I Genuinely Do Not Care That Billy Tried To Run Over Children

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?”

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!

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*

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.

Commission for @phaesporiamuse and her story “there’s a place I’d like to be (the place I’d be happy)”

“my favorite this season was the fruity four”

be more specific bitch

we’ve got pride parade

internalized homophobia

polyamory

and old spice

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 !! “

Me when rewatching Stranger Things and I see any s2 Steve + Billy interaction:

(Is that even correct grammar T-T)

"steve is so stupid lol" yeah? YEAH? everyone loves talking about how robin deciphered the russian code but if steve hadn't recognized the 'daisy bell' song from the coin operated toy horse, robin and dustin would've still thought that the transmission was from russia or something. robin asks "maybe they have horses like that in russia?" and steve immediately says "'indiana flyer'? i don't think so." so just because steve harrington, who was a popular jock for the majority of his school years, doesn't understand the nerdy/geeky references the party makes, it doesn't make him stupid.

im a billy translator this is what he said