated, he doesn’t see Harrington until he’s at practice. The lanky dude barrels through to his locker, which thanks to their last names, neighbors Billy’s. He pretty much expects Steve to avert his eyes, ignore him. Billy’s under the impression that Steve’s never even considered being with another guy. He’s not close enough to Tommy to ask if they’d done anything remotely gay in their deceased friendship. But those brown eyes look at him, look almost needy. His plush pink lips part and he’s about to say something, Billy’s leaning into it, so intrigued and desperate to know what he’s thinking but it’s interrupted. Hagan slaps the corner of their locker row and laughs, looking to Harrington who jumps and turns at the sound.

“Princess dump you, again?” Tommy preens, self satisfied grin spreading against his freckled cheeks, “it’s almost like, Carol and I were onto something!”

Steve’s body noticeably stiffens and his fingers move to the dial on his locker. Billy has to hold back his eye roll. Wants to tell Hagan to fuck off because god damnit, he really wanted to know what Harrington was about to say.

“She changed you, man,” Hagan prods on, shaking his head as he changes into his practice clothes. Billy and Steve busy themselves with filing through their lockers and if Billy isn’t mistaken, it’s like they’re waiting for Tommy to go away so they can shamelessly get an eyeful of the each other. Well, at least that’s what Billy’s waiting for.

Luckily, he gets what he’s hoping for. Tommy snorts, slams his locker shut and struts away. Billy sits on the bench and starts getting his boots off. He keeps his eyes on Steve’s legs as he does so, can see the bulge of his cock in his jeans and it brings back some vivid flashbacks of having said cock in his mouth last night. Harrington kicks his nikes off and his hands go to the waist of his jeans, he unbuttons them slowly and Billy glances up to meet those beautiful brown eyes he can’t stop thinking about. That neediness still shining in them. Okay, so Harrington wants him to watch. That’s a good sign. Billy sets his boots next to him and shrugs off his denim jacket, letting his eyes drag back down Steve’s body to his crotch. Harrington pushes the jeans down his thighs and then kicks them off his ankles. It takes quite a lot out of Billy to not shove his face against those white briefs. God, he wants to mouth at that outline of Harrington’s sizable yet flaccid cock.

Next Harrington is shedding off his polo, exposing a bit of chest hair that Billy isn’t expecting. His fingers itch to run through it. And he realizes if any of their teammates walk by, this is gonna look suspicious so he stands and starts undressing himself. And then they’re both standing there in their whitey tighties, eyes shamelessly raking over each others bodies.

“What were you gonna say?” Billy finds himself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve’s face flushes and he curtly shakes his head, “Nothing. It’s… don’t worry about it.”

Like a switch, Steve’s quickly shucking his gym clothes on before shoving his feet in his Nikes. Closes his locker quietly and Billy watches as he trails away. Fuck. They were definitely just checking each other out. He’s not mistaken. What the hell was Steve gonna say?

First, they’ve got to run laps. It’s how every practice starts. Steve’s fast. He’s gained a lead on everyone with those long fucking legs of his. Running isn’t Billy’s strong suit. Actually, he absolutely hates cardio. Probably because he’s been smoking since he was twelve. But god damn, he’s determined to catch up to Harrington, even if it leaves his chest burning and his stomach churning. Once he does, Steve drops down to a jog and Billy does the same, turns so he’s jogging backwards and facing Harrington.

“I’m worried,” Billy informs him, frowning.

“About what?” Steve huffs, confusion clouding his puppy dog eyes.

“What you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles and goddamn those butterflies filling Billy’s gut have him extra worried. He was just trying to fuck the guy, not fall in love. Billy doesn’t do love. It’s not real. Sets you up for disappointment. People don’t stay so why the hell would you love them? But Jesus, that smile is pretty. Maybe even prettier than that pathetic sad look he had on his face last night.

“You really wanna know? It’s kinda stupid,” Steve is blushing. Whether it’s from Billy’s interest or the running, he can’t be sure.

“Yeah, well, you’re stupid,” Billy bites back, “But last night I…” he clears his throat, “What is it?”

Steve’s eyebrows bounce around and he purses his lip, chews on the insult thrown his way and tries to figure out how to feel about it. And god damnit he’s cute. Billy hates how cute this fucking dude is.

“It’s… I don’t know, man,” Steve sighs, “Just thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks?” Billy stops in his tracks, hands falling to his sides. “What?”

“Yeah! Thanks,” Steve pats his bicep and picks up his pace, sprinting around the corner of the track. It’s not often Billy’s surprised or left speechless. But here he is, dumbfounded as he watches his team catching up to them. Thanks? Thanks for what? Taking his ass virginity? Did… oh shit. Did Billy actually make Steve feel better? That’s a new feeling. He can’t decide how to process it. It’s alarming how badly he wants to kiss the asshole so it kind of forms into Billy wanting to punch the fuckers lights out and then transforms into him wanting to fuck Harrington again.

Once they make their way to the gym, the coach divides them up in teams. He gets picked first and subsequently Steve, to the other team. Which is gonna be fun. Gives Billy the excuse to crowd Steve on the court, get a bit of a feel without it being looked at sideways. Coach points to Billy’s team and announces, “Skins.”

Harrington’s eyes lock with his and he smirks, grabbing the hem of his grey Hawkins High gym shirt and pulls it over his head. He registers the way Harrington’s eyes fall to his chest as he chucks the shirt to the bench. God, it’s so obvious to him. And thanks? Steve wants more and Billy does too.

He wipes the court with the shirts, he’s competitive by nature and well, Steve’s his best competitor. He plays defense, crowds right against Steve’s back and the similarities of now and last night don’t fall short on him. Billy’s close to supporting a half chubbed cock right now. Especially the way Steve elbows him in the peck. Can’t help that his tits are sensitive. He grins, licks his lower lip and has to hold back from leaning forward and licking Steve’s cheek like he did the night before. He wants to consume Harrington in such an overwhelming way. But there’s unspoken rules to this shit.

They’d be lynched right here in this court if Billy did was he really wanted to do. His father would have a field day with the beating if he knew the thoughts he was thinking as he’s pressed against Steve. All he can do is steal the ball, dribble up the court and god damnit, try to impress Steve with this trick shot. He’s stunned himself he makes it and he turns, grinning wide as he looks to see Harrington bent over and panting, staring back at him.

“Steve?” Wheeler’s at the door of the gym and Billy’s blood boils at the way Harrington immediately follows her out.

What the hell does that Bitch want? Billy wishes he could follow the pair. Tell her what they’d done and that Steve didn’t need her anymore. But fuck, he’s got a game to play and who does he think he is? Steve’s boyfriend? Pathetic. Billy’s chasing after the ball before he can think to deeply about it.

Showers. Typically kind of a tough time for Billy because he digs looking at dicks, but he can’t. Still, he always feels eyes on his body in the showers and no one gets called out but he’s beyond worried he’ll get called out. And yeah, he’d heard the whispers about Harrington’s dick so it’s not a secret that the team is looking at each other. Harrington’s dick is kind of like an anomaly though. Like it’s okay to notice and talk about because of it’s size. But unlike the other dudes in this locker room, Billy’s had it in his mouth. Then again, he’s not sure anyone else here wants it in their mouth besides Tommy, though the guy won’t admit it. Billy can tell by the way he talks about him. Built Steve up like he was a literal King and not like the metaphorical one he is. Then, he saw Steve and well, he understood.

He watches Tommy’s eyes, they fall to his cock and then to Harrington’s. There’s a look on his face Billy can’t exactly place, perhaps jealously or something more… gay? He hasn’t quite fingered Tommy yet. They’ve just met. And honestly when he made the move on Steve, he was taking a huge risk that he ended with an even better payout. Tommy’s eyes fall to his own junk and well, he’s probably comparing. He did offer Carol up to Billy the second the three of them were alone but Billy shrugged it off like a joke.

“Good practice,” Billy lamely offers, snatching Steve’s soap from the shelf. There’s a hint of a smile from Steve when he does it. Which is a win, probably.

“Yeah, that trick shot was fucking killer,” Tommy praises, teeth shining. And yeah, Billy thinks he’s cute but his eyes are drawn back to Harrington.

“Thanks,” Billy offers, soaping his dick up before he puts the bar back. Steve snatches it quick and then soaps his own dick up. It’s an offering, of some kind. He’s eager to have their teammates vanish. Wants to be alone with Harrington and quick.

The two of them linger a little too long, hopeful they’re not being obvious. Coach left long ago, they shower quietly until the chatter in the locker room disappears. Fingertips and toes gone pruny. And then Billy makes his move, steps into the stream of Steve’s shower and their eyes meet.

“What did your girlfriend want?” Billy asks, ignoring the way his cocks filling out by the close proximity of Steve’s cock.

Steve swallow hard, averts his eyes but answers, “She wanted to know why I didn’t pick her up this morning.”

“Why didn’t you?” Billy wonders, blinking slowly at Steve.

“She dumped me,” he huffs with disdain.

“And the thanks? What was that for?”

“Last night… I… it helped me take my mind off her,” Steve mumbles, eyes dropping.

Billy grins, licks against his teeth as he hooks his fingers under Steve’s chin, pulls the boys face toward his own, “Told you I would make you feel better than she could.”

“But—“ Steve swallows, “You just left and I…”

“What? Wanted cuddles?” Billy laughs, “it was fun. And that’s what it will be. If we ya know, keep doing it. I’m not a chick and either are you, last time I checked.”

He looks down, seeing Harrington’s cock is also standing like his. “I don’t do feelings, Harrington. And maybe you shouldn’t either. Since you’re such a bitch for some average looking tail.”

“I love her,” Steve argues, eyebrows knitting in a way that has Billy jealous beyond belief.

Billy frown, full of condescension when he says, “And where the hell did that get you?”

Steve looks a little taken aback. Like Billy said something wise and not something basked in bitterness.

“We can make each other feel good. Why would we fuck it up with feelings?” Billy asks, looking up at Steve under thick lashes.

“Yeah,” Harrington breathes out and Billy’s reaching down to grab his cock. The brunette elicits the sweetest, softest yelp and Billy can’t help but break a rule he’s set for himself, crashing his lips into Harrington’s.

Because Billy loves kissing. Likes it filthy and sloppy. Makes his head swim when they lick against each other’s tongues between heady moans. Sex is sex. They’re here for a means, regardless of sexuality, they both just wanna get off. Because fuck, his heads going empty ‘cause he can feel Harrington’s cock twitch in his hand and there’s a shared desperation here when their eyes meet again. If Billy can offer a distraction from Wheeler, he’ll take it. Anything to get Steve Harrington making these sweet sounds and bucking into his fist.

“Be quiet,” Billy warns before he’s stepping closer to press his cock against Steve’s, adjusting his hand so he’s got them both in his grip, “You don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

Steve shakes his head, reaching his hands up to grab Billy’s shoulders. Billy catches Steve’s lower lip in his teeth while he jerks them off in his hand. It’s a desperate yet lazy kiss. Steve keeps whimpering into it and Billy’s a bit lovestruck. And Christ, he loves the way their cocks slide together easily, precum drooling from their tips. It’s all slippery and so good and Billy can’t stop licking every crevice of Steve’s mouth as they thrust into his fist. It’s so delicious, so filthy. It’s… slippery from the shower. His minds hazy enough to tell Harrington, “Holy shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

And he’s whiny when he says it, desperation dripping off his words because truly, he means it. Harrington looks like a god damn dream, glassy brown eyes and fuck, his lips parted and so pink. Looking at Billy likes he’s a veteran porn star, and he could be with the heat he’s packing and that look on his face. He’s begging for it, just with his eyes. And Billy wants nothing more than to give it to him.

Billy wants to die for Harrington. It’s a sick thought he can’t let himself dwell on. Daddy up and moved them for a reason. Another boy with floppy chestnut hair and sad eyes.

“Fucking hate you,” Billy mumbles, not sure if it’s meant towards Steve or the memory. He squeezes their cocks when he says it though. ‘Cause he does hate him and he does hate the way he aches for this. Hates the way his heads all wrong and hates how he needs to act on it.

Steve kisses him then, bruising like it’s punishment for telling Steve he hates him. Or a test? Billy can’t let the kiss go further, it’s too delicious and dangerous. So he pushes Steve back and spits on his parted lips. An assault, but he’s stunned when Steve’s tongue darts out to gather the saliva and bucks his hips up at Billy’s fist. The slide of their cocks is incredible and it’s so good that heat is pooling in his stomach rapidly, so he closes his eyes tight and bares his teeth because if he looks down at their cocks or up at Harrington’s face he’s gonna blow his load.

And then Harrington’s making this pathetic fucking sound and it’s even more wet and Billy has to open his eyes, has to look down and sees Harrington’s spilled and it’s all over his fist and the tip of his cock and Billy grunts, body heaving as he shoots his spunk next. He rests his head on Harrington’s shoulder for a beat. Then he rinses himself off and reaches for his towel. He wraps it around his waist and he’s about to walk off.

The softest words from Harrington have him turning around and asking, “Huh?”

Big, downturned brown eyes look to him and Steve says louder, “I fucking hate you, too.”

It warms Billy’s chest for some god awful reason, so he smiles, maybe even blushes a little, “Hate you more, King Steve.”

Wishes he could stick around longer, but Max has got to be out waiting by his Camaro by now. He doesn’t wanna risk coming home too late. And he’ll see Harrington tomorrow. Looks forward to it.

#billy x steve #harringrove smut #harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fanfiction #lemon

[ivyodessa]

St*ddies are clogging up the stranger things tag with one sentence fics. Because they're obsessed with toppling harringrove off the top spot.

I'm not anti-drabble posting, because I know people like to sometimes cross-post between twitter and AO3, but THIS is different.

If you see fics like this, please report them as spam. AO3 is an *archive*, not an algorithm or streaming platform that needs to be constantly fed. Keep your lame, petty competitiveness away from AO3.

#ao3 #ao3fic #harringrove #harringrove fanfiction #hellcheer fic #eddissy fanfiction #fanfic etiquette #ao3 etiquette #stranger things #hellcheer #eddissy #stranger things fic

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

A lil unedited snippet of a long ass modern au I’ve been working on (it’s already at 40K and I’m not even halfway through) about OnlyFans Creator Steve and YouTube/TikTok Influencer Billy! NSFW of course 😘

Warnings: mentions of porn, Steve still in Straight Boy Steve mode, masturbation

“Shit,” Billy exhaled, eyes wide as he turned that over in his head. “That’s a lot of money for one video.”

“Right?” Steve looked at his phone, cringing at the thought of turning that kind of money down for a single custom request. “Oh well, I’m not gay anyways.”

“You’re telling me you couldn’t just stick it in a hole and think of Indiana for that much money?” Billy asked, tone incredulous.

Steve’s chuckles turned into full blown laughter when they made eye contact which set Billy off too. Kicking his legs out from under himself and planting them on the table next to Billy’s, Steve continued to stare at the amount in wonder.

It wasn’t just a regular custom request either. She was offering $1,111 for a first watch. She was saying he could send it out to the masses after a week. He’d had several requests for it since the first pictures of him and Billy hanging out had gone viral. He couldn’t imagine what he’d make after the $1,111.

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged, turning his phone screen off as he settled in to continue watching the YouTube video still playing. “I guess, but it’s not like it matters anyways, you’ve got your reputation to worry about.”

“I didn’t want one to begin with,” Billy dismissed easily. “I have to hustle so fucking hard to find a sponsor to make, like, half of what you do on your weekly videos, much less getting $1,111 for one view! Now you’re telling me I could make just as much for getting fucked by your big ass cock? It’s unfair, I picked the wrong career to float me through college.”

“So you’d be into it?” Steve was very confused.

Was Billy suggesting that they actually give it a shot or just complaining to complain?

“I don’t know, maybe. Can you even get off with a dude?” Billy asked, shutting his MacBook and tossing it to the end of the couch.

“I mean,” Steve dragged out as he thought about it.

It was just like getting off with a girl, right?

“It can’t be that hard,” Steve decided, eyeing Billy contemplatively.

Billy gaped at him for a few beats before rolling his eyes and scoffing. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his attention to the YouTube video still playing in the background. Steve burned at being dismissed so easily.

“Fine,” Steve declared, grabbing Billy’s phone and shoving it as his chest. “Let’s watch some gay porn and I’ll see if I can get off to it.”

“You can’t be serious, Steve,” Billy frowned at him, clutching his phone to his chest.

“Deadly,” Steve said, staring Billy down, refusing to give up.

Groaning like Steve was asking him to single handedly fix the climate crisis, Billy pulled up Safari and AirPlayed it to the TV. Steve turned around to watch him type PornHub into the browser.

“PornHub?” Steve cried, scandalized that Billy would even dare.

“I don’t have an OnlyFans account and you can get whole videos for free on PornHub,” Billy argued as he started scrolling through videos.

Steve was appalled. Personally offended.

“Creators only make penny’s per view on here, Billy,” Steve protested as Billy clicked on a video.

Rolling his eyes, Billy skipped the lewd ad and tossed his phone back onto the couch and settled in as the video started on the TV.

There was some horrible acting revolving around being in the locker room after practice for some undetermined sport. Steve didn’t miss the obvious parallels and bumped his shoulder into Billy’s when he saw him smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“You don’t have to deal with sad attempts at acting like this on OnlyFans,” Steve sniffed as the two actors flirted terribly.

“Shut up and watch the porn, you asshole,” Billy chuckled.

Sighing, Steve gave the video his full attention. The two guys were objectively attractive. He didn’t really feel one way or another as he watched them kiss and start undressing though.

He settled back into the couch, watching the two guys rub at each other through their briefs. Steve let his mind wander, already bored with the video. Could he fuck a guy for money?

He’d talked a big game a few minutes earlier, but he wasn’t so sure. Steve had never been attracted to a guy in his entire 21 years of life. Had never even thought about kissing a dude or thought twice about a man.

That was a lie. He’d thought twice about Billy a lot in high school. Only because Billy was constantly in his face and on his ass though. He’d become a bit consumed by his frustration with Billy for a little while there. Nothing gay though.

One of the guys dropped to the floor and immediately throated the other dude. It was kind of impressive. Steve vaguely wondered if Billy could do that. The noises coming from the TV were obscene and it had low level arousal crackling in Steve’s gut, but not enough to make him hard.

Steve’s attention was stolen back by the TV as one of the guys started eating the other’s ass. It was cool to know that ass eating was so universal, not bound by any one sexuality. He wondered how different eating a dude's ass was compared to doing it to a woman.

He considered asking Billy, but they were already watching porn together, he didn’t want to make it even more weird. Billy had mentioned Steve doing the fucking, he wondered if Billy would want to do it that way or if he’d want to fuck Steve. Steve wasn’t so sure if he’d be into that.

Billy shifted next to him, his bicep bumping against Steve’s. He tried to imagine eating Billy’s ass. It would probably be pretty hot, if Billy was a chick he’d have Steve’s dream ass for a partner.

Steve’s dick twitched at the sounds of moaning and focused on the screen again. One of the men was pouring lube along the other’s crack and pushing it in with his fingers. Steve considered touching himself just a little bit to see if that was enough to get him hard in combination with the foreplay happening on the TV.

It shouldn’t be too weird. They’d started the video with the intention of Steve seeing if he could get off to it. Steve gave in and slid his hand into his sweats to rub at himself through his boxer-briefs just as the guy on screen sunk into the other man.

Billy sucked in a sharp breath next to him and Steve felt himself start to chub up. Maybe he’d just been expecting too much, too early. Waiting till the actual fucking started must be the trick.

Rubbing at himself a little more insistently, Steve caught a whiff of Billy’s cologne as he crossed his arms, elbow bumping into Steve’s arm. Steve felt himself fill out further, his blood tingling with the electricity of arousal as he watched the two men on screen start going at it.

Humming as his cock reached full hardness, Steve pulled his hand out of his sweats, licked his palm and shoved it into his underwear to wrap his hand around himself.

“Christ,” Billy breathed, shifting around again.

Steve wanted to make a joke about how Billy had agreed to this exact thing happening, but he didn’t want to make it awkward. He decided to keep his mouth shut and start jerking himself off lazily as he tried to refocus on the screen.

On the TV, the two dudes were fucking rough and hard, both moaning loud and obnoxious. The dramatics were a bit of a turn off, but Steve was determined to make his point. He tried to let himself just get absorbed in the mechanics of two bodies engaging in sex.

He didn’t think it would work if Billy sounded like that. He rubbed his thumb under the head of his dick, biting his lip as he tried not to lose his hard on. Billy’s foot started bouncing on the edge of the coffee table, shaking Steve’s leg in the process.

Steve felt a fat drop of precum blurt out of his cock. He started working his hand a little faster as the men on screen switched positions, from doggy to missionary. Maybe Steve was lame, but he fucking loved missionary.

He moaned under his breath a little bit as more precum started leaking out of the head of his dick, making the slide a little easier. Billy let out a sharp breath, shifting on the couch a little more aggressively.

Steve glanced over to see Billy flushing, arms still crossed over his chest. Letting his gaze drop to Billy’s lap, Steve could see that Billy’s dick was hard as a rock in his sweats. Before he could think twice, Steve was running his mouth.

“It’s cool if you get off too,” Steve whispered, eyes locked on Billy’s now burning red face. “Kinda the point if we’re actually gonna make the video.”

With a huff, Billy dropped his arms, letting a hand settle against the outline of his dick. When he started rubbing at it gently, Steve turned his attention back to the screen. The moans still sounded so fake and it was hot to watch people get off but the performance of it all was settling wrong in Steve’s gut.

He shoved his sweats and boxer briefs down to free his cock, hoping that eliminating the restriction of movements might help. Billy gasped quietly next to him, breath warm on Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s dick twitched in his hand. Steve turned to look at Billy, eyes sticking on the movement of Billy’s hand in his sweats.

The soft, breathy, little groans Billy was letting out were so much better than the obnoxious noises coming from the TV. Steve knew he liked his porn more authentic though so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to him.

He briefly wondered what Billy looked like hard. Steve had seen him soft in the showers after basketball more times than he could count. That thought sent Steve into a tailspin wondering how Billy had never gotten hard in the locker room.

Maybe he’d never been attracted to anyone on the team. Which had Steve wondering what Billy’s type was. Would Billy be able to get off with Steve? He had to know.

“Wanna see it,” Steve murmured, looking up at Billy’s face when blue eyes snapped to meet his.

Billy stared him down for a moment, chewing on his bottom before finally pulling his cock out. Steve let his eyes drop to Billy’s dick, curious. He wasn’t as long as Steve but he was a little bit thicker.

Groaning, Steve started fisting his cock a little harder. Yeah, he could do this. They both watched each other work their hands over their dicks for several beats. Billy moaned as he thumbed over the head of his cock.

Steve licked his lips as he leaned forward a little bit to get a better look at the precum leaking out of Billy’s dick. Aesthetically speaking, Billy’s cock looked great in his fist. Steve wondered if he would need to suck Billy’s dick if they filmed together.

He got stuck on thinking about what cum might taste like. Some women acted like it tasted like a five star meal while others acted like they were drinking battery acid. Steve was curious which one it actually was.

Letting his eyes drift up to Billy’s face to check in on how he was faring, Steve lost himself for a moment as his gaze locked with Billy’s intense fiery blue eyes. Steve’s cock twitched in his hand as Billy licked his lips in his peripheral.

Billy had such girly lips. Steve wondered if they were as soft as a chick’s. He’d have to find out if they were gonna film together.

“Lemme just,” Steve whispered as he reached his free hand out to bury in Billy’s curls.

Billy nodded, gaze dropping to Steve’s lips, as he let Steve pull him forward and smash their lips together. Grunting and tilting his head, Billy swiped his tongue over Steve’s lips. Without a second thought, he parted his lips and moaned as Billy licked into his mouth.

Twisting his hand around his dick just a little bit faster, Steve fell into the kiss. He liked kissing. Billy was actually a really good kisser.

Steve was so distracted by the kiss he couldn’t even hear the sounds coming from the TV anymore and he was grateful.

The wet smack of their lips, Billy’s breathy groans, the slick sound of their hands on their cocks, Steve’s own pleased noises getting lost in Billy’s mouth. It all sounded so much better than what was on screen and it had electricity crackling through Steve’s veins as he hurtled closer and closer to an orgasm.

Billy pulled away, gasping for air before he dove back in. He buried a hand in Steve’s hair and tugged roughly. He angled Steve’s head until the kiss was even more wet and deep, even more perfect. Steve whined as his impending orgasm tingled low in his gut.

It was when Billy started sucking on his tongue that Steve felt lightning bolt up his spine and through his finger tips. He froze as his orgasm sparked through him, whining into Billy’s mouth as his cum spilled wildly over his own fist.

Billy ripped away from Steve, his gaze dropping to Steve’s dick as Steve fisted the last of his cum out. Shuddering as he made a concerned choking noise, Billy’s hand sped up on his own cock as he started to shoot up onto his bare chest. Steve watched, fascinated as Billy trembled silently through his orgasm.

They both collapsed into the couch, panting, dicks still out. Steve grinned to himself as he realized he’d won. He’d actually done it even though Billy implied he couldn’t. It’d been a pretty good orgasm too.

“Told you so,” Steve gasped out, turning his pleased smile on Billy.

Billy just looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“So are you in or are you in?” Steve asked, wiping his hand on his already soiled t-shirt.

“Guess I’m in,” Billy agreed, although he looked as if he felt shocked by his own words.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove fanfic #harringrovefic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fanfiction #steve x billy #onlyfans steve #influencer billy #oopsiewrites

[tryingtoremembermyname]

the category is ass and harringrove won

#stranger things #strangers things fanfiction #Billy Hargrove #steve harrington #strangers things season 4 #strangers things season 1 #st4 #my apologies #I’m not actually sorry #joe keery #dacre montgomery #not a moodboard this time #harringrove #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove imagine

[harringroveera]

This is so Harringrove

#harringrove #and i dig that i want them going to town in a car #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy x steve #incorrect harringrove quotes #incorrect billy hargrove quotes #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove imagine #harringrove headcanon #billy hargrove au #harringrove au #harringrove meme #harringrove memes #harringrove fanfiction #harringrove textpost #harringrovera