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billyhargrovesbabe · 5 years

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bump in the night

This is the response to a submission I received, and I absolutely loved it. I honestly had such a great time writing this. I didn’t realize sweet cuddly Billy was what I needed in my life like this until this submission. Or as sweet and cuddly as Billy can be. Thank you to @420keep-dreaming666 for the phenomenal prompt! I hope this lives up to what you were hoping for. Also, this gif is 100% what I believe a hungover Billy would act like.

Ask:

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Billy x fem!reader where her brother (it can be an oc or someone from the show) throws a party and billy ends up falling asleep in her room, but she doesn’t notice because she’s out with her friends so she gets home and finds Billy just asleep in her room and they’re kinda rude to each other but then it gets really fluffy because Billy’s drunk and opens up to liking the reader for a while. Sry this is all over the place. Thx!

Words: 3,201

Warnings: Lots of swearing, lots of fluff. Do these really even count as warnings?

“Fuck,” you hissed, almost face-planting on the stairs as you tried to creep up in the dark. Your brother, Tommy, had apparently taken advantage of the fact that your parents were out of town for the weekend. Well, you had both taken advantage of that. But your version of taking advantage of it was staying out past curfew, drinking and watching b-rated horror movies with your girlfriends. Tommy’s version was throwing a rager that left your house absolutely trashed. One you had no doubt you’d be left cleaning up tomorrow, scrambling to hide the evidence before your parents got home while he and Carol slept off whatever hangovers they had earned. Sometimes, being the younger sibling sucked. The jackass might’ve only had a year on you, but boy did he milk it for all it was worth.

You managed to make it up the stairs without busting your ass which was honestly a miracle and ducked into the bathroom to take your makeup off. You tried to be speedy, avoiding spending too much time in front of the mirror as that familiar paranoia set in when you spent an evening watching spooky movies. Fuck if you didn’t love them, but they did not love you. Making quick work of your makeup, you crept out into the hallway and left the lights in the bathroom on as long as possible. You tried to ignore the long shadows in the hallway, cast by the window at the other end near Tommy’s room. You could hear a faint, but very rhythmic and very telling, thud thud thud of furniture hitting a wall coming from your brother’s room. Used to that sound by now, you paused just long enough to make sure there weren’t any other creepy sounds lingering in the house before dashing across the hallway. Getting drunk and watching cheesy scary movies seemed like a great idea when you and your girls had been giggling and making fun of the victims in the movies. Now, being tipsy and having to deal with the lingering paranoia, you regretted not pushing for a chick flick instead.

You made quick work of it once you got to your room. You gingerly opened your door, quietly shut it, and practically stripped in your rush to take off everything but your underwear and your oversized t-shirt. You dove into bed, snuggling under your comforter, and sighing at the sense of safety that washed over you. After all, nothing could get you when you were under the protection of your comforter. No creepy crawly would dare disturb the sanctity of the bed.

That was when an arm wrapped around your waist.

Said arm pulled you snugly against a body that definitely should not have been there. Naturally, you did what any rational drunk teen alone in her room after a night of watching other drunken teens get brutally slaughtered on camera would do. You screamed and dove for the closest weapon you could think of in your room. Your hand wrapped around the curling iron on top of your dresser which you always left plugged in not that you were paranoid or anything but this was exactly why. You flicked the lights on, switched on the iron, and turned to face who—or what—ever had dared to ruin your clearly false sense of security.

You watched as a drowsy— and noticeably drunk— Billy Hargrove sat up from your bed. A cold wave of shock and disbelief and a little bit of excitement washed over you as his clouded blue eyes met yours. It was almost surreal, seeing his curly head popping up from where he was snuggly swathed in your blankets. You had no idea how you had missed him before; he was so clearly out of place wrapped up in your pastel bedspread. The two of you sat there, blinking at one another until he finally decided to break the spell in true Billy Hargrove fashion.

“What the fuck, y/n?”

You lowered the curling iron from where you had been wielding holding it out between the two of you, ready to defend yourself should any threat dare to come in reach of the cord. Where the hell did he get off, acting like you had interrupted his night?

“I think that’s my line,” you grumbled at him, finally switching off the curling iron and replacing it on your dresser. “What the hell are you doing in my bed, Hargrove?” His only response was a shrug. One that had you narrowing your eyes at him. You and Billy had never really been close. Once upon a time, when he had first come to Hawkins and didn’t seem to know what he was doing, you had tried to befriend him. But you two had come a long way since then.

You found him trying to pretend he wasn’t lost on his first day, walked right on up to him, and introduced yourself. Your friends had all thought you were insane, just going up to the hot and mysterious new kid like that. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you had. You just felt something in your gut nudging you to do it. You had shown him around that first day, helped him find all his classes, and sat with him at lunch. You even introduced him to your brother, knowing it’d be good for Billy to have a friend in his own year, but not thinking Tommy would demand all the attention of your new friend. He had left Billy alone for the most part in his first day or two in Hawkins. And while you and Billy weren’t exactly attached at the hip or anything, he was pretty nice towards you for the most part and not in that I-only-doing-this-to-get-in-your-pants kind of way. You had hoped maybe you could get to know him. That hope didn’t last long. It was crushed the second the California boy beat out Steve Harrington’s keg stand record. You saw the admiration and basic hero-worship in your dumbass older brother’s eyes as he trailed Billy around for the rest of the party and really the rest of the year like a lost little puppy. Whatever friendship you had with Billy was quickly thrown aside as Tommy countered you at every turn.

Where you’d call Billy out on his shit, Tommy ate it up and cackled at it. Where you tried to have intelligent conversations with Billy, Tommy and Carol brought up all the gossip and bullshit school politics with him. Where you tried to ask him about his life and world before Hawkins, Tommy was happy to just get wasted. You got that it was easier, but fuck if it didn’t sting every time Billy would pick Tommy over you. It made you feel like the annoying kid sister again, trailing along after your cruel older brother and Carol who had always been kind of a bitch to you. You really got fed up with it when they started making jokes at your expense, playing pranks on you and making fun of you for “being in love with the new King of Hawkins.” You weren’t going to put up with that shit even if it was sort of true. So, you cut Billy off. You stopped hanging around the three of them. There was some small part of you that hoped he’d miss you, realize he cared about you when you weren’t hanging around and taking their shit. But it never happened. The jokes started to let up after a while, which was honestly almost worst. It meant when the three of them got a prank in their head, it was especially cruel. And it would be exactly like the three of them to let you find Billy in your bed like he was waiting for you after the party of the year, “hoping to confess his feelings” or some bullshit like that, only for them to make fun of you for falling for it later.

Well. It wasn’t going to work this time. You might like the guy, but you weren’t just going to take this shit lying down.

“You guys really think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?” The exhaustion hit you all at once as you leaned against the dresser, staring the blond in your bed down. You saw the confusion wash over his face, and you assumed his drunken brain hadn’t realized he’d obviously been caught. “What, did Carol and Tommy put you up to it? I bet the three of you are just dying to get something good to hold over me. Maybe you want a juicy piece of gossip about how I gave in to the King of Hawkins, or you're hoping to get blackmail material as I confess some feelings for you in a pathetic way. Well, it’s not going to happen Hargrove. I don’t give a fuck why you’re in my room. I just want you out. Now.”

“What the hell? You’re buggin’.” He slurred a bit as he tried to shoot back at you, but it lacked the usual bite he’d direct your way. Not that it helped. You still snapped back at him with the regular amount of venom you would. You had a fire that could rival Billy’s. All of Hawkins knew it. And you were one of the only people who didn’t back down when it came to him.

“Right.” You took pleasure in the dangerous edge to your voice. It was the kind that had sent underclassmen running the other way before. It was the kind that made Tommy listen to you, Carol worry about the rumors you might spread, and your friends apologize immediately for whatever they had done to upset. You rarely used it, hating the way it made you feel like a bitch, but when you did take advantage of it, people listened. And you were tired of this boy thinking he could walk all over you. Your voice was low, and cold, and controlled. And you milked it. “Because you three never act so casually cruel that I’d have a reason to be suspicious. You’ve never made my day suck just for the hell of it. You don’t make fun of me at every turn for just being a decent person and actually daring to genuinely care about you, do you?”

You didn’t need an answer, but you still waited. You waited until he cut his eyes away, clearly uncomfortable with the situation and knowing there was truth to your words. You relished in it. “That’s what I thought. Bite me, Hargrove.”

Some kind of thought or emotion flickered over his face. His eyes were still murky and clouded, but the self-righteous expression he had worn was gone. He suddenly looked like the young, seventeen-year-old kid he was. Gone was the macho man bravado and badass bluster. Instead, you were left with a Billy you had never seen before. He almost looked... well, vulnerable. His expression was so open as tried to think of what to say next, his eyes so wide as they settled on you, and his hair unruly in a way that definitely wasn’t intentional. He muttered something as his eyes cut away from yours, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“What was that?” You tried to distract yourself. The scare had killed whatever buzz you had left from your evening, but you were still tipsy enough that it was dangerous to focus on your feelings for him too much. Feelings lead to confessions, and you refused to give him and your brother anything else to hold over you. You had tried to make your voice hard and sharp, nagging even. You had a feeling it came out far softer than you cared to admit.

“Used to call me Billy,” he mumbled. You barely made it out this time. You stepped closer when you saw him open his mouth to speak again, not wanting to miss what he was about to say. “You. You used to call me Billy. None of this Hargrove bullshit.”

You laughed in disbelief. “Well, it’s not exactly like we’re friends. You’ve made that painfully clear. Besides, you call Steve by his surname so I figured why not give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“You friends with that asshole?” Billy hissed, suddenly tensing. You could feel the fury slowly begin to boil. It was odd to see someone wrapped in a pastel blanket look threatening, but his quick flare to anger wasn’t anything new.

“No,” you tried to reassure him. Why were you reassuring him? Why should you care? “But he’s friendlier to me than you are. Never made fun of me when he and Tommy were best friends. Not that it’s any of your business.” You hoped that one stung him to hear as much as it stung you to admit. You were all over the place, and you knew it. You didn’t have your normal control around him, the safeguards that protected you from that look in his eyes. The one he was giving you now. The one that was protective, and demanding, and curious all at once. The two of you sat in tense, uncomfortable silence for a while. Your eyes locked with his, and the two of you were left staring at one another. You suddenly registered you were in nothing but your t-shirt and underwear, and you rushed to find some shorts to throw on while covering your chest in the process.

“ ’S not a trick.” You almost missed it as you quickly pulled the shorts off the floor and up your legs. You almost didn’t hear him at all. Almost. “Got sleepy. Didn’t wanna go home. Tommy said I could sleep on the couch downstairs, but...” You waited for him to continue. You hoped the silence would encourage him. When he didn’t finish the rest of the thought, you mentally counted to ten and then finally turned to face him.

“But?” You tried to prompt him as gently as you could. He shrugged, avoiding your eyes.

“Got distracted.” You held your breath, hoping, praying, that wasn’t all he had left to say. You waited and watched as his eyes cut to yours, then away again. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn a blush had spread across his cheeks. You let the silence linger a little longer this time, filling the empty space by letting your eyes trace his face. As the silence drew on, Billy finally grew uncomfortable enough in his drunken state to break. “I found your room. Was kinda hoping I’d find you in it.”

This time, you really didn’t breathe. Your heart raced, and you were so tempted to go to him. You so badly wanted to be next to him, and you were just a few inches from the bed now. It’d be so easy to just lounge next to him and let yourself just settle with that answer. But you owed it to yourself to hear more. Hell, he owed it to you after all the shit he had put you through.

“Why?” This time, instead of just avoiding your eyes, he huffed and scooted himself to the edge of the bed. He looked away from you and set his jaw in that stubborn way of his that said no way in hell am I saying anymore. You were having none of that. “Billy, why?”

He finally turned to you at the use of his first name, just like you knew he would. He swallowed, and you searched his eyes as he seemed to debate with himself over whether or not he should tell you. You implored him with your eyes, desperately and silently asking him to say what you needed to hear.

“Fuck, I can’t say it. I’m not some little bitch.” His gruff response shattered the spell, and he got up from your bed. He moved so quickly, throwing the comforter down and practically sprinting from your room, that you barely managed to grab his hand on his way to the door. He stiffened at your touch.

“Please, Billy. I know you’re not. But I still need to hear it.” Your voice was just a whisper, but it filled the room. You pulled him gently by the hand, and he turned to face you. He kept his head down until he took a deep, cleansing breath. When he lifted his head to face you, you could see the guarded expression on his face. You could see the fear of rejection in his eyes. And once again, he set his jaw in determination.

“I like you, sweetheart.” It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t the blushing or heartfelt confession you used to dream as a little girl about when you imagined a guy telling you he liked you. “I like you a lot. Have for a while now, believe it or not. I know I’ve put you through a lot of bullshit or whatever, but you’re pretty cool. And you’ve got way more going for you than Tommy, or Carol, or anyone else in this shithole of a town. And yeah, I can be a dick, or an asshole, or whatever but--” But it would do. After all, it was Billy.

You didn’t let him finish.

You quickly pressed your lips against his, cutting off his sentence, trying to calm him down, and finally living the moment you’ve been dreaming of for months now. His lips were soft, and he pressed them against yours without missing a beat. You could taste the cheap whiskey he had been drinking and the cigarettes he had undoubtedly bummed that night. It made your heart beat faster. You sighed into him, stepping closer and grasping his shirt desperately with your hands. You worked your lips against his until his arm came up to wrap around your waist. That was when it all came crashing back to you.

“You promise this isn’t a trick?” You rasped the question, out of breath from the kiss but desperate to ask it. You had to be sure. “Billy, if this is some joke or prank, I’m not going to be able to handle it. I can’t just laugh this one off or let it slide. Not after this.”

“Y/N.” His voice was the gentlest you had ever heard it before. “I promise. Now do us both a favor and shut up.” His hand came up to cradle the back of your head as his lips dipped down to meet yours once again. You sighed into it, enjoying the feel of being wrapped in his arms. He walked you back until the two of you collapsed back onto the bed, only breaking to breathe when you desperately needed air.

You let Billy stay in your room, citing the horror movies you had watched earlier as the reason why. After all, you had to take advantage of your parents being gone for the weekend. And you had a feeling Tommy wouldn’t be able to make you clean up the mess from his party tomorrow if Billy was there. Plus, you had always wanted to have a little fun in the back of the blond’s Camaro...

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