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theladycarpathia · 2 years

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Steve Harrington in a suit should be fucking illegal.

“Canape, good sir?” Billy asks, in the most pretentious voice he can manage. Steve turns and Billy can see the exact second his expression changes. Which is damn offensive because Billy thinks he looks pretty good in this penguin suit get-up.

Alright, so they’re not friends. They’ve had a begrudging truce ever since they both beat the shit out of each other last year, something that came out of a good few months of competition and hating each other. And Billy has worked tons of these events at the Hawkins country club but so far, he’s never seen Steve here before. Although, he should have figured. He’s seen Harrington’s house, the pool, the Beemer.

“Hargrove,” Steve mutters, eyes flicking warily across the floor to two people holding court in the center of the room. It’s almost instinct, like he can’t control it.

“The elusive folks?” Billy asks, craning his neck to get a better look. Steve has a lot of Harrington Senior in him: the height, the frame, the strong jaw. Everything else is his mom though, from the doe eyes of the shade of her hair. He’s never seen Harrington’s parents before and it’s a bit like finding a unicorn that looks exactly how you’d expect it to look. Rich and pretty.

“Yeah,” Steve says, shifting from one foot to another. He’s clearly not comfortable, despite the expensive fit of his suit, the gleaming black polish to his shoes. Harrington doesn’t fit in anywhere anymore, not on the court, in high school and definitely not on the arm of Wheeler.

Billy should feel a little bit bad about that. He swept in and took whatever was left of King Steve. Not that there had been much anyway. He’d abandoned his friends and was flunking out and his girlfriend was half in love with someone else.

But this looks more like the old King Steve, the one that Billy never got to see. Born into money and privilege, the kind of life that Billy would kill to have.

“Not exactly thrilled to have them back, huh,” Billy says and he doesn’t miss how the corners of Steve’s mouth twist.

“So they can turn up, complaining about every facet of my life and vanish again?” Steve mutters bitterly. “Steven, shouldn't you eat something other than pizza? We have expectations for you, Steven. Nancy Wheeler was such a nice girl, why couldn’t you make it work?”

“That wasn’t your fucking fault,” Billy says, astounded. He missed some of the full story but he knows enough that it was definitely Wheeler’s decision. On the other side of the room, a portly gentleman with a thin mustache makes furious gestures at him.

“Shit, that’s my boss,” Billy mutters, and then shoves the platter under Steve’s nose again. “At least look fucking interested.” Steve wrinkles up his nose and then squints at something made of puff pastry and covered in some green foam.

“What the fuck is it?” Steve asks and Billy chokes back laughter.

“I thought you were used to this shit, Harrington?” he says, because he’s common as muck and doesn’t recognise anything fancier than pizza and onion rings. He’d have expected spoon-in-his-mouth Harrington to be different.

“I don’t do things that shade of green,” Steve says bluntly. “Or things in foam form. Got any sliders?”

“No,” Billy says, and points to the corner of the tray. “Try a salmon puff.” Steve takes one, looking dubious.

“Are you sure?” he asks, putting it in his mouth. Billy tries to not enjoy the immediate look of distaste that washes over his pretty face.

“I may have not been paying that much attention when they went through the menu,” he says easily, pulling back the tray. One of the waiters had a really nice ass but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “There were a lot of them. Something about goat’s cheese and asparagus and chives.”

“This isn’t salmon,” Steve says, from around his mouthful and there’s something about the horrified expression on his face that makes Billy’s stomach dip.

Oh no. That is not happening. He’s not going to catch feelings for Harrington because he looks hot in a suit and makes stupid faces.

“Might have been shrimp,” Billy says, bluntly. He shifts his weight uneasily. He’d been fine irritating Pierre by loitering here but Steve’s tongue flicking out to lick a crumb off his bottom lip has made him realize that he needs to get out and fast. “I’d better circulate before I get fired. I’ll loop back around if I find out what the green foam is.”

“Sure,” Steve says, looking a little startled. There’s a confused little crease in his forehead that suggests he’s not all that happy about Billy taking off. Which is weird, after the fight they got into last November and their shared time in a jail cell.

“See you around,” Billy says and then turns to vanish into the crowds of people. He offers the tray to a cluster of well dressed women. All it takes is a few well placed compliments and a grin for them to turn into putty, and it has the added benefit of them clearing his tray.

“Circulating, Billy?” Pierre inquires, mustache quivering with his own self importance. Billy pastes on a fake smile, because the man is an ass but this gig pays well. Nice rich ladies who like his eyes always tip and they get to eat the leftovers after.

“Empty tray, dude,” Billy says, twirling it deftly on one finger. “Need a refill.”

“Hmm,” Pierre says, narrowing his dark eyes. He doesn’t seem to trust Billy an inch but also seems to recognise that there’d be riots from the middle aged, pearl wearing set if Billy wasn’t around to pour champagne. “Try and push the pesto wheels. We have an excess of them.”

“Pesto,” Billy mumbles, and has to stop himself from returning to the party to tell Steve. Instead he pushes through the swing doors and tries to get the image of Steve bent over one of the conference room tables out of his head.

“This sucks,” he complains, dumping his tray down on the side. Barb looks up from her bottle of water.

“Well, yeah,” she says, doing up the bottle cap. She must be on her break and thankfully aside from the guy washing dishes, the kitchen is empty. Must be a smoke break. “What else is new?”

“No, it’s just…never mind,” Billy says, pathetically. “Load me up.” Barb raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever you say, Hargrove,” she sings and scoops up a tray from the side. “Here, take this one. You’ve been told about the pesto wheels, right?”

“Have they not considered that maybe there’s not too many, it’s just that no one wants to eat the weird green stuff?” Billy says, squinting at the offending snack. “It’s fucking foam.”

“It’s not meant to be foam,” Barb corrects him. There’s a fond glitter in her eye, which is a nice change from the ‘oh fuck, why do I get to work with the local asshole?’ expression that she had on their first gig together. They don’t hang out much at school but they gang up together against people like Pierre and hide all the best leftovers for each other.

Billy hesitates. He’s well aware that Barb is in Steve’s circle, a fringe member of the kooks and weirdos that Steve seems to hang out with now. There’s a chance that anything he says might get repeated.

“You okay?” Barb asks, her eyes full of concern. Billy shrugs, deciding against it. One stupid frisson of lust isn’t enough to qualify a crush or for him to go babbling about it. He’s fine.

“Yeah, all good. I’m gonna head back out,” Billy fibs. “If you get a chance, hide one of those caviar things later, yeah?”

When he ducks back out, he’s swept up into a wave of people who all want to ask questions about the gluten free options and the calorie content of the cream cheese. Jesus.

Interestingly, one of the women who scrutinizes the artichoke dip is the glamorous brunette woman he’d seen earlier. There’s something about the intensity in her eyes as she examines the toast points that remind him all too well of her son.

“Thank you,” she says, throwing the words back with a disinterested glance. Ugh. She may be Steve’s mom but he’d give all the money in his bank account to tip the fucking dip over her perfectly coiffed head.

“Your mom has shitty manners,” Billy says abruptly, catching Steve by the large French doors. Steve’s staring out into the pitch black of the manicured grounds, sipping a beer. He shrugs when he catches Billy’s eyes.

“I know the bartender. He sneaks me one sometimes when everyone else is too drunk to notice.” He looks down at Billy’s tray. “Please don’t try to feed me some of that shit again.”

“Hey, I think the bruschetta is safe,” Billy says, before taking a hesitant step forward. “Looking for something?” Steve gives a hollow laugh and shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s okay. My sanity? I guess. A time machine to take me to three days’ time when my parents leave again. The usual shit.” Steve takes another swig, cutting himself off as he remembers who he’s talking to. Billy looks over his shoulder and finds that Pierre is busy talking to a waitress. So he dumps the tray on the nearest table and grabs Steve by the elbow.

“Hey, you’ll get arrested again,” Steve says, although he lets Billy manhandle him through the billowing curtains and outside onto the patio.

“I’m not gonna fight you,” Billy mutters, and digs around in his shirt pocket. He finds his packet of cigarettes and pulls the lighter from his trousers. “Don’t tell Pierre I keep these on me. I don’t smoke during work hours unless he’s really fucking me off.”

“I don’t really smoke anymore,” Steve says, but he takes one anyway. Billy flicks the lighter for him, trying to ignore the color of Steve’s dark eyes under the light.

God, what’s happening to him? One look at Harrington in a suit and he turns into one of those girls that used to hang on his arm at parties.

“Thanks,” Steve says, inhaling. Billy stows everything away again, just in case they get busted.

“Are they that bad?” Billy asks, although his own experiences screw up the curve. He works the pool and the catering gigs and shifts down at the garage to get the hell out of here. He’s nearing the end of his junior year and then he’s nearly out.

“No, they just…they think they’re doing what’s best for me,” Steve says ruefully, and Billy watches the purse of his lips around the cigarette. “Which happens to be opposite of what I think is best for me. And they’re just a little…self-involved. Which is fine. I used to be too.”

“You mean you stopped?” Billy quips and then flashes Steve a grin to let him know that it’s a joke. But Steve only rolls his eyes.

“Haha,” he says flatly and kicks at the ground in his fancy Italian shoes. “Yeah, I was just…interested in parties and girls and all that shit, you know? Not a whole lot going on underneath. My future was all planned out so why work for it?”

“Sure,” Billy says, as though he gets it, as though he doesn’t have to fight every day to make sure he has a future.

“Anyway,” Steve says, taking another drag. “Just so you know, if I’d really been King Steve, you’d never have had a chance.”

“Oh, really?” Billy asks, interested, because it would have been so much more fun to take the crown from someone who didn’t want to relinquish it. Interested, because there’s a strong line to Steve’s jaw that wasn't there before.

“Yeah,” Steve says, blowing smoke into the dark night. Billy watches, fascinated, at the shape Steve’s mouth makes. “No fucking chance, Hargrove.”

“I’m so sure,” Billy rumbles, but honestly? He can believe it. Steve, for all his self deprecation and sarcasm, draws people in, in a way that Billy just can’t. Max never likes anyone, but she hangs onto Steve’s every word. All those little shits do, and Billy has to wonder why Steve prefers it this way.

Maybe it’s not a bad way to be. If Steve ever needed anything, those kids would run to him in a second. Wheeler, for her shitty treatment of Steve last year, still bites the head off of anyone who dares badmouth him.

“It’s pesto, by the way,” Billy says hurriedly, because he’s apparently that idiot now. “The green stuff? Pesto.”

Steve wrinkles his nose and drops the butt of his cigarette to the ground, grinding it neatly under his heel.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” he complains and then sighs heavily. “Christ, do you think my parents would notice if I snuck out for a taco?”

“I don’t think your parents would notice much,” Billy says and then immediately hates the way that Steve curls in on himself.

These people aren’t shit compared to Steve. But he doesn’t seem to know that.

It’s fine. Sometimes Billy doesn’t think he’s much better than Neil either.

“You’d better go back in,” Steve says, gesturing to the curtain and all those people no doubt dying for a sludge coloured appetizer. “That fuckwad might notice you’re gone.”

“He fucking hates me,” Billy says cheerfully, and Steve blinks at him.

“Great?” he says, looking unsure because no one has ever hated Steve Harrington fucking ever, probably. “I’m gonna go bother the valet for my keys.”

“Ass,” Billy grumbles, who ate a bag of Cheetos before work today and not a lot since. He doesn’t have the time these days. School, basketball practice, shower, work, go home and do homework.

“I’ll bring you one,” Steve says, unexpectedly. “If you can find a cupboard to hide in to eat it.” It’s Billy’s turn to stare at him in surprise. He hadn’t expected Steve to bother coming back. The Harringtons look in their element, sipping their glasses of champagne and telling pointless stories from their trips to Chicago, New York, Washington. Even within spitting distance of their son, they seem to forget him.

“Thanks,” Billy mutters and then slips back through the curtain and grabs his tray, just in time to wave at Pierre making his rounds. Pierre. Billy will eat his fucking denim jacket if that’s the name on his birth certificate.

He wanders the crowds, smiling and making small talk, but his mind is anywhere but on the party. It’s on the look in Steve’s eyes, the curve of his ass in that suit, the wrinkle of his nose.

He can’t stay here. Not for anyone. Not for Neil, not for Max, not for Steve. Whatever the reason.

Steve is destined to be a king of a small town. His father will get him a good job, maybe buy him a house and eventually Steve will marry some cute thing that he meets at the club and spit out a few rugrats. It will all fall into place like dominoes and Steve won’t realize it’s happening until he’s got a beer gut and a back problem.

Nah, Steve’s staying here, the quicksand roots of a small town that won’t let him go. He’s not like Billy, just passing through. Because that’s all this is, some stupid two year pit-stop because his dad is fucked in the head. Enough money and a high school diploma and he’s out of here. Hawkins isn’t enough for Billy, no rolling waves, no glittering sunshine, all too confining in its quaint charm.

No. No reason to stay at all.

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #june prompts #june harringrove week #hawkins country club at a benefit #billy catches feelings #pining #barbara holland #billy's an idiot #because steve will go too #I missed June harringrove week so I did a few prompts #not as many as I'd like #so maybe a future project?

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lulu2992 · 6 months

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So Greg Bryk regularly goes live on Instagram to chat with his followers and answer a few questions, and almost every time, someone asks if he’d like to play Joseph Seed again if he had the chance, to which he used to always reply that, yes, he absolutely would. However, in early 2022, he didn’t seem so sure anymore and said it would depend on the script (the question was specifically about a potential Far Cry 5 movie) and the writer(s). Then, a few months later, he implied he didn’t feel like playing the Father ever again because he thought the character’s story was “finished” and that Ubisoft should focus on creating new things instead…

Well, on October 14, 2023, he once again went live on Instagram and, when people mentioned Far Cry 5 in the chat, he revealed that he had reached out to Dan Hay and Drew Holmes, two of the game’s three main writers he’s become friends with, and that they had visited him “on set” (I’m not sure what he was shooting) the day before. In the past, he had already explained several times that he had loved working with them and thought the story they wrote (along with “JS”, Jean-Sébastien Décant, the game’s third main writer) was fantastic. This time, he added that Far Cry 5 was really “special” to him because the writers “cared a lot” about creating something great with amazing characters, and that he thought the whole Seed family was really well-written.

A few minutes later, when he was asked which character he would like to play again if he could, he said it was hard for him to choose because he loves them all, but he eventually picked Jeremy Danvers (Bitten) and Cobbs Pond (Frontier).

Then, surprisingly, he also mentioned Joseph.

I don’t know why he changed his mind again or if the fact he contacted Dan Hay (who doesn’t work for Ubisoft anymore) and Drew Holmes (who recently became the new IP Director for Far Cry) means anything, and I’m not sure I want more Far Cry 5 content to be released anyway (for continuity reasons), but I guess the Seed family’s return, as equally exciting and truly terrifying as this eventuality sounds to me, isn’t completely out of the question anymore in Greg Bryk’s mind!

#someone also asked if the book of joseph was canon but as expected he had no idea #actors rarely know that stuff and I’m not even sure he got to read it...#but yeah the boys’ awful childhood is definitely canon the writers have talked about it several times #far cry 5 #joseph seed #greg bryk #okay but... listen #I wondered if I was just imagining things when he first mentioned collapse during a live stream and I thought he looked a bit upset #the dlc wasn’t out yet but I was pessimistic so I concluded my fear probably was the reason he seemed unenthusiastic/disappointed to me #then when he said he didn’t feel like playing joseph anymore I once again wondered if it was because of collapse (which was now out)#but I told myself I was most likely influenced by my own negative opinion and he simply wanted to focus on new projects #but... now he’s happily talking about the original writers and how much they 'cared' about making something good #and he seems really enthusiatic again about possibly reprising the role in the future #so is he implying that he thought the other writers (the dlc’s)... didn’t 'care'?#does he also think there were problems with the seeds’ characterization in collapse??#is it possible that I wasn’t just projecting after all???#????#...okay maybe I’m still projecting #but the timing is a bit suspicious isn’t it?

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