loopty-loops
Abandoned wasteland
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Latest Posts by loopty-loops
He doesn’t know why, but he’s laying down.
It’s the first thing he realizes. A stupid thing to notice, but just one minute ago, he was standing behind the counter at Family Video, and now he’s laying down.
His eyes are heavy, and it feels like it takes a huge amount of effort just to open them.
He’s in a fucking hospital.
He knows from the stupid white color of the stupid drop ceiling tiles. From the stupid annoying beeping of the stupid heart monitor. From the stupid scratchy gown he’s wearing instead of his sweater.
He heard a muttered curse next to him, and slowly lolled his head over to look.
Hopper was sitting next to his bed, his hat balanced on his knee, looking grumpily at the crossword printed on the back of The Hawkins Post. Steve wanted to laugh at the image, the chief of police swearing as he scribbled out something.
“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Nobody knows what the fuck that is.”
“Blame Nancy,” Steve croaked. His head throbbed and he closed his eyes again. “She convinced them to add that. Said sales would go up.”
There was a rustling of paper.
“Smart girl,” Hopper said. He paused for a moment, and Steve felt like he needed someone to come and crowbar his eyes open or they would stay closed forever.
“You collapsed. Scared the shit out of your girlfriend, and everyone else at the video store.”
“Not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled.
So that makes sense, why he was at work one second, and in a lousy bed at Hawkins General the next.
“You didn’t hit your head. Hargrove caught you before you went all the way down.”
Jesus, Billy’s reflexes really are something else. Steve’s gonna need to thank him for that. The last fucking thing he needs is another concussion. Maybe, to show his gratitude, he’ll suck Billy’s-
“I’m here because we need to talk about what the doctors found in your system.”
Steve’s mind went blank, and his eyes flew open.
Hopper was looking at him, his face an unfamiliar mix of sad, and angry, and fucking, disappointed.
Steve felt like he could vomit.
“They ran your blood. Routine E.R. shit, I’m told. But they found some, some substances that shouldn’t be there.”
Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat.
He knew the guilt was written all over his face.
“How long?”
“Since the summer.” He couldn’t look at Hop in the face. Not while he admitted this shit.
He was fucking stupid to think he wouldn’t be caught.
It’s a miracle Robin hasn’t walked in on him doing bumps in the bathroom at work, or Billy hasn’t found his stash tucked between the mattress and the box spring.
Hopper sighed.
“I know we all went through a lot last summer. With your friend getting trapped in the Upside Down, and you getting captured-”
“Tortured. I got tortured.”
Hopper sighed again.
“Getting coked up isn’t going to help anything.”
“What is this? Fucking Family Ties?”
He felt Hopper’s glare more than he actually saw it.
“It’s stupid-”
“You just don’t get it! Okay?” He really didn’t mean to yell, his head just fucking hurts and he’s so fucking stupid.
“Oh yeah,” Hopper snarked. “I fucking forgot. You’re the only person in the goddamn world that’s ever dealt with fucking drug addiction. So sorry.”
“I’m not addicted!” Lie.
“I don’t fucking believe you.”
Steve glared at Hopper.
“So, what? You’re here to arrest me?”
“No. I’m here to talk some fucking sense into you.” He shifted in his chair, the newspaper slid off his lap and fell on the floor. “You’re around those kids all the time. You fucking drive them around. You have been endangering their lives for months. And why? Because you can’t handle the trauma? We all have trauma. You think your friend Hargrove is totally fine after being stuck in that place? After realizing some fucked up doppelgänger was killing people? You think your girlfriend is totally fine after being tortured by the Russians too?”
“I don’t do it when I have to drive the kids, Hop I swear.” That, was the truth. “Okay, the other stuff, I get your point, but I need you to know, I wouldn’t hurt the kids like that, I-” the heart monitor was speeding up, getting louder in Steve’s panic. “You have to believe me, I’ve never driven them high.”
“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Hopper sighed again. “Just, why?”
Steve gulped.
“The Russians, they drugged us. They said it would make us tell them the truth. And I don’t know what it was, but fuck. It felt good. I couldn’t feel the pain, and I wasn’t scared, and I just. I didn’t know how to stop being scared.”
It was embarrassing.
Admitting that he’s been scared shitless ever since that first demogorgon dropped through the Byers’ ceiling.
Admitting he’s been doing lines of coke to keep himself from spiraling into inconsolable panic.
“I did some at a party, and it was the closest I felt to that feeling.”
Not technically true. He and Billy did some together last August, and it was like the fearlessness washed over Steve in warm waves.
But he can’t throw Billy under the bus like that.
And if Billy ever found out, that one night of drug experimentation between lovers turned into a full-on addiction, he’d never forgive himself.
There was a pause.
“Have you been snorting or shooting?”
“Snorting.”
“Okay,” Hopper stood up, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hat back on. “I’m going to tell your friends what’s going on. Not the kids, just Hargrove and Buckley. Joyce, too. Then, when you get out of here, you and I are going to clean out any stashes you’ve got. And we’re all going to be watching you like a fucking hawk.”
“Wait,” Steve croaked, his heart rate jumping up again, the beeping speeding up. “Don’t tell Billy.” Hopper shot Steve a look that said really? “Let me tell him. He needs to hear it from me.”
Hopper paused, on hand on the doorknob.
“Did he get you hooked? Is he on it too?”
“No! Nothing like that. Please? He’ll be upset unless I tell him.”
Hopper gave him a look that was a little too searching to be comfortable.
“Okay. Okay, kid. I’ll send him in. But he’ll know what’s going on one way or another. Don’t make me tell him that you’ve lied. Don’t think he’d appreciate it.”
He left the room without another word, leaving Steve to stew in his shame.
He’s such an idiot.
Why did he ever think he could get away with this and not one person would notice?
Even if they didn’t know he was regularly doing cocaine, Billy and Robin already knew something was up. They kept asking him if he was okay, coming over for impromptu sleepover parties. It was nice, he loves them both, but it was only a matter of time before the penny dropped.
It’s just embarrassing. That a routine blood test exposed the amount of uppers in his system. Exposed how little he’s dealing.
He rolled over, waiting for Billy to come into the room and blame himself for Steve’s stupidity. He didn’t want that.
Billy didn’t have a drug problem. He thought it’d be fun for them to get a little high and do stuff together. And it was! It was so fun, and they’d talked about doing it again.
Steve can kiss that idea goodbye.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Billy started following him into the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be.
It’s sweet, that his boyfriend cares so much about him that he would, hypothetically at least, do that.
But Billy’s got enough on his plate, and if Steve knows anything about him, it’s that he blames himself for shit just as much as Steve does.
He focused on the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Still elevated, his nerves for the coming conversation getting the best of him.
His head was pounding in a way that said it was time for his next fix.
He squeezed his eyes closed, willing away the need thrumming under his skin.
“So, you finally gonna tell me why you’ve been actin’ all squirrelly lately?”
cw: angst/major character death
but you had to go
like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore
I feel like as a fandom we recognize that Billy is all alone in Hawkins but what about Steve. When Billy arrives in Hawkins Steve is coming out of a break up, he lost his best friend, and from what we all believe he doesn’t have active parents who care about him.
Steve has the kids but he is 17 years old he needs someone his own age to hang out with. Input Billy (after they decide to put the fight behind them). Billy who has about zero chill and very little will to live. Shows Steve a side to having fun he never knew was possible. With Tommy it always felt like he had to prove something.
But with Billy it’s random rocks being thrown at his window to go for an endless drive to no where. Sneaking into clubs in Chicago and dancing like no one there cares who Steve is. Billy convincing Steve to get a fancy hotel on his Dads credit card just to rack up the room service bill because this is what “sticking it to the man is pretty boy”. Long nights high on California weed that Steve refuses to admit is actually better than the Indiana shit. Weekends spent in thrift stores with Billy begging Steve to ditch the polos, milkshakes at the only diner in town at 2am, and laughing. A lot of laughing.
Steve finds himself throughout his friendship with Billy. And if he happens to discover he is in love with him too. Well who better to love than your best friend.
Just take those old records off the shelf…
boyfriend.
the word felt different on steve’s tongue. different than girlfriend
girlfriend was light. sweet. soft and easy, familiar back behind his teeth, honey on the roof of his mouth
boyfriend was heavy. round. a smooth, even sound that rolled off the front, all in the purse of his lips and the cherry red glow of a cigarette
girlfriend was a bright grin. a statement. a laugh that burned like pride and a confident tilt of his chin
boyfriend was a warm smile. a secret. a whisper that tickled his skin like an august breeze and a flush that spread high on his cheeks
girlfriend was a hand clasped in his as he walked down the hallway. a hundred sets of eyes under florescent bulbs and a short kiss outside a classroom. a slim waist for his arm to fit around during lunch
boyfriend was a hand on his jaw at 3 AM. a set of cool blue eyes that bled beneath pale moonlight and kisses that cut through time, stole the air from his throat. a strong chest and stronger arms that shielded him from the world beyond the walls of his bedroom
Keep reading
Steve Harrington Appreciation Week Day 2: Incorrect Quote
Season 4 Steve Harrington + Incorrect Quotes
"It’s your funeral,” he just says. It’s a terrible sentence he never wishes to say again. “It’s just appropriate.”
Billy’s eyes are a bit more red rimmed than yesterday. His hand lies on his stomach, fingers digging slightly into his tank top and Steve wonders how hungry he’s right now. If he’s starving right now.
"Well, at least something about my life’s appropriate in the end,” Billy snorts. “That’s good to know.”
Chapter 4. Read more on AO3.
I don’t know if you’re still taking requests in particularly for writing, if not you can just react to this idea that’s been banging about in my head rent free and it’s the scene where Billy and Steve come to blows at the Byers house except Steve is a trans man, already has had a rough night, with the binder on and hasn’t taken it off since the day before and he’s been fighting monsters and crap, and the kids (mainly Dustin) is freaking out because he knows and before Billy and Steve properly start fighting inside, Steve takes one or two hits and can’t breathe and collapses and Billy kinda just freaks along with the rest of the kids and we get to see a bit of protective little brother Dustin with Billy catching on and helping out. (Then he (Billy) gets dragged along by the kids with Steve to the tunnels, because like hell Steve’s up for running and fighting and Billy can’t just leave them.)
I tried to write it myself but my motivation hasn’t come back from it’s holiday.
Hey!! I'm always taking requests for writing, even if it might take me a little bit to get to said requests sometimes 😅😅 But I love this so much!! Thank you for coming to me with this!! (And felt that motivation thing 😭)
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Steve's night had been... rough to say the least.
Interdimensional monsters, having to look after a very rambunctious group of middle schoolers, and on top of all that, a binder that felt like it was a few seconds from squeezing his soul from his frame, had never been on the agenda. And yet here he was.
But, as if that wasn't bad enough, of course life had to throw him another curveball. One with sharp teeth and piercing blue eyes that bore daggers into him. One that possessed a mean right hook and an even meaner left.
And Steve had keen reflexes, or at least he would if it were any other day, if he hadn't quite literally been to hell and back just hour before. So, it catches him by surprise when he shoves Billy back into the Byers' kitchen table with a sharp huff only to be met with a harsh blow to his cheekbone seconds later, followed by one of the most menacing, frankly crazy laughs he'd ever heard.
Steve couldn't think straight, cupping his cheek as he staggered back somehow even more out of breath than before. The screams coming from Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Max were all muffled by the harsh ringing in his ears, chest feeling tighter than ever as he in took a rugged breath from his nose, letting it out through quivering lips. He barely had enough time to look up and make eye contact with the blonde teen in front of him before he was knocked down for the count.
Billy's solid fist made contact with the soft fat covering his fragile ribs. It was as if he was seeing the world in slow motions, body betraying him, knees buckling, stance faltering, torso suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs as he fell backwards. Even in his weakened state he had enough sense to try to catch himself, elbow jutting back to catch his fall.
The room felt uncharacteristically quiet when he made contact with the floor, letting out a soft pained noise, elbows catching him just enough to he didn't hit his head, but gave quickly letting his back fall against the hardwood. He squeezed his eyes shut with a long groan, only opening them back up when he heard Dustin at his side.
"Steve!" he shrieked in his normal high pitched way, gently smacking Steve on the cheek as if to wake him up, like he had ever been knocked out in the first place, "Shit, c'mon, Steve!"
Steve blinked up at him once before scowling, swatting his hand away " 'M not dying, Dustin," he mumbled, eyes falling to just behind Dustin where now Max was holding the end of his nail bat against the chest of a very concerned looking Billy. He couldn't help the strange bloom of pride that spread inside of his chest, right along side the pain.
Dustin seemed to let out a little breath of relief, "Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, falling from his knees back onto his ass. While Lucas backed up Max, Mike came over to where he was lying on the floor, "What's wrong with him?" he asked Dustin worriedly, like Steve wasn't even there.
The other boy just swallowed, looking down at Steve, he knew. This was probably the worst it had ever been, but Dustin wasn't a stranger to the fatigue Steve faced when having worn his binder for too long. And seeing as he'd been wearing the same clothes for nearly a day and a half, Dustin thought it was pretty safe to say the binder had stayed on as well.
Shit.
"Shit, Steve," Dustin sighed, shaking his head, 'shit' and 'Steve' seeming to be the only two words he could come up with tonight. Steve felt the burn of shame deep in his gut, but was it really his fault? It's not like he even had time to think about something like that when he was quite literally fighting for his life. But maybe if he stayed like this for much longer he'd be fighting for his life for a different reason.
"Christ, Dustin," Mike scolded, "What the fuck's going on?" Dustin just looked from Steve to Mike, back to Steve with a semi sympathetic look. Almost as if he was asking Steve for permission to tell. Because the thing was, Dustin was the only one who knew about his situation. Well, besides Carol, and Tommy, and his parents, but you get the point.
Nobody else in Hawkins knew he was trans and Dustin didn't want to be the one to ruin his secrecy if he didn't want to tell. Steve just frowned, looking to the side, not knowing what to do. He hated that it had to come to this, that it had to come out this way, but he also knew he had to tell them something. He cursed himself, feeling the signature sting of tears brimming his eyes, half hoping that maybe one of those demodog things would come back and rip him to shreds.
Dustin was the first to notice, giving him a sad look of understanding, quick to comfort him, "Hey, hey, hey," he rambled, wedging a hand behind Steve's back to lift him up, almost scared in the way Steve winced at the push of his spine shifting his confined ribs, "Okay, it's okay," Dustin slid his hand so instead it was wrapped around his entire back, lifting Steve up as slowly and carefully as possible.
Steve hadn't even realized they were now all staring at him until he was properly sitting up, eyes falling to Max who's head was turned, Lucas' the same, and Billy who was looking over their shoulders.
He gave them a teary-eyed glare before quickly thanking Dustin for helping him sit up, thankful that he was given at least a minute to recover before having to stand, though he had high hopes that the task might be easier given his current position.
"What the hell is going on!" Mike snapped, now fully and openly freaking out. Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow, not used to seeing him so uncool under pressure. But Steve also couldn't help to think that it meant he cared.
" 'S hard to explain," Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose with the side of his wrist, grimacing at the snot before wiping it on his shirt. He couldn't help the slight upturn of his lips when he reached a hand out for either Lucas or Max to take and they both gave him a grossed out expression, leaving Dustin and mike to get up and each take an arm, clenching their teach as they pulled Steve's dead weight up off the ground.
He hadn't even been thinking about his cheek until he scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing as the feeling of the forming bruise.
Billy, right.
When Steve dared connect their eyes Billy didn't scrunch his nose or snarl like he expected, but instead looked at Max who had finally lowed the nail bat and then looked at the floor like a kicked puppy. Steve wanted to kick himself for thinking he looked kind of cute when he let down his guard, almost not scary at all, almost.
"Steve, hello? Earth to Steve," Steve was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by Dustin, gripping his shoulders. The brunette blinked down at him, head still feeling a little foggy from everything. The quizzical look Dustin gave him left him puzzled.
"You gotta take it off," he whispered, leaning in close enough so that Steve would be the only one to hear him. Steve's frowned deepened, sniffling again, but the waterworks didn't return, "I know it sucks, but it's gonna suck worse if you don't take care of it now."
Deep down Steve knew Dustin was right, that if he didn't take off his binder now, he would be in even deeper shit later. But what was he supposed to do without it? There was no way he was about to leave without it on. He was relatively flat, the one trait he was glad he got from his mother, besides his hair, but not that flat. People would look, people would stare, people would ask questions that he really didn't want to and really didn't have time to answer.
He just wasn't ready, "Steve," Dustins voice was firm but caring, laced with a hint of pity. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Mike beat him to it.
"I feel really out of the loop here, guys." Steve rolled his eyes as did Dustin.
Finally Steve caved, for the sake of his sanity if of nothing else, "Fine, I'm going to the bathroom," he announced, heart softening at the toothy, grin Dustin gave him dropping his hands from his shoulders.
Just as Steve was about to leave the room and round the corner into the hallway he turned around, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but," he grumbled, pointing, but only with his forearm, not wanting to face the pain of lifting his bicep, "Hargrove," Billy's head snapped over to Steve, "You're in charge."
He didn't even give the kids time to argue before stalking off, disappearing into the Byers' narrow half bath. When he closed the door behind him he stayed there for a moment, pressing his back against the door, closing his eyes. He was pretty sure he could fall asleep right there, standing up like a horse, it it weren't for the throbbing pain in his cheek and the sore rub of his chest.
His Nikes squeaked across the tile, making him cringe slightly as he made his way to the sink, or rather the mirror, giving himself a good look. He really did look like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes, a cut on his cheek from what he could only assume to be Billy's ring, framed by a nasty purple bruise. Steve sighed, grabbing a towel from a hook beside the counter, wetting it, before pressing it gingerly upon the wound. He hissed at the contact, lips pursing as he dabbed the warm cloth to his, face, even paler than usual.
If he didn't know any better he would have guessed he was sick, scarlet red blush splotching paper white flesh. But this was only the first of his problems, next came the more serious matter.
Carefully, Steve slid his Member's Only jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, metal zipper clanking on the tile. his hands shook like a leaf as he reached for the hem of his shirt, taking a deep breath that sent a sharp pain down his spine. It really was time to take this thing off. Slowly he grabbed the bottom, sliding it up, the task proving to be more difficult as he went higher. In the end he was cringing, grinding his teeth with a short grunt until he finally got it off, discarding it onto the floor.
Now Steve was just left with his binder, looking at himself in the mirror with sad, almost scared eyes. He hated seeing himself without one. Because he had it in his head that if he never saw his chest then he could just convince himself that it wasn't there, that the breast he loathed so much didn't exist and all he had were the flat expanse of pecs.
He made the executive decision to turn around, thanking God that the binder had a zipper on the front. He grabbed the zipper, feeling a slight panic run coarse through his veins before he began pulling, with each new pull of the teeth it felt like his lungs grew a size bigger. Breathing getting easier and easier until he had fully unzipped the compressive material.
Steve looked ahead at the tile that lined the shower as he shrugged it off his shoulders, taking the deepest breath he could muster before releasing it again. It was freeing in the worst way. His ribs still ached and his chest was just all around sore, but at least he could breathe a bit better.
He dared to let his hands wander, rubbing smoothly over his ribs, pointer finger being able to feel the subtle jut of each one as he went along. He could feel the binder rash against his sides, bicep rubbing against the raw skin making him flinch.
Steve didn't want to turn around, but there was that voice in the back of his head, the one that always lingered there. Telling him he needed to face his true self, who he really was. And deep down he knew it wasn't true, that he was just as much a guy as any cis guy. But sometimes he let it get the better of him. So he did, he turned around, staring into his own eyes at first before he let them dip lower.
He bit his lip, not being able to take looking for more than a second before looking up that the ceiling, tears forming stubbornly in the corners of his eyes. His nipples were hard and chaffed, the rash directly under the swell of his breasts even worse than the rash on his sides.
He squeezed his eyes shut, image imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. Steve cried silent tears, wet streaks of disingenuous shame ran down his face until his crying wasn't so silent.
Billy was sitting in the living room when he heard it, sending Max who was explaining everything to him a quick ", Shh." And when that didn't work a firm, "Shut up, Shitbird," as he worked hard to drown out her complaining at the nickname and focus on the soft noise coming from the hallway.
When one particularly loud sob rang through the house everyone stopped talking, all eyes pointed in the direction of the bathroom.
Dustin was the first one to make the move to go, quickly being shut down by Billy, "Hold it," he said, reaching out a hand gesture to halt him, fearing the worst after hearing what Max just told him, "I'm going."
He was reaching for the bat at Max's side when suddenly- "No!" Everyone looked at him with wide eyes, "You- You can't," he babbled, shaking his head. Billy just furrowed his eyebrows at him.
"Like hell I can't," retorted, gripping handle with a firm hand, using it to propel himself up out of his seat. Dustin did the same, pushed himself up out of his seat, with a huff and a stubborn cross of him arms.
Billy gave him a look, or rather a glare, to which Dustin himself returned, tough kid. "Look, something's wrong in there and if it's something... something bad I don't need any of you shitheads," he gestured with the bad towards the group, "getting hurt, kapish?"
Dustin stared at him a second longer before falling back into his seat, deciding that if it was a demodog Billy stood the best chance. He would just have to pray, for Steve's sake, that he had things handled in his department, so Billy didn't learn anything he could use against him later.
Billy approached the bathroom door quickly but carefully, not wanting to waste any time if Steve was actually about to get mauled by some creature, "Harrington?" he called, knocking on the solid door three times, pressing his ear close.
Nothing.
"Harrington, open up!" he demanded, fear level only going up when all he heard was the persistent sound of Steve's cries, "Harrington I swear to God-"
Suddenly a new sound came from the bathroom, a scream, not high enough to be one of fear, but rather of frustration. But Billy didn't have enough time to think about that, just that Steve could be in trouble. In one swift movement he twisted the door handle and pushed through, quickly returning both hands to the bat where they belonged.
Steve didn't even notice Billy's presence until it was too late, until he was standing in the door way with a look Steve couldn't tell was shock or disgust. He quickly went from clutching the side of the sink to having his arms crossed over his chest, trying to hold onto what little dignity he had left.
He looked at Billy like a deer in headlights, like at any second Billy might flip, this time doing more damage than the first.
They stayed like that longer than they should have, Billy staring at Steve and vice versa, cold air from outside the bathroom sending a shiver down the brunette's shirtless form.
"Please..." Steve pleaded softly, what he was pleading for he wasn't sure. And Billy just blinked, tongue darting out out wet his lips which had gone dry. He took a cautious step froward, causing Steve to step back. The fact pained Billy, causing him to shake his head slowly and drop the bat, the object toppling to the floor with a crash, like some bizarre peace offering.
But it seemed to work for Steve who's posture visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, exhaling from his lips, but that didn't mean he wasn't still guarded.
Billy's expression remained confused, eyes darting from Steve's chest to his face, and back to his chest, "Want to take a picture? It'll last longer," Steve scoffed, turning a little bit on hopes of blocking his view.
Billy cleared his throat, eyes wandering now to the floor, "I'm sorry I just- I didn't-" he stumbled, but thankfully Steve was there to finish his sentence.
"Didn't expect me to be such a freak?" he grit, almost as if they weren't Billy's thoughts but his own.
But the blonde quickly recovered, "No!" he exclaimed, "No, not at all," he assured, "At least not because of this." His lame attempt at a joke actually landed, pulling a wet laugh out of Steve's exhausted lungs.
"You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself, Hargrove," Steve retorted, corners of his lips upturning into a soft, yet sad smile, Billy's smile about the same.
"Yeah, well..." he started, eyes being pulled back down to Steve's exposed side, thanks to the new angle, getting an eyeful of the rash that resided there, "Shit, man, that looks nasty."
Steve just looked down almost bashfully, "The flatter never ends," he mumbled, but the words held no real malice.
Billy shook his head, "No, I mean- I didn't mean it like that. Just looks like it hurts," he explained, to which Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded.
"Like a bitch," he admitted, subconsciously chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.
Billy nodded too, in consolidation and in thought. There was a beat of tension filled silence before Billy spoke again, "Y'know if there's any lotion lying around I could help you with that," he offered, hoping that he wasn't over stepping any kind of boundary.
"You, Billy Hargrove, that guy that tried to rock my shit, less than thirty minutes ago, want to help me?" Steve questioned with disbelief, eyes wide as they met Billy's.
Billy just shrugged, scratching the slowly growing stubble on his jaw, "Change of heart, I guess." Steve scoffed, but not out of disbelief, rather out of humor.
And maybe saying no was the sane thing to do, but when was Steve ever known to make the right choice.
"Yeah, alright."
Everybody, sitting in the Byers' living room: *inaudible chatting* Joyce: Everyone! Shh! Everybody: *goes silent* Joyce: Right, now we all know why we're here, Everybody: (does in fact know why they're here) Joyce: Now- uh- *clears throat* two of you guys- I mean- I hope only two of you guys- have been engaging in...uh- how do I put this nicely- romantic- gestures? Everybody: *Turns to Eddie and Chrissy* Eddie: YOU GUYS DO REALIZE IT'S NOT ALWAYS US- Joyce: No- not- not- not sexual gestures- yknow- stuff like kissing-? A lot-? Steve: *goes bright red* Billy: *Only goes a little pink* Max: I think it's sort of obvious now. Just pick the tomatoes in the group. Joyce: *bites back a laugh* okay- you two need to- cut down on the noise- mainly uh- mainly Steve- heh- sorry Steve- Steve: I- I- I- I- N- NO -N- NOT- I- DOESN’T- NOT- ME- M- I- W- I- Argyle: I think Steve's malfunctioning, dude Billy: *puts a hand over Steve's mouth* Steve: *goes silent and doesn't do anything about it* Max: I bet he's way too used to it- Joyce: Max- Eddie: Oh- EW DUDE IS THAT WHY YOUR HANDS ALWAYS HAVE TEETH IMPRINTS ON THEM- Chrissy: Ed that isn't a necessary commen- Dustin: WAIT BILLY AND STEVE HAVE BEEN KISSING-?! Kids:*screaming in disgust* Billy: Please excuse us, Mrs. Byers *grins charmingly as he drags Steve out the door*
*Billy and Steve step outside and Billy shuts the door behind them* Everybody: *sitting in dead silence* *Steve wailing like a child from outside the door* Billy, in a muffled voice: Steve calm down- it's over just- sh- what if we get you ice-cream or something? Steve shut up for god's sake-
*This totally has nothing to do with an upcoming fic*
This is the most terrifying thing Billy’s ever done.
Forget staring up at a wave twice your height, forget staring down demodogs with nothing but a crowbar in his hands. Forget his dad staring him down across the dinner table.
Billy turns the Camaro’s engine off and stares up at Steve’s house, every window in the house lit. Steve left the porch lights on for him. When he knocks, Steve’s voice calls out,
“It’s open!”
Billy follows the smell of food to the kitchen, where Steve is standing bare chested in front of the stove, wearing only basketball shorts and stirring something in a pan. Usually, Billy’s skin feels like there’s a colony of ants crawling under it, making him jittery and anxious and angry, but the sight of the expanse of Steve’s back, with his wide, relaxed shoulders and his creamy skin and his moles, it settles something deep inside Billy. It makes his anthill calm.
“Hey,” Billy settles against Steve’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin on his chest through his open shirt. His hair is damp and he smells like shampoo, fresh from the shower. Billy knows Steve likes to shower as soon as he gets home from the Mall, or else the smell of ice cream lingers in his nose. He slides his lips over Steve’s shoulder until he reaches his neck, where he kisses him, slow and wet, until Steve leans back against him with a groan.
“You’re distracting me,” Steve whines, and turns his head to kiss him back any way. “I’m gonna burn the sauce.”
Billy groans when their tongues meet, shifts them so he can lean Steve against the counter without risk of getting burned.
“You’re distracting me, princess,” Billy says against Steve’s cheek. “Come home to find you half naked making me dinner like that…” It slips out, just like that. Come home. Like the Harrington’s big house belongs to just them, to Billy and Steve and this thing between them that’s been growing for months.
Billy remembers what he needs to do tonight, what he needs to say to Steve, and it sits like a stone in his stomach.
“I’m making us dinner, shithead. And it’s gonna burn if you don’t let me go,” Steve’s arms tighten around Billy’s waist, fingers digging into his skin under his shirt.
Billy can only hold him back, stroke his thumb over Steve’s cheek. Kiss him again.
He lets Steve go with a slap to the ass that has him sputtering and laughing as he turns back to the stove. Billy grabs two beers from the fridge and cracks them open, setting one next to Steve.
Steve leans in to kiss him thank you. He’s too sweet.
The sauce turns out alright, and they eat their pasta by the pool outside, trading stories about their days at work. Steve likes hearing about the little kids Billy teaches at the pool, because he’s a sap, and Billy cracks up whenever Steve tells him about the way Robin’s always on his ass.
When Steve comes back with more beers for them, Billy can’t put it off anymore. He has to get it over with, even it feels like he’s stabbing himself in the chest.
“I gotta talk to you about something,” Billy says as Steve sits down facing him.
Steve’s face is open, trusting. “Yeah?”
“I, uh… I’m leaving Hawkins, at the end of the summer. I’m going back to California.”
Billy looks Steve in the eye as he says it. He’s no coward. So he watches Steve’s eyes dim and his lips go slack, curling around the soft “oh” that comes out of his mouth, dipping at the end in disappointment.
“I thought…” Steve starts, and Billy can’t let him finish, can’t let him say whatever it is he was about to. If Steve gets worked up this might turn into a fight.
“I can’t stay,” He forces out. Looks down at the beer can he hasn’t taken a sip of yet. “Not with- I can’t stay.”
“Billy-”
“But I thought maybe,” Billy stops, licks his lips. Takes a breath. This is scarier than the demodogs, the thought that Steve might say no, “I thought, maybe, you could come with me.”
His heart is pounding in his chest and the anthill has woken up, making Billy feel like he’s gotta get up and run to the Camaro and speed out of here, but he bugs his fingers into his knees and stares blankly ahead.
“You mean it?” There’s an edge to Steve’s voice that Billy hasn’t heard before. “You’re not saying that cause you think I’m gonna say no?”
Billy rears back, tries to make sense of what Steve just said and comes up empty.
“What the fuck, Steve,” He snaps. “Of course not.”
Whatever Steve hears in his voice seems to settle him, because his shoulders relax and he grins that big, goofy smile of his.
“Okay,” He laughs, giddy. “Okay, yeah.”
It takes Billy a second to get it, then he can only laugh with Steve.
“Yeah?”
Steve nods, and barely sets his beer aside before pouncing on Billy, laying him back on the patio floor and laying all his weight on Billy just to lay a searing kiss on his lips. The heat of Steve’s mouth is familiar and comforting, and Billy lets himself sink into the kiss like he’s done a hundred times before, lets it melt his spine and warm his chest like it always does. Let it call him home.
“I love you,” Steve says against his mouth, and Billy closes his eyes tight, nudges his nose against Steve’s.
“Love you,” Billy’s voice is barely a murmur, but Steve hears it anyway.
Billy’s heart is pounding for a different reason, now. There was no need to be scared at all. Nothing else feels scary, or like he can’t get through it, when Steve’s there. So they’re getting through this summer, together. And when it ends, they’re leaving Hawkins in the rearview mirror, together.
Finally finished Stranger Things 2 last night, and I enjoyed it! But it had a bit too much going on and at the same time… So many missed opportunities…
Commission for @phaesporiamuse and her story “there’s a place I’d like to be (the place I’d be happy)”
Final “Harringrove for RAICES”-piece, for @13callieb who basically gave me free reign, so I doodled a scene from their story “We slip and slide”, which is a wonderful, fluffy, feel-good-y post-S3 fic which you all should read.
The deadline for the “Harringrove for RAICES”-works was October 1st, if I’m correct, so I’m cutting it a bit close … but here it is, finally! Thanks for waiting, and I hope you like it, @13callieb!
The bus always drops Billy off exactly a block from home. They took his car when he failed a vision test from his chronic migraines, so there isn’t much of a choice. Which is fair. He really doesn’t want to drive anyways after his accident. But, the bus isn’t always on time.
He’d been visiting Max at the hospital to play catch up before the new year. There’s always a good excuse to go visit her, but today especially. There’s fireworks going off like crazy from all the drunk hicks celebrating the passing of another year. Fireworks that terrify Max because she can’t even see them, after losing her vision in the battle for her life.
He’s lucky he got out of the hospital earlier that night because Max requested an extra strong dose of her meds to drown out the sound of the fireworks.
Unfortunately, there’s too many of those same drunks to cart around that the bus hadn’t made its way to the hospital until an hour after it was supposed to pick him up. He’d meant to be home by 9, but it’s already after 10.
Even on his eventual walk home from the bus stop, drawn out by his limp and his cane, the sky is full of smoke and colors. And noise. Lots and lots of irritating, terrifying noise.
Billy walks the last stretch faster than he should. He’s eager to get home to Steve for their first new year together anyhow. He’ll blame it on that instead of the lick of fear in his stride from the booming.
Right away as he shoulders the door open on his good side, the one not leaning on a cane, he calls out into the house, expecting Steve to be right there since he’s running a little late, “Baby?”
But there’s no answer. That’s not so unusual. They’re usually in bed by now anyways, aged at least three decades by the events of two summers ago and basically every day since. He’ll just hang up his coat, kick off his stretchy old man shoes, and try again.
“Steeeevie?”
Still nothing.
One too many times panicking from not knowing Steve’s exact location has taught him to calm down a little, and get his head on the right way before he starts tearing the place apart looking for him. Taking his time so as not to hurt himself in the process, Billy decides to go upstairs and check before he makes the ruling that Steve’s MIA. For his sanity.
He finds his boyfriend disguised as a pile of blankets on their bed, and he almost misses him because the lights are all out.
Right.
Fireworks are pretty rough for Steve too. Nothing brings more sensory overload than colorful death bombs in the sky. Billy sighs. He hates this town and the constant cacophony of fear it brings. Can’t they ever have a moment of peace?
He climbs into bed next to Steve, announcing his presence with a clearing of his throat before he plops down next to the curled up figure under the comforter.
“What’re you doing in here?”
The quiet response from Steve comes out barely audible, “Hiding.”
Yeah. Billy kinda wishes he could hide from a lot of things too. But right now, this is not about him,
“What from?”
The blankets rustle and a small mumbled response comes, “Loud.”
Just to be sure, and so Steve doesn’t have to do as much talking, Billy clarifies, “The fireworks are too loud?”
Again, there’s a shifting sound of Steve’s hair against the sheets, as he nods gently.
Billy wants to hold him. He’d like to strike down every last motherfucker that made Steve feel like this too. He can settle for lifting up the blanket and sliding under it with Steve, and talking gently to try and soothe him.
“I think so too. They uh.. remind me of..”
His voice breaks off from the quiet whisper into just nothing. Even now, even trying to be strong for Steve, there are some things that are too hard to talk about.
Steve’s face goes scrunched up with sympathy. Like he’s trying hard on purpose to feel bad for Billy, though that’s not really how it goes in his head. He even apologizes, though that isn’t what Billy wanted at all, “I’m sorry.”
Instantly, Billy rushes to reassure him, “Stevie, you didn’t-“
But it doesn’t change what Steve was already determined to tell him. They don’t talk a lot about the serious things. About how they’re both disabled now, and certainly both jam-packed with more trauma than the sky is packed with lights tonight. Maybe they should, so Steve won’t sound as guilty as he speaks,
“I’m sorry I’ve always been like this and you were made into this.”
That makes Billy pause. He has to catch his breath and then turn on his side to look at Steve’s face, centering on his nose so accidental eye-contact won’t happen.
No way is he letting Steve blame himself for this, any of this.
“That’s not true. I hated fireworks before too. We’d watch them on the beach, and I’d get scared because the water looked like it was on fire.”
Just from that tidbit, Steve tears up. Billy tears up. They both know what part of the story is coming next, and suddenly Billy remembers that he told this story before and simply forgot, but it’s too late to stop now.
“Momma held me and told me that it wasn’t real, but.. after momma left.. I was always afraid of irrational shit like that. Still am. Just today I was scared the hospital would burn up from the fireworks if I left Max there. Or I’d choke on the smoke on my way home. And then I got back and I couldn’t find you and I just-“
Yeah. Steve gets it. They’re both trying their damndest, even when another pop sounds in the near distance, and Steve presses his headphones a little closer to his ears.
The not quite silence speaks more volumes than their words. Steve spreads his arm out, and makes a soft little humming sound. An invitation for Billy to come close and wrap his arms around Steve. They need each other right now.
Billy dives into the offered cuddle. He’s been waiting for this moment all day. The moment where he could just sob into Steve’s chest, and feel Steve’s own tears wetting his hair. Sometimes, this is what it takes.
Laying in bed and purging out all their bad emotions isn’t exactly the ideal way for two ex-King’s like them to spend their New Year’s Eve, but it’s how they’re going to, and neither would ask for any other way to move into another year. They fought hard to be able to do that.
Nobody can take that away.
They don’t talk again until Steve is ready. With all the noise and chaos, Billy doesn’t mind the silence, just listening to Steve’s steady, unsteady, one-two-skip, heartbeat. He hears Steve’s words rattle up in his chest as he speaks them, “Fireworks are stupid.”
That makes Billy crack a smile. They both know all this crying isn’t about the fireworks. Not that it helps, but that’s not the point.
Maybe fireworks will be the spark that lit the fire. From now on, it’s about opening up a little more.
“Yeah. What’s so great about all that toxic shit in the air anyways?” Billy meant that in more ways than one, but whether or not Steve got the double meaning about all that glory covering up the ugly truth, isn’t what he focuses on.
Steve lingers on the idea of the bad air, and Billy’s asthmatic lungs, and lets the worry come back, “I didn’t even think about that. You okay?”
Billy nods against Steve’s chest, and pulls back a little so his head is resting by his arm instead, and they’re face to face now, “I’m just fine.”
It’s such an automatic answer, Steve catches it too. Satisfied that he noticed, he points out, “You sound just like Max.”
He does. It feels like it’s already been an eternity since he got back in Steve’s arms. He forgot that today was the same day he visited Max. His memories get mixed up like that sometimes.
The silence after Steve’s little teasing must eat away at Billy’s mask, because Steve makes a small sound of worry, like a gruff sniffle, and asks, “Was she okay?”
Trying hard to remember today’s visit over yesterday's or the day before's or nine months before that’s, Billy gives details by the moment he remembers them, “Still tired. But alright. Got her to smile.”
“Did you tell her-“ Every single day Steve asks the same questions. He cares so much about doing the right thing.
Seeing him now, all curled up in bed and sad on a day that’s a celebration for everybody else, makes Billy even more sure that he’s going to do the right thing as well. Right now, that’s reassurance,
“Yep, I said ‘hi from Steve.’ And I made sure to tell her you miss her. All the usual.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come.” Steve went once, and that was all it took for the constant beeping, rushing, wheeling, to trigger a meltdown. Never again.
But Billy’s alright with that, and Max was too the last time they talked, “Baby, we’ve told you. It’s fine. I can barely get my ass on the bus either.”
Steve doesn’t look like he believes him. His eyes are wide and teary again. His nails scratch at his palms, so Billy gently takes his hands and keeps them separated.
“Promise?”
Billy kisses Steve’s knuckles on each hand, soft and barely able to be felt as a graze across warm flesh. He’s going to do anything to make Steve stop worrying about the harder things they’ve been through a few times now.
“I promise.”
Billy reaches out slowly, ever so slowly so Steve has time to assert his boundaries before Billy's hand makes contact with his face. Instead of stopping him though, Steve blinks slowly and closes his eyes, and allows Billy to gently hold his cheek. His skin is flushed warm, despite it being so cold out. He’s the softest thing Billy’s ever had the privilege to hold.
Next he wants to taste. The angle they’re at is awkward and it hurts Billy’s back. He taps Steve’s cheek as a silent way of asking him to be the one to initiate their kiss and fix their tangle of limbs. Steve obliges, without opening his eyes, shifting off of his hip so his chest is against Billy’s now, and their faces are just inches apart.
Billy isn’t even sure which of them actually closes the gap, but in the next moment he’s kissing Steve slowly and carefully like either of them could break at any second.
In the next moment, Steve does break, only in that he separates the kiss.
“Wait a sec.”
Billy’s eyes are half open, his face warmed by the love he felt from the kiss, which left him too lax and calm to be worried about Steve’s interruption, “Hm?”
Not for no reason. Steve’s panic looks a lot different from his lightbulb ideas, and right now, Billy can tell before Steve even speaks it’s going to be the latter. One of his good ideas.
“We have to save up our kisses for midnight.”
Not exactly the most thrilling idea ever. Billy instinctually scrunches his nose as an expression of doubt, but Steve’s eyes are still shining with his own brilliance.
“I don’t know, babe..”
“It’s good luck!” Steve swears it like it’s a revelation, and he’s just cured all that ails Billy.
Seeing him that happy, instead of shaking and hiding from the overstimulation like earlier, Billy could say that Steve’s just about done that for real.
Billy plays his role as the skeptic though, pouting over-exaggeratedly so Steve knows he’s not serious, “Didn’t know that meant we had to wait.”
It earns a laugh, more akin to a delighted giggle, out of Steve, who decides on a compromise for their imaginary plight, “You can have one kiss on the cheek for now.”
He leans over and just barely pecks his cheek, soft lips ghosting over Billy’s skin and making him shiver with the feeling of goose pimples popping up on his neck. The small kiss transforms with the shape of Steve’s smile from Billy's reaction, and then Steve gives him another, slightly stronger, press of his lips.
“Thank you, Stevie.” Billy makes doubly-sure Steve knows he’s not really as pouty as he was playing to be. Really, any affection from Steve makes his entire day better, after months where they weren’t able to have these moments between doctors visits and monster battles. The peace of just being in one another’s arms, finally safe from all of that, is enough. “Love you.”
Declarations of love always give Steve a reason to show his happy hands. He taps the tips of his fingers in a rhythm against Billy’s collar bone, and returns the declaration in a silly, stimmy voice, “I love you too.”
Their bliss is interrupted by another thundering firework outside. A distressed squeak cuts off Steve’s words, and he buries his face into Billy’s form, hiding along the contour of his arm, with his face pressed against Billy’s ribcage, so he’s as close to Billy as possible, and as far away from the threat.
It’s not really a comfortable position, but if it keeps Steve feeling safe, Billy can live with a dead arm for a while.
“I got you, Steve. Those fireworks aren’t gonna get us, babe.”
“Too loud.” Steve repeats his sentiment from earlier. That’s a nice affirmation that this is all rational. They’ve both had their share of fear driven breaks, which are much harder to solve.
Since this one’s the kind that doesn’t scare Billy, he keeps joking with Steve to keep him from slipping into that worse place.
“Want me to sing for you? Drown it all out?” He questions, knowing full well he can’t hold a tune worth a damn.
“Please no.” Steve’s so polite about telling Billy what he already knew. It’s really sweet actually.
Billy chuckles lightly, suppressing his laugh so he doesn’t jostle Steve too much, “I hear you. We’ll just be nice and quiet then.”
After so long like that, without any more booming interruptions from outside of their safe spot, Billy’s eyes start to get heavy. He caught Steve the same way, blinking extra hard so his eyelashes danced over Billy’s skin, and so his eyes wouldn’t shut without him.
Normally he’d just let him sleep, and he considers it for a moment, but it’s the celebration of the new year, and Steve would be devastated if they missed the midnight kiss.
Billy realizes they’ve been laying here for so long, he doesn’t even know what time it is, “I’m gonna peek out of the blanket. Check the time.”
Steve doesn’t waste energy on responding beyond a simple nod.
Billy uses his free hand that isn’t under Steve to pull the heavy comforter back down to let the real world back in. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the room again, and then he squints at the clock to see how close they are to the moment.
“Oh shit. It’s 11:56. Only 4 minutes left.” He announces, and Steve pops up beside him from under the blanket eagerly, every bit of tiredness gone from his face and replaced with glowing excitement.
“Are we gonna count them down?”
Billy smiles and shrugs as much as he can with Steve’s weight still on his one arm, “Don’t see why not.”
They count the minutes down together quietly. That’s too long to do it out loud and wear Steve out before it’s even time. Their way of doing that consists of Billy laying still and letting Steve tap out each passing second against the scar in the center of his chest.
When they finally reach an achievable countdown, Billy starts with, “10.”
“9.” Steve takes the next, and they do it in alternating order, although from the way Steve is vibrating with excitement, he’d probably rather skip this step altogether
Still, Steve is so loving with him, even when Billy feels like he doesn’t deserve it.
“8.”
Billy would hold him through anything it took to make Steve feel safe expressing that kind of love.
“7.”
They fought so hard to be this comfortable. Last year, Billy was still in a coma, and Steve was still too scared to even touch him to hold hands.
“6.”
Their first kiss was two months after they started dating, leaning around stitches and big emotions to both finally feel like everything was in place.
“5.”
Someday, they’ll be totally in sync and know when those hard times have passed, but right now it’s a loving, tender work in progress.
“4.”
And maybe someday, they’ll get out of Hawkins, and far away from all the chaos here.
“3.”
Billy gets stronger every day, mentally and physically. Steve gets more in tune with his own needs and self-worth. That’s what a support system and a whole lotta care will do for a couple of guys like them.
“2.”
Most importantly, they’re getting better all the time at communicating, building up the foundations of their relationship.
“1!”
Steve initiates the kiss, grabbing both sides of Billy’s face and smashing their lips together rather than kissing him. It’s reminiscent of their first kiss, in all its clumsy, anxious glory. Billy thinks that’s a good momento to end the worst year of their lives with, and start into what will hopefully be the best.
“Looking forward to another year with you, baby.” He promises, when they break apart and finally get a breath.
Steve wears a delightful smile, “Here’s to another.. hm.. 100?”
That sounds nice. Just him and Steve for the rest of time, no matter how many years pass or how many painful explosions happen.
“Yeah. Cheers to that.”
#he’s a crowd favorite 💅🏻
Enjoy this lil fic for today!
July 23rd , 1985 - 3 am at the Harrington household
Steve jolted up hearing pebbles hit his windows looking around his rooms while trying to calm down as he glanced over his room his eyes landed on his window. He recognized that shadow anywhere it was billy. But what was he doing out at 3 am in god damn Hawkins?
Billy picked up a pebble and threw it at his window. “ Psst ! Harrington! Open the window!” He continued to throw some more as he heard a hushed curse word and looked up. “ oi - pretty boy I uhh didn’t see you open the window.”
Steve groaned while leaning out the window. “ didn’t see me?! - anyways what brings you here at three in the morning?”
“ ehh couldn’t sleep n’ shit you?”
“ oh very funny billy very funny you ruined my sleep schedule.”
“ Aw c’mon sleeping beauty live a little why don’t yah ? “
“ yeah I’ll live a little when I GO BACK TO MY Bed!”
“ well sleeping beauty could you let your knight in shining armor into your kingdom?”
“ fine. Go to the porch and I’ll let you in be glad I love you to death!”
“ oh trust me I’m very glad !! “
Happy Holidays from me to you, lovely reader 🤍☃️
~
Billy says a tense, “Thanks, pops,” as Neil hands him a new pack of Marlboros on Christmas morning. He knows it’s only because of Susan and Max that he’s getting anything at all, but he still says his thanks through gritted teeth because manners have been beaten into him.
Susan gifts him a pair of wooly socks, a much needed staple for the frigid weather outside, and he thanks her quietly as he thumbs the fabric - and repeats it louder when Neil tells him to speak up.
Max doesn’t give him her present until after breakfast, which is a Black Sabbath tape to replace the one he’d accidentally ruined by pulling it out of his stereo too fast. He thanks her by ruffling her hair with a smirk, which makes her growl, “Billy!” as she smoothes her hair down. He leaves the newest issue of Wonder Woman on her bedside table when she’s busy with her mom.
The gifts are fine. The ‘quality family time’ makes him want to crawl out of his skin, though. So, once the afternoon rolls around, Billy’s gone.
His favourite gift out of them all is when Steve opens the front door of his big house and his pretty boy’s irritated expression melts away to glittering eyes and a warm, excited smile.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” Billy murmurs with a grin, wishing to give his boy a kiss but his parents are home for once, so it’ll have to wait. Steve says nothing and pulls him into the house by the wrist.
He gives his polite greeting and a ‘Merry Christmas’ to the Harringtons as he steps inside, shedding his jacket and scarf at the door before Steve’s taking him upstairs, away from his busy parents.
Billy glances over his shoulder once they’re in Steve’s bedroom before pulling his boyfriend in by the waist, their lips meeting in a slow, deep kiss. It soothes Billy’s nerves better than anything.
“So,” Steve murmurs as he pulls away just far enough that Billy can see his smile, “Did you make the ‘nice’ list after all?”
“Fuck no,” Billy chuckles softly, his shoulders no longer up by his ears as Steve rubs up and down his biceps.
“I figured,” the brunette grins, pulling away from Billy’s embrace to grab a wrapped box by his bedside table, “Which is why I got you this.” He hums, looking proud of himself.
The wrapping paper is god awful and gaudy, but Billy opens it quietly and pulls the top of the box off to look inside.
It’s a new zippo lighter. Silver, with an engraved ‘B’ at the bottom left corner. Steve mumbles for him to look at the back, so he pulls it out and flips it over, reads the engraving there: ‘Yours, PB’.
Billy snorts softly, looking up at his boyfriend in amusement as he says, “Yours, Peanut Butter?”
Steve looks confused for half a second, brows furrowing, until he gets it and then he’s groaning and running a hand through his thick hair, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling. After a moment, he mutters, “It stands for ‘pretty boy’.”
Billy starts laughing again, unable to help it, because Steve is so fucking cute and tragic and Billy loves every ounce of him. “C’mere,” he mutters with a grin, putting the zippo back into the box as Steve steps close. Wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend, Billy gives his lips a gentle peck, murmuring playfully, “Thank you, peanut butter, I love it.” He gives Steve another kiss, just for good measure, and a third because Steve’s pouting now and he’s too cute when he does that.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve finally cracks a smile, chuckling softly with a shake of his head, “Fuckin’ peanut butter.”
“Here,” Billy smiles as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Steve quietly.
It’s a small collection of polaroid pictures of them, taken by Chrissy during the summer at various locations. The quarry, parties, Steve’s pool, the mall, random parking lots. Billy’s favourite is in there: Steve’s hand on the gear shift of the Camaro, Billy’s hand on top and holding it as he drives. It’s a simple picture but the sun is hitting it just right and you can’t tell it’s them, it’s like a little secret. Chrissy had squished herself into the backseat just to get the picture and Billy’s grateful she did.
Steve’s expression is soft as he looks them over, smiling to himself as he recognizes the areas and recalls the day. There’s also a handwritten ‘IOU a BJ’ card at the bottom of the stack that Steve holds up, eyebrows lifted as he playfully asks, “Is this a one-time use?”
“No,” Billy smirks, “But I’ll be surprised if you manage to not lose it after one use.”
“Asshole,” Steve chuckles, slipping the pictures back into the envelope after taking another look. He leans in and Billy meets him halfway for another kiss, always eager for it.
Steve mumbles, “Thanks baby,” against his lips, pulling away with a warm smile, “I’m gonna put them with the rest,” he says as he pulls away to grab the shoebox under his bed, which is filled with other Billy-related items.
Steve’s mom, decked out in her nicest red dress, comes up the stairs and knocks on the door, giving the two boys a smile as Steve shoves the box under his bed again and stands, breathing, “Yeah?”
“The catering company will be here soon - are you staying for dinner, Billy?” She asks, flicking her dark eyes between them.
Christ. Of course the Harringtons didn’t cook for Christmas - they hired other people to.
Billy shakes his head slowly, “I’d hate to impose—”
“—Nonsense! We’re having multiple guests over, and I’m sure Steve will appreciate having company his own age,” she smiles, her mind already made up.
“Uh - in that case, sure,” he says with a tight smile and a nod, “Thanks, Mrs. H.”
She gives him another smile before looking to Steve, “Make sure you give Billy a nice shirt to wear tonight, okay?”
“Yeah, mom, I know.”
“Great, be down in half an hour,” she says with a nod and turns, heading back downstairs to probably sort out the rest of the evening.
“Fuck, I’ll never get over how stupidly rich you are,” Billy huffs in wry amusement, looking over at his boyfriend again, “And the fuck’s wrong with my shirt?”
Steve shrugs with a smile, “Nothing, in my opinion. My mom’s just…like that. Appearances mean a lot. Gotta wear your sunday best to the Harrington Christmas dinner, babe.”
“Christ - remind me to just kidnap you next year and we’ll go to a McDonald’s.”
Another soft smile appears on Steve’s face and he nods, wrapping his arm around Billy’s middle, kissing him quick and gentle as he mutters, “I’m holding you to that.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna do it.”
“Mm. Love you.”
“Love you, too, peanut butter.”
Steve smacks his ass for that and Billy laughs, sitting down on the bed while his boyfriend goes to pick out a shirt for him.
They tried to move him, drag him away from the unmoving boy lying before Steve but he couldn't move. His legs numb beneath him as he sat there staring at the blood covering his tank top unsure if all of this was even real but eventually the sirens got closer and the fire began to spread far too close for comfort. That was when a fireman appeared urging him to get out, to leave before his lungs gave in to the smoke but Steve couldn't leave him to the flames. He deserved better than that so he stood up but before he could be ushered towards the exit he leaned down and lifted him into his arms.
His legs weak from exhaustion, his head aching from the drugs and injuries but he walked through the smoke. Through the blue emptiness with no one but the boy he loved curled into him as if he were just asleep. Nothing but the flashes of red and blue to lead the way until finally he felt the cool breeze of the night air and he stepped out of the Mall and the smoke, into the commotion going on in the parking lot.
No one rushed to him or took Billy from his arms. In fact no one even looked his way as more men rushed inside to put out the fire they had caused. For a moment he wondered if he was the dead one and if this was hell but even hell would not be so cruel. He lay Billy down on a stretcher and watched as he was loaded into the back of an ambulance, Max by his side. Not a word passed between them but a simple thank you from the girl who was grateful that he hadn't left him inside. Shock still in full affect until he walked through the door of his bedroom and felt the reality of it all come crashing down.
Billy was gone...
On the Ferris Wheel
This months Patreon Sketch Commission for @myboyfriendsteve who askes: “August is normally county fair season for us, so I thought the boys riding the ferris wheel or some other carnival ride? ”
Had a lot of Fun playing around with this one!
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As the world falls down:
Chapter 6
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"You...You what?" Steve's voice is shaky like he can hardly believe the words coming from Billy's mouth. It all happened so quickly: first Steve returns home from his night out with Dustin, then Billy shows up at his doorstep with cold distant eyes, and now here they are. Sitting in Steve's bedroom, nothing but the chirping of the crickets and the uncomfortable tension fills the silence.
"I can't be with someone I don't love," Billy repeats himself. He keeps his back towards Steve, that way it removes any type of eye contact, but Steve wants to see him. He wants to see his eyes. That way he'll know that the words coming out of his mouth aren't true.
"W-Why are you saying this? Of course, y--is this about what happened this morning? Ugh, Christ Billy!"
"It's got nothing to do with this morning. I'm not lying. This thing that's been going on between us, it was purely sexual. When I asked you out to the motel I realized we were getting to...personal. So I never showed up." Silence refills the air, "You said you wanted an explanation."
"you call that an explanation? First, you tell me you never loved me, then you say our entire relationship was just for sex?! Billy, I know you. What we have is more than just sex."
"Maybe to you."
"So you're telling me all that time we've spent together over the last six months meant nothing to you?"
Billy doesn't answer, instead, he keeps his back hunched and edges closer toward the foot of the bed. Steve wants to reach out and grab him, pull him into a soothing embrace and whisper into his ear, and say everything is okay. But his icy cold temperature radiates off his ghostly pale skin. It pains Steve so much to see Billy in this manner, acting so distant, saying such...lies.
Steve pulls himself closer to the edge, he's able to face Billy's profile but the blonde's eyes are still shut. "Billy, look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me that what we had meant nothing to you."
Billy's eyes finally turn to Steve's and the brunette has to stop his body from recoiling. His baby blue eyes have transformed into a dull grey, the pupils are beyond dilated, and behind the hollow void filling his eyes they are a great level of raw pain. All Steve can do is sit there and let his heart shatter, something about seeing Billy in this state makes that festering sense of worthlessness linger in his brain.
"It meant nothing," Billy repeats in the same monotone voice. "Maybe it did for you, but for me, it was just a sexual thing. I know it was purely sexual for you in the beginning, and maybe in your mind it became something more but it was just a fantasy."
Billy removes himself from the bed, picking up the denim jacket he tossed aside, he fixes the ends of his mullet before heading for the door. "I don't think we should see each other anymore...take care of yourself, Harrington."
Steve is frozen to the bed. He does not want this to be real, this is just some sick dream, and he needs to wake up. He needs to move. He needs to stop Billy from leaving.
"This isn't you!" He springs up from the bed. Billy stops in his tracks, balling his hands into a tight fist which causes his knuckles to grow whiter than the Hawkins snow. "If Neil knows something and he's making you do this then you don't have to listen to him, you don't have to do anything that bastard tells you. If he's found out about us then just tell me. We can figure something out, I'll get you out of--"
"Stop trying to be some white knight, Steve!" Billy snaps. It's the first time Billy has shown emotion in his voice, it makes Steve flinch in fear, "Neil doesn't know shit! Stop trying to find some excuse, it's over alright, now let me go!"
The thing is...Steve would gladly let him leave. If he believed a single thing Billy was saying, he would not try to hold Billy back. But Steve can see right through the bullshit Billy is trying to play off, and he's is not going to let the best six months of his life go up in flames just like that.
"I may be a lot of things, Billy, but I'm not stupid. I know you're lying. Just gimme one honest reason why you want to break up. One good reason and I'll let you walk right out that door and we never have to see each other again."
"Steve. Please let me go." Billy pleads through gritted teeth. But Steve ignores his plea and stands in front of him, blocking Billy's path to the door.
"Just tell me why you don't want to be with me?! If it really was just sex for then I deserve a rea--" before Steve even has a chance to react, Billy grabs him by the shoulders, his hands clawing into his shoulder blades, and thrusts the helpless pretty boy against the wall. Terror bleeds into Steve's system as his boyfriend inches closer to his face, his breathing is heavy like a savage animal.
"You want a reason? Fine." Billy spits, "You know, Steve, I've had a lot of regrets in my life but shoving my dick into you has got to be on the top of my fucking list."
Steve wants to speak but his words tangle in his throat.
"You did one nice thing for me, sure, I felt I owed you a favor, but you just kept coming back and clinging to me like a rash. I should have pushed you away while I still had the chance but then I saw the desperation in your eyes so I decided to stick around. Sure it was fun at first but then it just became pathetic."
"Y-You don't mean--"
"Oh, I mean every fucking word, Harrington. I have never met a person so pathetic as you. You have this burning need to be loved and feel wanted by your lovers, because if you don't then what's the point of you? Well, guess what, Steve? You're right. You are worthless. You are so scared that people will see how meaningless and needy you are that you break up with them before they have a chance to hurt you. Well, Nancy sure saw it and so did I. You were nothing more than a pity fuck to me, Harrington, and that is all you will ever be. You and me...we're done."
Steve stares, hurt and stunned by those cruel words. At first, he nearly falls for it, he thinks Billy's words are truly genuine, but then he catches a glimpse into the glassy reflections of Billy's eyes, and he knows that this is hurting Billy just as much as it's hurting Steve.
"Billy, I don't know what's going on with you...but I'm going to find out." Billy's harsh expression drops, but it didn't work. "You hear me. I'm giving up on us."
"Shut up."
"We're going to work this out, together, whatever shit you've gotten yourself in, I'll get you out of it."
"Shut up, Steve."
"Because no matter what, Billy Hargrove, I lo--"
"I SAID SHUT UP!!!" Without warning, Billy shoves Steve's back against the wall. And he doesn't hold back. Steve lets out a pained wail before collapsing to the ground, flakes from the cracked wall fall onto his clothes. Billy steps away with a horrified expression, there's now a large crack in the wall from where he attacked. Steve topples to the ground reeling from his agony.
Billy takes a step forward but stops himself. He heads for the door, glancing at Steve one last time, "Stay away from me, Steve." He whispers before shutting the door behind him.
*****
Saying the ride back home was a struggle would be a complete understatement. It's bad enough that the cracked windshield already blocks his line of sight, but the flooding of salty tears streaming from his eyes did him no favors.
Billy's body is still shaking. He can't believe what he has done, those words, he meant none of them, not a goddamn one! But it was the last thing he could come up with to convince Steve to stay away from him. The whole time Billy wanted to throw himself into his boyfriend's arms and beg for his help but he knew if he did the shadow would attack. It was all for nothing though, as Steve still saw through his lies.
That doesn't excuse what he did, attacking Steve like that, Billy had forgotten how strong the shadow's infection made him. But now Steve might be seriously injured, he might have damaged his spine. Billy had always made a promise to never do anything to harm Steve and yet here he is breaking said promise, he left Steve alone in his house in a pool of broken walls and pain.
He eventually reaches his small house on Cherry lane, he ignores Max and Susan as he passes them by and thankfully Neil is still out on his night shift. Billy's eyes still sting from the crying and his cheeks are rosy from the salty streaks that fell onto them. He crawls into his bed and rests his exhausted body in the fetal position, he prays that the next time he wakes up this will all be one long nightmare and when he gets up the next morning everything will be back to normal.
His hope doesn't last long, as the room begins to fill with a familiar barren coldness. The shadow emerges from thin air sporting its "Billy" façade.
"Well," it begins in an echoey tone, "I must say, William, that was quite a show. And here I thought you didn't have it in you, for a second, I thought I would have to intervene and take care of it myself."
"Let's just cut the crap," he mumbles wiping the snot away with his sleeve, "I got Steve to stay away from you, now you said you would leave him alone, you better stick to your end of the bargain."
"William, you misjudge me. As long as Steven and your sister stay away from my creation, no harm will come of them. I am a man of my word, I just hope you are a man of yours."
Billy sighs, he wipes away what is left of his tears, and stands up from his bed, he turns to face the shadow and it's like looking into a nightmarish mirror, "I will help build your creation."
The shadow smirks. It has complete control of Billy Hargrove. From now on, he listens to the sound of its voice, he does everything it asks of him, Billy is now a slave to the creature. He has no control.
Tagging: @flashwaves @every-dayiwakeup @femmebilly @intothedysphoria @officialbillyhoehargrove @prettyboybillyhargrove @bigdumbbambieyes @billysblueeyes @emeraldwitches @suometar @jad3w1ngs @usaqaix @justan-0-t-h-3-r @talesfrom-theupsidedown @hargrove-mayfields @onebrainsel @grey-sides @disdaidal @nogitsunbae @deedoop @ouizzyharringrove @memes-saved-me @martianclown @cherry-sorry
One reblog = one punch in the face for Neil Hargrove
Harringrove was always canon.
Steve's boxers in Billy's room
Steve wearing Billy's jacket after his death
Steve visiting Billy's grave
I need Billy to hug Steve. Steve starts to shake and cry he never wants Billy to let go.
Every weather is sweater weather in Hawkins
For Harringrove Harvest day 3: ”Claudia Henderson’s hand-knit sweater”
(Read on AO3)
~~~
“I’ll miss you.”
The voice is low, and coming from outside the partly-open kitchen window that is facing the back of the house. Claudia Henderson pauses on her way to the sink with a pile of plates in her hand and listens, because it’s not the voice of any of the kids – they were all accounted for in the living room, ten seconds ago – but whoever’s speaking sounds … sad. And tonight is supposed to be a pre-Christmas celebration; a night of family and friendship and cheerfulness. She doesn’t want anyone to be sad in her house, especially today. That’s why she insisted on cooking for everyone.
“I know,” another voice says, and this one she recognizes as Steve’s. Which means the last speaker must have been his friend, Billy Hargrove. Max’s brother, the same boy that the kids had such a hard time accepting in the beginning, for whatever reason. Claudia can’t imagine why. He seems like a sweetheart to her.
Steve continues, “I wish I didn’t have to go. But mom got it into her head that we’d spend Christmas together as a family, and –“
“No, no, I know,” the voice of Billy Hargrove comes through. “I’m happy for you. Getting to spend time with your parents, in Europe? Sounds awesome.”
“Won’t be so awesome without you. I wish I could take you with me.”
“I know. But it’s only two weeks.”
There’s silence for a while, and Claudia carefully sets the plates down on the formica countertop and takes a step closer to the window under the guise of reaching for the dish soap.
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