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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Egg the Cat

Chapter 2

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Nancy flinched as an engine revved, a sleek blue muscle car pulling into the lot.

Steve let himself focus on it. It was better than dwelling on his fucking essay, his impending shitty night spent with Barb’s parents, like he didn’t feel horrible enough about that whole situation.

He watched the car pull into a space at the front of the lot.

California plates.

“Who’s that?” Steve could picture Nancy wrinkling her nose as she said it, too focused on Billy getting out of his car to turn and see it for real.

He narrowed his eyes at a young redhead getting out of the passenger side.

Billy hadn’t said anything about a sibling.

“That’s Billy. I met him last night.” He finally looked back at Nancy as Billy set off towards the school. “He found Egg downtown.”

Nancy’s eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I forgot. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, Billy got her safe and sound. Still don’t know how she got out, though. Let alone made it all the way downtown.” He locked his car as they headed towards the high school, the warning bell sounding through the parking lot.

He reached for Nancy’s hand, his heart soaring when she let him take it.

Sometimes she said his hands were too clammy.

He walked her to her first class, kissing her softly by the door.

Billy glared at the tiny brunette sitting in front of him.

Steve hadn’t said anything about having a fucking girlfriend last night.

And really, Billy should’ve known. He’s a hot guy, living in a town of not a lot of hot guys. It makes sense some girl would snap him up.

It just felt like a slap in the face.

It’s not like Billy thought he actually had a chance with Steve, but now all of his daydreams, any of his dirty thoughts featuring one Steve Harrington were gonna be tainted, by this prissy fucking bitch.

Billy just spent all of his AP biology lecture boring holes into the back of her head.

He didn’t really give a fuck if people noticed, thought it was weird. He was too busy channeling all of his anger, all of his hatred onto this skinny little priss.

He hoped she could feel it, like maybe his anger gaze gave off palpable heat or something.

Based on how many times she stuck her hand up to answer every question posed by the teacher, no, she couldn’t feel the heat of Billy’s rage.

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, only to find they shared all three of their morning classes.

Because fuck Billy.

And then he had to watch, had to stand there like a stupid gay fucking idiot as Steve lifted nancy off her feet, and made out with her against her locker.

He stomped past, hoping to go unnoticed by-

“Billy!”

Fuck.

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking a few deep breaths before turning, plastering his best I am so charming and I don’t hate your girlfriend for no reason smile on his face.

Steve was all sunshiney again today. Billy mentally kicked the little voice in his head saying that sunshine is for you.

“Hey, man! How’s your first day going?” Steve had his girl tucked under his arm. She looked like a frail little bird. Billy hoped Steve’s cat ate her for breakfast one day soon.

“Well, you got mad at me last night when I called this place a shithole, so I’m just going to heavily imply it.” Steve laughed, his head tipping back a little, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Billy tried to think about his dad, tied to think about the shelf bruises on his back.

And then Steve was pressing a sheet of paper into his hand, and their fingers fucking brushed and Billy tried, tried to think of a broken arm and cops at his house, and not holding fucking hands with Steve Harrington.

He studied the paper, just to look somewhere that wasn’t Steve’s eyes. A lighter shade of brown in the fluorescent lights, a shade bordering on green.

Come and get sheetfaced.

“Hawkins parties will probably be lame compared to what you’re familiar with, but I mean, it should be fun.” Billy just nodded, eyes trained on the little ghost. “We’ll be there. Nancy and I.” Nancy. That’s a stupid fucking name. “Y’know, if you aren’t too cool for us by then.”

Steve was smirking at him a little when Billy finally looked up.

“I’m already cooler than you, Harrington.” Fuck. It sounded way meaner than Billy had wanted, sounded actually rude, not like a little ribbing. Not like a little tongue-in-cheek reference to last night. Cold shit.

But then Steve tossed his head back, and he laughed, a full belly laugh, and he clapped Billy on the shoulder, and Billy has never felt gayer in his entire life.

“Harsh, man. Real harsh. Wait ‘til I tell Egg you said that, she’ll never want to see you again .” And Steve was still smiling at him, and he had maybe, alluded to Billy seeing his cat again, which meant seeing Steve outside of school, and Nancy was looking down the hall, like this conversation was below her pay grade, and Billy wanted.

“See, that’s why I’m cooler than you. I don’t go telling my cat all my lame drama.”

“That’s because you don’t have a cat,” Steve said playfully, his face falling a bit. “Wait, you don’t have a cat, do you?” Billy shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And Steve smiled at him, and the bell rang, and Nancy rolled her eyes before pressing herself out from underneath Steve’s arm, and Steve’s big sweet eyes snapped onto her.

“I’ve got to get to Calculus.” Billy’s heart sank. They shared four classes so far.

Steve just leaned down to kiss her, one hand cradling the side of her face. Billy looked away.

“I love you.” He had to suppress a snort as Nancy said it back, her voice all pitchy and off.

But Steve reached out to clap Billy on the shoulder again.

“I better see you tonight!” And he was off down the hall, and Billy, once again, made a point not to look at his ass.

“You gotta be home by nine-thirty, okay, Shitbird?” Max rolled her eyes again.

“Billy, I know what time I need to be home by.”

“Just making sure, because you know if you don’t make curfew, I’m somehow gonna be blamed for it.” Billy had only gotten out of playing babysitter this evening when Max had nearly thrown a full tantrum at the idea of trick-or-treating with adult supervision while she’s trying to make friends.

She just looked at him sharply, her lips pursing a bit.

“I’ll be home.” Her voice had an edge to it. Billy didn’t really know how to take it.

“Be safe.” She didn’t acknowledge him, just got out of the car, a little Michael Myers heading into the swarm of children.

He pulled down the road, the party address only a few blocks from where Max was meeting her friends.

He slammed a beer the minute he entered the party, didn’t want to be sober for a second of this shitfest.

Steve had been right. This party didn’t hold a fuckin’ candle to what he frequented down in Cali.

He tried to make the best of it, beat the keg stand record, found some stupid jocks that were more than happy to parade around him all night.

He just had to get to that sweet spot, drunk enough he would actually get hard with a girl, but not too drunk he’d get whiskey dick. He didn’t need that to be his reputation in this shitty town.

He was being pulled through the crowd by some freckly fucker dressed as the guy from Karate Kid. Max had made him take her to that movie six times in the theaters. Billy had slept through it every time.

He was feeling pretty okay, the beer settling into his system, giving him a warm buzz as he studied the party. Maybe he could find some punk kids, score some weed or-

Steve Harrington.

The karate guy had shoved him in front of Steve, had said, guess who’s the new Keg King, Harrington?

Steve was glaring at the guy, drawn up to his full height, shoulders squared, all of that melting as he turned to Billy, smiling warmly at him.

Fucking sunshine.

“Nice job, Dude!” And Steve took Billy’s hand, and he pulled him into a one-armed fucking hug.

Billy was absolutely stunned. Maybe a little bit hard as he pat his hand against Steve’s back. Felt his muscles moving under his jacket.

But then Steve pulled back, his eyes trailing after his fucking girlfriend, and he was gone, followed her into the kitchen.

Billy wanted to tear out his fucking hair.

He went the opposite way as Steve, pushing through the sweaty crowd.

He really didn’t need to see Steve coddling his girl.

He shoved his way into the backyard, vaulting the low fence on the porch, making his way out of the yellowed light spilling out of the house.

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly.

Fucking idiot. You knew you couldn’t have any fucking boy in this goddamn town.

But Billy had come into this town really not expecting any boy to actually catch his eye.

Not like Steve has.

Steve with his stupid big eyes, and his stupid big hair, and his stupid cat named fucking Egg. Who names a cat Egg? That’s a dumb fucking name.

Billy lit his next cigarette with the dying remains of the last one.

He thought about calling it quits, heading home early.

But it wasn’t even ten yet, and really, he needed to fool around with a chick tonight. He needed to establish himself as a lady killer.

Sleep with one girl, and the rumors would build enough that he probably wouldn’t have to fuck any others, just not deny it when any girl claims they had a wild night of passion.

It was safer that way. Gave him some cushion.

Then, if any of the lies began to unravel, he’ll just fuck another one, and let the rumor mill do its trick.

Besides, he can find a brunette, make her take it from behind. If he’s lucky, the party’ll be loud enough he can tune out her moans, picture someone else, picture him -

The backdoor slammed against the wall as someone stomped outside.

Billy just took another deep drag, hoped he wouldn’t be noticed.

But, of course-

Steve didn’t even ask, just took the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth, taking a long fucking drag.

He rolled his shoulders, let his head fall back, blowing the smoke out towards the sky.

“Y’know, I fucking quit smoking because of her. Not like I did it a lot, but still .” Billy just stayed quiet. He really didn’t want to talk about Steve’s fucking girlfriend. “Because I actually cared .” Oh, now wait a minute.

“What happened?”

Steve shot him a dark look.

“You weren’t inside?”

Billy just gestured to the cigarette Steve was now sucking on once again. Billy kept his focus on Steve’s left earlobe. Didn’t care to get a semi just from looking at his lips.

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Does repeatedly being called bullshit and having her tell you she doesn’t love you count as a lovers’ quarrel?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Steve tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. Billy didn’t know what to say.

What he wanted to say was you ever sucked dick? And then maybe take Steve’s mind off of everything by fucking his face, but that felt a little forward, felt a little gay.

“ Fuck .”

Oh, shit.

Steve was fucking, Steve was gonna cry. Standing outside with Billy, barely lit by the light filtering through the small frosted bathroom window.

“ Next week .” Steve’s voice cracked. “We would’ve been together one year next week. And she was pretending .” Steve slumped back against the wall, his face buried in both his hands. “I, I changed everything for her. I stopped seeing my friends because she didn’t like them, I stopped smoking because she said it was gross, I changed who I am as a fucking person. And you know, granted, I am a better person. But I’m different, because of her, and she just, she threw all of it away.”

He sniffed loudly, his shoulders stuttering.

Billy felt like his guts were on fucking fire.

“Fuck her. Fuck her. You are a good guy. And if she’s too much of a bitch to see that, she doesn’t deserve you.” Steve didn’t acknowledge him for a while. Billy just let it be, lit another cigarette.

“I think I’m gonna go home. I wanna see my cat.” Steve sounded like a little kid. Like a heartbroken little kid.

“You good to drive?” And Steve finally pulled his head out of his hands.

His big eyes were shining, his cheeks wet, glistening in the low light.

“I don’t drink anymore. Because she said I’m an asshole when I’m drunk.”

Billy weighed his words carefully.

“I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my car if you wanna stick it to her.” Steve gave him a watery smile.

“You wanna follow me to my place?”

#clearly i'm very busy at work #yikes writes #egg the cat #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

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depressedtransguy · 3 years

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heyy don’t ready this unless you’re @angelwiththeblue-box or I’ll cover you in peanut butter so my dog will eat you and then spray catnip on your legs so my cats will shred them

Loki raced down the palace's steps with the heels of his shoes clicking against the stone, his formerly perfectly done hair bouncing and swishing around his shoulders from his speed, the gel undoing itself as he moved. He could practically hear his servant lecturing him later about making her do it again with only minutes to spare before the jousting. But that small amount of time left was the very reason he was racing down the stairs, headed toward the stables where he knew that the knights were preparing their horses.

On the first Sunday of every month, without fail, the Kingdom of Asgard joined together in their royal coliseum to see the knights battle and win feats for the public's entertainment. And, as the prince, Loki was expected to attend each one for its entirety. When he was younger he found it incredibly boring and complained immensely as an attempt to get out of it, but as he aged and grew into his deep attraction for men, he found himself leaning over the royal box's railing just to get a closer look at their bodies, imagining the sweat beading at their foreheads and muscles flexing underneath the armor, soft grunts released as their swords clashed together. Yes... he was very gay. Especially when the winners pulled off their helmets and waved to the crowd, revealing their ridiculously attractive faces pressed with dirt and sweat. Loki winked down at them, and they winked back. And when he was even older, from a mature teenager to young adult, those winks became sloppy open mouthed kisses covered under the cloak of night and hours of the prince being fucked from behind, his cheek pressed up against the rock walls that bordered the knight's sleeping quarters, bruises growing at his hips while his moans could be heard throughout the entire wing. He had been passed around by quite a few knights by the time he reached 24. Sometimes when one was pounding into him another one would hear and barge in to fuck his mouth.

But that was all before he met Stephen. Dark brown haired with some curling over his forehead, gray eyed, snarky, funny, beautiful Stephen. Yet another knight was he, but one that surprisingly hadn't fucked him yet. They came together around his 25th birthday when Loki was watching the knights practice sparring, and they were all tripping over themselves trying to impress him as usual. Their overeagerness to prove themselves like enthusiastic puppies was adorable. But that time, one stood out among the rest. Stephen. His moves were beautiful and smooth, almost angelic, yet still strong and forceful. He easily topped all the rest. Until, in the middle of their last fight, Stephen spotted Loki staring and biting his lip, and paused then to wink at him. But that stunt got him knocked down and defeated. Loki keeled over cackling.

The man who took him down during the wink-Jeff was his name-struck a strong pose when Loki's laughing had ceased enough for him to look up at the scene, thinking he had won his affection for the night since he had won the training exercise. But when Loki stood up he pushed right past him and kneeled next to where Stephen laid on the ground. Was it worth it? was the first thing he said. Worth winking at you? Yes, I'd certainly say so, was the first thing Stephen said. After that, the two started talking and spent the rest of the day together walking along the grounds to discuss their similar interests with some privacy. That was different than what the knights usually did with him, but Loki was the last person to complain about having someone let him rant about Shakespeare until he was pink in the face. The night took an even weirder direction though. After it grew dark the pair still stayed out to look at the stars for a bit until Loki started to shiver and Stephen offered to walk him to his room. Now that Loki was used to. 'Walk you to your room' was a term that he was familiar with before his nails were tearing holes in his silk sheets. Loki assumed that's what was happening as he found himself backed up against his bedroom door with one of Stephen's hands holding his as the other cupped his cheek and him leaning in. But right before their lips touched, Stephen raised Loki's hand and kissed his knuckles with the whisper goodnight Your Majesty. Then he vanished down to his quarters, leaving the prince confused, irritated, and horribly turned on.

As weeks passed of the pair flirting yet no sex happening, Loki rejected every other knight's passes in his chase to get Stephen. Ironically, Loki despised those stories about how when one party (usually a man) deprived the second party (usually a woman) of either sex or a relationship, and then the second party wants them more. He found them gross and pretty misogynistic. But Stephen was being caring and sweet and kind, not jerkish and neglectful like those stories usually represented the guys, and he was just keeping him teetering on the edge of their relationship taking that step further. It was undeniably hot. Especially as the other knights got angry with Stephen for depriving them too of something. Loki. But he never stopped until once, at last, after a ball that Loki hadn't particularly liked, Stephen and him slowly danced in the empty hall with him in a small green party dress that he prayed would make the knight finally make a move, bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip, and they kissed for the first time. It was electric and soft and groundbreaking and knee weakening and drugging and Loki never wanted it to end. But they had to part for Loki to be shoved against the wall and fucked up into. They didn't even leave the room, Stephen told him that he needed to claim him in public so that everyone would know who he belonged to. At the moment Loki just whined and dug his nails into his biceps, yet somehow when Stephen kept grabbing and kissing him in public, it was even hotter because he meant it.

Especially when it was around the other knights. To try to make Stephen jealous in return for their own envy, having lost their pretty fleshlight as he and Stephen dated, they'd (in deep detail)described their past sexual experiences with the prince at any chance they could. But it never worked. It just made Stephen makeout with him more publicly, grab his ass more, and purposefully fuck him in places where they could be heard or seen by them. Loki was exhilarated to belong to someone who loved him to such an extreme extent.

So, every first Sunday of the month since their relationship had started almost a year prior, Loki wished Stephen luck before the jousting event began. Stephen swore he was his good luck charm. But that day he had overslept, so he was on a time crunch for meeting him. That was why he bounded down the steps, burst out the cast doors, and bolted across the plush lawn (thankfully only tripping once) until the stable was finally in reach. A chorus of whistles and shouts rained down on him as he shoved open the rickety wooden door with his shoulder and went inside.

"Calm down boys," Loki called back slyly as he moved further in, immediately making his way to the stall labeled 'Levi': Stephen's horse. "I'm owned."

As soon as he was close enough Stephen (who looked unfairly sexy in his armor) wrapped his non-sword wielding arm around his partner's waist and pushed him up against the wall, tucking the weapon into his sheath on his belt while he kissed Loki stupid. "Damn right you are," he whispered against his lips with a cocky smirk that made the prince giggle. "I'm glad you're here, I was worried you weren't going to make it. We're leaving in only a few minutes."

"Like I would ever miss this, darling. You'd lose horribly without me."

Stephen chuckled lightly and pressed forward to give him a more pushy and bruising kiss. "I won your affections though."

"First place. No contest. So I suppose you do have that going for you."

There was something just incredibly wonderful about declaring their love in front of so many men who had all plowed Loki like a field. Their heated stares made the couple's kisses only more passionate. But, eventually and unfortunately, the coliseum's bell sounded, signalling to the kingdom to start gathering for the event since it would start soon enough. So with one last adoring kiss, Stephen effortlessly swung over his horse's back and snapped his reins to break him out into a trot. Loki giggled again and gave him a small wave as he passed.

There he stayed in the stable, a stupidly giddy smile on his face as he watched Stephen vanish into the distance, only running back to the castle once all knights had left toward the coliseum and he knew he was most likely royally screwed.

And he was right; as soon as he burst back in through the doors his father was there-already dressed and ready-to scold him. "Loki! Where the hell have you been? The carriage is already ready, the bell has been sounded and- oh of course you're not even dressed, and your hair is a mess. Go upstairs and get fixed up- quickly. You have five minutes or we're leaving without you," Odin lectured, picking apart the flaws he already knew about one by one. But Loki was only really caring when he got to the threat. As previously stated, he didn't really care for the fights when he was younger, so the ultimatums then were more about not letting him bring his books to distract himself during the event. But as he grew gayer and Odin caught on that he actually liked it then (although he didn't know why), he started warning for the opposite.

Even though Loki was technically an adult, he still had to listen to his father as the king, so he jumped up the stairs three at a time until he finally reached his oversized bedroom on the top floor. His servant was already waiting for him.

"Oh, Loki, your hair!"

"Yes, yes, I know, I know, Darcy, could you just fix it really quick? I have five minutes."

She huffed loudly and was most likely not going to be gentle, but she motioned for him to stand on his dressing platform as she pulled over a stool nonetheless, other servants joining in to dress him quickly as she cleaned up his untamed locks. "I have no idea how you do this every time, I feel like I do this six times a day," Darcy grumbled as she climbed up on her stool, bobby pins held between her teeth and a brush already ready. The three other workers collected his clothing items for the event and started to help strip him down, then helping him fasten the new and exceedingly more fancy fabrics to his body until he was acceptable done up. Gold embroidered green jacket, stupidly tight but alluring black pants, matching boots, and a black cape colored in yellow underneath to match his mother. A minute or two after they had finished Darcy's work came to a close as well, ending up creating a small bun at the back of his head with two braids following from his hairline to the knot, and two loose pieces of hair framing his face in the front. "There we go," she murmured as she lowered his crown onto the top of his head and pinned it down. "Now if you screw this up, I will make all of your hairstyles from now on uncomfortably tight. You understand?"

Loki nodded as he patted the sides of his head, observing himself in the large mirror before them. He knew she wasn't kidding. "I'll do my best."

"You better." The two gave each other a faire la bise as a goodbye and he thanked her and the other servants before he slipped out of the room, hurrying down the steps once more with the same goal of seeing his boyfriend, but with the poise and grace that he was forced to keep in order to maintain the outfit and hair.

Odin still huffed when he reached him though, although this time Thor and Frigga were with him. "Finally. Now let's go, we shan't be late." Loki only smiled at his mother while rolling his eyes at his father as soon as his back was turned. Thor just avoided eye contact all together, them still not talking about when Loki walked in on him sleeping with the stable boy with fewer brains than Thor's childhood rock collection. But, despite the differences, they made their way down the steps and climbed into their designated carriage as a family.

Although Loki's mind wandered as soon as the horses' reins were snapped.

I wonder how Stephen's doing.

Seated in the royalty box with his mother, father, and brother all seated to his right, Loki bounced his leg in impatience, waiting for the games to officially begin and for Stephen to come out. Right then they were just prepping the area and a few spare knights were fighting. None of them Stephen. When he was a bit younger, older than when he was disinterested but before their relationship, Loki was certainly more invested in all of the event over just some of it, imagining either what they'd done to him or what they'd do to him for each one, but just the pure rush and excitement he got from seeing Stephen do... anything certainly made up for everything and more. But for now that feeling was withheld from him, and he'd have to wait. Stephen did always like to make him wait. Called his impatience cute and covered his body in hickies until he declared that he was whining enough.

Loki breathed deeply through his nose and pressed his thighs together and attempted to change the mental subject, being in front of his family for that matter, although his exhibionism wasn't really helping him to calm down.

Thankfully though he did manage to relax enough to pull a small book of Shakespeare out of his pocket and distract himself with the ridiculousness of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to wait until he was able to have Stephen all to himself in at least four hours. Jousting, sparring, chariot racing, etc etc, as well as the following cleaning up and Loki being able to escape from the royal grasp would unlikely take any less time.

Stephen had actually told him two nights prior as they lay in his bed, legs and fingers intertwined, that he had something special planned for them after that specific Sunday event. Loki questioned what it was, but the knight had just grinned and told him that it was a surprise. No matter how much Loki pouted he still wouldn't tell him. Cruel is what he had called him while also allowing Stephen to cover him in kisses.

But Loki did enjoy the element of surprise. Although sex was a pretty wonderful part of their relationship, the romantic element was something that he did thoroughly enjoy too, both getting something secret prepared for him and getting to prepare something secret for his partner filling him with a true boyish excitement that he hadn't experienced in years- if ever. His leg began to bounce in a more positive way. He was already thinking up what to do in return. Loki wanted him and Stephen to just keep giving each other romantic surprises for the rest of their lives.

A trumpet suddenly blasted from above and Loki was shaken out of his thoughts, forcing him to look up and observe the beginning of the event instead of thinking about the life he wished for him and the knight to have together, but the negativity of the interruption immediately washed away as he saw Stephen walk out into the arena to the roar of the cheering crowd, helmet tucked underneath his arm with his gorgeous smiling face presented to the world. Loki grinned from ear to ear and immediately leaned forward to get closer.

Despite their distance Stephen noticed him as he turned to wave at more of the crowd, casting a small wink up into the stands, making a few country people screech and squeal, but Loki knew it was just for him. Stephen told him it had always been him, ever since he first saw him, he being 19 as a beginning knight and Loki being two years younger at the time. Loki had felt bad at first for not remembering that, but Stephen had comforted him by saying he had his helmet on, so he wouldn't have been able to recognize him by face anyway. Then he kissed him until the prince was left breathless and grinning.

#also maraplankon you can read this #i just didn't get a response so no pressure #heyyyy hope you like this i had a lot of fun writing this and i am definitely not done but i still really wanted to share

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carol-effing-danvers · 4 years

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knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe), part three

this is final section in part one of the series “run long, roam far, return soon” part two: “where we grew up” part three: “push me, pull you”

(click here if you’d prefer to read this in AO3′s format)

part one, part two

Billy has no idea what the fuck Steve is talking about, and he has no interest in anything that’s not their mouths touching each other, anything that’s not Steve’s lips and Steve’s tongue and Steve’s hands.

There’s still some of that Old Billy left in him, a part of him that’s always a bit wild – a little blood in his eyes, a little fire in his heart – and it doesn’t usually require too much effort on his part to put that beast on a leash. But everything about his emotions goes out of control where Steve Harrington is involved.

Billy pushes him backward until he hits the wall, hands gripping his sides too tightly, and leans forward to drags his teeth across Steve’s bottom lip. Steve makes a soft sweet sound of startlement, and his hips jerk sharply. A thick hot ridge presses into Billy’s dick and holy shit that is actually Steve’s dick and he’s so big and so fucking hard.

A growl vibrates through his vocal cords and he pushes back hard, almost pinning Steve to the wall with his own hips, grinding against him with enough force to leave bruises on them both and pushing his tongue into his mouth with a wet slide. Steve makes a throaty provocative noise, a purring “mmm”, like he’s taken a bite of something really delicious, his fingers digging into Billy’s lower back to hold him there, blunt fingernails cutting gouges into his skin.

Again, they have to break away for air and Steve draws away with a gasped little “uh” that makes Billy feel so fucking dizzy with want, a string of saliva connecting their lips for just a second before Steve tilts his head back, red lips parted and throat bared as he gasps for breath. The temptation is too great for him – Billy traces over the beauty marks and creamy skin with kitten licks of the tongue, sinking back into his boyhood fantasy with relish, softly biting and sucking at every single one.

“Uhhh,” Steve moans under his breath, dragging his nails over his skin and pulling Billy’s erection into alignment with his own, and Billy is-Billy is gonna fucking explode-

"Ahem." There is a tiny cough, more of a pointed clearing of the throat than someone struggling through a late winter illness.

The two of them probably jump about a foot into the air, scrambling around to figure who had witnessed them trying to all but fuck in public. Buckley was looking amused and very pleased with herself. Outright gloating, she says "I see I won't be grading any quizzes next year."

Steve is blushing hard, hair wilder than ever and lips kiss-bitten, tenting out of the front of his pajama bottoms with an obscene bulge that Billy needs to get his hands and his mouth on. "I-that-you-"

Robin hands him her purse, with a smug smirk. "Here, cover that before someone calls the cops on us," she says, hazel eyes dancing with laughter. "I told you he wouldn't hit you in the face. I can't believe the two of you had a crush on each other and it took you ten years to figure it out."

Billy whirls on Steve. "You-you had a crush on me, pretty boy?"

Under normal circumstances, he'd be embarrassed by the way his voice cracks, like an acne-ridden boy, but this is an urgent question demanding an urgent answer.

"You didn't tell him?" Robin laughs. "Oh, Steve. Honey, you can't let your dick do the talking for you."

"I disagree,” Billy says bluntly, eyes darting over his crotch – currently (tragically) hidden behind Robin’s purse.

“Of course you do,” she says in a tone of humoring him, still far too entertained and smug. “Seriously, Steve. You can’t manage one adult conversation?”

Even more flustered – my god, that pale skin gets so red – “I thought he was gonna clock me, I wasn’t about to have a heart to heart!”

“Why the hell did you kiss me if you thought I was gonna deck you?” Billy demands, skin crawling with the discomfort of old longing and older shame.

Steve shrugs rather helplessly, a very dissatisfactory answer.

“He likes to flirt with danger,” Robin informs Billy grimly, giving Steve something of a gimlet stare. “He’s addicted to risk.”

“Rob!” he yelps, looking harassed.

“Steve!” she mocks. “I’m literally gonna get old and die before you talk about your feelings! Hargrove, Steve-o had a big gay crush on you in high school-”

“Oh my god,” Steve moans, covering his face with his hands.

“Can I safely assume that you also had the hots for my man Steve-o at the time?”

“Uh…sort of, yeah,” Billy mumbles, shocked into near honesty.

She gives Steve a pointed stare. "I draw the line at asking him out for you, dingus."

Wild, terrifying hope surges in Billy. "You wanna go out with me?"

Steve's big dumb doe eyes are directed at the checked linoleum floor. "You-you don't," he mumbles. "The whole town knows I'm a queer, Hargrove. You don't wanna go anywhere in public with me."

"Don't," he says softly, dangerously, boxing him in against the wall with a hand planted beside his head. "Don't tell me I want. No one tells me what I do with my time."

No one tells me what to do.

"If I say I want a date with you, I mean it." He's throwing himself off a metaphorical cliff here, but the memory of Steve Harrington's face has haunted him for ten years. After knowing his lips and tasting his skin, Billy's sure it will haunt him for thirty more if right now he does nothing. If after all that time, he has a real shot and throws it away because he'd rather stay closeted, if only in Hawkins, then he is nothing more than the scared boy still wilting under Neil Hargrove's control.

Robin, he sees from the corner of his eye, looks almost impressed.

There's a sweet, reluctant little smile tugging at Steve's lips. "Yeah?" With a bit of cheek, a bit of a flirtatious air, he tugs on Billy's button-down shirt. "Can I cook you dinner?"

His brows shoot upward. "Can you actually cook, pretty boy?"

"Say yes, Hargrove," Robin sighs. "If only so I don't have to watch him mope for the next ten years. Even if you don't bone, which is unlikely since Steve is a whore (“Jesus Christ, Rob!”), it’ll probably be the best meal you’ll ever eat in your life. Steve can cook his ass off."

"Wrong choice of words," Steve says dryly.

"Is it, though?" she counters. "If you play 'Hot for Teacher', I'm never speaking to you again."

"Shit, there goes that plan," Steve deadpans.

Billy grins, tongue held between his teeth. These two are great, he feels like he’s watching Frasier, but gayer and with swearing. "The two of you oughta think about getting your own sitcom."

"Saved By the Bell?" Robin suggests tartly. "Unmarried with Children? Friends But Gay?"

"Queers," Billy shoots back. "Like Cheers, Buckley, c'mon now."

"Hey, that's not bad," Steve says brightly. Then, shyer and quieter: "Do you like Italian?"

"The sky's still blue ain't it?" he answers, feeling his stomach do an anxious little flutter.

"Last I checked. Meet me after school this Friday, and be hungry."

Billy feels more daring, more confident, so he lets his eyes traveling up Steve's body. Sex hair, red lips, bright eyes, and a beard rash from Billy all over that snow white skin. "That ain't gonna be a problem."

Steve smiles at him, like he's charmed, like Billy's just charmed him.

Billy wants to take a time machine, go back eleven years into the past and shake himself so goddamn hard. "Just wait!" He wants to scream in his 17 year old self’s face. "Don’t take it out on him, for fuck’s sake!! All you have to fucking do is WAIT!!"

But he can't do that, and he ends up standing in the store, dumb-struck, when Steve kisses him, fast and hungry, and Robin pulls him out the door.

El watches him at the kitchen door, grinning from ear to ear, looking like a cat that just ate a whole goddamn flock of canaries. "All right you little shit. You win."

"He likes you," she says, looking entirely enamored of this new development. "He really likes you."

Billy's heart goes double-time and his stomach flips all the way over.

Ellie grins even wider. Her chins rests on her fist and she gives one of her excited little wriggles, like a puppy whose seen her favorite person. “You should bring him flowers when you see him tonight.”

He makes a face. “You don’t think it’s too corny?”

“Steve is a romantic,” El coos. “He’ll appreciate the extra effort. And you think he’s worth extra effort, don’t you?”

“Well yeah!” he blurts out, and El’s face is terrifying. Jesus, she looks like a shark when she smiles that way, and Billy realizes that he’s been caught, yet again, havin’ feelings and shit. “I don’t wanna look like I’m coming on too strong. That shit makes some people nervous, you know?”

“Yes,” Eleven agrees solemnly, folding her hands together.

Billy looks at her sharply. “Yeah? What about you, Ellie? You and Max are out here trying to get me dates – you talked to any boy since you and Wheeler broke up?”

She stiffens, fidgeting slightly. “It’s-you know, it’s just more-more difficult because-” El touches the watch over her wrist, worn to conceal the serial number tattooed there. “And the town still think I’m a weirdo, and some of them don’t like me because I’m one of Joyce’s kids, and all of us love Steve. I really only talk to the-the Party-?”

She’s talking very, very fast and she’s tripping over her words and that’s how Billy knows that he’s stumbled upon something that El’s been holding close to her heart. “The Party, eh? Some nerd you-” and he’s falling into a trap but he still can’t see it yet “-got your eye on?”

Immediately after the words come out of his mouth, Billy realizes the black hole that he’s just opened up. The losers who fell into the weirdness of the Upside Down were not a large number. Wheeler, whose relationship with Ellie is over. Byers, who might actually be queerer than Billy himself. Sinclair, who still makes eyes at Max when her back is turned. And-

“Henderson?!” he demands incredulously. “Do you have a crush on Henderson?!”

Eleven, his poor Ellie, fiddles with her apron and stares at a point over his shoulder instead of looking him in the eyes. “I-I didn’t say that. I never said that.”

Oh, poor girl. She doesn’t even have to. El’s face is starting to look blotchy, like she might burst into frustrated tears. “El,” he says gently. “Ellie, any one of the nerd-herd would trip over themselves face-first for you. Ask the boy out – he’s gonna say yes and thank sweet Jesus for the chance.”

Looking outright miserable now, El says “I can’t.” No, she doesn’t just look miserable, she looks like she might be sick. “I’m-I haven’t-I don’t-”

Billy doesn’t really understand what she’s trying to tell him until El gestures at her lower body, quickly swiping angry tears from her eyes. “Oh,” he says, though he can hardly fathom it. “That’s-that ain’t that big a deal.”

“Do you know any other twenty-four year old virgins?” she snaps, flushed with shamed anger.

“Probably Henderson too?” he jokes, then feels like shit when her lower lip wobbles. “That doesn’t matter! Do you…want to?”

“I-I wasn’t ready. And now it’s probably too late. He’s had like ten girlfriends!” El wails, blotting her face again. “They’ve all been really smart and pretty, Billy!”

“Baby,” he soothes, heart breaking for her as he folds her into a hug. “You’re smart and pretty. And I need you to know that if he does anything to hurt you, I’ll take a psychotic level of pleasure in destroying everything he loves.”

A laugh escapes her, thin and watery. “Bitchin’.”

---

"Oh my god," Steve says on way back to the car. "Robin-"

"I know."

"He fucking said yes, Rob-"

"I know."

"I'm making him dinner."

"Mhm."

"Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I'm-I'm gonna fuck this up, Rob, I-" He pauses, taking in the look on her face. Robin is staring at him serenely, brows pitched slightly upwards. "I'm being an idiot again, aren't I?"

"Only a tiny one," she says, with great loyalty.

"Hurry up, I need to clean everything I own twice." Again, when he's sitting in the driver's seat, staring with blank disbelief out the front windshield. "He said he likes me."

"Yeah, babe," Robin says gently, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "He did."

This she won't make fun of. Whom Steve loves, he loves without caution, holding nothing back for himself, and with every expectation that his affection will be spat on and thrown back at him. It was heartbreaking to watch, and she'd seen it happen too many times.

Trying to keep him from stumbling into a pit of his own anxiety and insecurity, Robin asks "So...is he a good kisser?"

Steve's face floods with heat and he breaks out into this goofy adorable grin. "Such a good kisser, Rob."

She smirks. "It sounded like you were being mauled by a wild animal."

Dreamily, Steve says "His lips taste like strawberry jam and he smells like a bonfire in a forest of pine trees. He can maul me any time he wants to."

"Oh, he wants," Robin drawls with laughter in her voice. "Trust me, he wants.”

He spends nearly a week randomly flooded with giddy anticipation and nervousness but by the time Friday actually rolls around, he kinda…forgets? It’s not that he forgot he and Billy have a date, it’s that when the actual agreed upon time comes around, Steve is a bit too distracted to notice.

---

Billy isn’t dumb enough to bring the flowers with him – there’s forward and then there’s forward, y’know?

Rather than being in his classroom, Billy is stopped short just before he turns the hallway down to the primary kids section when he hears Steve’s voice, quiet and very serious. “Why did you hit him?”

“He-he said I was stupid!” a little boy says, with all the blind impulsive fury of a small child. “Him and Hannah wo-wouldn’t play with me!”

Completely surprising him, Steve solemnly asks “So Denny hurt your feelings?”

A quiet sniffing, and then a mumbled “Uh-huh.”

“That’s wasn’t very nice of him to say, Martin,” he says sympathetically. “Do you want a ‘feel better’ hug?”

Even quieter, like he was scared to say it out loud: “Uh-huh.”

And when Billy peeks around the corner, Steve is crouched on the ground, hugging Martin Roberts as he snuffles into his shoulder. Billy is having an emotion, and it’s A Big One, even if he doesn’t quite understand what that emotion is.

“Do you feel ready to say sorry to Denny for hitting him, and he can say sorry for hurting your feelings like that?”

“Yeah.” Martin does sound much calmer, actually.

Steve stands and spots him, gives Billy a small smile, like he hasn’t just broken his brain a little bit. “Sorry I’m running a bit late.”

“Take your time,” Billy says, thunderstruck.

He wonders what would’ve happened, what his life would’ve been like if one of his teachers had been even half as patient and understanding as that with him.

---

Billy says "Go ahead and unlock the door, I left something in my car."

Angie is his living doorbell, so as soon as Billy returns and opens the door, she's right there, wailing in her usual piteous manner. Steve already assembled the sauce for dinner, it just needs to be warmed up and the fresh pasta boiled to tender.

"Who is this?" Billy asks, amused.

"That's Angie. Pet her - she expects to be greeted at the door and she won't leave you alone until you do." Steve goes out to the hall and stares, owl-eyed.

In one arm, Billy has Angie who looks very smug at having seduced Steve’s man, and in the other- Dumbly, Steve asks “Did you buy me flowers?”

“Uh…” Billy says, uncharacteristically bashful. He lets Angie drop back to the floor with a heavy thump. “…yes?”

He could tease him – ‘is that a question or an answer?’ – the problem is that he’s stumbled and fallen face-first into a giant pile of infatuation. “They’re beautiful,” he breathes, eyes wide, tentatively reaching out to lightly brush his fingers over the petals. Billy bought him red carnations. Not quite as obvious as red roses and somehow both lurid and innocent. “Let me find something to put them in.”

He leans forward with head tilted, hand around the collar of Billy’s shirt, and gets halfway to kissing him when he realizes that this is maybe overplaying his hand. But like…Billy Hargrove bought him flowers? Fuck it, I’m gonna kiss him.

Gently, he presses their lips together and Billy let out a sweet little sigh, slipping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops to pull him closer. His mouth is soft, full, velvety, and discovering it again is so delicious that Steve gets lost in him. Billy licks his lips as they part. "Still having Italian, I see."

Steve blushes. "Uh, yeah." Quickly, he scrambles away with flowers in hand before he can do something incredibly dumb and classy like offer to make himself the first course. "Hope you're hungry."

"In many ways," Billy replies huskily, eyes shamelessly undressing Steve right there in the kitchen.

So maybe he preens a little. So maybe he bends over a little too long as he grabs a vase from beneath a sink. It's been such a long time, he thinks wistfully, since someone wanted him in such an open, brazen way. He gets laid...well, not often but not never, either. But that’s quick, hurried fumbling in a bar bathroom of the next town over or fast hand jobs in dark places.

He doesn't get a bed, or lots of kissing, or arms to hold him afterwards. He doesn't get the next morning or lazy sex in the sunlight. Women think he's gay and men are scared shitless to be seen talking to him longer than ten minutes. He gets scraps and has to be happy with it because up until now, he understood that was the best he could hope for after being outed in a small town.

"You're a little cocktease," Billy rasps, eyes fixed rather desperately to the way his dark jeans are hugging Steve's ass.

"Can you blame me?" Steve asks with a smirk over his shoulder, letting Billy look his fill. "Spent a year watching you strut around without a shirt on, sweating and pushing me around. And I was such a dumbass, it took me a whole year after that to figure out why I was half-hard every time I saw you walk onto the court."

"Yeah?" Billy purrs. Oh, maybe Steve shouldn't be giving shit like that out. Too much ammunition. "Did I have you chubbing up your shorts?"

Steve rolls his eyes. He's sure that to Billy, he must've seemed terribly obvious. The hopeless bisexual disaster with his tenting shorts, either unable to figure out what he wanted or without the guts to do something about it. "You know you did."

"No," Billy replies quietly, with much more seriousness. "I didn't know."

Steve pauses to fill the vase. "...that wasn't why you were teasing me?"

"No. I teased ya because I wanted the prettiest boy in school to pay attention to me," he admits, an almost helpless note to his voice, looking genuinely pained.

Startled, Steve says "Okay, but I wasn't actually the best looking guy in-"

"My frigid ice princess, he froze me out in every direction, no matter how I pushed him. And when he wouldn’t give me what I wanted, I hurt him." Billy closes his eyes, as though the memory makes him sick, even now.

“I’m not cold,” Steve says quietly, setting the vase filled with lushly blooming carnations on the counter, and watches him practically do a double-take.

“That’s what you chose to take away from that?!” he demands.

Coldness reminds him too much of his parents. Looking at Billy through his lashes, Steve says “You already apologized for that years ago. But I resent being called frigid. I’m not cold.”

My frigid ice princess. He refuses to accept being called cold. But he doesn’t refuse being called Billy’s.

Billy’s stare is piercing and he lifts a hand to draw a rough thumb over Steve’s lower lip. “No,” he rumbles. “You ain’t, are you?”

Billy has always possessed this weird (well, it seemed less weird after he figured out he was attracted to him) magnetism for him, this force that draws Steve in. Time has not diminished that force.

Again, he pulls Billy in by the collar, their tongues curling around each other, and Steve gasps “I have to finish dinner!” with a ragged voice, even though his arms are still around Billy’s shoulders.

“Hurry,” he says in a soft burr, beard scraping over Steve’s neck as he nuzzles into him and sending a hot crackle of sexual tension through him.

“Who is a cocktease?” he demands weakly.

“Oh, I definitely am,” Billy says with a wicked smile. A daring hand cups the full expanse of one buttock and gives Steve a possessive squeeze. “Better feed me good – gotta keep my energy up.”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, face flushed as he turns back to the sauce on the stove. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“If you wanna play hard to get, I don’t mind a game of cat and mouse,” he says with a smile that’s positively predatory. “But to be honest, I don’t think you have that kinda patience in you, Harrington.”

Steve salts the boiling water and throws Billy his most heavy-lidded flirtatious smile. Subconsciously, he mimics Billy’s lip-licking motion. “If you wanna get in my pants, you’d better learn to say ‘Steve’.

Billy strokes his beard, letting him see the heat in his eyes. “Stevie,” he husks, his stare consuming Steve’s whole body like a physical touch. “Stevie-baby. Darlin’.”

He has to make himself keep focusing on cooking because he knows that if turns around right now, all this work will have gone to waste. “Make yourself useful,” he says hoarsely. “And grab the bottle of wine from the fridge.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he drawls, brows raised. “Holy shit, Steve. If the kids make you drink this much you might wanna consider a new line of work.”

“Most of those are nearly empty,” he says, rolling his eyes. The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts and he adds, “The kids are fine. It’s some of the parents I can’t stand.”

He sets his vase of carnations on the end table beside the sofa where they can be admired, and wonders if Billy’s already noticed that next door, Melanie Dohr’s class has twenty-four children but his classroom only has sixteen. Several parents were so outraged that he was hired on for the kindergarteners that they outright refused to allow their kids to set foot in his classroom.

Maxine van Haut had been one of only two parents to actually volunteer, in public, to put her daughter in his care. To his utter surprise and disbelief, his old classmate and former friend Carol Bainbridge had been the other parent.

Billy watches him drop nests of fresh pasta dough into the boiling water with fascination. Steve counts to thirty in his head before scoops the noodles, just underdone, from the water and into the sauces, adding a knob of butter before he lets the tomato, cream, and herbs meld together.

“How did you learn to do this?” Billy asks, as he adds a pinch of red pepper flakes and begins plating their pasta.

“Um…well, after my parents basically told me not to bother going back to their house ever again, I was sad and when you’re sad, you eat a lot. I became obsessed with making the most complicated, ridiculous things I could find. If I was focused on the food, I didn’t have to focus on why I was making it,” Steve says lightly.

He realizes too late that he’s probably oversharing. He does that a lot when he likes someone – Robin calls it his ‘Achilles heel’, whatever the hell that means. She says that once he’s attached to someone, he can’t let them go, even when it hurts, which is why Rob and Nance are still his friends. He doesn’t see the problem really. Who couldn’t use another friend? So it hurts for a little while, he still gets the rich reward of a friend forever.

“After I figured out how to make things that would break my brain, I started focusing on how to make them delicious. On that note: please don’t ever say the word ‘barbecue’ around Rob, that’s a ten hour lecture nobody needs to hear again, even though I only gave myself food poisoning.”

“You…gave yourself food poisoning?” Billy asks slowly, eyeing their plates.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought that grilling and drinking don’t mix.” Steve shrugs and grins. “Grab the wine and the glasses, I’ll get the plates.”

Steve has a reasonable level of confidence regarding his own skill. He still blushes to what he’s positive is probably a firetruck red when Billy takes his first bite and makes a noise that’s more suited to a man receiving a blow job than a man eating a meal. He whispers, “Holy fuck, Harrington”, eyes closed in reverential bliss. The rings on Billy’s fingers gleam, silver and gold and ruby, as he holds his knuckles to his mouth, as though he’s tasting divinity.

Steve grins at his fork. For a while, there’s no talking because Billy has zero interest in anything that’s not this meal.

They actually make conversation like real ass adults, which he will tell Robin about later because she’ll be proud of him for that.

It takes them until the end of dinner, laying back on the sofa and trying to not die because they are both full, that they get to a topic deeper than day to day activities. Because it’s sort of the elephant in the room with them, Steve decides to break the taboo and says “So…where did you go, when you left town back then? Max told us she thought you went back home to see your mom.”

It maybe wasn’t the thing to say, because for a moment, Billy’s eyes look flinty and cold. “No,” he says finally. “I never stayed in Bakersfield for too long. I only went to see her once. She-the way she saw the world was one way, and the way I saw it was another way, I guess.”

Steve’s nose wrinkles. “What does that mean?”

Billy’s jaw tightens. “It means that when you’re on your second marriage with a six-year-old kid at home and your first son shows up on your doorstep as a wild-eyed man fresh outta the hospital, you’re gonna call him a raving lunatic, slam the door in his face, and threaten to call the cops if he doesn’t leave you alone.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Steve blurts out. “Jesus, she sounds like a shitty parent. I mean, mine aren’t a whole lot better, but they wouldn’t call the cops on me.”

Billy shrugs, though he can see the shadow of old pain in his eyes. He takes a sip of wine, probably to steady his nerves, before commenting, “Yeah, Max told me why you probably won’t run for mayor anytime soon.” Reflexively, Steve grimaces and Billy chuckles slightly. “Kinda sorry I wasn’t here for that.”

“For my public humiliation?” he says, trying to ride the fine line between bitterness and black humor.

“For your ‘awakening’,” Billy purrs. He’s looking at Steve’s neck the way Steve imagines lions stare at the necks of gazelle on the savannah. “I’m not the picture of class and taste, but I’m pretty sure I coulda gave you better than a coat closet.”

Steve can’t quite bring himself to look at him directly. “You were there for it, in a way. You were the reason that I realized I wasn’t completely straight.” It’s his turn to reach for the wineglass. “You raced out of Hawkins, and I realized that I had a meteor-sized crush on a boy I was never going to see again, and the last time I had seen him, he was dying in front of me.”

Even now, with Billy right in front of him, he can’t hold that memory too closely or he’ll just start bawling. It’s probably tied with his mother telling him Steve needs to stay with Robin and leave his keys for his most painful memory.

Keeping his head down, Steve adds “And I maybe didn’t deal with that too well, so after that was a series of really terrible decisions Rob is too nice to blab to other people about, but will never let me live down in private, all neatly wrapped up with outing myself to the whole town.”

Billy is very quiet and it takes a moment for him to gather the courage to look at him. Billy’s stare has become penetrating, and unwavering. Lowly, he says “Maybe we dodged a bullet with me leaving, then.” He smiles grimly. “Cause the person I used to be wouldn’t have been too nice about knowing you were willing to suck a dick and the dick wasn’t mine, Harrington. And I don’t just mean not nice to you. I woulda made the whole fucking town pay for that.”

Trying to hide his nervousness, Steve rests a hand on his elbow and sips from his glass. “I’m not exactly inexperienced, you know. What does the person you are now think about that?”

“I think…that I don’t really care what you’ve done before,” Billy says slowly. “Or who you’ve done it with.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence,” Steve observes.

“If you’re the kind of person who gets bored with having the same partner, you might wanna cut this short,” he informs him bluntly. “I don’t like sharing, and I try to be a better person than I was, but I’m not about to tell you I’m not a jealous possessive bastard, because I’m never gonna lie to you. I am.”

He leaves his glass on the table. “I’m pretty sure there’s this saying, ‘only boring people get bored’.” Steve leans his head back into cushions, feeling full and sluggish and maybe a little bit horny. He skims his fingers slowly up Billy’s thigh. “If you don’t wanna get bored, you have to put in the work.”

“Yeah?” Steve is transfixed by the way Billy’s tongue curls around his teeth. Teasingly, Billy says “You gonna work for it, baby?”

Steve kneads the muscle in his thigh, thick and warm beneath the denim, and feels heat begin to coil in his belly. “I think…you should let me worry about that,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb up the inner seam of his jeans. Billy’s breathing stutters and he smiles, slow and satisfied. “And relax.”

He swings a leg over Billy, settling on his lap and leaning in for a kiss as he unzips his jeans. Billy breathes “Shit” against his lips and starts unbuckling Steve’s belt.

Steve’s pants end up thrown over an arm of the sofa, where they’ll probably end up covered in black cat hair, and he opens the fly of Billy’s jeans so that their dicks only have two thin layers between them instead of four. It’s been too long and Steve moans “fuck” as he settles back down onto his lap. He can feel Billy pulsing, the wet spot forming in his boxers and Steve pants, open-mouthed as he grinds down, slow and lazy.

“No, c’mon,” Billy says raggedly, pulling at the buttons on his shirt. “Don’t just gimme half a show, baby. Let me see that body.”

Steve helps him, flipping his tie off and sending it to hang out with his slacks, and pulling his cardigan over his head. He knows when Billy notices what’s beneath the linen when his hands skim up Steve’s chest and pluck at his nipples, gently tugging at the medical grade steel embedded in his skin. “Oh, you’ve got goodies,” Billy groans, mouthing over the fabric. Steve hisses and arches up to meet the touch, lightly pulling at his dirty blond hair. “Naughty Stevie, trying to hide his goodies from me – oh. Baby, you are all grown up.”

“I shaved,” Steve chokes out, throwing his shirt to the side and trying to steer Billy’s mouth – his teeth, especially – back to his nipples. Billy strokes the dark thatch of hair on his chest, tantalizingly close to where he wants him. “In high school, I shaved it. I thought it was weird, how much I had.”

“Hmm,” Billy purrs thoughtfully, rubbing his face in it. Steve moans and squirms as the much rougher hair of his beard scraps and catches on the permanently sensitive skin. “Think I like it.”

“You,” Steve starts, hoarse and cracked, then swallows and tries again. He wants Billy, wants his sweat and skin and heat, wants all those things he never usually gets. “Yours too, Billy.”

“It ain’t pretty, Steve,” he warns.

“Do you really think that’s worse than watching it happen?” he whispers, pulling Billy in for a kiss, deep and intense. “It’s alright, c’mon.”

There are large scars, thick and deep and silvery, all across Billy’s chest and stomach, places where the Mindflayer tried to kebab him. Steve runs his hands across all of it – the scarred and the unblemished, the ugly and the statuesque – and bends to kiss him everywhere. None of it surprises him, and to him, it’s both terrible and miraculous. Every piece of logic in the universe says that Billy Hargrove should have died that day, and yet, here he is, warm and shuddering beneath Steve’s hands.

“I didn’t know why,” he continues at a whispers. “I didn’t understand why I had a hard time looking away from you. I remember watching the way the sweat dripped off you on the court.” He hums and traces a hand down Billy’s chest, over the muscles and scars, the same path of the sweat in his mind’s eye. “I was so stupid – I thought I was jealous of your looks. Nobody says that men look ‘beautiful’. But you were, and you still are.”

“Don’t need to sweet talk me,” Billy murmurs, nosing at his jaw. He pets at Steve’s hair, hand caressing all the way down his spine. “I’m a sure thing, sweetheart.”

“What if I just want to?” Steve says with a smile, bangs hanging into his eyes. “What if I think you need someone to be nice to you?”

“Is that what you think?” Billy asks, and plucks a flower from the vase. “Maybe I think that’s what you need, too.”

Gently, he uses the petals to trace the shape of Steve’s lips, his knuckles brushing the shape of his cock through his briefs. Breathlessly, he gasps “Billy Hargrove is a romantic. Stop the presses! Breaking news!”

“No one will ever believe you,” he says sweetly, clamping the stem between his teeth. “I’ve committed the perfect crime.”

He hauls himself and Steve from the couch, cackling as Steve yells and clutches onto his shoulders. He prays that Billy is as strong as he looks. “Turn left!” he yelps. “Bedroom is the last door.”

As soon as they are safely on the bed and Billy is no longer trying to bear both of their weight, Steve snatches the flower from his mouth to kiss him.

“You’re a madman,” he says with admiration, caressing his cheek with the petals.

“I’ve met Wheeler, you’re deeply attracted to the mentally disturbed,” he accuses, plucking at Steve’s piercings to make him squirm.

Billy draws his teeth lightly over his left nipple. “Yeah, like that.” Tugging gently on his hair and pushing his ass down on Billy’s cock, his limp fingers surrender the carnation back to him. The petals feel like velvet against his ultra-sensitive nipples and Steve chokes down his whines. “Bite them, please. Billy.”

He’s leaking all over his underwear, dick jumping and twitching with each little nip and sharp bite, mindlessly frotting with him, and Billy squeezes at his ass, rolls up his hips to meet him. “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I thought you’d want to top,” he gasps. “I don’t mind.”

He hums and looks up at Steve through his impossibly long lashes. His eyes are dark and glittering. “Maybe I just want to do this. Maybe I just want to see you fall apart on top of me.”

That flower – he’s still holding the carnation, uses the scarlet petals to paint a path down over his stomach, and swirls it over the wet patch of fabric where the head of his cock is trapped by the fabric. “Your hands,” he pleads, pulling lightly at his hair again, guiding his other hand, calloused and covered in rings, into his lap. “God, you have such beautiful hands, Billy.”

Billy gets his palm around Steve’s length and grunts as Steve turns his head and tugs on his earlobe with his teeth. “Imagine me jerking you off, like this?” he rumbles, rough skin grating over Steve’s cock. “Huh, baby? You think about me in the dark, when you were alone? Did you think about my hands?”

“Your hands,” Steve rasps, and kisses him softly. He can’t get his fill of Billy’s skin, rough, silky, smooth, and everything in between. “The way a cigarette looked in your mouth. You pressed up against my back. Sweat running down your body and Billy, how much I wanted to touch you-”

Billy cuts him off with a low groan, biting at Steve’s lower lip and abandoning the carnation to give his nipple a cruel twist, grinning against his mouth as Steve convulses. “I dreamed ‘a you, Stevie. I dreamed of your big heartbreaker’s eyes and your pretty lips.” He touches his neck and Steve realizes that he’s tracing the moles all over his skin. “I thought about the noises you’d make if I kissed you here. How you’d sound when you came. For me.”

“I’m gonna,” Steve croaks, sucking at Billy’s tongue. Imagining that he’s sucking something else. He’s sounded in the pine and bonfire smell of him, and his thighs shake around Billy’s hips.

“How you’d taste,” Billy growls, and Steve can taste him, the strawberry jam sweetness of him, and he could cry. “Don’t leave me waitin’ for it, Stevie.”

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he cries, trembling hard.

“Let me hear it.”

And Steve sobs “Billy. Don’t stop, Billy.”

“I got you, Stevie-baby.”

His body is liquid fire in Billy’s hands, fluid and burning ember-bright. Billy keeps kissing him, frantic and hungry, even while Steve is out of breath, and he doesn’t realize why until Billy starts squirming out his jeans and underwear and starts jerking himself off harshly, still kissing at Steve’s neck.

“Stop,” he slurs, and rolls on top of him, pinning Billy’s arms to the bed.

“Steve,” he whines. “Don’t be a brat. Just-”

“Let me do it, baby,” Steve murmurs, stroking his belly and throwing his best bedroom eyes. He strokes his hands up Billy’s thighs for extra insurance and licks his lips. “Let me get you there, Billy.”

“Fuck,” Billy whispers hoarsely, briefly closing his eyes. “Okay. Yeah.”

Just because he’s gonna do it doesn’t mean he’s gonna make it easy.

Lazily, Steve French kisses his way down Billy’s chest, treating the scarred skin the same as the silky-smooth muscles, taking his time to lick down his body, letting himself taste the salt and musk. He by-passes Billy’s cock, weeping all over his stomach, only stopping to lap up the little pool forming above the head.

“Steve,” Billy hisses. “Jesus fuck – PLEASE.”

He sucks hard on his inner thighs, biting at him until it will bruise. “I’ve thought of this so many times,” he admits, gently pressing his thumb beneath his balls, brushing his other fingers so achingly close to his cock. Billy nearly jack-knifes off the mattress, swearing at his as his fists pull on the sheets. “And it’s better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

“I wondered what you’d do,” he murmurs, kissing just alongside his cock. “If I was on my knees for you.”

“I’m gonna fucking die,” Billy gasps, touching his hair, stroking it away from his face. “Steve-”

He makes sure he’s watching, makes sure Billy’s eyes are open as he circles his fingers around him and s l i d e s his cock, hot and wet with precum, past his lips. He hums and groans at the velvety heat in his mouth and Billy bucks the tiniest bit, moaning like a dying man as his dick rubs over the silky slickness of his tongue.

“Steve,” he says, weak and reedy, “…sweetheart…”

He hollows his cheeks and groans again, giving Billy a come-hither stare. Billy’s head falls back onto the pillow, crimson lips parted as he pants, loud and desperate. Oh, Steve likes him this way. Billy’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful, but he’s worn into this beauty, like the softest cotton shirt in the drawer.

Steve sucks him, slurping and sloppy and wet, presses his fingers ruthlessly to Billy’s perineum.

“FUCK,” he roars and grips Steve’s hair just this side of too tight. Shoves up into his mouth, always just shy of choking him, and begs softly. “Take me, gorgeous. Fuck, like that. Gonna come, Stevie, gonna come for your hot mouth-

He screams without making noise and Steve licks him clean, flicking the jizz from his lips like a cat licking cream.

“Jesus Christ.” Billy says, still breathing hard. “Stevie, you’re worth waiting ten years for.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #knock me out babe #teacher steve #soft billy

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racetrackhiggins · 5 years

Text

Fidget

A Davey centered fic

word count: 5777 warnings: panic attack, delancey bullying, cursing i guess pairings: well. it was supposed to be javey when i started it. davey/jack/crutchie/race

ao3 version: (x)

i’m thinking about one of two things for a possible sequel... either three entirely separate chapters that are like alternate branches from the ending of this, one for each (davey) ship, or just saying screw it and just having a polyship, so if anyone has a preference, feel free to suggest one or the other. anyways, enjoy what was supposed to be a like 1000 word one shot.

David Jacobs was not scared. Anxious, maybe, but it wasn’t like he was just going to hide in his bed because of his nerves of going to a new place… Okay, well, maybe he was. He looked at his phone as the alarm rang again, and he hit snooze again, hoping that maybe it would buy him time to prepare himself. Of course, Sarah wasn’t going to let him do that.

“Dave, come on, we have to go or we’ll be late!” she called, opening his bedroom door so he had no choice but to get up.

David still thought that maybe he could buy another minute or two. But Les came in, shaking him, “Come on, come on! Sarah’s driving me to school too!”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Give me five minutes,” Dave said.

“Alright, but’cha better be down there or I’ll get Sarah!” Les said as he scampered off.

David sighed, closing the door so he could get dressed. He’d already spent two hours last night trying to find an outfit that would make a nice first impression but not be too much. As he tugged on the simple ensemble, he wasn’t sure about it. What had he been thinking, a polo? He was practically asking to get made fun of!

“David, I’m leaving in two minutes!” Sarah called from downstairs.

“I’ll be right down!” he called back, sighing and fixing his collar, trying to make his hair lay flat, which of course it refused to. He didn’t have time for this now.

He grabbed his messenger bag, making sure he had everything he needed, wait. He frantically looked around for a second, relaxing when he saw the little bean-filled cat. He let out a shaky breath, squishing the beans in it for a moment to calm himself down before he put it in the side pocket of his backpack, in the mesh part for holding water bottles.

“We can do this, Noodles… I can do this…”

He stood up, going downstairs to where his siblings were waiting.

As soon as they saw him, Les ran out the door and Sarah grabbed her keys, ruffling his hair.

“It’s gonna be fine, David, it’ll probably just be a normal boring school day, just with some new people,” Sarah said as he tried to fix it with a groan.

“Easy for you to say, everyone always loves you after talking to you like five minutes,” David grumbled as they got into Sarah’s old car.

“Well maybe if you actually tried to talk to people,” Sarah retorted, glancing at him before she pulled out of the driveway.

David didn’t respond to that, instead, he let Les talk on and on about how excited he was to start at a new school and what he hoped would happen. David didn’t quite have that level of enthusiasm. In fact, if the world just suddenly ended, he’d have no problem with it cause then at least he wouldn’t have to deal with new people and being the new kid halfway through the semester. Not that his other school had been particularly good, but he also didn’t see how it could get any better. He simply watched out the window, idly messing with his cat toy.

Once they dropped Les off at his elementary school, they were headed towards their new high school. This whole situation was totally unfair to him cause if something happened to Sarah or Les, Les would be going to the middle school next year, and Sarah off to college. But no, he’d be stuck there for another year. Being the middle child sucked.

As Sarah parked, he felt his nerves shoot up again, and he went to find his schedule and his map again as Sarah got out like this wasn’t any big deal. God, having an anxiety disorder sucked too. He found the sheets, getting out and letting Sarah lock the car as they walked towards the building, and he could feel his hands beginning to sweat.

“Stop overthinking things, I can hear your brain whirling from here,” Sarah said, smacking his arm lightly. “I’ll walk you to your first class, but from there you’re on your own.”

David nodded, making a bit of a face at her as they walked. Thankfully, she kept close as they walked through people, some of which turned to look at them, but most ignored them. They found Dave’s first class, English with Mr. Weisel.

“Meet me by my car after school, text me if you need anything, anything else I should say as the oldest sibling, blah blah,” Sarah grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” David smiled back, but as soon as she left his nerves kicked in again.

A boy sitting across the little hallway whistled, “Was that your sister?”

Another boy sitting beside him said, “Ay, can I get a number?”

“I think I’m in love,” a third boy swooned.

David decided to ignore them as he pretended to look on his phone, just trying to pass the time until the bell would ring and he could go in.

“Ay, you new here or somethin’? I ain’t never seen you around here,” the first boy asked, making David look up.

Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded.

“Ay, well, welcome to ‘Hatten High! The name’s Racetrack Higgins, erryone round here calls me Race,” the boy said, standing up with a flourish. “These here fellas are Albert and Romeo.”

“Um… Nice to meet you, uh, Racetrack,” David said a little slowly. Surely that couldn’t be his real name, but he guessed it didn’t much matter anyway.

“And what’s yours, pretty boy?” Albert asked, nodding his head at him.

“D-David,” he answered, trying not to flush at the nickname.

“Well, itsa pleasure ta meet ya, Davey!” Race grinned.

Was he this friendly with everyone? David sighed in relief when the bell rang, opening the door and sitting in one of the seats in the front.

“Whoa, whoa, you don’t wanna sit there,” Romeo warned.

“That’s Jack Kelly’s seat,” Albert said, nodding and sitting at his own seat.

“Are there assigned seats?” David asked, not moving.

“No, but Jack sits there every day, so it’s his seat,” Race explained, sitting behind him.

“It’s kind of silly to expect me to move just cause some kid sits here every day, isn’t it?” David said, raising his brow at Race. Being turned around in his seat, he didn’t notice the boy coming over to him. “After all, I was here first.”

“That you were, kid,” a voice very close to David said, making him jump and turn back around.

Bent over the desk, propped with his head in his hands and his elbows on the desk, was the most attractive boy David had ever seen in his life, smirking at him. Oh dear god, help him.

“Sorry, Jack, we tried ta warn him,” Race grinned.

“That’s alright, I’ll sit by you today, Race,” Jack said, sliding behind David, who was just trying to not panic but now for a much gayer reason.

“Hi,” said a smaller blonde boy with a crutch said as he sat beside David. “I’m Crutchie!”

“Th-that can’t be your real name,” David said, looking at him in concern.

Crutchie just laughed, shrugging. “We all have nicknames, and if you’re wondering if it bothers me, it doesn’t. What’s yours?”

David could feel Jack’s piercing stare on him without even turning around all the way. “D-David.”

“What, you scared of us or somethin’?” Jack said, making David jump in his seat.

“N-no,” Dave said very unconvincingly. He cleared his throat, “Just, uh, new place and all.”

“Well, there ain’t no reason to be afraid, we don’t bite,” Jack said with a grin. “Unless you want us to,” he added with a wink.

David did not blush, no way, he just simply turned back around and started getting out his notebook, idly squishing Noodles to get his heart rate back in check as the teacher came to the front of the room.

“Hey, how was your weekend, Weasel?” Race asked the teacher.

“It’s Weisel, and please could you say Mr. for once?” he replied, sounding defeated, as though this happened often.

“Sure thing, Mr. Weasel!” Albert said, making the other boys laugh.

“Don’t make me give you detention again, Albert,” he said. “Anyways, let’s get started. Ah, I see our new student is here, David is it?”

Dave nodded.

Weisel gave him a look, “Well, don’t try to cause any trouble like your neighbors do. You’ll get caught up, so pay attention. Now, everyone open your books to page 234.”

Dave followed instructions, trying to ignore the boy behind him, who he swear he could still feel the eyes of.

Thankfully, Jack had another class after Weisel’s that was the opposite direction, so David was spared for at least an hour. And Race offered to help him find his next class, which turned out he shared with him.

Algebra was run of the mill, he easily knew where they were, and Race had looked at him like an angel sent by heaven when he offered help to the struggling boy.

Race had tagged him off to Crutchie for the choir class they shared. Not that Dave didn’t like singing, but the only reason he’d taken it was cause it was the only elective other than woodshop available at this point in the semester. But Crutchie seemed friendly enough, so he guessed he was glad to sit next to him. They’d finished early, so David went back over his schedule.

“Oh, you have French next?” Crutchie tried to think if any of the boys were taking that. “I know Romeo was taking French cause he wanted to ‘impress the ladies’, but I can’t remember when it was. I think he’s in that one, but I might be wrong. Either way, it’s right by Weisel’s room, just like down the hall and to the left.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate the help you and Race have been giving me today,” David said honestly.

“It’s no problem, really,” Crutchie waved it off, smiling bright as the sun. “Hey, you got anywhere to go for lunch?”

David faltered, looking down. He hadn’t even thought about that. He could maybe tag along with Sarah, whatever she was doing. But he didn’t really want to intrude if she had found some friends.

“Me and the boys eat out in that courtyard out behind the school, where those tables are, if you’d like to join us,” Crutchie offered. “You’ve already seen most of them, in homeroom.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude,” David said softly.

“No, no,” Crutchie said, swatting his arm lightly. “No intrusion, it’s an invitation. Come on, at least give it a chance, since ya don’t have anywhere else to go today.”

“The way you say that makes it sound shady,” Dave made a face.

Crutchie laughed, “Maybe! You’ll have to come find out, won’t you?”

David managed a soft smile. Well, at least it gave him a place to hang out for today. “Alright. But if there’s anything shady, I’m bailing.”

“Deal!”

And so David Jacobs found his way back to Jack Kelly.

“Ah, so the infamous seat stealer comes to steal my crown again, ay?” Jack said loudly as he saw David walk over, fidgeting with the strap of his bag.

“Crutchie invited me over here, so…” David wasn’t really sure what else to say. There were the eyes of like fifteen boys on him.

Crutchie nodded, “And I was beginning to think you bailed out.” He gestured for him to sit on the seat next to him, and Race scooted over so he could.

“So, Davey, guess I should introduce you to the boys!” Jack nearly bellowed. David couldn’t help but think his accent was cute. Well, they all had the accent, technically he’d probably be considered the one with an accent since he was the different one, but still.

“You already know Race and Crutchie, Albert, Henry, Elmer, Specs. That over there is Finch, Buttons, Jojo. Sniper and Splasher. Blink and Mush, Romeo, Mike ‘n Ike, and Tommy Boy.” As he spoke, Jack pointed to each boy in turn while David tried to remember their names and faces.

David waved a little, giving a slightly weak smile at the array of boys before he turned back to Jack. “So like… what is this? Like are you all just friends or is it a club or something?”

“We call ourselves the Newsboy Union cause we all used to work on the school paper,” Crutchie explained. “Or the Newsies for short.”

David looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “There’s a school newspaper?”

Race shrugged beside him, “Not anymore, they actually got rid of it the end of last year cause no one was readin’ it.”

“But we was all friends, so we stayed in touch,” Jack grinned.

“That’s good, I guess.” David didn’t add the thought he was thinking of “I’ve never known what that was like.”

Slowly, the Newsies began going back to their conversations, and David pulled his messenger bag onto his lap to get his sandwich. Race seemed to notice the little cat toy on the side.

“Aw, what’s this?” he asked, poking at the beans.

“Oh, um…” David flushed a little, he didn’t really want to admit why he had it but… “It’s, um, it helps me calm down when I’m nervous.”

“That’s adorable,” Race grinned, although it seemed genuine and not mocking.

“Um, thanks,” Davey said, squishing the beans a little to calm himself, not noticing Jack watching.

The rest of lunch, and the day, went by without a hitch. None of his classes didn’t have at least one Newsie in it, so there was a somewhat familiar face everywhere he turned. It was odd but nice to have people clapping his back and ruffling his hair when they saw him.

He was alone now, walking towards the front of campus to meet Sarah when two boys stopped him. They looked like seniors, and David could immediately tell that they weren’t stopping him to make friends.

“Excuse me,” he said, trying to push past them, but of course they moved to block him.

“What’s this?” one of them asked, reaching down and grabbing Noodles before Dave could stop him. “Aw, a little cat for the little pussy!”

David couldn’t move. His breath hitched, and red alerts were going off in his head, and he frantically tried to grab his toy back, getting pushed back by the other. Dave fell flat on his ass, his hands beginning to shake as the one holding his beloved toy began pulling on the loose string Davey had meant to fix a few days ago. He gasped out weak protests as the string broke and the beans began to fall out of it. Noodles’ whole torso was ripped in half, then the senior threw it on the ground, dirtying it with the bottom of his shoe. Davey was doubled over, hyperventilating as they laughed, tears running down his face. He didn’t hear the shout from behind him, all he could think was the most precious thing to him was ruined, completely destroyed, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel his hands, they were going numb, he couldn’t breathe.

“Davey, Davey, look at me,” Crutchie’s voice said, snapping him out of it a little. He faintly felt Crutchie’s hands holding both of his. “Breathe, in, out, in, out.”

Davey tried to follow, but he couldn’t, he kept messing it up and getting more frustrated about it, tears pricked his eyes again, but Crutchie squeezed his hands.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just focus on breathing, I got you, I’m right here,” the blonde said easily, the tone helping Dave relax even through the sounds of fighting he now heard. Crutchie made sure his eyes stayed on him, blocking the view of whatever was happening behind him.

“If you ever so much as look in his fucking direction again, I’ll have my whole gang on you, and I swear that on my fuckin’ mudda!” Jack yelled after the two seniors, absolutely fuming. “Fucking cowards,” he muttered under his breath, picking up the torn cat as he kneeled beside Davey. “You alright, Davey? Shit…”

Davey was obviously not alright, tears streaking down his cheeks and dizzy from his panic attack, heartbroken about his favorite toy and support system being wrecked.

“Ay, don’tchu worry, we’ll fix this, alright?” Jack said, sounding as nervous as Davey felt.

“I’ll call Buttons, he can fix it up, he’s probably still in the library with Finch,” Albert said, already pulling out his phone.

Race was holding his face, and Davey realized that a black eye was forming. At his worried look, Race waved him off. “Ah, don’t worry ‘bout me, I get ‘em all the time.”

Davey covered his mouth, tears threatening to fall again, but for a different reason this time.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s alright!” Jack said almost frantically, putting a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “Don’t- don’t cry!”

“Wh-why are you guys being so nice to me?” Dave asked hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Cause you’re our friend now,” Crutchie said softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Friends look out for each other.”

“Yeah, besides, the Delancey brothers deserved a good soakin’ anyways,” Race grinned. “Fuckin’ bastards always think they’re better than everyone else.”

Davey’s throat closed up and he couldn’t answer to either of them. He felt a buzzing in his pocket and jumped, taking his phone out. It was Sarah. Davey looked at it, looking back up at the others, knowing he couldn’t answer it.

“Is that your sister we saw earlier?” Race asked.

Davey nodded, and Race took the phone and answered it. The boys all half expected him to answer with a flirt, but to their surprise, he was completely serious.

“I’m a friend a Davey’s, he got in a predicament with some nasty fellas, but we got him, he’s alright now.” Race said into the phone, pausing a moment. “Yeah, I don’t think he can talk at the moment, he’s kinda shaken up about it, and his little beanie cat got destroyed.” Another pause. “Oh shit… well, that makes sense.” Pause. “Yeah, we can get him home, we’ll make sure he’s there by sundown.” He hung up the phone, giving it back to Davey, who was watching him with wide eyes. “She says she has ta go pick up your brudda, so we’ll take ya home.”

“Buttons and Finch are on the way too,” Albert said. “Buttons says he ain’t doin’ anything tonight so he’ll be able to help as long as he’s home for dinner.”

Davey was just trying not to cry again, and Crutchie hugged him lightly enough that Dave could push him off if he was uncomfortable, Jack keeping his hand on Dave’s shoulder. Race ruffled Davey’s hair gently. David wasn’t used to this much contact but he didn’t exactly hate it. They all stayed like that for a few long moments, Albert watching for the other two.

When Buttons and Finch came running down, Jack stood up, bringing the toy to Buttons, who took it and began folding it over, nodding.

“Yeah, we get more of the filling for it and it’ll be an easy fix, we can get that at a craft store, there’s one a couple blocks down,” Buttons said.

“I’ll pay you for it, and anything else you need ta fix it, we can go to my place and wash it so the Delancey stink is off of it,” Jack said, fishing out a twenty from his wallet and handing it to Buttons. “Meet us there?”

Buttons took the money and nodded, going off with Finch to get the supplies. Albert signaled he was going home since they had it covered and would see them later. Jack helped Crutchie stand while Race got Davey up, slinging an arm around him.

“How’s about we stop and get you somethin’ ta cheer up in the meantime? There’s a candy shop on the way ta Jack’s apartment,” Race suggested.

“I-I don’t have any money on me,” Davey said.

Race pat Davey’s chest lightly, “My treat.”

Well, Dave couldn’t exactly not blush or say no to that. “O-okay,” he squeaked out.

Race led him behind the other two, keeping his arm around his shoulders so while they walked through the crowds down the street, Davey wouldn’t feel crushed in them. It actually really helped, cause otherwise, Davey might’ve been freaking out at so many people around. He wasn’t used to the crowds of the city yet, and he was thankful Jack and Crutchie were pushing through first.

When they pulled into the candy shop, Davey let out a small breath, happy to be out of the crowds. Then his eyes widened at how colorful the small store was. Race, a little to Davey’s disappointment, took his arm away, nudging him forward.

“Go on, anythin’ ya want.”

He noticed the other three looked around but didn’t seem to be getting anything.

“Are you not getting any?” Davey asked, a bit of concern in his voice.

Race realized he was getting anxious about being the only one getting something, and he shrugged. “I figured you get enough, I can just steal from you,” he teased.

Davey seemed to take note of that, “Then what would you suggest I get?”

Race saw what he was doing. “You put one of those chocolate cigars in there and I’ll be gold. Anything else is up ta you.”

Davey did so, seeming more content with that as he put some dark chocolate candy and some sour lemon candies into the little plastic baggie. Race took out a ten dollar bill, paying for the candy, and then the four were on their way again. And if Race pulled Davey back under his arm to make sure he didn’t run into a woman only to leave it there, no one said anything about it.

A couple blocks later, and the crowds had loosened up, and there weren’t as many people walking down this street. For New York City, it was actually pretty quiet. Jack lead them up some steps to an apartment, unlocking the door and letting them in.

It was a little small, a little dirty, but it wasn’t bad. They shuffled in through the small hallway, and Race took Davey to the couch, flopping onto it like it was his own. Crutchie took his place on a chair beside them, setting his crutch to the side. Meanwhile, Jack went into the kitchen, deciding to handwash Noodles. Realizing this, Davey followed him in after setting his bag down while Race flipped through channels.

Jack was filling up the sink with warm water, making a sort of bubble bath for the dirty cat to soak in. He didn’t seem to notice Davey was standing there yet, his brows furrowed in focus as he rubbed the grime off of the toy.

“Jack?”

Jack looked up, a little startled, as Davey walked over.

“Yeah, what is it?” he asked, looking back at Noodles.

“Thanks. For everything. And also sorry I stole your seat this morning, you can have it back tomorrow,” Davey said, looking at him.

Jack smiled, almost laughing. “Nah, you can keep it, prolly best ta keep you and Crutchie together, I’m really no good at dealing with anxiety, as you mighta seen today.”

“You helped in your own way. You got the source away, since it was a physical one this time, and now you’re helping me fix the problem. I’d say that’s dealing with it in a way,” Dave said softly.

“It’s the least I could do,” Jack mumbled.

“It’s really not. You are going out of your way to do this for me, even though it’s stupid and probably silly,” David said, and it was quite matter-of-fact. “So thank you.”

“It ain’t stupid or silly if it helps ya, Davey,” Jack said. “We all got things that keep us goin’, and if yours is a little stuffed cat, then so be it.”

Davey smiled shyly. “His name is Noodles.”

Jack nodded, pulling the soaking wet Noodles out of the sink. He pretended to shake his paw. “Hello, Sir Noodles, it’s an honor to meet you. Thank you for your service in helping our Davey, and we will get you back on the front line as soon as we can.”

Davey started laughing at that, covering his mouth. He shook his head at Jack, who was grinning back at him.

“Well, ain’t that a nice sound?” Jack teased.

Davey blushed a little, putting his hand down and holding them together, still smiling softly. It didn’t help the redness on his face that Jack was still looking at him. So, he went to the sink, not really thinking about the fact that that just brought them closer. He squished Noodles’ head, feeling the water squeeze out with some bubbles. Jack turned the sink back on and Davey rinsed his stuffie off, squeezing the soap out gently. Once content with it, Jack led him to the dryer, starting it up once Davey had placed it gently inside and closed the door.

They both headed back wordlessly back into the living room. Race had the chocolate cigar in his mouth, and he pretended to puff it out at Davey, who snorted and shook his head as he sat back on the couch beside him. Jack was still standing, checking his phone.

“What’cha doin’ over there?” Race asked, looking over at Jack.

Jack looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Ah, Finch says they have to detour to Button’s place real quick so they’ll be a bit longer, but they’ll be here within the hour.” He shrugged, “Gives Noodles time to dry anyways.”

“Aw, is its name Noodles?” Crutchie asked, looking at Davey, who nodded shyly.

Race reached over, pinching Dave’s cheek. “That’s adorable, Davey~”

Dave pushed his hand away, earning a laugh from Race. Jack flicked Race’s ear, and Race retaliated by smacking his arm. David thought from the sound it must’ve hurt, but Jack just laughed, messing up Race’s hair. He looked at Crutchie with a silent question of “do they do this often?” Crutchie smiled, waving his hand in a “don’t worry about it” motion.

By the time that Buttons and Finch got there, they’d gotten a pizza delivered that they all chipped in for (save for Davey, who felt bad about it). Noodles was out of the dryer, and Davey was holding the warm fabric, his plush cotton head still alright thankfully. Davey handed it to Buttons, who sat cross-legged on the floor across from them. Finch sat beside him, setting the bag between them.

“We’re watchin’ Goonies,” Race said.

Finch nodded at the movie choice and took a slice of pizza, while Buttons went to work, flipping the fabric inside out and beginning to stitch it up. Crutchie realized after about fifteen minutes that Davey was fidgeting with his hands anxiously as he watched Buttons work, picking at the skin around his nails enough to make it bleed. He stood, hopping over to the couch and sitting beside Davey, who looked at him in confusion. Crutchie took Davey’s hand, squeezing it gently. Davey blinked at that but seemed to relax a little bit, able to watch the movie a little more.

Within fifteen minutes, he’d completely sunk into Crutchie’s shoulder, the other boy’s arm around his shoulders. He had his other hand on Crutchie’s too, so the blond’s was sandwiched in between his own, mainly out of not knowing what else to do with it. Jack had stolen Crutchie’s chair since he moved, and Race was leaned against the couch beside them, idly chewing on the chocolate cigar as he watched the movie.

About half an hour later, Finch was helping Buttons pour the little plastic beans into the little hole left. Once it was filled, Buttons motioned for Davey to come over and feel.

“More or less filling?” he asked.

Davey squished it around testingly, “A little more, and then it’s perfect.”

Buttons nodded and added the beans, letting him try again.

Davey nodded happily, “Perfect!”

Buttons nodded, sewing up the last or it and tying it off, and Finch handed him the scissors. He cut off the string and handed him to Davey, who smiled widely as he inspected Noodles. Like he was brand new.

“Thank you so much, seriously, it means a lot,” Davey said, looking between the two.

“No problem, Davey,” Buttons said, smiling back at him.

“Besides, Jack mighta had our asses had we not,” Finch joked.

Davey stood, going back over to the couch, squishing Noodles’ beany tummy. All was right in the world now.

“Well, I gotta get home or Ma’s gonna have my ass. See you guys tomorrow,” Buttons said, standing as well, Finch following him with a salute.

The four remaining waved and said various goodbyes as they walked out. Davey looked at his own phone; Sarah had just texted asking if he was okay and if he was coming for dinner/should they save a plate for him. He replied that he’d be home soon, but he’d already eaten. She replied a moment later with a thumbs up emoji.

“I should probably head home before it gets dark,” Davey sighed, suddenly realizing that his home was not exactly a walkable distance. Well, it was technically, but it would be dark by the time he’d get home. “It’s kinda far…”

“You can take the subway,” Crutchie suggested.

“I’ve never taken the subway,” Davey said nervously as he grabbed his bag.

Race perked up. “I can take ya. Where ya at?”

Dave thought for a moment, “Over by the Chelsea Market.”

“Oh, yeah, I gotcha, that’s like twenty minutes,” Race said.

“You two get on outta here, we’ll see you tomorrow in homeroom,” Jack said with a smile. “You get some rest after your exciting first day,” he added with a wink to Davey.

Davey smiled softly, waving to the two… his friends. Race saluted before leading Dave out to the street, taking his hand as for some reason, he began running.

“Why are we running?!” Davey exclaimed.

Race laughed aloud to the sky, “Why not!”

“Because people are going to look at us weird?” Davey managed out, holding his bag under his arm.

“I dunno what it’s like wherever you’re from, but this is New York, baby!” Race said, looking back a moment to grin at him. “No one gives a fuck here!”

Davey managed to laugh as Race led him in a run through people, managing to get to the subway, and only did Race stop. Davey panted, not used to running. “I-is that why they call you Race?”

Race’s own face was flushed, and he giggled, holding Davey’s back to make sure he was okay. “Clever, aren’t ya? It’s actually cause I like to bet on horse races, but it’s a good guess.”

Once they’d caught their breath, Race led him through the subway system, getting tickets and waiting for the train. When they got on, Davey let out a small laugh, Race looking over at him with a smile.

“Thanks, Race,” he said, looking back at him.

“I figured you could use a laugh after the shit you dealt with today,” Race said, nudging Davey’s shoulder with his own.

“Yeah,” Davey said softly, looking at Race’s black eye and remembering it was there. “Is that gonna be alright though?”

“This?” Race asked, pointing at his eye. “Yeah, it’ll go away in a few days, it’s just a bruise. Fuckin’ Oscar managed to spot me, but I’ll say he looked much worse as they ran.”

“Do you guys get in fights often or was that just for me?” Davey asked, a little worriedly.

Race shrugged, “Not often, but it happens.”

Davey looked down at Noodles, squishing him between his fingers. Race leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms gently. There was something comforting about the rocking of the train car and the noise it made. Davey looked out the window, watching tunnel walls and graffiti pass by. It opened for a moment out to look over a piece of the city, and Davey smiled softly.

Race nudged him as they got close to their stop, and Davey made sure he had everything, double checking before they got off. They walked up the steps back out onto the street, and Davey could see his apartment complex from here. Race walked with him, looking around.

“This is me,” Davey said, walking a few steps up before turning to look back at Race. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“No problem, Davey. You ever have a problem, you know who to call.” Race seemed to realize something. He pulled out his phone. “Here, put your number in, I can add you to our big Newsies groupchat. Fair warning, put that shit on mute or it’ll never be quiet.”

Davey laughed, putting his contact in. “Thanks for the warning.”

“I’ll send you a list of their numbers so you can put their contacts in too,” Race said as he put his phone in his pocket.

“Okay,” Davey smiled genuinely. “Have a good night, Race.”

“You too, Davey,” Race saluted, stepping back but waiting until Davey was heading inside to walk off.

Davey, of course, was immediately interrogated about what happened, and he explained everything from homeroom to getting invited to lunch, to the attack and them helping him.

Once his family was satisfied with his answer and Sarah had teased him about his “boyfriends”, Davey was going back upstairs to his room, flopping onto his bed. He pulled out his phone, eating some of the dark chocolate that Race had bought him, seeing a flurry of messages that he blinked at.

He saved all the numbers, using Race’s text to put names to them. He looked at the groupchat, seeing a lot of “welcome, davey”s and “welcome to hell”s before it turned into memes and what were obviously inside jokes. He did go ahead and mute the chat but texted back “Thanks guys, I appreciate it.” followed shortly by a “I’m going to put my phone down though and get some homework done. Goodnight.”

By the time he’d finished the homework and done some light reading, it was nearly ten. He changed into his pajamas, shutting off his light and making his way back over to his bed, plugging his phone in. He saw he had a few texts.

Race: got home okay, in case u were worried ;) Race: goodnight sweetheart ;p

Crutchie: hope you’re feeling better! See you tomorrow

Jack: tell Noodles i say goodnight Jack: you too of course Jack: but nOodles has to know Jack: lol goodnight davey

Davey smiled, chuckling softly to himself. To Race, he sent, “I’m glad to hear it, have a good night.” To Crutchie, “I am, thank you. See you tomorrow.” To Jack, “Noodles very much appreciates the goodnight message, and could he talk, I’m sure would be wishing you a good night as well. Goodnight, Jack.”

He put his phone down, setting Noodles down beside it to protect it before he rolled over, going to sleep happier than he had in a long time.

#newsies #davey jacobs #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #richie writes

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