harringrovesummerbingo

[harringrovesummerbingo]

Whatever happened it won't happen again. = ( ♡

(It's their first summer as a couple)

For the @harringrovesummerbingo A1: Growing pains =)

[harringrovesummerbingo]

Healing Hands

For the @harringrovesummerbingo, square C1, prompt: "Late, with consequences".

3,5K, teen (due to someone temporarily being shot, and hints of domestic abuse)

Summary: Billy is six years old when he heals his first person.

(On AO3 here)

He sees it happening in slow motion, but is too late to stop it; sees them running across the darkened food court, heading for the exits, when the black-clad men spill out from the elevator doors behind them. Billy is on the other side of the court, by the Gap, and he is already running but he won’t be able to stop it. Won’t make it in time. He yells a warning, sees Steve’s head swivel around, meets his eyes for one second –

Gunshots, several of them, sharp and fast and devastating. Steve’s body jerks. No! Next to him, Robin screams and grabs him, throws them both to the ground.

Billy is running, no, he is flying, but he is too late, too late, knows he’s too late –

As he runs, he is dimly aware of things happening around him. A car whizzes past, in the air, and crashes into the group of black-clad men. There’s a crash, and no more gunfire. Screaming voices, glass breaking, all of it drowned out by the thud-thud-thud of Billy’s blood pounding in his ears. He throws himself to his knees and skids to a stop next to Steve, who isn’t moving. Robin is shaking him, begging for him to get up and Henderson is staring at them with impossibly big eyes, but Billy doesn’t care about any of the others. He only has eyes for Steve, who is lying in a pool of slowly growing blood on the tiled floor, his eyes staring at the sky, unseeing.

No.

Billy’s breath catches as fear unlike anything he has ever felt wraps around his throat.

No. Not Steve.

This can’t happen.

Billy won’t let it happen.

He shoves Robin off Steve, ignoring her squawked protest, and rips his Scoops shirt open. There is blood there too, too much blood, and he can’t– he can’t see where it’s coming from. But it doesn’t really matter.

Doesn’t matter. He can do this.

He digs his fingers into Steve’s blood-slick skin on both sides of his torso and closes his eyes. Concentrates on emptying his mind of everything but the feeling of where his fingers are touching Steve.

Gone is the feeling of warm blood seeping into the denim of his jeans, and the panic over what it means.

Gone are the sounds of the chaos around them – they’re all filtered out, leaving only oppressive silence and a darkness he can hear. 

Gone is the worry about more armed men and gunshots – El can handle them, because El can do things that no one else can.

Billy can’t do what she does. But he can do this.

Everything is gone; pitch black and silent. The points of contact between his fingers and the skin they’re touching gets warmer. In the darkness of his mind, those points begin to glow; ten stains of light on the velvety black, growing in size and intensity, bleeding into each other until the ten small points become two bigger ones. They keep growing, keep heating up, keep spreading across a figure he cannot see, but knows is there. The light and heat spreads until there’s a glowing outline of a person in front of him, pulsating with energy. Energy which is leaking out of the figure; seeping out through tears that should not be there.

Billy feels his hands, his forearms, his whole being heat up; a buildup of crackling energy coming from his very core. When it is enough, he pushes – feels it flow out of him and into the figure in front of him in a pulse like a discharge. It leaves him lightheaded, but the figure glows brighter below him. He doesn’t know how – has never known how – but he guides the crackling light to the tears-that-should-not-be-there and watches as they start knitting themselves together. Then he heats up his core anew, and does it again. And again.

And again.

He feels himself blinking but cannot see, he only sees the person of light in front of him; whole now, with no more leaks. The hardest part remains.

Everyone has a flow inside them. He can see it if he tries, even though he hasn’t tried in a long time. The flow must be able to move freely, the energy unhindered. The tears have disrupted the flow in the body under his hands, and he must fix it. He no longer remembers why, but knows that it’s important. The most important.

Directing energy in someone else is hard, and depletes his own reserves. He follows the glowing rivers in the figure he is connected to, and he goes through the flow, methodically, from top to toe. A little nudge here, a gentle push there, a renewed connection where it has been severed or frayed.

It is the most beautiful thing, when it is unbroken again, and can flow freely. The glow is warm and strong. It pulses in time with his heart, like a reassurance that it is full of life. It makes him happy to see, calm. Too calm, perhaps; his heart stutters. Danger.

Joy, relief. But dangerous. 

~~~

Billy is six years old when he heals his first person. His mother is hurting, because his parents were fighting and now his father is out (slammed the door when he left, making Billy jump where he was hiding between the bed and the bookcase). His mother is hurting, on her hands and knees and picking up broken glass from the floor, crying silently. Billy’s heart aches because he loves her so much. When she sees him standing there, she sits up and attempts a smile with a split lip, and when she sees the tear tracks on his face she holds her arms out to him and says “Oh baby, come here”. Falling into her arms, Billy closes his eyes and sobs. He hugs her closer and digs his fingers in and something is not right but he instinctively knows how to right the wrong. He … gets warmer, and it feels like love when his mother starts glowing.

There’s a gasp, and Billy is gently pushed from his mother’s arms. He blinks his eyes open (she’s not glowing anymore; strange) and the split in her lip is gone and her face is no longer swelling. He smiles tiredly (he’s so tired), because he loves his mother and she’s okay now.

But she doesn’t smile back.  “Billy, what did you do?”

And he wants to answer, because her voice sounds serious, but he’s suddenly so very sleepy.

~~~

Steve wakes up, which is a surprise. He’d been running from the Russians, had been running with Dustin and Robin and Erica, and they’d almost made it, too – but then they hadn’t. There were gunshots, and something like bee stings, and then he tripped.

No, not bee stings. Bullets.

He was shot.

Frantic, he shoots up and pats himself down, feeling for the wounds. His hands slap against blood-soaked fabric, but there is no pain. There are no wounds that he can find.

How are there no wounds? He remembers being shot.

He is on the floor of the mall, in a pool of blood, and everything around them is chaos. His brain finally connects and he remembers; the Russians! He whirls around, trying to look back at the elevator, but there is no threat there now. There are only unmoving figures, scattered around a crashed car. It doesn’t make sense, but he doesn’t care as long as everyone is okay. The people huddled around him (talking to him, although he can’t make sense of any words) are pale and tearful, but they are all upright and looking at him, so they’re okay. He looks at them too, taking a mental tally and making sure no one is bleeding. Robin, Dustin, Erica, Nancy, El, Max, Jonathan, Billy, Will, Mike, Lucas. All are alive. No one (except for him?) seems to be shot or hurt.

Billy is closest to him, his hands out like he wants to touch (and bloody, like he has touched already) and Steve’s eyes are drawn to him. He opens his mouth to ask … something … when Billy’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls to the side, legs and arms akimbo, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

“Billy!” No time for questions now. Steve tries to get up, slips in the blood on the floor (and where is it coming from?), and is righted by several hands. He swats them away, and dives for Billy. “Billy …” he says, reaching out (a bloody hand) and gently touching Billy’s face. Billy is breathing, but his breaths are too light, too fast. His pulse is there, but irregular, and his eyes, when Steve pulls back his eyelid in something like panic, are rolled back. He doesn’t wake when Steve shakes him; doesn’t even wake when Steve slaps him across the face because he can’t think of anything else to do.

“Steve,” someone says, and the word trickles into his awareness; impatient, like they’ve been calling his name for a while now. There are hands on him, pulling, and everything explodes with noise that must have been there all along.

“What’s happening?” Steve wheezes, and oh, he’s hyperventilating. “Why won’t he wake up?”

Hands grab at his face and he’s twisted around forcefully, and suddenly he’s facing Robin. She has been crying, is crying, and her face is oscillating between worry and relief. “You were shot,” she says, voice catching. “You were bleeding so much. Billy, he … did something. To make you wake up. He saved you, somehow, I don’t know –” They turn as one to look at Billy, sprawled out on the floor, unmoving. Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, and his mind reels with the implications until Robin’s voice is back. “Steve, we’ve called for help. They’re coming, but …” She trails off, flicking her gaze to Billy. And Steve doesn’t get it until he does.

Billy saved him, somehow. So Billy can’t be here when whoever is coming for the Russians show up. They need to leave, right now, because whoever shows up can’t get their hands on Billy. 

Everything is still too much, and some of the kids are still crying, holding each other close. Steve should care more about that, and he should probably also care about the plans and decisions the others mare making right in front of him, but he doesn’t – the only thing he cares about is keeping Billy safe. Right now, that adds up to two things; making sure that everyone knows not to breathe a word about what just happened, and getting Billy the hell out of here. The first is accomplished by extracting vows from everyone present to keep their mouths shut, and the second … Well. Steve is awake and magically unharmed, but he is weak and gets dizzy when he tries to stand. As much as he wants to, he won’t be able to carry Billy alone. So in the end it is Jonathan who ends up carrying Billy out of there. Steve walks close, his hand on Billy’s wrist, and Max and El trails after them – Max because she refuses to leave her brother, and El because … Steve doesn’t actually know why. It doesn’t matter, though. He doesn’t care, as long as nothing is slowing them down.

Steve climbs into the back seat and accepts Billy’s unconscious form, arranging him so he is spread out in his lap, while Jonathan drives and the girls share the passenger seat. Steve doesn’t pay attention to where they’re going or even remembers much of the ride, and then suddenly they’re at his house (and it’s in the middle of the night but not late or early enough that the neighbors won’t see and ask questions, so Jonathan pulls into the garage and closes the garage door before he brings Billy out of there). They get him in the house and up the stairs and on Steve’s insistence they deposit Billy in Steve’s bed (because that’s where Billy usually sleeps when he’s over), and they’re all bloody and messy at the end of it and if it wasn’t for the feather-light rise and fall of Billy’s chest, he could be dead.

The others bully Steve into the shower, claiming he needs a wash, and when he’s in there and scrubbing the blood off, he moves his hand over the unbroken, unscarred skin where he felt the bullets hit. He doesn’t understand, and maybe he freaks out a little, but there’s no one there to see it.

Once he is clean and wearing clean clothes, hair still wet, he hurries back to his room. Jonathan, bless him, has done his best to clean Billy off too, so there is no visible blood except some stains on the comforter, which he throws a pillow over as soon as Steve enters. Max and El are sitting on the floor next to the bed, their backs to the far wall, and the desk chair has been placed next to the bed on the other side as if they’ve saved the best seat for Steve.

He sits down in it without taking his eyes off of Billy’s still form. Reaching out for Billy’s wrist, he feels his own heart calm at the steady pulse under his fingers, and rubs his thumb over Billy’s wrist.

Over the blank piece of skin where despite everything, no number has ever been added.

~~~

Billy does not have a tattoo on his wrist, because Billy was never taken into the lab.

His mother gave birth to him under the watchful eyes of white-clad men with clipboards, and they took all kinds of samples from her and her newborn son, and made them go through all kinds of tests – all in accordance with the contract that had been signed over a year ago. After the results came back, Billy’s mother was allowed to take her boy home, and the family received a check for their troubles (not as big a check as it could have been if the test results had come back different, but a check nonetheless) as well as a promise of an even bigger payout if any latent abilities were to develop in the boy..

For years, nothing happened. Billy’s father got increasingly frustrated, sensing his chances of a fat check diminishing, while Billy’s mother’s relief grew for each year that her son didn’t show any signs of being able to do things that no one else could do.

And then, when Billy was six years old … he healed her.

Such a wonderful, unique gift. Her son was a miracle.

But she knew that if someone found out, her son would be taken from her. No one else had seen, though. No one knew. She would just have to keep it that way.

Little Billy fell asleep in her arms right after, and couldn’t be roused. At first she worried, but he was breathing normally and his pulse was strong, so she simply put him to bed and kissed him goodnight. There were bigger things to worry about.

The first thing she did after that was to finish picking up the broken glass and clean the kitchen. The second thing she did was to bring a glass shard to the bathroom mirror and use it to re-cut her lip.

It worked. Her husband came home a couple of hours later, and barely glanced at him before he stumbled to bed. In the morning, while he slept and snored, she silently shook her son awake and took him out for a car ride. They parked on an outcrop overlooking the ocean, but none of them looked out at the glittering sea. Billy’s mother made sure her son kept his attention on her, and they had a long and serious talk in which she told him that she knew that he had been trying to help, but he could never do it again. No one could know what he could do, because if someone found out about it they would take him away from her, and lock him up, and she loved him so much and she would miss him terribly if that happened.

They both cried at the end of it, and little Billy promised that he would never do it again, or ever let anyone know about what he could do.

(As he grew up, he broke his word, several times. Once, he helped a bird with a broken wing. Another time, an old stray cat with an injured eye. And one night after his mom had left, he even healed his father who had cut his hand open on a broken bottle when he was drunk – the man woke up with no memory of it, and didn’t think more of it. But even years later, Billy remembered his mother’s warning, and didn’t let anyone know what he could do. At least until the summer of ’86, when he threw all caution to the wind for the one person he couldn’t bear to lose.)

~~~

Billy wakes, two days later, absolutely exhausted.

Steve is right there next to him, with tears in his eyes, chewing him out for worrying him in one second and kissing his face in the next. Max is there too, punching him in the shoulder (but lightly, too lightly to hurt), and El is next to her, smiling and calling him brother (Billy is not, not really, he was never in the lab – but he knows that if he had been, he’d have a tattoo just like hers on his wrist, and have a number of his own, so maybe … Billy may not be able to do what she can do, but they can both do things no one else can).

Eventually, after he’s been fed and watered (and had his life’s most satisfying piss), it is time to come clean. Not that there’s much to come clean about, because the cat is already out of the bag (and halfway across the state, by now). But they have questions, and Billy … Billy is tired of hiding the answers.

He tells them about his mother, and about what he did when he was six. He tells them what she said, after, and how he had to keep it a secret for so long (and how he used his gift anyway, how he couldn’t not, sometimes). He tells them how it takes a lot out of him, and how this time was the worst injury he hs ever tried to heal (which must have been why he slept for two days; he has never done that before). After some prodding, he tells them what it’s like; what he sees when he’s healing, what he feels; the heat and the light and the flow of energy he can see in all of them, even now. El nods like she kind of understands, but Steve and Max only watch him, wonder in their eyes.

Later, after a nap (he’s still so tired) and after the girls – who may be his sisters – have left, Steve crawls into bed with him and curls up close.

“Can I ask you a question?” he murmurs, trailing his finger across Billy’s collarbone.

Billy will do anything for Steve. Answering a question is nothing. “Shoot.” Steve winces at his word choice, and Billy huffs out a laugh. “Oops. Too soon?”

“A bit. I was shot just a couple of days ago, you know.”

“Yeah, but I saved you.”

“You did.” A pause. “Why?”

“Mm,” Billy says, a sound more than a word, and goes for the truth. “Can’t lose you.” An inhale from next to him, and Billy adds with a little smile, “Guess I’ve grown attached.”

Steve exhales on a laugh and nuzzles his neck. After a minute or two, Billy remembers. “Was that what you wanted to ask?”

“No.” A moment passes, in which Steve holds his breath in hesitation. Then, “If you can heal people, why didn’t you ever … you know. Heal yourself?” His voice is small, and Billy’s mind flashes to all the times when they’ve been lying in this very bed, just like this, after Billy has shown up on Steve’s doorstep with black eyes, bruised ribs, blood on his teeth and tears in his eyes. He knows that Steve is thinking of the same thing, and puts his arm around him to pull him closer.

“Couldn’t,” he says, simply, because it’s true. “I can’t do it on myself.” He would have, a thousand times over, if he’d been able to, but he has never been able to see himself in the velvety darkness. Only others, and only through the tips of his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. Billy feels his breath against his neck.

“I’m not,” Billy says. “I’m glad I have whatever this is. If I hadn’t, I would have lost you.” And, after a beat, “I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you, either,” Steve says, and it feels like a confession. They hug each other close, seeking comfort for a hurt that didn’t happen; both unwilling to let go or allow for space between them.

“I can’t heal you,” Steve continues, after some time. “So I guess I’ll just have to protect you the old-fashioned way.”

“The old-fashioned way?”

“Yeah. With my bat.”

[harringrovesummerbingo]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Additional Tags: Alien!AU, Alien! Steve, Harringrove Summer Bingo 2025 (Stranger Things), Recreational Drug Use Summary:

Billy just wanted to spend Halloween night smoking in the woods away from everyone. Where it was nice and quiet. So why is there an alien??

[harringrovesummerbingo]

Cry, baby

For the @harringrovesummerbingo, square B2, prompt: FREE SPACE General rating, 1,5K. Warnings: Grief/mourning, mentions the death of a parent

Summary: Steve wasn’t a crier. Over the eight years that Billy had known him, he couldn’t remember seeing him cry once. Which was why it was so jarring to see him now.

(On AO3 here)

Steve wasn’t a crier. Over the eight years that Billy had known him, he couldn’t remember seeing him cry once. Oh there had been the occasional hurt looks or frustrated outbursts paired with teary eyes, but no tears ever fell. Not even when he was hurt, or in pain.

Which was why it was so jarring to see him now.

“Baby,” Billy said, immediately at his side and putting his arm around his shaking shoulders. “I’m here.”

He didn’t ask what was wrong, and he didn’t demand that Steve talk to him – he knew. Steve’s father had been rushed to the hospital two days ago after having suffered a stroke, and since then his condition had only worsened. Steve had put his life on hold to travel to Chicago and had stayed at a hotel a block away from the hospital so he’d be close enough to be there for his mother and to deal with all the practical issues that the situation had raised. Billy had stayed in Indianapolis, where they had lived together for the past five years, to finish up some work. The plan had been for him to travel to Chicago too during the weekend, to help out with things, but then Steve had called at three in the morning on Thursday and simply said, “He’s dead”. Billy had only taken enough time to throw on some clothes and reassure his boyfriend that he would be there in a couple of hours, before he’d thrown himself in the car and started driving.

It was a quarter past six in the morning when Billy finally reached Northwestern Memorial and managed to locate Steve. He was sat in a plastic chair in a corner of a small waiting room outside the ICU, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of him, his big eyes staring straight ahead at nothing, and with silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

When Billy sank down in the chair next to him and wrapped his arms around him, Steve’s breath hitched. Indifferent to the few other people in the waiting room and the white-clad staff passing by outside, he turned to bury his face in Billy’s shirt with a gasp like he’d been drowning. His hands grabbed at Billy’s back with something akin to desperation as he finally let himself start to cry in earnest. With shaking shoulders, he keened like a wounded animal between big gulps of air, gripping at Billy as if his life depended on it. And through it all, Billy just rocked him gently, and held him as he mourned.

“I … I don’t understand,” Steve gasped out after a couple of minutes, when he managed words again. Billy leaned back a bit to be able to look at him, but didn’t let go. Steve’s eyes were big and wet and full of incomprehension. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He made it sound like embarrassment wrapped in genuine puzzlement. “We didn’t even … have a good relationship. I haven’t talked to him since … Christmas. I–“ He gulped, choked on a sob. “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

Billy squeezed his shoulders. “It’s your dad,” he said simply.

“Yeah but,” Steve started, and drew a shuddering breath, “he wasn’t very good at being one.” Billy kept quiet, so Steve went on. “He wasn’t … there for me. Not when I was a kid, not when I was a teenager. Not when I grew up. We weren’t close. He … he was always working. Always had these high expectations that I …” A sob, “… that I could never live up to.” He broke down again, and when he resurfaced after a while, he reached up to wipe at his eyes with the sleeve of his rumpled shirt. “But I guess I wasn’t a very good son, either.”

At that, Billy spoke up. “That’s bullshit.”

“I mean, I tried, but –“

“Exactly. You tried, you made an effort. That’s more than what he did.”

Steve blinked more tears out of his eyes. “I don’t know, I …” He paused, swallowing hard, and when Billy didn’t cut in, he continued, “I’ve been thinking … Maybe he did try. In a way. I remember … I remember once when I was in middle school, and he took me to a baseball game in Indy just before the summer holiday. He bought me snacks, and the biggest soda they had.” A wet laugh. “And neither of us even really liked baseball! But like … it was a good day.” His voice got quieter at the end, and trailed off into nothing.

“Sounds like a nice memory,” Billy said, after a beat.

“Yeah,” Steve said in a low voice, barely heard over the racket of a gurney being rolled past in the corridor outside. He’d moved so he was sitting next to Billy, leaning on him but looking out at the rest of the room, still curled up under Billy’s arm. The other people in the waiting room with then were obviously aware of the two of them, but no one was actively ogling them; perhaps they wanted to give someone who was so clearly grieving their space, or perhaps they were too busy dealing with their own affairs. No one is in an ICU waiting room for fun.

After a few minutes of quiet crying, Steve sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I’m so weepy. I don’t know what –“

Billy turned to him and shook his head. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You just lost your dad. You don’t have to apologize for crying.”

“But I don’t do this. Normally, I don’t …” Steve hesitated, and then continued with a wrinkle between his eyes, “… cry.”

“This isn’t exactly a normal situation though,” Billy said and pulled him close enough to press his lips to his hair for a second. “Is it?”

“I guess not,” Steve murmured. “I just …”

“I cry a lot,” Billy said, as an aside. “I cried when we fought last month, and I cried when we watched All Dogs go to Heaven this weekend, remember?”

“I remember.”

“And do you think any less of me for it?” Billy asked, with absolute certainty of what the answer would be.

And predictably Steve sat up straight at that, turning wide and earnest red-rimmed eyes at his boyfriend. “Never! You know that.”

“I do,” Billy acquiesced and squeezed Steve’s shoulder again. “Just like I will never – ever – think less of you for crying – or not crying – right now. Or any time.”

Steve looked like he wanted to protest, or say something, but Billy just looked at him softly, willing him to accept the truth of his words, and eventually he gave a little nod.

“Whatever you are feeling, or not feeling, is okay right now,” Billy continued. “There is no wrong way to grieve. And I love you, and I will be right here beside you for as long as you want me to. Okay?” Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes again, and he blinked them away. “Now,” Billy went on. “What do you want, right now? What do you need?”

At that, Steve let out a hoarse little laugh. “I want to go home,” he said, “But there’s so many things I need to do. Mom is here too, she’s in there with … with dad now. I’ll need to drive her back to their apartment, and then … we need to start making arrangements. Talk to the funeral home. Call the family, and dad’s partners at the company, let them know what happened ... The doctors said they needed a word too, and I … I need to … shit.” He raked a hand through his hair, messing it up further. “There’s so much, I don’t know where to start!”

Billy gently grabbed his wrist and brought it down to his lap, rubbing his thumb in calming circles over the pulse point. “Okay, so one thing at a time. How about I go find the doctor, and see what they wanted. You and I, we wait here until your mom comes back, and then I drive you back to the hotel. You can call your dad’s business partners, and your relatives, and then you take a nap – I know you haven’t been sleeping. Meanwhile, I’ll take your mom back to the apartment, and stay with her if she needs me to. I’ll start making some calls, see what needs to be done next. Then I’ll pick you up and we’ll all have lunch, and … we take it from there, okay?”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed, before nodding. “Okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath and sagged against Billy’s side like his strings had been cut. After a moment of exhausted silence, he said. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, baby.”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

Shifting his grip so he held Steve’s hand in his own, Billy said, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I love you, you know.”

A slight pause, then, “I love you too.”

[harringrovesummerbingo]

"Ursus arctos, on my mom's side"

For the @harringrovesummerbingo, square A1, prompt: "Give me the keys". Rating: general. 3,4K

Summary: Steve is busy trying to keep himself and the kids alive in a fight against a pack of demodogs, when a bear joins the fray.

(On AO3 here)

They were in so much trouble. Steve took a moment for himself in the midst of all the chaos to revel in despair. This was it, this was how they were going to die; he and the kids, mauled to death by demodogs in the middle of the woods at night, because they had been stupid enough to venture out here alone, and because he couldn’t protect them.

He’d tried his best – the two dead demodogs on the edge of the clearing showed that, at least – but one young adult with a nail bat and five terrified kids with flashlights were not really a match for a pack of bloodthirsty monster dogs from another dimension. They were going to die, and then – oh god – they were going to get eaten. Steve didn’t want to get eaten. Fuck, if he was going to die he at least wanted to have a proper burial – a casket being lowered into the ground, people weeping and saying how great he was, that whole schtick. Not end up being ripped to pieces and dissolving in some monster dogs’ stomach acids. That was just undignified.

A yelp came from his left, and he whirled around to see Lucas whack a demodog over the head with a branch he’d fount. Behind him was Mike on the ground, curling up and shielding his head with his arms. Steve acted on instinct and swung at the demodog, but even as he did he was aware that he was opening himself up for an attack from all other directions. But what else could he do? There was only one of him. At least he would go down fighting.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would go down – that they all would. The panic he felt about their impending deaths was temporarily pushed aside by his protective instincts, but it was there, bubbling under the surface, right alongside the knowledge that any breath could be his last.

The kids were shouting, screaming at his back. The demodogs were growling and chittering all around them. His blood was like a rushing river in his ears, his pulse too quick, heart beating like a war drum. Then suddenly, there was a roar. At first, he thought it was coming from him, because he was sure desperate enough to resort to screaming. A heartbeat later he realized that it was coming from behind him, and that it wasn’t the kind of sound a human throat could make. It was loud and guttural, and it cut through and drowned out all other sounds.

Steve whirled around, bat at the ready, and was met with the sight of a creature, much bigger and bulkier than the demodogs, that was tearing into the clearing with surprising speed. Steve experienced a brief flash of peak despair – they had to deal with this too? – but then he realized two things at once; first, that this creature wasn’t of the Upside Down variety, as it had eyes and ears and everything, and second, that it was currently targeting the demodogs.

That’s a bear, Steve’s mind supplied a little belatedly, and he blinked. In that blink, the bear (and really – a bear? Steve didn’t think there were bears in Indiana) raised itself onto its hind legs and smacked a demodog to the side with one big front paw, kind of like how one would swat away an annoying fly from one’s glass of lemonade in the summer. The demodog hit a tree and didn’t get up again, which seemingly drew the attention of the rest of the pack as they all turned as one towards this new threat.

As demodogs and bear clashed, Steve realized with a jolt that this was their chance. So, ignoring the terrible growls and roars from the battling creatures, he went against all his instincts and turned his back on the fight, in order to beging rounding up the kids. Will, Max and Lucas were easy, as they were standing all huddled-up already. He picked Mike up off the ground by the back of his shirt, and yanked Dustin back from where he was standing too close and watching the fight, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Come on!” Steve shouted and clapped his free hand against his thigh. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“No, wait!” Max started protesting and took a step to the side, seemingly to try to step around Steve to see more of the fight. Damn these kids and their lack of self-preservation!

“Nope,” Steve gritted out between his teeth and forcibly shoved both her and a still staring Dustin towards the other three just as a demodog whizzed through the air next to them.  Another roar rang out in the clearing, and the earth shook as something big was brought down behind them. Steve had had enough. “Move it, move it, move it!”

He finally got them running, even though he had to grab onto the sleeve of Max’s shirt to get her to move and to stop her from looking over her shoulder. The race through the woods was panicked, rushed, and veering in and out of the trees. Steve herded the kids in front of him with shouted directions and the occasional shove, trying to keep them together while also making sure they were going in at least the vague direction of the car, all the while half-expecting to be tackled to the ground and eaten at any moment.

They weren’t exactly quiet as they ran – the kids let out frightened shouts and protests, and they stumbled over rocks and roots and wreaked havoc like a herd of particularly clumsy elephants – and if Steve had had the breath to tell them to be quiet, he would have. As it was, he could barely draw enough breath to keep going – he might actually suffocate before he got eaten, which wasn’t ideal but at least beat a thousand teeth to the face as cause of death.

When they finally made it out from the trees and onto the road, Steve had half a second to feel hopeful that perhaps they wouldn’t actually die in the woods tonight, before the forest exploded with noise and movement behind them and several demodogs sprinted out onto the gravel. The kids screamed and drew together, Steve screamed and fumbled to get his bat up, and then the goddamned bear came galloping out of the woods with a mighty roar and everyone else’s screaming increased in both volume and pitch.

The demodogs looked like they’d tried to regroup, but the bear bowled into them like it was going for a strike, swiping at anything that moved. One brave demodog, closely followed by a second, jumped up on the bear’s back and started ripping into it. Their teeth didn’t seem to have any effect on the beast – its fur being too thick – but as they attacked with their claws, the bear reared back and roared in rage and pain. The sound was bone-rattling and loud in the night, and Steve was frozen in front of his gaggle of children, keeping them at his back and holding the bat in front of him in shaking hands as if that would be any help against either of these creatures.

It was carnage. One demodog got promptly stomped on, another one hit with such force that it kind of cracked and folded in half. A third took a paw full of long, curved claws to the ribs, and then there were just two left. Unfortunately it was the two that were hanging on to the bear’s back, right where the bear couldn’t reach them. It growled in dismay, and solved the problem by rolling onto its back. Squish went one demodog, and the last one remaining met its end between the bear’s curved canines.

And just like that, silence descended on the dark gravel road. It was like everyone was holding their breath, except for the bear. The bear turned around to face them – and holy shit it was big, its shoulders probably reached up to Steve’s chest even with it standing on all fours – and snuffled while looking at them. Steve tightened his grip on the bat – but honestly, if demodog teeth and claws couldn’t penetrate its thick fur, he doubted his bat was going to do much damage – but instead of the bear attacking them, it just stood there. Huffing and puffing and turning its big head towards them, swaying a little. But not attacking.

“Billy,” Max’s voice said from next to Steve, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat and his head swirled around because Billy? Where?

Steve from last year would have considered Billy being there just another threat, but Steve now – who had spent months sucking face with and falling for the California bastard – felt his heart twinge with fear that he’d somehow fail to protect Billy too, and him getting hurt would be Steve’s fault.

“Billy,” Max said again, voice softer now, and Steve was getting confused, because he couldn’t see Billy anywhere. It was just him and the kids – and the bear, which still wasn’t attacking, and which was starting to tremble where it was standing. Tremble and … shrink?

What the–

Steve shook his head a little, in case he’d gotten hit in the head and something had been knocked loose (he had a history of concussions, after all). But there wasn’t even a hint of a headache, and the world didn’t waver or blink in and out of existence.  

The bear kept shrinking.

“What’s happening?” someone said, in the voice of someone on the cusp of freaking out, and Steve wanted to answer but he had absolutely no idea what was going on and also highly suspected that his voice would be tinged with hysteria if he tried to make words right now, so he kept quiet.

He sensed the kids beside and behind him, but didn’t turn to look because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. A bear, shuddering and somehow becoming smaller, surrounded by the bodies of several demodogs who just minutes ago had tried to eat all of them.

Headache or no headache, Steve’s money was still on a concussion. Nothing else made sense right now.

The kids made various shocked exclamations when the bear started to change shape, and its fur started to … lessen. Recede. Un-grow? Whatever the hell was happening, Steve didn’t really have the words to describe it. Whatever the kids were saying, Steve wasn’t listening, because he was busy staring with unblinking eyes as the creature somehow – impossibly – transformed into a human in front of their very eyes.

And not just any human. Because of course not.

“Ugh,” Billy said, arching his back on all fours before getting to his feet and audibly cracking his neck. “That sucks every time.”

He was currently sans fur, but also stark naked, which. Made sense? Maybe? If you considered the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, a goddamned woodland creature two minutes ago.

The kids were already shouting random exclamations and (in Dustin’s case) questions at both Billy and Max – and she’d known, hadn’t she? She’d said his name before the transformation – but none of them replied. Billy, who had just been a bear, blatantly ignored all of them (including Steve, which was very unfair) and glared at his step-sister.

“What happened to us being a team, huh? We had a deal.” It sounded like the continuation of an ongoing argument.

“You weren’t home!” Steve spared a glance at Max where she was standing next to him, and saw the guilt on her face morph into an angry scowl instead, much like the expression currently on Billy’s own face (Billy, who had recently been a bear).

“Which is why you should have waited to go out until I got home. I’d have come with you, you know that, because I said I would. And you said you’d keep me in the loop!”

“There wasn’t time, I –“

“Bullshit, you–“

“I’m sorry,” Steve interrupted, impressed with himself for keeping his voice level. “But would someone explain to me what the fuck that was?” He gestured helplessly at Billy – who had just, and Steve couldn’t emphasize this enough, been a bear!

Billy turned his attention to Steve and winked (!), and then cocked a hip. “What was what, Stevie?” he asked, too sweetly, in a voice like a trap.

Heedlessly, Steve fell into it. “What do you mean, what was what? You were a bear! There was a bear, and you – and it – transformed into – and – you – you were a bear!”

“Mm-hmm,” Billy said, looking smug. “And I just saved you lot from those monster dogs – which no one has seen fit to tell me about so far, I might add – so, I mean.” A shrug. “You’re welcome.” And if the situation had been any less weird, Steve would have realized that that was a dig at him and the fact that he hadn’t told his maybe-boyfriend about the monsters that existed in this town, but as it was, Steve was too preoccupied trying to wrap his head around this new and very unexpected development.

“Why were you a bear!” Exclamation, no question mark, but Steve felt he made himself understood anyway.

“And what kind of bear?” Dustin piped up from the sidelines. “California Grizzly?”

Billy snorted out a laugh at that and turned to Dustin. “Good guess, kid, but those are extinct. It’s Ursus arctos, actually, the brown bear. From Scandinavia, originally. My mom hailed from Sweden.” He sounded downright pleasant, like a middle school biology teacher.

Steve was having a stroke. “What has that got to do with anything?”

And there was Billy’s attention, back on him. “Well, my mom was a shifter too, and her family’s from Sweden, so it would just be weird if we turned into an American breed.” A little derisively, he added, “I mean, can you imagine me as a common black bear?” He waited for a second for someone to reply to that, but predictably, no one did. “Exactly.”

“Wait. Was that racist, or …?” someone muttered, and Steve kind of wanted to cry.

“I don’t understand,” he said, trying to tamper down on the hysteria and keep it short and to the point. “I am very confused right now.”

Billy’s eyes – bright and blue, and so unlike the black eyes of the bear – softened. “Look, I’m a shifter. It means I can change shape at will. My mom was one too, and her dad before her. You know like werewolves? Yeah, that, but with bears instead. And without the whole moon thing and pack thing and, you know, dramatic changing thing.”

Max cleared her throat from next to Steve. “I don’t know, I think you were being plenty dramatic just now.” Her arms were crossed over her chest and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow like only a sibling could. “Also, are you even aware that you’re naked?”

“Really?” Billy deadpanned without making any move to cover up, and raised an equally unimpressed eyebrow in a mirror image of Max’s. “I had no idea.”

“Where did your clothes go?” Dustin asked, daring to step forward a couple of steps (Steve had to resist the urge to pull him back), already bubbling with scientific curiosity.

“Left them in the car,” Billy said. “Might have torn the pants, actually.” He glared at Max. “Because I was kinda in a hurry.”

“How did you even find us?” Steve managed. “How did you know …?” Where we were. That we were in trouble. That we needed help.

“Good sense of smell,” Billy said. “And a good sense of hearing.” He shrugged and glanced at Steve. “Just generally good senses all around, really. Besides, I knew there were monster dogs around, and this one –” he jerked a thumb in Max’s direction, “– is a magnet for trouble so when she wasn’t home when she was supposed to, I knew something was up.”

“You knew about the demodogs?” someone who was not Steve asked.

“Hard not to,” Billy said and levelled one of the kids – Steve didn’t see who – with a look. “You lot are not as secretive as you think you are on your walkie-talkies. Also, bear shifters may not be very territorial – not like werewolves – but I know when someone’s on my turf.”

“Wait, werewolves are real?” Dustin shrieked, and this time Steve had to grab a hold of his shirt to keep him back and from following up with like twenty additional questions.

“So not the focus here!” Steve was still stuck on the demodog thing (because he was still processing the bear shifter thing). He turned to Billy. Wetting his lips, he asked, “You knew? All this time?”

A nod. “Yep.”

Steve snapped, because he could have talked about all this shit with Billy for months. “Why didn’t you say something?” He would have had a hundred chances, during the time that they had been kind of seeing each other – all those times when there had been just the two of them, why hadn’t he just spoken up?

That earned him a deadpan look. “Why didn’t you?” And … okay. Fair. Steve could see the point in that. He winced and gave a nod in acknowledgement, and Billy’s other eyebrow joined the first one high on his forehead in a look that said ‘yeah that’s right’ and also ‘we’ll have a long discussion about this later’.

“This is interesting and all,” Lucas said, voice impressively steady, all things considered, “but Hargrove is, um, still naked in front of us, and there’s a bunch of dead demodogs all around and it’s been a long night so I’d really like to go home now. Please.”

Steve had to concur. It had been a long night indeed, in which he had fought demodogs, almost died, almost had to watch the kids die, witnessed the most badass boss fight ever, and found out that his possibly-boyfriend could turn into a bear at will. It was a lot, and Steve would very much like to drop the kids off at their respective houses and then go home and get drunk. And preferably cuddle up to his badass shapeshifter definitely-boyfriend-actually, please and thank you.

No one seemed to have any objections, correctly reasoning that here and now were not the place and time for whatever discussions they would certainly need to have at some point, so they made their way back to Steve’s car, which he had parked further down the road. The kids went ahead, only occasionally glancing back over their shoulders. Max trailed a couple of steps behind and made up quite an effective barrier between the Party’s curiosity and her shapeshifter big brother. Last came Steve and Billy, who made up the rear – probably so the kids wouldn’t have to actually look at Billy’s rear. Which was still bare. Just like the rest of him. And, like, Steve was only human, and he soon found that he had recovered enough from his shock that he occasionally glanced to the side and down.

Billy was kind enough to pretend not to notice.

Once they reached the car, Billy elbowed Steve in the side and held out his hand expectantly. “Give me the keys.”

Shaking his head in incredulity, Steve spluttered, “What? No.”

“I’ll drive. You’re traumatized.”

“Again: no. It’s my car.”

“Yeah, and do you want to crash your car because you freak out at the wheel?”

“I’m not gonna freak out at the wheel. I’m done freaking out.” Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly to show everyone how very calm and collected he was. “And I’m not letting you drive! What if you hulk out and wrap us around a tree?”

At that, Dustin felt the need to cut in, “Actually, ‘hulking out’ doesn’t really fit in this context because the Hulk is very far from an animal shapeshifter –“

Everyone ignored him. (Not that that made him stop talking.)

“Give me some credit,” Billy said with an eye roll, “I’ve been able to control my shift since kindergarten.”

“Yeah well,” Steve said, scrambling for something to say that would allow him to keep his dignity (and his keys). “I’m still not letting your naked ass into my driver’s seat.”

He realized his mistake a heartbeat later, when a grin appeared on Billy’s face and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip lewdly. “It wouldn’t be the first time, though, eh Stevie?”

God, please let the kids not have heard, please let the kids not have heard, please –

“What does he mean by that?” Dustin. Because of course. “Steve? Steve, what does he mean by that?”

Steve closed his eyes and resisted banging his head on the roof of the car. Was it too late to aim for a concussion?

[harringrovesummerbingo]

An interesting sequence of events leads to interesting outcomes. For my @harringrovesummerbingo bingo card. The full is on my bluesky ♡

[harringrovesummerbingo]

summer portraits in watercolor

something simple to finish out my first @harringrovesummerbingo card for the free space fill :-) HAGS everyone!

[harringrovesummerbingo]

I've completed my next fill for the @harringrovesummerbingo

Square: C1 - Exhaustion

Title: I think you're pretty too

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Recovery time after a severe chest injury is roughly eight weeks, recovery time for third degree burns can be up to a couple of years. That’s what the doctor’s had told him when he’d complained about still being in so much pain two weeks after the Starcourt incident. Billy had been discharged from the hospital with these injuries after three weeks of inpatient care to ‘convalesce at home’, which was difficult considering that he no longer had a real home.

Or - Billy Hargrove has an unexpected visitor to his sickbed

Read it here

[harringrovesummerbingo]

The Night of the Fireflies (For @harringrovesummerbingo C2 Pirate AU ♡)

Far away from Hawkins, the wide ocean, a fun summer job at the famous Tropical Bay Resort… that sounded like the jackpot for Steve.

Maybe he didn’t land the coolest job, but working at the Ocean View Restaurant as a waiter/sailor boy wasn’t the worst either.

One day, he finds a message on a coaster with an invitation. Not knowing who left it there, but curious enough to find out, he goes to meet the adventurer at said time and place.

Steve can barely believe who he finds there, waiting for him. THE Billy Hargrove of all people, dressed up as a pirate.. A job Steve wanted the most because everyone loved the live action actors, especially the ladies.

“Ahoy, matey.” Billy greets with a grin and Steve can’t help but smile back at him, shaking his head in disbelief.

What kind of adventure is Billy Hargrove inviting him to? It doesn’t take long for him to find out and his first impulse is to run, but then Billy offers him the rules to the “adventure of his life”.

No breaking character and everything that happens at the resort stays at the resort. Once back in Hawkins, nothing ever happened.

Adding a little spice to the work life at the resort with no strings attached? No consequences?

Maybe it was the location, maybe it was the heat… or Billy looking too good in that costume? Steve wasn’t exactly sure why he agreed, but he did.

And so it happened that Sailor Boy Steve started to go on that adventure with Scarface the pirate and once he fully committed to the role play, there was no going back.

On their last night, the night of the fireflies, as the ‘season is ending’-event is called, Steve realizes that this wasn’t just the adventure of his life, it was also the happiest summer he ever had. He was too scared to ruin the moment with breaking character against the rules and instead, decided to pretend there was no tomorrow, but Billy was different that night, too. Softer, unusually quiet..

“Setting sails tomorrow.. I guess this means good bye then, sailor boy..” there was an unspoken question in Billy’s eyes Steve hoped to know the answer to.

“Take me with you.” he whispered and when Billy didn’t answer, he added: “I’m not afraid, no matter where we’re going...To the end of the world, if we must.”

They looked at each other for a felt eternity, little lights dancing around them, then Billy smiled and Steve smiled back at him. He didn’t need to say anything and they kissed again, both relaxing into it, assured now it wasn’t the for the last time.

(Set at a beach resort for the 80s or a giant cruise ship for a modern AU, I couldn't decide X3 Billy only got the job over Steve because he could wear an earring ....Also this took me FOREVER X_X)

[harringrovesummerbingo]

Going for a Bingo! for @harringrovesummerbingo , Square B3 Prompt “Rockstars who hate Each other on a hot stadium Gig”. They really hated the fact they had to do this collab and share the stage glares sneers and even some Fingers flipped.

[harringrovesummerbingo]

camaro breaking down in the middle of nowhere. It's 9000 degrees outside. Billy squats down to see under the car. Steve chooses to observe the sight instead of helping. "I'm keeping watch for uh, wildlife, they can get aggressive out here. continue, Billy. maybe get lower down there, see if uh, anything else might be broken."

@harringrovesummerbingo prompt — Camaro breaks down unexpectedly

[harringrovesummerbingo]

For the @harringrovesummerbingo C1: Bad hayfever :'3 ♡

(This was too easy because it's literally me all spring XD Fortunately ends when summer starts.)

[harringrovesummerbingo]

to which Billy replied, "calm your pants, Farah Fawcett. god. We've been walking for ten miles."

Camping with his sister is one thing. But Max brought along everyone in her friend group, to go with her and Billy. Yes, that also means the guy Billy's been avoiding running into.

Which is fine. Fuck. Is it? ... And did Harrington's moles always have the shape of hearts?

Billy blames the summer heat.

-

@harringrovesummerbingo prompt - camping

[harringrovesummerbingo]

"It's all castles in the sand.." Billy used to say about the dream he had, once he finally dared to share it with Steve.

"But what if not? What if we make it last? You have a dream and I'm not busy for the rest of my life, so let's just do it. We do it."

And they did.

Steve had never seen Billy so nervous and excited at the same time, the day they finally opened for business.

"It's gonna be perfect." Steve promised with a kiss. "This one is gonna last."

It was July 4th 1989, the day their life began.

♡

For @harringrovesummerbingo C3 - sand castles (either real or methaphorical)

[harringrovesummerbingo]

*tony stark voice* wake up daddy's home-

HELLO MY LITTLE FRUITFLYS!!! i have returned after a very very very long hiatus! and to kick off @harringrovesummerbingo, we have:

"Break the Chain" for C3, with the prompt "Serious convo in handcuffs"

Summary: Steve somehow stumbles upon Billy’s dad literally trying to kill him and steps in, throws a few punches, calls 911, blah blah blah. Anyways, they all end up in jail and Billy needs to know why his knight in shining armor saved him.

~1100 words, rated mature for mentions of violence, also on AO3!

“So,” 

A voice came from the darker side of the cell. The moonlight poured into the room, casting an even glow on the two recently booked teenagers. 

“Why’d ya do that?”

A pause, Steve shifted on the lit side of the cell, debating his answer. 

“Dunno. Right thing to do I guess.” 

There's a scoff, and a scrape of shoes on the concrete.

“No such thing. ‘The right thing to do.’ That’s horseshit, why’d you do it?”

“I'm telling the truth man, what reason do I have to lie?” 

The boy in the dark sighed, then moved to the harsh line where the moon is cut off by the thick barred windows. It illuminates his face and you can see the blood, dried and crusty under his nose, dying the hairs of his mustache a deep crimson. The rest of his face is similarly painted with blood, and fresh purple bruises. 

Steve’s eyes dance carefully down his opposite’s battered frame. There's a sickness in his stomach that grows, his rage boils up again as the images of the night flash past his eyelids with each blink. 

Billy moves closer to Steve, the urge to get up in his space is overpowering. He wants the truth, the whole truth, and he’s not getting it. The chains clink and tug at his wrists as he moves, reminding him he’s chained to the wall. The handcuffs are digging into the red flesh of his wrists but he yanks at them again, as if the second time will change. He huffs, glancing away from Steve. 

“It was the right thing to do, Billy.” Steve reassures softly, pointedly using the other boy’s first name.

“You were- I mean- he was beating you. Bad. What was I supposed to do, just watch?” 

There wasn’t an answer, only a shuffling of chains and the squeak of boots on the floor as Billy slunk back behind the line of moonlight. 

“You got yourself thrown in jail, because you were doing the ‘right thing’. I can take care of my own, but no, no, white knight Steve Harrington has to come save the day, doesn't he?”

“It’s not like that and you know it.”

“My ass it’s not like that! You have been shit on the court for weeks since that skank Wheeler dropped you for the freak-” he took a sharp inhale, his voice raising with every word, “even in the halls you're moping like some bitch!” 

Steve didn’t reply, didn’t egg him on, didn’t reprimand the needless insult thrown at Nancy, nothing. 

“You just needed something to make you feel good again. Worshiped, loved, whatever pansy shit you want. You don’t give a fuck about me, and why should you.”

“It was the right thing to do.” 

“Jesus, you sound like a damn broken record! Why?! All I have ever done is make your life hell. I beat the shit out of you, I took your precious title at that goddamn school, I watched your life crumble to pieces and I laughed about it!” 

There’s a pause, Billy breathes deeply, his ragged breaths echoing gently against the concrete walls. The tension in the air sticks to their skin like sweat on a hot day.

“So why, Steve. Why did you do this?”

The last question came out broken, strangled. His voice cracked as if on the verge of tears. Steve had just about enough of this, it somehow wasn’t clicking to Billy. 

“Because you didn’t deserve that!” Steve raised his own voice to match the volume of Billy’s, “You can’t sit here and tell me that you deserved that, you can’t! He was going to kill you, man!”

“And so fucking what?!” Billy tugged again on his handcuffs, his face reappearing in the sliver of moonlight.

His eyes were dark, sparking with anger. His lips curled up to bare his teeth as his raw wrists pulled on the unforgiving metal of his handcuffs once again. 

“And so what if he killed me? Who the fuck would care?”

Steve had his mouth open, ready to speak but something stopped him. His eyes squinted, in partial disbelief. He didn’t have an answer for him. He knew nobody would. 

Max certainly wouldn’t, he had heard through the grapevine his mother was MIA, Tommy and Carol weren’t really the most emotionally capable people, the handful of girls he had slept with could rather easily find a new, mean, blonde guy with a shiny car and bad attitude. The realization that nobody would care if Billy’s father had beaten him to death tonight sank through him like lead.

A knot grew in his stomach, he knew the feeling. Before the kids, Nancy, he would have sung a similar tune. Billy’s face was clearer in the moonlight and it was like he was quite literally ‘seeing someone in a different light’. The sagged eyes, the drawn brows, and the permanent frown spun its own story. Not one of a popular, ladies man, with a ‘who gives a shit’ mantra. But one of a boy who was exhausted, who needed someone to care about him, who didn’t want to be the ‘bad guy’ anymore but was forced into it. 

“Ok yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe nobody would care,” he paused, eyes trained on Billy’s, “so let me.” 

“What?”

“Let me care. We can put this shit, the fighting, the popularity contest, all this bullshit, behind us. I can care if you die.”

Something in Billy’s eyes changed, something so small you wouldn’t be able to catch it if you didn’t know what to be looking for. There was surprise, then a cruel combination of deceit and anger. Billy’s jaw moved, his eyes flicked down to the right, his brows loosened their tight furrow. 

“Let me care if you die. If someone hadn’t come around and cared if I died- I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you. I would have watched your dads fists hit you and turned the other way. Not my damn problem, ya know? But that's not that kinda guy I am, not anymore. Because someone actually started giving a shit about me.” 

“That was the gayest thing I’ve heard in my entire life.”

Steve laughed as Billy’s head raised to look at him again. There was a softness in his eyes now, like he really believed what Steve said, that he wasn’t just being naive. 

“You really mean that shit? After all I’ve done to you, you'll just- ‘forgive and forget’ huh?”

“Don’t got a whole lot left to lose.”

“Such an ass.” 

Billy muttered, a smile peeking through the split lip and dried blood. Deep down he knew he should run, or fight. This couldn’t be the whole truth, nobody could possibly be sitting here, wanting to care about him. But then there was another part inside him, a much younger part, that flickered alive. It was desperate for Steve’s words to be true. 

[harringrovesummerbingo]

“Summer Solace” - for the @harringrovesummerbingo

[harringrovesummerbingo]

pour some sugar on (Steve), in the name of love.

@harringrovesummerbingo prompt - eating ice cream (because what's a better tasting ice cream than... Well, the guy scooping them all summer long?)