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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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The Steve Harrington Problem

for the @harringrovewinterbingo prompt A2: Oh. oh. (Sorry it's a little late) Read on AO3 here.

At first, Billy thought being friendly with Harrington would help. Maybe if he was closer to the guy he’d find a flaw, find something deeply unappealing hidden inside the much too pretty package that is Steve Harrington. Billy would try just about anything to help him get over the ridiculous infatuation he has with the other boy.

Billy had only been in town for a week, but he’d heard the gossip, knew Harrington had recently been dumped and lost his friends too; Billy actually felt a bit sorry for the guy watching him mope on his table of one in the cafeteria every day. So, in the end Billy made a plan and reached out. Friends. Billy could be a good friend, a very good, very platonic friend.

Only, Billy very quickly encountered a couple of problems with his plan of being friends with Harrington. See, Harrington is lonely, and Harrington is fucking clingy. All it took was for Billy’s usual glares turning into tentative smiles, his shoves in basketball replaced with more friendly banter and suddenly Billy couldn’t shake the guy if he tried.

At all times of the day Harrington would find him, he’d hang out by Billy’s locker, wait at the door of Billy’s classes, mooch around by the Camaro at final bell and once even turned up at Cherry Lane at 10pm on a fucking Sunday because he was bored. In a matter of weeks all of Billy’s spare time becomes Harrington’s time and it would be fine, really, but the pesky little crush just isn’t fading as quickly as Billy had planned.

Harrington is just sweet and Billy can’t help but blush when the guy’s face lights up like the damn fourth of July anytime Billy agrees to hang out. Can’t stop his pulse racing at the sight of big, brown eyes shining with tears as apparently Harrington gets giggly when he’s high. Harrington flutters around Billy when they hang, always making sure his drink is topped up, gives Billy the best slices of pizza, he buys him snacks and little trinkets he finds that he thought Billy would like. Harrington made him a mixtape for Christmas which Billy may or may not have listened to far too many times. Billy feels fucking cherished alright?

Harrington is kinda bitchy too, in just the way Billy likes. They can spend hours dicking around in his pool talking shit on everyone they go to high school with. Harrington has the good gossip too, having been the one to grow up here and all and has no qualms in gleefully telling Billy about the time that Hagan got caught fooling around on Carol and the almighty shit storm that followed. He has no problems with giving Billy shit either, gets all haughty and tells him in no uncertain terms to - ‘stop calling me Harrington dickwad, you sound like an asshole.’

Billy soon discovered yet another Har-Steve problem in that Steve is awfully…touchy. It’s like he realised Billy is sticking around and now it seems Steve can’t keep his fucking hands to himself. Steve will sling an arm around Billy’s shoulders in the hallway at school, will nestle up close until their thighs are pressed together on the sofa during movie night and fucking hugs are something they do now apparently. Hello hugs, goodbye hugs, thanks for picking up dinner hugs. Steve will pull Billy into his arms and squeeze for any reason he deems fit, and this is something that Billy is just supposed to be normal about?

So, yeah. Billy’s crush has not only faded away, its fucking bursting at the seams, itching for him to do something incredibly stupid like kiss Steve on his stupid plush, kissable lips.

Time starts to morph and shift in a way it didn’t before Billy became friends with Steve, it feels like he blinked and Winter gave way to Spring and he’s been Steve’s friend for months. Best friends, Steve declared one random night in March, pushing Billy into the pool in retaliation to his snarking about friendship bracelets in an effort to hide his crimson face. Billy glared at Steve as he cackled on the deck, not moving a finger to help him of course.

Christ, Billy is in love with an asshole. And wait…Billy blinks as his whole body jolts as if he’s been shocked when he realises… what? He loves him? Oh Jesus Christ of course he does, he’s fucking fallen in love with Steve. Obviously only Billy could end up being this monumentally stupid.

The crush was bad enough but this, this is bad, like yeah Billy has had ‘feelings’ for other guys before but it’s usually more of a lust based thing, not this mushy shit. Billy doesn’t do mushy shit like daydream about holding hands or stroking his fingers through Steve’s famous hair while they cuddle on the sof- and oh god, he HAS been thinking about this hasn’t he? Billy’s lost his goddamn mind over a straight guy in Indi-fuckin-ana.

“Hey, Bill are you alright man?” Steve’s voice pierces the silence, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Billy opens his mouth to respond but only manages to choke out a strangled sort of noise. His mouth is too dry, he can’t stop his hands from shaking and Steve is just staring at him. He stumbles back when Steve presses forward, Billy can’t quite catch his breath and the pain in his chest is screaming alongside the voice in his head.

Billy takes another step back and gravity goes a little funny for a second until he realises, and oh, he’s falling. His body hits the surface of the water with a smack, and he can’t seem to move a muscle to help himself as he goes under; Billy thinks kind of hysterically that this is a fine way to die, preferable to Neil sniffing out his stupid feelings and finishing the job for him anyway.

Distantly, Billy hears a splash as two strong hands grasp under his arms and start pulling him up towards the surface, he gasps in a breath as he’s hauled up against the side of the pool and now his head is a little clearer he can only feel one thing, pure burning mortification. He used to surf for fuck’ sake and he just nearly drowned in 6ft of water, he was a lifeguard and Billy’s pretty sure not drowning would be rule number one in the handbook if they made one. And all of this in front of Steve, the boy he’s just realised he’s in love with, honestly, the bottom of the pool is looking more inviting by the second.

Billy’s broken out of his morbid musings by hands cupping his cheeks, long fingers brushing his wet curls behind his ears; Billy closes his eyes, he can’t possibly look at Steve right now, but then the nice, gentle hands are suddenly less nice as they deliver a sharp slap to Billy’s cheek.

“Billy, what the fuck was that?” Steve sounds frantic and really, fuck him, this is all his fault anyway in Billy’s opinion, “Are you okay, do I need to like take you to hospital?”

The mention of the hospital has Billy snapping back to reality real fucking fast, he coughs bringing up a mouthful of pool water – which gross, Steve probably pees in there, he’s disgusting like that sometimes – and manages to croak out "No, ‘m fine lemme up", his voice cracks embarrassingly and for the third time in however many minutes, Billy wishes for the sweet release of death; he needs to get out of here.

Billy pushes Steve’s hands away and pulls himself to his feet, swaying slightly as his head swims but fuck that he needs to leave. He can hear Steve following behind, babbling in the way he does when he’s panicking but Billy ignores him; he knows he looks batshit right now, crazy eyed, bare footed and soaked to the bone in wet denim, barrelling through Steve’s ridiculous mansion like a man on a mission but Billy has thankfully reached acceptance on his mortification journey.

Mourning the lack of seat covers in the Camaro Billy starts mentally preparing his new plan, avoid Steve Harrington at all costs. His first plan was a bust but that’s okay he thinks, not every plans a winner he’s just gotta put all his focus into this new one. He was an idiot anyway it will be so much easier to not be in love with Steve if he doesn’t actually have to see big bambi eyes every second of the da-

“BILLY!” Steve shouts, somehow having managed to manhandle Billy into the door he was trying to escape through, “Fucking talk to me asshole, where the fuck are you going?!”

Steve looks angry now, good Billy thinks, arguing is good. Good first step on his shiny new plan. He shakes his shoulders out, schooling his face into a flat glare he drawls in the most bored voice he can manage, “Hey, St-Harrington. Take your fucking hands off me before I make you, yeah?”

Steve just stares at him in his usual doe eyed, confused way, “Are you really that pissed I pushed you in the pool? It was just a joke Bill, I didn’t know you’d… whatever the fuck happened back there.”

“Are you fucking stupid Harrington?” Billy yells, he’s got to sell this, make it stick, “I’m just sick of pretending to be your friend and tonight was the last straw. Best friends? Fucking bullshit more like! Billy winces as he watches that last one hit Steve like a truck, he feels like the shittiest person who ever lived, he can feel all the poison Neil helped nurture inside of him, watches as it spills out all over Steve’s beautiful face.

This is for the best Billy thinks, he was never worthy of being Steve’s friend never mind being in love with him for Christ’s sake, he can hurt Steve now and avoid him being consumed by Billy’s poison later down the road when it would only hurt more.

“Okay.” Steve is calm, much too calm. He’s still gripping Billy’s shoulders, his eyes searching Billy’s face with an intensity that makes him squirm, “So, lets put to one side for now the bullshit you just said to me, why the fuck are you lying? Because we both know you’re lying right? So, tell me the truth Billy.”

Billy bristles at the implication that he’s lying (he is) and at the way Steve is talking to him like he’s a toddler having a hissy fit (again, he is). He’s pissed, this is not going the way he planned and he’s floundering for a response now that Steve’s seen past his bullshit, and how the fuck did he do that anyway?

“Anytime today, Bill.” Steve says, stern, like a fucking schoolteacher. “Why are you lying to me?”

Billy has always hated being backed into a corner with no way out, he tears himself out of Steve’s grip, his common sense lost to the red haze that has descended as he hears himself shout, “Because I fucking LOVE you Steve, for fuck sake, I’m an idiot and a fucking queer and I didn’t mean to god, but I just realised that I’m in love with you alright, so fuck off and leave me alone!”

Billy is getting real sick of loaded silences tonight, his heaving breaths the only sound cutting through the fallout of his horrible, awful confession.

“Oh.” Steve breathes, “Oh.”

“Yeah. So, am I free to go now Harrington or did you want to get a hit in first?” Billy sighs, all the bravado he built up long gone, leaving him feeling stupid and ashamed and he just wants to go home. He supposes his plan worked; there’s no way Steve will come anywhere near him now.

Taking Steve’s continued silence as Billy’s request granted, he turns to leave, Billy hasn’t looked at Steve since his outburst so when the guy lunges to grab Billy’s arm he can’t help the full body flinch that rolls through him. Billy clenches his eyes shut at the feeling, he can’t bear to see the look of disgust in Steve’s eyes as he gives him a bruise that Billy will for once, deserve.

“I fucking told you not to call me Harrington dickhead.”

Bracing for pain, Billy’s head reels when instead the hand that touches his cheek is gentle. He refuses to open his eyes, shuts them tighter even; he’s not sure what kind of trick Steve is playing here but he doesn’t have to see it.

Over the sound of the blood roaring in Billy’s ears he hears Steve huff out a fond sounding ’Dumbass.” and then Steve’s kissing him.

Steve is kissing him and maybe Billy is actually dead at the bottom of the Harrington pool because he can’t possibly be expected to keep his head during whatever is happening here.

“Kiss me back asshole. I’m so fuckin’ pissed at you, Jesus Christ Billy” Steve murmurs between more soft kisses pressed to Billy’s lips. “Gunna let you drown next time, fuckin’ scaring me like this.”

Despite himself, Billy snorts nervously against Steve’s mouth, “I’m getting some kinda mixed messages here Steve, I don’t really know what’s going on? You’re kissing me?”

Steve pulls back an inch, cups his hands around Billy’s stupid sticky out ears that he always teases him for, “Come on Bill, you’re the smart one here. I’ve been basically throwing myself at you for months, I made you a mixtape idiot.”

“Oh.”

“Oh” Steve mocks, “So, full disclosure I’m totally going to yell at you later, but I love you too and if you don’t kiss me back right goddamn now, I swear to god Billy I’m going t-”

So he complies, kisses Steve hard just like Billy’s always wanted to, and hearing the way Steve whimpers into the kiss Billy formulates his final plan; Love the fuck out of Steve Harrington.

#Hwb2025 #Fic #harringroveobsessed

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Chapter 5/6 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Explicit Tags: College AU, no upside-down AU, enemies to lovers, road trip, explicit sex, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of homophobia, modern au Summary: People shouldn't be allowed to volunteer you for favors. Especially not when it involves giving Billy Hargrove a lift back to Hawkins for the winter break. Sitting in a car with him for hours seems bad enough, and only gets worse when it begins to snow. The last chapter was the only one I wasn't able to finish in time - I'll probably remove these posts and put it all on AO3 properly when it's done, I just wanted to hit the deadline for some of them.

Tipsy

Steve finds the one open corner store. The bored looking cashier doesn’t even blink or ask for ID, so Steve forks out for cheap beer, chocolate, and some jerky. He puts some cash down on the counter, waiting under the flickering lights as the guy gets his change.

He lugs his haul back through the snow, wondering why the fuck he’s going so far for Billy Hargrove. All he’s done so far this trip is freeze his balls off, pay for shit, and have this strange, uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

The fresh air and space have done nothing for him. He thought it might clear his head, but all he’d thought about, with every slush-laden footstep, was Billy. He can’t even fucking deny it anymore, as much as he wants to.

He manages to slip in the front door without being spotted and the only people he encounters are the middle-aged couple on the stairs. Steve squeezes against the wall to let them pass by and then bolts up the remaining steps. He fumbles a little with the key in his cold fingers and is relieved when he opens the door to find that Billy is still here.

“How the fuck did you get these?” Billy says, picking up a beer can. Steve unwinds his scarf, feeling slightly smug.

“Cashier looked like the type,” he explains, because he’s pretty good at telling when someone is going to stick to restrictions and who hates their job so much that they won’t even try. “Dude was watching Total Wipeout and barely looked at me.”

“Shit,” Billy says and cracks the tab open. Steve takes off his outer layers and tries to ignore the long lines of his throat as he drinks.

“You’re not twenty-one yet,” Billy says, licking a stray drop of beer from his lip. And Steve watches the pink tip of his tongue chase the liquid and disappear back inside his mouth. Steve feels an overwhelming urge to follow it, see if he can still taste the beer on Billy’s tongue.

“I have an air of competency, I’ve been told,” Steve says loftily. “I used to babysit.” Billy just snorts with laughter and it’s almost a relief to see the tension ease from his shoulders.

“I bet you did,” he says. Steve grabs a can too and after a beat, crawls onto the bed next to him. There’s enough space for him to prop himself up against the pillows without their limbs ever even touching.

“I was very popular,” Steve insists. He’d had a certain something with the pre-teens. Might have been the hair, might have been the attitude but they’d fucking loved him. The summer he’d been a lifeguard, there were flocks of them trying to get his attention. It wasn’t the best street cred but Steve had kind of loved it. Kids never wanted much - they took no shit and weren’t old enough yet to play the game.

“You always are,” Billy says ruefully and takes another swig. “Got to campus and found the same king from Hawkins.”

There’s a heavy silence and Steve fumbles with the tab. He doesn’t really want a drink but he figures there’s no harm after he went through all of the trouble to get them. Billy clearly needs it, so he copies Billy in taking a long sip.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve asks, wondering if he’s an idiot for even asking.

“No,” Billy mutters. Steve takes a drink and doesn’t push it. He remembers this conversation, the summer before college when he worked with Robin for the first time. There had been a power outage at Scoops Ahoy and they just sat in the dark, eating some ice cream before it melted. Sometimes people want to talk if you just give the space to be able to.

“My dad’s not…” Billy says, after a silence long enough that Steve thought maybe he’d been wrong. “My dad sucks.”

Steve sucks at his bottom lip. He can read the obvious - his dad sucks. Heather’s dad sucks. He gets the feeling that Billy can’t say what he really wants to.

“He and my mom might have been happy once,” Billy continues and Steve’s glad that he didn’t say anything. This feels like the kind of thing that doesn’t need interruptions. “Maybe. I never saw any of it. By the time I was old enough, they were already screaming at each other. And that was their better days. My mom could never do anything right. Dinner wasn’t on the table quick enough, why’d she need to buy me new clothes, why did she have to see her bitch of a sister…”

“Did he…” Steve starts without thinking and then hastily closes his mouth. But he doesn’t even need to ask the full question, because it’s already there, hanging in the air between them.

“Yeah,” Billy says, heavily. “I didn’t notice it at first. Then I got older. And he got a little careless, and started doing it to her in front of me.” Steve swallows around a sudden lump in his throat.

“She took it for a while,” Billy says with the blankest expression Steve’s ever seen on him. “And then when I was eleven or so, there was this one night. I was getting older, getting mouthy. He never particularly liked me. Said I was her son, not his. For a while, I thought he meant it literally...fuck, I wish he did. He just meant I wasn’t the son he wanted.”

“That’s fucked up to say to a kid,” Steve says fervently. Billy just scoffs.

“Not the worst thing he ever said to me,” Billy says and exhales. “Anyway, he said something to me at dinner. I don’t remember what it was and I just…answered back. I knew I’d fucked up the moment I did it.”

“What did he do?” Steve asks, and he almost doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t know Billy’s dad, but God, he hates the man already.

“Put down his knife and fork, got up from the table and punched me straight in the face,” Billy says, without a hint of emotion at all. Like they’re talking about the weather and Steve wonders how Billy got to that point. Maybe it’s the only way he can talk about it, by not feeling anything at all. “My mom was furious. He’d never hit me before - I guess that was her breaking point.”

“So she ran,” Steve says, having pieced it together already. Billy just nods distantly, staring down at his knees, and Steve wonders if he’s back there. In the passenger seat of his mom’s car, clutching at a bag containing everything that they could grab. Driving without knowing where they’re going, if they’re being followed. Blood dripping down mother and son as they fled.

“So she ran,” Billy repeats listlessly. “She waited until Neil had gone out for the night. He’d already hit her, when she tried to protect me, and her eye was turning black. Her lip was bleeding while she was packing up our shit. She went to the back of the cupboard and pulled out a coffee tin I never knew about. She took out all of the money in it, put me in the car, and we…left.”

“Where did you go?” Steve asks, still staring ahead. He wants to look at Billy but he gets the feeling that he shouldn’t right now.

“She drove all night,” Billy says, after a beat. There’s a sudden sound from next door, like the people staying there have just arrived back, and Billy doesn’t talk again until it goes quiet. “We stopped for coffee a couple of times. I slept in the backseat for a lot of it…but yeah, she just drove, fingers white against the wheel, like she expected Neil to appear in our rear view mirror. But he didn’t and the next morning, she finally stopped at a motel in Utah.”

“How’d you end up in Hawkins?” Steve asks. He can do the math - Billy didn’t arrive in Hawkins until his sophomore year, several years after he and his mother fled California.

“Threw a dart at a map,” Billy says, playing with the can tab. “Well, that got us to Indiana. Mom wanted to put down roots after bouncing around from town to town. We’d stay for a few months while she got some work, live in motels or someone’s spare room. Then we were off again. It kind of sucked so I didn’t protest too much when she said she was done running.”

“And then you got into college,” Steve finishes and Billy nods.

“Somehow got good grades,” he says. “Got a full ride. We couldn’t have…my mom was thrilled. I think she always felt like maybe she’d fucked me up, making me change schools three times a year for so long. Hawkins wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be - small town nowhere near the sea, but it wasn’t so bad.”

“You miss it,” Steve says, because he can tell that salt air and waves are just in Billy’s blood. It’s like how the dark pine trees and fallen leaves are in his. Home never quite leaves you.

“Yeah,” Billy says heavily. He looks crestfallen, and Steve wonders how much it pains him to have to hide. He might never be able to go back to California, for fear of Neil finding him or his mother. “Fuck, yeah. It’s a bit harder to…well, I get shit for being gay anywhere. I’m just less likely to get punched for it here.”

“He wouldn’t approve of you being gay?” Steve asks quietly.

“No way,” Billy says bitterly. He drains the rest of his can and immediately picks up another one. “Wouldn’t even…and I knew pretty young. I learnt to hide it.”

He can picture a young Billy, with those startling blue eyes and dimpled grin. Maybe it was in a gym class, or at a sleepover, the moment where you become painfully aware of other people. Steve’s had it twice - the soft, slender lines of girls at ten and the firm feel of boys at nineteen.

And some things don’t go away that easily, Steve thinks. The showboating, the obvious flirting around the cheerleaders…even now, it’s all a show. In another life, maybe Billy would be comfortable with who he is. Instead, he’s still scared of his father, scared of being treated the same way.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says and it doesn’t feel like enough. Which is stupid, because he can’t undo anything that was done to Billy and his mother. “That’s shit.”

“See?” Billy says, looking up with a rueful smile. “He sucks.”

“I think you win the crown for dads who suck,” Steve says and Billy just grins, something oddly light compared to the past few minutes. And Steve suddenly has this horrible realisation that he wants that smile, wants it again and again, because it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“I’ll take it,” Billy says and tips his can towards Steve’s. “I’ve earned it.”

They drink some more, until they hear people moving in the hallway, other guests coming up from the restaurant. It’s not even that late, but Steve can feel the stress of the day on his shoulders.

“Maybe we should turn in,” Steve says, because they’ve been talking for a while. Billy lobs his empty can at the trash, proving how he got a basketball scholarship when it lands.

“I can take the couch,” Billy offers, looking dubiously at the terrifying monstrosity. Steve feels a pang of sympathy, because that thing looks like it would be hell to sleep on.

“Sleep in the bed,” Steve offers impulsively. Earlier, he might have agreed all too easily but after the last few hours, he’s not so willing to let Billy jump on that grenade. “It’s big enough. It’s just one night, right?”

“Right,” Billy says, uncertainly. “Just one night.”

#hwb2025 #fic #theladycarpathia

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Chapter 4/6 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Explicit Tags: College AU, no upside-down AU, enemies to lovers, road trip, explicit sex, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of homophobia, modern au Summary: People shouldn't be allowed to volunteer you for favors. Especially not when it involves giving Billy Hargrove a lift back to Hawkins for the winter break. Sitting in a car with him for hours seems bad enough, and only gets worse when it begins to snow.

Ready for a fight

The restaurant is as badly decorated as the rest of the motel and if they weren’t so starving, Steve would suggest a vending machine meal instead. But the restaurant offers burgers so they trek downstairs and get seated by a young man, who recommends the risotto, and disappears once they have their menus.

“Fuck, I could use a drink,” Billy mutters, staring in horror at the large fake ice statue by their table. The whole dining room is much the same - fake icicles hanging from the ceiling, a water fountain spewing glittery blue water and the same shade of ice blue on every wall and tablecloth. It’s like Elsa vomited.

“They won’t serve you,” Steve says immediately, because they’re both still underage. He doubts this is the kind of place where they’d look the other way. Billy just glowers.

“You’re not far off,” he points out, because Steve is a year older than Billy. But Steve has spent quite a few years figuring out whether people look like the type to ask for ID and just shakes his head.

When the server returns, they both order cokes and burgers, and Steve doesn’t even protest when Billy orders extra bacon on his.

“This had better be worth it,” Billy says, eying up the table next to theirs. Steve has to admit that the pasta looks pretty good.

It’s not too long before the server is back with their meals, and there’s silence while they both eat. For a shitty motel with creepy decor, the food isn’t half bad.

“Thanks for this,” Billy says abruptly, wiping ketchup off his chin. “You know…letting me stay in the room and feeding me. I can’t afford this shit, so…”

“Yeah,” Steve says and then has to swallow his mouthful because he’s not fucking choking here. Which he had felt like doing, because, holy shit, Billy actually thanked him. “I wasn’t really gonna make you sleep in the car.”

“Still,” Billy says, dropping a pickle onto his plate. He can’t quite bring his eyes up to look at Steve, even though they’re only a few feet apart. If Steve had to guess, this chintzy motel is usually only occupied by couples of a certain age, unable to actually get to the Northern Lights. “It was nice of you. Some people wouldn’t have been. You want my pickles?”

The abrupt change in topic throws Steve a little but he accepts Billy’s offering. “Not a fan?” he asks, shoving them straight into his mouth. Billy just winces.

“My dad was pretty keen on me finishing my plate,” he says distantly and reaches for a fry. “Whether I liked it or not.”

The pickle suddenly isn’t sitting so comfortably.

“Are you boys doing okay?” A different server appears by their table, with greying blonde hair and smelling of honeysuckle. Aside from the young guy who took their order and the bartender, most of the staff seem to be the grandmotherly type.

“We’re good,” Steve says, watching Billy chomp on a fry. “Thanks.”

“Just let me know if you need more drinks or dessert,” she says. “Were you heading somewhere for the holidays?”

“We were just heading home,” Steve says, gesturing to Billy. “We kind of thought we’d be back by now but…”

“Not what you expected to be doing tonight, huh?” she says, giving them a knowing smile. “The weather’s thrown everyone.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, a little unnerved by her grin. “We had different plans.”

“This place is great for couples though,” she says cheerfully. “You might as well make the most of it.”

“Oh, we’re not-” Steve stammers, and his heart is suddenly pounding in a very strange way. They can’t - they don’t look like a couple. But maybe for a moment, he can see why people thought they might be.

The sheer panic that climbs up his throat is from the fact that he doesn’t mind.

“We’re not a couple,” Steve says, aware of how fast the words are coming out and how insane it must make him look. “I’m giving Billy a lift back from school, because we live in the same town, and then the snow started, and we didn’t have anywhere to stay. There was only one room left!”

The server looks taken aback, as though she would have been fine with the ‘we’re not a couple’ instead of the over-explanation that Steve just hurled at her. And Steve knows how stupid he sounds - he’s over defending himself in a way that sounds a little too specific. He’s definitely not sounding like a straight guy with absolutely no weird, mixed up feelings for the guy sitting opposite him.

“I see,” the server says slowly, looking between Billy and Steve’s slowly reddening face. “Well, I hope you have a nice stay anyway.”

When she’s gone, Steve slumps in his chair. He knows he fucked that one up so badly and he almost can’t bring himself to look at Billy. He’d hoped to get through tonight and back home without needing to look at the odd little flickers he’s been starting to feel around Billy. Quite honestly, he’d have been content to ignore them. There’s too much trouble in even trying.

“Nice,” Billy says suddenly and there’s something terrifying about his cold, stiff tone. “Tell her how you really feel, Steve.”

Steve jerks his head up in a panic. For a second he thinks that maybe Billy’s caught on but then he catches sight of the terrible expression on Billy’s face.

“Sorry the idea is so repulsive to you,” Billy mutters, balling up his napkin and chucking it on the table. “I’ll just…head back to the room.”

“What?” Steve says, stomach dropping. But Billy’s already pushing back his chair and abandoning the remains of his burger so Steve digs in his pocket to throw cash down on the table. He gets some odd looks as he gets up in a hurry, racing after Billy out of the restaurant.

Fuck, he hopes he put down enough cash.

But he forgets about that in favor of pushing through the main doors, following Billy back to the main part of the motel.

“Billy,” Steve hisses, trying in vain to keep up with Billy as he storms through the foyer and up the stairs. Considering they both play for the same team, Billy is in far better shape. “Shit, man, what the hell?”

“You know what, Steve,” Billy snarls, stopping on the bottom step and twisting around to stare at Steve. Thankfully, the foyer is empty, the reception desk void of the woman who’d checked them in. Steve wonders briefly if she’d misunderstood too - she’d offered them the king bed without a second thought. “God, you didn’t have to act so horrified! I get that you don’t like me…”

“I don’t dislike you,” Steve says, because maybe he thought he might have this morning. But that’s long gone, along with the realisation that maybe the Billy he disliked wasn’t real after all.

“No, but you clearly don’t want anything to do with me,” Billy spits back. He looks half wild, face flushed with anger. “Could you have looked more horrified by the thought of us being a couple?”

“That’s not…” Steve starts, mouth suddenly dry. Yes, he had panicked, but not for the reasons Billy thinks. And he’s going to be pissed, unless Steve finds the balls to actually tell him the truth.

But looking at Billy’s tense jaw, he’s not sure which is more terrifying right now.

“No, you did,” Billy says disdainfully, lip curled. “Fuck, I just never thought you’d be like that. Like Jason or Andy, who all make fag jokes and avoid me in the locker room.”

“Wait, what?” Steve says, because he genuinely didn’t know any of this shit. But Billy’s already climbing the stairs and Steve has to hurry after him.

“Hey!” Steve says, raising his voice as loudly as he dares in the hallway. “Fucking hell, stop! Why do the guys…” and then the obvious answer smacks him in the face for the second time in a day.

Billy has paused, hand on their room door handle. He can see the moment that it sinks in on Steve’s face.

“Now you know,” Billy mutters and jams his key into the lock.

“I didn’t…” Steve says and licks his lips. Fuck. He hadn’t known. He doesn’t hang around the team if he can help it because most of them are assholes. “I didn’t know. About you or…Jason’s a dick.”

“He’s the worst dick,” Billy says disdainfully and pushes the door open. “But clearly you’re not much better.”

“I don’t give a shit!” Steve says, catching the door before Billy can slam it in his face. Fucking hell, he paid for this room, he’s going to sleep in it. “Why the hell would you think I would? My best friend is gay!”

“Then why the hell were you so weird down there?” Billy demands, as Steve carefully shuts the door behind them. He saw movement out in the hall and suspects that their neighbors have probably found something more interesting than the motel’s limited TV options. “She presumed we were a couple and you jumped a mile!”

“I didn’t…it wasn’t like that,” Steve stammers, because that strange fluttery feeling he had sitting across the table from Billy is back.

“Look, I can deal with assholes giving me shit for it,” Billy says, folding his arms. Steve watches him turn all cold and hard and wonders how many times he’s had to do this before. Maybe there’s a reason why Billy hangs around the cheerleaders instead of the basketball team. “I just didn’t think that you would.”

If Steve were braver, or more sure, he’d step into Billy’s space and tell him the truth. But as it happens, he’s only able to offer half of it.

“I’m bi,” he says, and watches Billy’s jaw slacken in shock.

“You’re not,” Billy says suspiciously but he sounds unsure. But then again, he also wouldn’t have known. Robin’s entire cohort of queer people know, and he’s okay with that. But like Billy probably found out, some people aren’t always so accepting.

“I am,” Steve says and holds up his hands in surrender. “Last year, Robin and her girl gang took me to a bunch of gay bars. They weren’t too strict with ID and people bought us drinks anyway. There was this one guy, we were in a booth together and we got a little handsy.”

“One drunken kiss doesn’t necessarily mean you like guys,” Billy says, but he sounds uncertain, like his defensiveness is just a front. Steve drops onto the bed and isn’t at all surprised by how it sags slightly.

“It does when you realise you liked it,” he counters. Because fuck, had he liked it. There had been rough stubble and strong hands in his hair, the same ones that had easily pushed him into a bathroom stall. He liked being pushed, either down onto his knees or against the wall. And despite going nineteen years without thinking about anyone else’s dick, he found he quite liked that too.

“I…I didn’t know,” Billy says quietly, staring at his hands. Steve shrugs.

“Most people don’t,” he says, because people presume certain things about him and then often never consider anything else. “I don’t exactly tell people. They usually either figure it out or see something that gives it away.”

“I don’t tell people either,” Billy offers, an unexpected olive branch.

Steve had kind of guessed already. The moment Billy had said he was gay, everything he thought he knew about him slid into place in a different way. The loud flirting with the cheerleaders, how they all kind of never seemed to mind it. How easily Chrissy and Heather and Carol all absorbed Billy into their group. Like many other things about Billy Hargrove, it all seemed to be a front.

He’s not about to ask why. It’s probably a similar reason why he’s not really open about that part of himself either. Some habits run deep.

“There’s a corner store nearby,” Steve says instead. “I’m gonna go…get some snacks for the evening or something.”

They don’t really need anything but Steve feels like they both need some space. Billy needs to calm down and Steve…

He could use the fresh air. There’s something strange rattling around his brain, taking up space and bruising him with every knock against his heart. The longer he spends around Billy, the louder it gets and he’s not sure how much more he can take.

At school, Billy’s an ass. He’s rude and cocky and he makes crass jokes. But out here, Steve’s shocked to find that he actually likes Billy.

The only question left is, exactly how much Steve likes him.

#hwb2025 #fic #theladycarpathia

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Chapter 3/6 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Explicit Tags: College AU, no upside-down AU, enemies to lovers, road trip, explicit sex, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of homophobia, modern au Summary: People shouldn't be allowed to volunteer you for favors. Especially not when it involves giving Billy Hargrove a lift back to Hawkins for the winter break. Sitting in a car with him for hours seems bad enough, and only gets worse when it begins to snow.

Kings in ice castles

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Billy says, staring mutinously up at the motel sign. Steve exhales, because he gets why Billy’s pissed. The weakly blinking sign does seem to be mocking them.

“Got no other choice,” he says reluctantly. This is the third place that they’ve stopped trying to find a room for the night. As he thought, places are starting to fill up and people were probably a little quicker off the mark than they were. “The snow is getting worse and we need to get off the road.”

“Fantastic,” Billy huffs, sitting back in his seat. Steve doesn’t really blame him, but this is the closest thing that’s open. He’s not willing to sit in the car in the hope that the snow will pass.

“We’d better hope they have something available,” Steve says, because they’re probably not the first travellers to stop here in search of refuge. The small car park is already half full and Steve has to wonder if anyone stays here deliberately.

He pulls into a free parking spot and they spend a few minutes bundling up against the weather. They both haul their bags out of the trunk and make their way across the icy tarmac to the motel.

Edith’s Ice Palace is the worst kind of themed B&B. Everything is white or ice blue and to Steve’s absolute disgust, there are fake icicles hanging from the window frames and doors, and twinkling blue lights hanging over the porch. There’s even a tacky, fake ice sculpture in the fountain, slightly green water making the angel look slightly queasy.

“People who own themed motels should be shot,” Billy mutters, kicking up snow with his feet. Steve grabs for the door handle with cold fingers and has to silently agree that being fodder for cannibals might just be better than this.

The reception is empty, save for the terrifying fake ice cherub positioned just inside the door. The walls are all the same crisp, clean white, giving the illusion that they haven’t really left the snow outside behind. There are two doors, and one clearly leads to the rest of the motel, while another must be for a private back office. There’s a desk along the back wall, an empty chair and cooling coffee mug the only indication that someone should be here to greet them.

Steve raps neatly on the bell and has to snatch back Billy’s hand before he can do the same.

“Don’t get us kicked out before we’ve even booked in,” he hisses under his breath. “I’m not cuddling up to you in the car for a night.”

“You’d be missing out, Harrington,” Billy says in a low voice and swipes his tongue slowly and deliberately across his full bottom lip. It’s only a joke but it makes Steve vaguely uneasy so he drops Billy’s hand.

There’s a strange flicker of something in the air between them, as Billy’s smile abruptly drops, but then the woman bustles out from the back office. She looks - to Steve’s amusement - exactly like someone who would work at this kind of novelty motel.

“Hello!” she says brightly. Her hair doesn’t move when she tilts her head, a perfectly frozen cloud of blonde. “Get caught out by the storm?”

“We did,” Steve says and flashes her his best smile. “I don’t suppose you have a room or two available do you?”

She moves the mouse on the ancient computer, which springs to life…or drags itself reluctantly to life. Steve hasn’t seen a computer that chunky since his high school library.

“Yes, it looks like we have a room available,” she says, squinting her eyes at the screen. “It’s only a king though. Most of our other available rooms have already been taken. People like you stopping to get out of the weather.”

Steve tries to weigh up the options and realises that either way he loses.

“We’ll take it,” he says finally. He meant it when he said he wasn’t sleeping in his car. One bed is still better.

He slaps down his emergency credit card and ID. The woman hands him two copies of a room key with a flourish. The tags are even shaped like an ice castle.

“Room 12, up the stairs and to your left,” she says, beaming away. “We have a limited room service at this time…but the restaurant is still open until eight, and there’s vending machines out by the lounge. Breakfast is seven to nine. The wifi details are in your room.”

“Thanks,” Steve says and takes the keys from her hand. He hauls his bag over his shoulder and nods to Billy. Right now all he wants is a hot shower and to maybe see if they can get some food before the chef packs it in for the night.

“You boys have a nice stay!” she says chirpily. Steve drags Billy through the door before she can spot him sticking his tongue out at her.

The hallway upstairs is also white, complete with paintings of snow-covered landscapes. Billy shudders as they pass the closed doors, looking for their room. Steve finds number 12 exactly where she said it would be, second to last on the left. Steve puts the key in the lock and braces himself for when the door swings open.

“Fuck my life,” Billy says, when they’re both standing in the open doorway, and for once Steve has to agree.

Much like downstairs, everything is white. It’s giving Steve snow blindness, from the walls, to the carpet to the furniture. The paintings on the walls are varying images of the northern lights and the mini fridge even has an ice blue glow. The blankets are all faux fur and there are even glittery, sequined pillows across the window seat. Steve picks one up from the couch, wincing at the embroidered ‘Ice to be home!’ stitched across the front.

And there is indeed only one bed.

“This is like a viking fuck pad,” Billy says darkly and throws his duffel onto a chair.

“I think the vikings would say it’s too chintzy,” Steve quips and digs into his bag for his phone. He needs to text his mom and tell her that he’s not going to make it tonight after all. It’s unlikely he’s missing anything - it’s not like the Harringtons have cute, holiday themed nights in the run up to Christmas.

He’s got twelve missed calls and twice as many texts. Suddenly stricken with what might have happened, Steve fumbles with the buttons and calls Robin with clammy fingers.

“Ro?” he says, relieved when she picks up.

“Where the HELL have you been?” she bursts out, the shrillness of her voice making Billy look up from across the room. Steve winces.

“It started snowing,” he protests. “I’ve been driving through a fucking blizzard.”

“Oh,” Robin says, sounding deflated. Clearly whatever she’s been dealing with isn’t quite the same level of urgency. “Shit. Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Steve says, although he looks dubiously at the bed. It’s also covered in fake fur blankets, like they’re in fucking Norway. “We pulled over. We’re in some shitty B&B for the night, but we’re not about to be found dead in a drift. What’s wrong?”

“Heather’s here,” Robin squeaks out and it takes Steve a moment.

“Wait, Heather Heather?” he says, finally catching on. In his defense, it’s been a rough day and he’s working on shitty gas station coffee and not a lot of food. “Heather Holloway? Your roommate?”

“You can keep saying it, the answer’s not about to change!” Robin hisses. No wonder she called him so many times.

“Shit,” Steve says weakly and sits down on the window seat. The sequins on the cushions immediately poke into his back. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Robin wails and he’s impressed that for once she’s not denying her big gay girl crush panic. “I wasn’t prepared for this!”

“Hang on,” Steve says, swinging his legs up and looking out at the snow. It’s kind of pretty when you’re not scared for your life. “Why is she there? I thought this was your queer girls’ alternate holiday kind of thing. Safe space from judgy relatives and all that?”

“It is,” Robin says, sounding faint. Steve frowns.

“Okay, so maybe she’s getting away from her parents too?” he suggests. He’s met Heather’s parents - her mom kept sneaking sips from a flask when she thought no one was watching and Tom, her dad, was such a dick that Steve ducked out of sight whenever he saw him. He can’t really judge - he knows all too well what it’s like to have a father puffed up by his own self-importance.

“I mean, her dad seems kind of crappy,” he continues. “I’d have crashed your gay party too if I could…”

“She’s gay,” Robin cuts him off in a low voice.

“I…wait, what did you say?” Steve asks, because for a second he thinks that maybe the storm is fucking with his connection. But Robin just repeats it again, sounding as though she can’t believe it herself.

“She’s gay,” she repeats. “Steve, she’s gay. I fucking checked.”

“Wait, how did you check?” Steve asks incredulously. Contrary to what the dicks on the basketball team think, the LGBTQ hangs aren’t like that. Steve would know, having been to plenty of them. There’s just a lot of baking and chick flicks. “Do I really want to hear this?”

“Fuck you,” Robin mutters. She sounds a little defeated - which Steve kind of gets. “Look, I asked some of the more senior girls here. Heather joined the alliance, she just never goes to the meetings because of dance practice. She has rainbow badges on her bag…Steve, how did I not know this?”

“Because you thought she was so hot that you promptly stopped spending any legitimate time with her?” Steve suggests. Robin’s gay-dar is usually pretty good but he thinks she might have a good reason for it being on the fritz this time. “And because she spent all of that time with…oh, hey, Hargrove!”

“No, wait, don’t ask him!” Robin babbles furiously while Billy looks up from searching the motels’ limited TV channels.

“Yeah?” he says, paused on an old sitcom rerun and Steve holds the phone away from his ear. He can’t talk with Robin making that noise.

“Is Heather gay?” he says and Billy looks briefly confused.

“Well, yeah?” he says, as though it should be obvious. But to be fair, Steve hadn’t noticed either and he spends a lot of time around lesbians.

“Okay,” Steve says and talks back into his phone. “Billy says she’s gay. I think you officially no longer have any reason to not try it with her this weekend.”

“She might not like me,” Robin hisses and he can hear in her voice how much this possibility hurts her. “She’s so cool.”

“You’re cool,” Steve says immediately, because to him there’s no one cooler than Robin. Robin just makes a strangled noise in her throat.

“I am not her level of cool,” she insists. “Steve, she’s funny and clever and she wears little mini skirts. I don’t have a chance.”

“You do,” Steve says firmly. Robin is his best friend and the best person he knows. Her only problem is her ability to shit on how awesome she actually is. Steve still kicks himself for not noticing how great she is when they were at school together but fate intervened (job applications for Scoops Ahoy two summers ago.) “You’re great. And she’ll see that if she actually spends time with you. Stop running away.”

“I guess,” she says despondently. “So you’re stuck in a motel with Hargrove, huh?”

“Yep,” Steve says and flicks an eye back to Billy. But Billy’s got his boots kicked off, lounging on the bed so that his hoodie rides up his stomach. Steve “I’ll see what the weather's like tomorrow. Maybe we can still make it back to Hawkins.”

“Good luck,” Robin says and Steve echoes it back to her. Robin might actually start staying in her own room if she’s sleeping with her roommate.

Steve drops the phone into his lap, ignoring the sounds of the TV behind him.

“So…you weren’t dating Heather?” Steve asks, suddenly needing to make sure. Billy raises an eyebrow at him.

“No?” he says slowly. “She likes girls. Trust me, she’s not my type either.”

“Okay,” Steve says and drops it. For some reason something is just bothering him about it. Billy’s a serial flirt, hanging around the cheerleaders after every game. Every time Steve sees him at a party, he’s got a red cup in his hand and some pretty girl hanging off his arm. He never thought much about Billy spending so much time in Robin and Heather’s room because…well, he made the same assumption that Robin did.

But if Billy and Heather weren’t hooking up, why did they make it seem like they were?

“Come on,” Steve says, finally. “Let’s get some food.”

#hwb2025 #fic #theladycarpathia

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2/6 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Explicit Tags: College AU, no upside-down AU, enemies to lovers, road trip, explicit sex, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of homophobia, modern au Summary: People shouldn't be allowed to volunteer you for favors. Especially not when it involves giving Billy Hargrove a lift back to Hawkins for the winter break. Sitting in a car with him for hours seems bad enough, and only gets worse when it begins to snow.

Driving in a blizzard

Their first stop is about an hour in, when Steve stops for a refuel. He’d made sure they had enough to get going, but it can’t hurt to have a full tank to get them home. Now that he’s seen the clouds, he’s a bit wearier of running low.

“Gotta piss,” Billy says, flinging himself out of the car. “Might get some snacks.”

“I’ll be right in,” Steve says shortly, because he could honestly do with a coffee himself. All he’s had this morning is a breakfast bar and one of Robin’s Twizzlers. It’s now lunchtime and while they were on the road he could ignore his increasing hunger.

He calls Robin, because the pressure from a whole hour in the car with Billy has to go somewhere.

She picks up on the first ring, sounding incredibly chirpy…but her fellow passengers probably don’t fart when Steve’s too slow at traffic lights.

“How bad is it?” she says immediately and Steve finds that actually he doesn’t word-vomit as badly as he thought he might.

“Surprisingly tolerable,” he says finally. “He farts, which is completely on purpose. He smells pretty nice when he’s not trying to irritate me.” And Steve hadn’t meant to notice but aside from the showers, and practice, this is the closest contact he’s been with Billy.

“Not the end I was particularly worried about,” she says dryly, and someone laughs in the background. “His mouth is the most lethal part. Have you wanted to throw him out of the car yet?”

“No,” Steve admits begrudgingly. But maybe Billy was being restrained simply because he’s well aware Steve can - and will - leave him on the side of the road. “Talked shit mostly. TV. Assholes who sit in the wrong lane. Burgers.”

“Ah,” Robin says knowingly. “Very safe neutral grounds. How long can you keep that up?”

“Probably not the rest of the journey,” Steve says, because the peace can’t last. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone so long without wanting to punch him.” The tank is full so he pulls the nozzle out and puts it back. Hopefully, he can limit the amount of stops they make, cutting down on the time they get back to Hawkins. “By the way, does it look like snow where you are?”

There’s a short, furious conversation on the other end, where Robin holds her hand over the phone. Steve turns and stares at the gas station window, catching sight of Billy’s blonde curls as he wanders the aisles.

“Yeah, kinda,” Robin says. “Vickie thinks maybe? It was worse when we left campus though.”

“Great,” Steve says grumpily. “Looks like we’re driving into it, rather than away from it.”

“More bonding time with Billy,” Robin suggests and then cackles at something another girl says, out of earshot. Their car sounds full, Vickie ferrying an entire carful of girls to their makeshift Christmas. “Good luck, Anna says.”

“Tell her I’ll need it,” Steve retorts, briefly wishing he was going with her. Hanging out with a bunch of lesbians at a cabin sounds way more fun than his current plans. He spent spring break with Robin and her crew once and they hit every available gay bar, until Steve felt more like tequila than human. It had been an…enlightening weekend.

“Keep me updated,” Robin says, in amusement, and Steve hangs up as he jogs over to the gas station.

It’s pretty empty - one sullen looking attendant, a harassed looking mom and her kids, and Billy. It looks as though Billy has killed time waiting for him by picking up every damn junk food item on the shelves.

“Can you buy me these?” Billy says, his arms full of Doritos and soda cans. Steve eyes the pile and hopes Billy doesn’t mean the whole stash.

“What the hell, Hargrove?” Steve asks, taking a step back to grab a basket. Billy opens his arms and lets his haul fall into it. “We’ve got like three hours, not three days.”

“I’m starving,” Billy says bluntly. “Besides, you’re rich and I’m on scholarship.”

“Taking advantage of my good nature,” Steve sighs. He can see his future in which he doesn’t buy Billy’s treats and he’s betting that Billy might actually be quiet with his mouth full. “Fine. I’m getting a coffee and I am eating some of it, if I’m paying for it.” But Billy just grins good naturedly and bounces away.

Steve finds the coffee machine, some shitty Starbucks thing, and presses the buttons for the largest latte they have. Billy appears to have made friends with the kids, crouching down to talk to them, while their relieved mother looks in her purse for cash. They both seem enamored with him, staring up at him like he’s Santa. Steve just stares, because who the fuck knew Billy was good with kids.

Billy reaches out to bop the little girl’s nose and she just fucking giggles. It’s nauseatingly similar to how Billy behaves with the cheerleaders after games, and it’s enough to break the spell. Steve turns away as the machine begins to hiss with hot milk and soon enough he’s slapping a lid on the cup.

But as he’s paying, the TV screen behind the cashier’s head catches his attention. It’s enough to renew that prickle of worry in his gut.

There’s the jingle of a bell as the woman and her children leave and Billy reappears behind his shoulder. He’s spotted the same thing that Steve has.

“Fuck,” he says bluntly and Steve bites back the ‘I told you so.’

“You boys got far to go?” the cashier asks, ringing up the last of the chips.

“Hawkins,” Steve answers, as the screen changes from the weather back to a glossy looking reporter behind a desk. “Couple of hours.”

“You’d better start praying,” the guy says, tossing Steve’s purchases into a bag. “This storm’s coming on quick.”

“We’re not stopping again,” Steve says firmly and takes the plastic handles. “Thanks.”

“Fuck,” Billy says again as they emerge out of the door into the increasingly cold air. “What if I have to piss again?”

“You might have an empty bottle by then,” Steve points out and ushers them both back into the car in record time. He drinks half of his coffee before they even set off, ignoring the scalding on his tongue.

The traffic’s not great but they keep moving at a steady pace. If this holds, they may make it. Steve can handle a bit of snow in familiar territory. He turns up the radio and Billy chomps away, proving that keeping him fed might be the best way of keeping him quiet.

“You were good with those kids,” Steve says finally. He hates to admit that he hasn’t been able to forget about it. He’d always thought that Billy wouldn’t like children.

“Yeah, well,” Billy says, digging into the packet. “It’s not so hard. They were nice kids. Their mom could use a break.”

“Guess her kids were excited about Christmas, huh,” Steve says, because even he remembers that feeling. There might not have been Santa outfits in his house, tacky Christmas decorations on the lawn, but for a time, it had felt magical.

But Billy just snorts. “Doubt very much they’ll have a particularly good one,” he says and the bitterness in his tone throws Steve. “They’re staying in a motel for Christmas. Somewhere in Arkansas.”

“So?” Steve asks. He’s never seen Billy like this before. He’s always flared hot and cold, but something about this is different. Ice cold. Furious. Personal.

“She had bruises on her arms, Steve,” Billy explains and for a moment he sounds so bone-weary that he doesn’t even sound like Billy. “I could see them when she reached in her bag. She’ll have pulled out all of her cash from her account. Everything they own and could get away with was probably in that car. Which I doubt is even her’s and she probably borrowed.”

“You mean she’s on the run?” Steve asks and something cold seeps into his belly. He hadn’t even thought of it but now the scene plays back in his head, startlingly clear. The jittery look about the woman, the way she kept her face away from the cameras. The way her small children seemed convinced that they were on an adventure. They were too young to know, too easily distracted from any vague answers about where dad is.

“Yeah,” Billy says, licking cheese dust from his fingers. “I think she’s using the Christmas mayhem to take her kids and get away. Bit risky, but she might manage it. Pay only in cash, stay at skeevy motels, where they don’t care if you use a real name.”

Steve licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry. There’s a bit too much familiarity with the way that Billy is saying all of this.

“I hope she makes it,” he offers and Billy just shrugs.

“On average it takes someone seven attempts to leave their partner for good,” he says. “She might not have anyone she can rely on, she’s probably worried about her kids and money…”

“That’s shit,” Steve says quietly and Billy scrunches up the bag with unusual vehemence.

“Life’s always shit, Harrington,” he says, and for once Steve doesn’t question that this statement is coming from someone who’s experienced it first hand.

The first few flakes fall from the sky, unnoticed.

xXx

Steve watches the first few cars take the exit and then a few more. As they battle along the road, snow swirling around, Steve begins to think that they should do the same.

“Fuck me,” Billy says emphatically, clutching onto his seatbelt with a knuckle-white grip. He’s sworn loudly since the flakes first started becoming noticeable, and then got strangely quiet as visibility dropped.

“I was hoping to get a bit further along than this,” Steve says, furiously slapping the wheel. They’re still nowhere near Hawkins, and he suspects that the weather is only going to get worse. It would take them eight hours at this speed, and that’s if they can even get there safely. The snow is starting to stick, and his car isn’t exactly built for conditions like this.

“We’re turning off,” Steve says firmly, making the decision for them both. Mostly because he’s driving, it’s his car, and he didn’t ask for company anyway.

“Not complaining, Harrington,” Billy says, watching the car in front slide a little on the road with apprehension.

“I don’t know where we are or what’s there,” Steve warns, trying to not panic. “We could be about to find ourselves in a shitty motel that’s a front for a family of ravenous cannibals.”

“I’m pretty used to being eaten,” Billy says, with a grin that lets Steve know he’s being a shit on purpose.

“You open your mouth, they might cook you just to shut you up,” Steve says under his breath and is relieved to see signs for the next exit. He’s well aware that this feels like the start of a horror movie…but he figures as they’re not a middle-aged couple they might fare a little better.

“We’ll just stop at the first motel that’s available,” Steve decides and then wrinkles his nose. They’re not the only ones taking the exit in search of a plan B. They may have to drive a little further to find anywhere with available rooms.

“They probably eat the young, attractive ones first,” Billy says darkly.

#hwb2025 #fic #theladycarpathia

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Think I'm just squeaking it in for @harringrovewinterbingo, so I'll post as many of my multi-chapter fic as I have finished. (note to future self - do not decide to do this two weeks before deadline again) Chapter 1/6 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Explicit Tags: College AU, no upside-down AU, enemies to lovers, road trip, explicit sex, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of homophobia, modern au Summary: People shouldn't be allowed to volunteer you for favors. Especially not when it involves giving Billy Hargrove a lift back to Hawkins for the winter break. Sitting in a car with him for hours seems bad enough, and only gets worse when it begins to snow.

Free Square - home for the holidays

It was technically his mother’s fault.

“Is she serious?” Robin asks, lounging with her feet on Steve’s bed. He’s actually too incensed to scold her for once, throwing things he might need for the winter break into his bag. He’d meant to pack last night but he got invited to a party and woke up this morning in a frat house with a sock plastered to his forehead. “Is she insane?”

“She exists to torture me,” Steve mutters, because right now it feels like it. Parents shouldn’t be allowed to volunteer you for stuff without your consent. And his head is still thumping because it goes to show that you should never drink anything that Jason Carver gives you.

“Has she met Billy Hargrove?” Robin asks, dropping her head back against his pillow. Steve snorts and snatches his phone charger from the drawer.

“Probably not,” he says. “It wouldn’t matter if she had. You never saw Billy meeting Nancy’s mom. God, it was gross.”

Robin nods, tugging a Twizzler out of the packet. Against Steve’s better judgement, somehow she’s taken over one of his drawers with her stash. “He’s deceptively good at acting like a normal human being.”

“Besides, it was Billy’s mom who mentioned that Billy didn’t have a way to get back to Hawkins,” Steve says, digging in a drawer for his favorite hoodie. “His car’s in for repairs or something…so my mom offered my services.”

“Without asking,” Robin repeats dutifully, because this is all Steve has been able to say for several days.

“Without asking,” Steve agrees, because he’s been pissed with his mom for three whole days, from right about the time she called and said ‘hey, you don’t mind giving someone a lift home for the holidays, do you?’

And he hadn’t. Until she said she’d run into Billy’s mother at the supermarket and had told Abigail Hargrove that her son would only be too happy to do it. Especially as they lived in the same halls, on the same floor! As though this was some fortunate piece of fate designed by Steve himself rather than the bad luck of being assigned by the college.

“It just makes sense,” his mom had said crossly. “You don’t even have to go out of your way.”

It’s easy for her to say that. She doesn’t have to spend several hours trapped in a car with Billy Hargrove.

“He’s a tool,” Robin says, chewing on the end of her Twizzler. “He’s friends with Heather, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Steve says shortly. He has ten minutes before he’s due to leave and the fact that Billy will arrive in the doorway of his room any minute now is putting him on edge. Billy might just live down the hall but it’s not like they interact. Not willingly anyway. Every time Steve goes to a party, he finds Billy’s bare chest in front of him, challenging him to beer pong or shots or dives into the pool. Billy was at the same high school, one year behind Steve, and he’d gotten in Steve’s face the moment he got to college back in the fall.

“They hang out,” Robin continues, with obvious disgust. “Billy’s been in my room.”

“How would you know?” Steve asks, a little bit thrown. “You’re never in your room.”

“I am sometimes in my room,” Robin protests, as though she doesn’t have a sleeping bag stashed in Steve’s cupboard. Thank God Steve has a single, or his roommate might have an issue with Robin appearing most nights to sleep on Steve’s floor.

Steve gets roommate issues. But Robin’s severe aversion to her room and Heather makes him think that something else is going on. He’s met Heather at parties and she’s pretty cool. Definitely nothing worth avoiding the hell out of the place you pay to sleep.

“And when I am there, Billy’s sometimes there,” Robin says sulkily, fingers deep in the Twizzlers packet again. She appears to be toying with them, never pulling one out and Steve wonders a little if she even gets why the strangely familiar motion she’s making with her fingers may hint at some sort of underlying reason.

“Doing what?” Steve asks curiously. He can’t quite imagine Billy doing anything other than being a dick in the most low cut shirt known to man. He sees him elsewhere sometimes - on the quad, at games, in the showers…but these are all places where Billy isn’t exactly at ease.

“Watching horror movies with Heather,” Robin says vaguely. “Eating doughnuts…not a lot.”

“Are they dating?” Steve asks curiously, because he can’t imagine Billy doing anything in a girl’s room that doesn’t require a sock on the door. And predictably, Robin reacts, scrunching up her face in disgust.

“Ew. God, I hope not,” she says vehemently and Steve turns so she can’t see his smirk.

“Heather must date,” he says casually. “She looks like the kind of girl who might have dated the pretty jock type in school. Wasn’t she a cheerleader?”

“She was,” Robin says, as Steve shoves socks into his duffel. He probably has socks at home but he’s never sure. He still half thinks that his mom took him going to college as an opportunity to clear out whatever she thought was too old, too tatty or too stained. Which is probably most of what he left behind when he packed up his car to come here.

“There you go then,” Steve says, shrugging. His duffel won’t do up so he presses the contents down as far as they will go and then yanks the zipper. “Cheerleaders date jocks. Trust me, I have experience with this.”

“So I heard,” Robin says and bites down with a little more aggression than perhaps a Twizzler requires.

“What are you doing anyway?” Steve asks, because Robin’s normally his passenger back to Hawkins for the holidays. “You know you can’t stay here for the holidays, right?”

“I don’t have to go home either,” Robin says pointedly. “One of the girls from my film club invited a bunch of us to her dad’s cabin for Christmas. It’s got to be better than my great-aunt making comments about those kinds of people over my mom’s cabbage.”

“Queer girls refuge,” Steve says and nods. He’s not thrilled about going home either, even less so without his partner in crime there. But he gets why it’s even worse for Robin. His family dinners are often stiff, counted down by how many times his dad checks his tablet, but at least no one makes pointed jabs about his life.

Not many anyway.

“Don’t think there’ll be much by way of a proper dinner,” Robin says, scrunching up her nose. Knowing what college kids' version of food is like, their dinner will be off-brand ramen and more Twizzlers, but it’s the price you pay for freedom. “But it’ll be fun. Vickie’s gonna drive a few of us later.”

“Have a good time,” Steve says, throwing a few final items into his bag and struggling to do up the zip. He’s not even sure why he’s trying - he’ll end up wearing either what his mom has conveniently slipped into his closet while he’s been gone, or the same pair of sweats all day when his parents are out of the house. “Send me updates.”

“You too,” Robin says, rolling over on his bed. “Let me know whether you survived Hargrove.” Steve snorts and finally gets the zip closed, chucking the bag and his hoodie on his desk chair.

“Debatable,” he says disdainfully. “I’ll text you.”

The sharp thump at the door is the only warning they get, before the door swings open. Billy hangs in the doorway, like a vampire waiting for an invitation. Steve feels vaguely violated just by the mere presence of Hargrove in his space.

“Harrington,” Billy says curtly and then catches sight of Robin scowling at him from the bed. “Buckley.”

“Hargrove,” Steve says in return, and looks around his room. If he hasn’t packed something, he can deal. It’s only two weeks. “Can you lock up?”

“Sure,” Robin says, because as expected, she has no intent of returning to her room. She’d packed late last night, while Heather was out, and won’t return until she’s sure her roommate has gone for the break.

Honestly. What some people will do to avoid facing their feelings.

“Got everything?” Steve asks and Billy jerks his head.

“Got enough,” he says, raising the battered duffel in his hand. “It’s fucking turkey and Hallmark movies with my mom, I don’t need much.”

Steve doesn’t comment on the Hallmark movies. It feels too much like a trap.

“Let’s get on the road then,” he says reluctantly. The sooner they leave, the sooner he can drop Hargrove at home and not see him again for two weeks.

Oh shit. Is he going to have to bring Billy back to school too? He never even thought to ask, and it feels like something his mom might conveniently bring up in the new year, right before he’s due to drive back.

“Home for the holidays,” Billy quips, with a toothy grin. “If shitty Hawkins counts.”

“You moved there,” Steve bites out. But Billy’s mouth just twists into an expression that he’s not used to seeing on Hargrove.

“I didn’t have much say in the matter,” Billy mutters in such a tone that Steve just drops it. Conversations with Billy feel all too often like a minefield, for reasons he doesn’t understand.

“Nice ride,” Billy says admiringly, when they reach Steve’s car. Steve pops the trunk and chucks his stuff in, gesturing for Billy to do the same.

“Seriously?” Steve asks, a little surprised. He’s seen Billy’s car and he’d be lying if he hadn’t fucking salivated over it. “I mean, I thought you wouldn’t be into something like this. I’ve seen your car.”

“I can appreciate modern cars too,” Billy says loftily and throws himself into the passenger seat. “Does this have heated seats?”

“Perhaps,” Steve says grudgingly and takes one last look up at the sky. It’s a heavy gray, and something about the color of it is making him uneasy. Snow hadn’t been a certain thing, but Steve’s lived through enough winters to recognise the signs.

“We’d better get moving,” he says shortly. “Maybe we can get ahead of the snow.”

Billy cranes his neck to look out the windscreen, as Steve climbs in. He’d planned to stop a few times, get snacks, take a piss, but he’s already thinking about how to reduce those stops just in case. The weather may clear, but he’s not going to take a risk if he doesn’t have to.

“The forecast didn’t say it was going to snow,” Billy says, looking doubtful and Steve remembers all too late that he’s originally from California. His mom only moved to Hawkins a few years ago, God knows why.

“The forecast is occasionally full of bullshit,” Steve says, programming his GPS and pressing various buttons. Billy’s old Camaro probably doesn’t have a dashboard that looks like a spaceship, but sometimes Steve’s pretty glad for modern technology. They need the quickest route, any way that’s going to bypass the holiday traffic.

“Is that safe?” Billy asks and if Steve didn’t know any better, he’d almost think that he looks worried.

“We should be fine,” Steve says firmly. “If there was going to be a blizzard, they would have seen that. But even so, I don’t really want to drive in snow.”

“Okay,” Billy says and sits back, even though he looks no more reassured. “You got music in here?”

Steve sighs and reluctantly hands over his phone. Perusing his Spotify keeps Billy quiet long enough for them to pull out of campus.

“You have some shit in here,” Billy mutters and then wriggles delightedly in his seat. “Fuck, you do have heated seats!”

“Yep,” Steve says. He figures this might be the best way to cope for the next few hours - pretending Billy is white noise. But Billy just chews his lip and then nods.

“Nice,” he says and goes back to Steve’s phone. He finally picks something to play, apparently having found a playlist of Steve’s that he doesn’t find too offensive. Then he stares out of the window at the passing scenery and Steve lets himself relax a little. Billy doesn’t seem too interested in small talk. Maybe they’ll make it through this trip with minimal trauma.

It’s quiet for approximately two minutes.

“Is my ass going to get hot?” Billy complains and rubs his butt across the leather seat. “Harrington! Seriously, is this shit going to melt my ass?”

#hwb2025 #Fic #Theladycarpathia

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Bad Neighbors

This is the last entry for my @harringrovewinterbingo card , so it's complete! I read this post from @fizzigigsimmer and wrote it quite immediately, but it took me forever to edit :P

Title: Bad Neighbors

Square & Prompt: B2 "Free"

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5898

Major Tags: Pornstars; Rough Oral Sex; Enemies to Lovers; Neighbors; Secret Relationship; Secret Crush

Summary: When Billy moves in his new flat in the fancy condo, he immediately gets on Steve nerves. Steve is annoying too, but he knows that he knows the new neighbor's face... and the rest of his body too. Billy is a pornstar and Steve is his client. But first of all they are bad neighbors

Read it in AO3.

#hwb2025 #Fic #lorifragolina

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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He's the Knife in Your Back

at last, a buzzer beater to end all buzz beaters, my last bingo post for @harringrovewinterbingo ! this has been such an amazing event ty to all involved this was such a blast :) ok, now onto some freak nasty smut of these idiots-

this is a fill for A1, "gas station bathroom fuck" also on AO3, enjoy!!!

Summary: The winter after the mall fire, the gang finds themselves back in the saddle. The proverbial saddle being Steve Harrington’s car, speeding to Ohio to talk to a scientist who they think can help them solve the suspiciously Upside Down-ish nature of Chrissy, Patrick, and now Fred’s, deaths. Meanwhile, Billy is frustrated, in more ways than one, but not to worry because Steve is there to help him relieve some of that frustration. OR Steve and Billy fuck nasty in a pubic bathroom because Billy’s pent up frustration is annoying the rest of the gang.

✪Rating: Explicit ✪ Word Count: 2948 ✪ Tags: Hawkins (Stranger Things), The Upside Down (Stranger Things), Road Trips, Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Bottom Steve Harrington, Bratty Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Billy Hargrove, Praise Kink, Degradation, Smut, Angry Sex, Dialogue Heavy

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The wailing wind just barely overshadowed the chatter in the backseat. Steve’s brows furrowed, eyes squinting to see through the white haze. Suddenly, Lucas’ radio crackled and Robin’s scratchy voice surrounded the car.

“Hey Steve? The snow’s gettin’ pretty bad. Over.”

“I have eyes , Robin, your point? Over.”

“Well uh, Nance, Jonathan, and I agree that we should pull over for a bit. At least let the worst of it pass. Plus, we’ve been driving for like, 10 hours. Over.”

“Try two . But yeah alright that sounds fine, we should get gas anyways. Just lemme know what exit we’re getting off at. Over.”

“It’s uhh, lets see- yes Wheeler, I can read the map - it’s uh yeah right where, right where… so we are umm-”

The walkie talkie cracked and shut off abruptly.

“Robin? You there? Over.”

Steve glanced at Billy, sulking, with his head leaned against the cold window.

“It’s exit 66, for Catawba-South Vienna. Over.”

Nancy’s voice cut in, slightly annoyed by Robin’s inability to read a map.

“Aye aye captain, we’ll see you there. Over and out.”

***

The kids raced each other to the doors, shrieking with laughter as they tried to escape the whirling snow. Steve’s passenger door slammed shut, shaking the entire car’s body as Billy sauntered away from the car and followed the kids up to the snow hidden pathway. Steve rolled his eyes, imagining the fallout if he dared do such a thing with Billy’s precious Camaro.

He had no idea what was the matter with him. Not even ten words had been said between them the entire first half of their impromptu road trip, which was fairly unusual for Billy, but like hell he was going to tell Steve what was wrong so Steve was forced to ignore his sour mood.

An older couple’s eyes went as big as saucers as the gaggle of almost ten teenagers scrambled through the doors, talking with one another quite loudly. The younger group snagged a table and continued their chatter, while Nancy led the argument with the older group as they beelined to the self-serve coffee station.

“I’m just worried, what if that scientist lady doesn’t even help! And then we’re almost four hours outside of Hawkins if something goes down back there.” Robin whispered, anxiously chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Also, didn’t we, uh, basically kidnap the knuckleheads over there? And I’m sort of a fugitive. So that doesn’t make us look any better,” Eddie chimed in.

“Oh, and not to mention that this crackpot may not appreciate trespassers and decide to reach for her shotgun.”

Billy added, his tone was icy, he was reluctant to join their group but Max was dead set on going and like hell anyone was going to stop her. And Billy felt he had an obligation to her life, so here he was.

“Ok well that’s probably the least of our concerns, I’m more worried that the goddamn mind flayer will come back and finish the job.”

Steve watched Billy bristle at Robin’s snappy comment, then with a huff and a mutter of something under his breath, he spun on his heel and disappeared.

“Oh- I probably shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, he’s being-” Steve stopped himself, thinking of his next words carefully, “-he’s just extra touchy today.”

Nancy looked at him, an eyebrow raised. And like some strange version of telepathy, he intercepted the ‘please go calm him down so he doesn’t make us all miserable’ message, pretty clearly from Nancy’s facial expression. He groaned.

“He does seem to like you best.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m aware . I’ll go talk to him,” and with a sigh he was off, scanning the store for Billy.

He pushed the door to the bathroom open cautiously, narrowing down that this was the last place Billy could have slunk away to. He was proved right instantly, eyes focusing on Billy as he paced the tiled room, muttering to himself. His curls bounced as he snapped his head towards Steve.

“The fuck do you want Harrington?”

“I want for you to untwist your panties, for starters-”

Billy growled, stalking up to Steve, cornering him against the door, this did little to stop Steve’s accusing tone, only fueling the fire.

“-and then , I wanna know why you have been so fucking agitated lately! Like seriously dude what the hell is the matter with you? The last, like, week has been miserable! I know this whole thing sucks , trust me I do. But that’s no excuse to take it out on everyone else you ass .”

Billy’s hands flew to Steve’s lapel, shoving him further into the door. Oh now Steve was pissed , no way he was going to start a fist fight with him here . They had far more important things to worry about than whatever pansy bullshit Billy was dealing with.

“What, did Liz stand you up? Or maybe you run out of hairspray? I mean what, honestly, what nonsense excuse could you possibly have for acting like a complete toddler ?”

“You better shut your smartass mouth Steve, I’m warning y-”

“-oh yeah, right! What’re you gonna do! You gonna fucking hit me? Will that fix the problem?!”

Billy’s eyes went crazy, a laugh bubbling out of him as he pressed Steve into the door, bringing his leg up in between Steve’s, his thigh just barely brushing Steve’s crotch, further pinning him into the heavy oak.

“No no, I’m serious, if that will mellow you out then by all means , swing away man!”

That comment only earned him a sneer from Billy and another slam into the door, Steve cursed, the door handle pressing into his back. Neither of them said a word, not wanting to brawl in the filthy gas station bathroom, but not knowing what to do next. As if neither of them could admit ‘defeat’ and back down. So they remained staring, their brows crossed and lips downturned. Billy flared his nostrils, both their breaths heavy and hot as they mingled in the sliver of space between them.

Neither was 100% sure who started it, but there was a silent, mutual understanding as their hands dove downwards. Steve’s fumbling for the door handle and praising all that was holy there was a lock, while Billy undid his belt with one hand and Steve’s with the other. Billy’s fingers laced themselves in Steve’s belt loops, pulling him back off the wall and towards the sink.

“So that’s what it was, hm? That’s why you’re uptight?”

Billy’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, shooting daggers at him.

“You haven’t gotten your dick wet in a minute and so now it’s our problem?”

“What did I tell you about shutting the fuck up?”

“Ohh, I’m so scared. What are you gonna do to me if I don’t?” Steve asked, playing coy, his bottom lip catching behind his teeth.

“You are so fucking dead Steve-”

Billy started, his voice dropping an octave as it trailed off. He flipped Steve, forcibly bending him at the hips over the sink basin.

Steve hummed, “Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t eaten all day.”

Billy pressed his hips into Steve’s ass, looking at him in the mirror.

“ God , do you have an off switch?”

“What? I can’t have a little fun? We are fucking aren’t we?” Steve asked, punctuating his sentence by knocking his ass against Billy, “It’s supposed to be fun .”

Billy groaned, slowly grinding on Steve through the layers of thick denim. One of his hands had found a nice spot on Steve’s waist, his fingers gripped into the skin. He wasted no time fiddling with Steve’s jeans with his other hand, undoing them the rest of the way and sliding them down along with his briefs in a few quick, fluid motions.

“Eager. You pictured this before, huh?”

There wasn’t a response from Billy as he shifted his own jeans down just far enough, grinning as he let his cock rest on Steve’s perfect ass. His hand came to feel a circle around Steve’s flank, feeling the soft freckled skin, lightly smacking it and grinning.

“Wow, yeah you have definitely had some sick fantasies about this.”

Billy loomed over him, leaning over and speaking low into his ear. If Steve was going to get all into character and be such a brat , he could play along too.

“And so what if I have? So what if I have pictured fucking you? That turn you on or somethin’?”

Steve didn’t answer, but his face lighting up pink and his dick bobbing in the air told Billy all he needed to know. He smirked and slid his hand up Steve’s body, hooking his fingers in Steve’s mouth.

“Suck.” Billy ordered.

His eyes not breaking contact with Steve’s face in the mirror, watching as he obliged without hesitation. He smirked, slapping Steve’s ass again, leaving a red hand print in its wake, not ignoring the moan Steve let slip from his mouth.

“Of course you’d like it when I hit you, fuckin’ psycho.” Billy muttered.

“Don’t you get into fights for ki-i-cks-”

Steve started, abruptly cut off by Billy’s fingers pressing up against the rim of his hole and pushing the first one past, just until the second knuckle, nothing crazy .

“ Jesus Christ , could you warn a guy?”

“No can do sweetheart, we’re on a tight schedule,” he fished his wallet from his back pocket, and handed it to Steve, “get the condom outta there would you?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?! You’re going way too fast, jackass-”

Billy pressed his finger all the way in, hard, roughly brushing a sensitive bundle of nerves as he did so. Steve’s breath hitched, his hands stalling as they fumbled through Billy’s wallet for a condom.

“Hm, I mean, I could go slow. But, do you want the others to come looking for us?” He asked, twisting his finger around inside Steve.

“They’d pretty quickly realize we’re in here, with the door locked from the inside-” Billy continued, his voice smooth but threatening,

“-and fearing the worst-” he slipped the second finger in, relishing in the strangled noise Steve made,

“-they’d break the lock and burst in.”

Steve let his head fall down, groaning as Billy whispered over him, fingers twisting and thrusting in and out of him, increasing his pace with every word he spoke.

“And they’d find you, bent over the sink like a two dollar whore, with my dick up your tight little ass.”

He finished, slicking his fingers in and out at a dreadfully fast pace, while Steve did his best to stop a pornstar-esch moan from escaping him.

“You’d hate for that to happen, right princess?”

Billy removed his fingers, and lined up his swollen cock head, pressing it to Steve’s rim. The skin to skin touch was electric and sent Steve’s heart rate off the charts.

“I’d really hate for all your little friends to see you moaning and shaking-”

“Goddamn, just do it then.”

Steve’s words trembled out of his mouth, attempting to bring back the bite in his voice but the shaky hand that reached back to hand him the wallet condom was proof enough that he was totally under Billy’s control.

“Ok you asked for it, brat .”

Billy smirked, ripping the package open with his teeth and sliding it onto his cock, sending a silent thank you to whoever invented pre-lubed condoms. He positioned his cock up against Steve again, pressing just the tip into him, watching the mirror fog up as he let out a breathy moan, his face crinkling and jaw falling slack.

“Aww, not even half of it and you’re already fallin’ apart.”

He pushed in further, almost moaning himself at the feel of Steve’s plush insides. Steve’s hand flung up to cover his mouth, biting down on his forefinger to keep even more pained noises from coming out. Billy stopped there for a moment, kind enough to let Steve adjust to the thick cock pressing inside him.

“Jesus, you done this before or somethin’?”

Steve didn’t answer, his hips sliding back on their own, begging for more of Billy inside him.

“You little slut…” Billy trailed off, watching Steve squirm.

“Shoulda told me earlier, I wouldn’t have been so gentle about it.”

Before Steve could throw in another smartass comment, Billy had pushed all the way in, hands drifting to the bend where his thighs and hips met to pull Steve even closer to him.

“Fuck!” Steve’s voice cracked as he yelled, gripping the side of the sink.

“Bet that’ll teach you not be a fuckin’ smartass all the damn time.”

Billy sneered, not giving another second of pause before pulling out and slamming into Steve at full force. The slap of skin on skin echoing in the tiled bathroom as Billy flicked his hips forward at a respectable pace. Steve’s eyes welled with tears, threatening to spill over.

“ Shit , you’re so fucking tight,” Billy gasped, hands migrating further up to Steve’s waist again, “but goddamn you take it so good.”

Steve moaned at Billy’s praise, his hips bucking and swaying his neglected cock. His hand reached for it instantly, smearing the precum around it and pumping furiously.

“Couldn’t resist touching yourself?”

Steve just groaned, part in pleasure, part in humiliation.

“Well if you’re so eager to come then that must mean you want me to go faster, huh?”

Steve didn’t answer.

Billy scowled, slowing his thrusts to a painfully slow pace, making sure Steve felt every inch of his cock pushing in and out.

“Hargrove no- please-”

“Please, what ? You didn’t answer when I asked if you wanted it faster, so I assumed you wanted it slower.”

“You asshole I didn’t- that’s not what I meant.”

Billy reached down, snatching the hand Steve was stroking himself with and pinned it behind his back.

“Well you better tell me what you want then, princess.”

“Fuck you.”

Billy smirked, pulling all the way out, leaving Steve gaping and whiny, his arm wiggling to escape.

“Try again.”

“ Fuck me!”

Steve all but cried, his head dropping in shame, cock bouncing between his legs. He kicked himself for being so desperate . He couldn’t believe how needy he was, it was humiliating that Billy had turned him into such a whiny bitch.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Billy smiled, releasing Steve’s hand and lining himself back up, and slowly pushed in until he bottomed out. Steve screwed his eyes shut as Billy went right back to his brutal pace, the tip of his cock grinding against Steve’s velvety walls and pressing into all his sweet spots just right.

“Attaboy, you fuckin’ take it princess.” Billy groaned, his fingers gripping harder into Steve’s waist.

Steve had wrapped his shaky hand around his cock once more, his hips twisting and bucking into his fist. He yelped again as Billy shifted and hit that perfectly sensitive spot dead on. Billy growled, fucking into him even harder, staying in that spot, watching as Steve’s body squirm with every thrust and his face convulse in the mirror. “Fuck-fuck-fuck, Billy , fuck-”

Billy reached a hand around and clapped it over Steve’s mouth to muffle as he screamed, his body shuddering as he shot milky ropes of cum onto the floor below him. He whined through it, voice still dampened by Billy’s hand firmly clasped around his mouth, but getting increasingly overstimulated with Billy's relentless thrusts.

“Fu-u-u-ck-” Steve warbled, a stutter marking every time Billy pushed his full length into him.

“Keep takin’ it princess-”

Steve moaned feebly, his arms faltering and his neck giving up on holding his head.

“And here you thought you we’re gonna do something-” Billy took a panting breath in, “tried to be all bratty-”

His fingers dug little red marks into Steve’s pale skin as he fucked into him with no remorse. He grit his teeth and his eyes screwed shut.

“Shit, Steve -”

Billy’s own thrusts stuttered and Steve felt an unfamiliar warmth deep inside him as Billy cursed and groaned again, shallowly pushing his cock in and out as he worked himself through it. He caught his breath with loud sighs, his face had turned a splotchy red and he had a sly smile plastered on it.

Another groan from Steve as Billy gently pulled partially out of his blushed red hole, shoving it in once more just to see the cringe on Steve’s face in the mirror. Before finally pulling out all the way and hastily tying off the condom and tossing it in the garbage bin a few inches away. He slapped Steve’s ass once more for good measure.

His eyes traveled down Steve’s legs as they shook and threatened to give way. His face was a deep crimson, his jeans still down around his knees. He looked totally fucked out, bent over the sink, body trembling with left over pleasure.

“You gonna be cool now?” Steve asked finally, breaking the silence, his voice wrecked and slightly shy.

“Oh absolutely, totally mellow.” Billy answered, hiking up his jeans and tucking his cock away.

“Good, I’d be pissed if you were still annoying after all this work I put in.” Steve shot back, again making a poor attempt at bringing back some bite.

“Woah, big talk for someone who can hardly stand right now.”

Steve scowled into the mirror, catching Billy’s eyes. On wobbly legs, he stood off the sink and fixed his clothes, pulling his jeans back into place and running a hand through his hair. Billy grabbed him by his belt loops to pull him once more to whisper in his ear.

“We gotta do that more often princess .”

#hwb2025 #fic #GlassOfAppleJuice

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harringrovewinterbingo · 3 months ago

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Hold Tight, We're in for Nasty Weather

@harringrovewinterbingo post!! this is for space C1, with the prompt "Keeping Warm" enjoy!! also on AO3 if you'd prefer :)

Summary: The Hawkins High Varsity Basketball team is at an away game, it’s already snowing pretty bad when their bus pulls into the hotel parking lot. Their poor Coach messed up the rooms again and it looks like everyone is stuck in a single. And of course, Steve and Billy get paired together. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a few hours after they arrive the power goes out. Just their luck huh?

✪Rating: Teen & Up ✪ Word Count: 4085 ✪ Tags: Hawkins (Stranger Things), There Was Only One Bed, bc i have an unhealthy attachment to that trope, Sharing a Bed, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, No Smut, Smoking, Banter, Betaed

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“Oh well that’s just perfect -”

Coach Donaldson grumbled, bringing his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose as if to stave off the inevitable headache. He took a breath and sighed, turning on his heels to face the Hawkins High varsity basketball team and whistled, grabbing the attention of even the sleepiest players.

“Okay! Fellas! There’s been a slight change of plans, there was, erm, a mistake with the bookings. And it seems we only booked singles-”

The crowd groaned, some rolling their eyes and others yelling profanities. Rock paper scissors and coin tosses broke out before Coach Donaldson could even finish explaining. Roommate trades were called out like an auction- “Hey I call dibs on Bradford! He’s small!” and “Someone trade me! Vic snores, I swear I can’t take it again this season!”

“-Settle! I understand this is an, erm, unfortunate situation!” Coach called, waving his hands in the air to stop the teenagers' complaints.

“But the important thing to remember is that everyone will have a room!”

“Unlike last year!” An anonymous voice called from the crowd.

“Yeah, or the year before that!”

Coach’s eyebrows furrowed. The basketball team never had any luck with hotel rooms it seemed.

“Alright alright, we get it! Just, form an orderly line to come get your keys, and please stick to your roommate assignments!”

The door moaned on its hinges as it was thrown open by a rather perturbed Steve Harrington. Not only was he rooming with the one and only Billy Hargrove, but about ten minutes ago the worst news he could have been given was dropped in his lap- they’d be sleeping together.

Together , together.

“Watch it! I’m not jazzed about any o’ this either but it’s just for the weekend. So go ahead and untwist your panties for me, hm?”

“I’m so not in the mood for your mouth tonight, Hargrove.”

Billy threw his hands up in faux innocence, tossing down his bag onto the gaudy blue duvet.

“My bad pretty boy, usually people love my mouth.”

Steve winced as Billy’s tongue flitted out, obscenely running across his dusty pink lips. Steve ignored him, and Billy seemed to let it go as he flopped onto the bed, the springs squeaking beneath him. Steve’s internal celebration of Billy’s silence was cut to a quick halt, however.

“Did you and that Wheeler girl get in a fight or something?”

“Holy shit, do you ever shut up?”

“Hm, no,” he responded cheerily, an overly fake smile lighting up his face.

“And not that it’s any of your business, but we aren’t together anymore. We’re just- friends. ”

“Harsh.”

Billy dropped it after that- he just wanted to push Steve’s buttons, not start an impromptu therapy session. His hand dipped into his bag, retrieving a battered novel and flipping to a dog-eared page near the middle.

“ Firestarter ? Didn’t know you could read.”

“Harrington, aren’t you still in sophomore English?” Billy asked, innocently, not looking up from his book.

Steve didn’t respond. Billy let out a satisfied hum.

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously in the background. Steve looked around the room, noting that there was a second nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, a small television set on the dark wooden dresser, and two equally ugly blue chairs around the mismatched lightly stained coffee table. The walls stunk distinctly of cigarettes, despite the clearly posted signage prohibiting such acts.

Steve looked back at Billy, completely absorbed into Stephen King’s words. He rolled his eyes, assuming this was his way of claiming the bed. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Billy glanced at him from over top of his book.

“I’ll take the floor.”

Billy huffed, shifting his eyes back to the page. Steve sighed and stole two of the blankets and a few of the pillows from the bed, tossing them into a heap on the teal carpet. He moved to rifle through his duffle bag, pulling out a pair of sweats and a nearly completely faded Hawkins High swim team shirt. He glanced up, noticing that Billy was watching him carefully through half lidded eyes.

“Can I help you?”

Billy shrugged, but his eyes stayed on Steve.

“‘K. Well, I’m gonna grab a shower, then.”

Billy waved him off, eyes focusing back on the pages. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed his duffle, slamming the bathroom door in his wake.

***

Minutes later Steve re-entered the bedroom, soaking wet hair dripping down onto his faded shirt. Billy had abandoned the bed and had his head stuck out the window, a lit cigarette absentmindedly dangling from his lips as he continued reading. He didn’t even acknowledge Steve.

“C’mon man-”

“-my bad, where are my manners, want one?”

“Dude, no - well- yes .”

Billy motioned him over, resting his book open face precariously on the window sill. He took the cigarette from his mouth with a backward hand, his palm facing Steve as approached. When he was within reach, Billy held the cigarette up to him.

Steve’s forehead crinkled in confusion, but Billy shook his hand, inviting Steve closer; he couldn’t help but oblige. Billy’s fingers grazed Steve’s cheek, his eyes watching as Steve wrapped his lips around the yellow filter and inhaled, the tip glowing a bright orange as Steve took in the burning tobacco leaves.

Billy smiled, slow and easy, his eyes lidding slightly. Like he was watching something particularly erotic, not hand feeding a cigarette to another man. Steve ignored Billy’s slutty look and pulled off. He held it for a moment, debating whether to blow the smoke right at Billy or politely out the window. He opted for the polite gesture of blowing his smoke out the window, but this righteous act of kindness was quickly overturned by Billy taking a drag and puffing his smoke right into Steve's face.

“Jesus, are you twelve?”

“I just might be.”

Steve rolled his eyes for about the millionth time that night, plucking the cigarette straight from Billy’s grip.

“Tell me how you really feel, Harrington.”

“Can I enjoy one cigarette without you being a total ass?”

“ My cigarette, and nah.” Billy hummed, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Figures.”

Steve tilted his head, taking another long drag and blowing the smoke courteously out the window. The wind whipped his hair around his eyes, and carried the gray puff of smoke quickly away from them. He turned back to Billy, extending the crackling cigarette towards him, falling absentmindedly into a pattern of passing it back and forth.

“Why thank you Steven .”

“It’s just Steve, actually.”

“Really? How unoriginal.”

“Right, because Billy is so much more exciting.”

“Gotcha there princess, it’s actually short for William.”

Steve snorted as he exhaled, smoke coming out his nose.

“Wait what’s your middle name then, just Steve?”

“Hell no.”

“Oh c’mon,” he leaned in closer, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Steve’s face cringed and he shook his head to rid that horrible image from his brain. He sighed, and despite the lack of pressure, he indulged Billy’s curiosity without much of a fight.

“Beatrice.”

“No fucking way.”

“Fuck off, man!”

“I’m sorry, but were your parents stoned or somethin’ when they named you?”

“ No , they weren’t stoned . It’s a long story.”

Billy gestured to the cigarette, albeit on its last leg, still smoking in his hand.

“We’ve got time, pretty boy, lay it on me.”

Steve sighed, bringing the near dead cigarette to his lips once more then passing it back to Billy. He took the last drag from it, his eyes squinting as it burned down his throat, then flicked it out the window, watching it tumble into the bright white snow below.

“Great, now close the fucking window. It’s freezing.”

Billy shrugged, shutting it in a surprisingly gentle manner.

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you princess. Now, tell me about this middle name,” he floated, the last of the smoke curling out from his lips.

“Ass-” Steve muttered, but continued, “So apparently I was supposed to be a twin, like the doctors and all that shit told my mom that I was going to have a twin sister.”

“And so my mom gets the nursery ready for two babies right? One side is pink, the other blue. She’s got matching outfits, two cribs, the whole nine yards.”

“So where is this sister now then? Because I would just love to meet her.” Billy winked, his mouth parting and tongue obscenely tracing his lips.

“I’m getting there, anyways , she isn’t here because I, like, ate her. In the womb or some shit. So my mom just gave me her name as my middle name. Sentiment, I guess.”

“You’re fucking with me-”

“-I’m dead serious! I absorbed her or something, swear to God!”

“That’s such horseshit, Harrington!”

“You asked!”

“Fine, fine, but holy shit man.”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes while Billy snickered in the background. They fell quiet for a moment, then in a fluid motion Billy grabbed his book, dropped it on the bed and continued walking to the bathroom.

“Alright, if you want another pack it’s in the left side pocket, lighter too, just- don’t burn the joint down, got it?”

“Oh, and my middle name is Michael. Pretty boring though, right Beatrice ?”

Before Steve could retort, Billy had already slipped past the door frame and slammed it shut. Even past the door Steve could hear his laughter. He huffed, rolling his eyes before stealing a second blanket from the bed and easing into his makeshift cot on the floor.

***

“Gatsby?”

Steve flinched in place as he looked up, he had even realized the water had shut off, nor had he heard the bathroom door open. He opened his mouth to speak but his eyes caught on the faint blonde happy trail that disappeared into the tantalizingly low towel tied around Billy’s waist. He snapped his eyes away, praying Billy didn’t take notice of his staring.

He met Billy’s face, there was a sickening grin plastered on it, his hair fell down in near perfect ringlets across his shoulders, the drips sounding like a ticking clock as they fell to the ground.

“It’s for Ms. Kelley’s writing class,” Steve blurted out, hoping to move past his obvious staring quickly.

“Huh, I didn’t know you could read.” Billy snickered, throwing Steve’s previous quip right back at him.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make a lick of sense so maybe there's some truth to that.”

Billy had shifted to the edge of the bed now, pulling out his own pair of sweats and an equally faded t-shirt with some band insignia printed on it. He scoffed at Steve’s remark, ripping the towel off him and tossing it back somewhere near the bathroom.

Steve’s eyes went wide, cheeks warm as he buried his nose back into the crisp paperback in his hands.

“God, you really are such a girl, Harrington.”

“My bad for not wanting to see your junk.”

“Who doesn’t wanna see my junk?”

Steve’s face lit up red, and he pretended to focus on the page in front of him.

“Hey you’re just lucky I’m wearin’ anything at all,” Billy started, pulling the sweat pants to rest low on his waist, “‘Cause usually I sleep in the nude .”

He finished, popping the last syllable and sticking his tongue out at Steve who had given up on Fitzgerald’s words by now.

“The hell’s your damage, dude?”

Steve tried to add more bite to his tone, dropping his book for extra dramatic flair, but that didn’t stop the uncomfortable shifting, nor the lump in his throat he swallowed.

Billy just laughed, that unhinged maniacal laugh he always did. Creeped Steve out every time. Billy had just opened his mouth, about to respond with another quip or maybe a filthy comment, when the lamp in the corner flicked. His attention snapped in its direction, catching as it flickered and went out, along with the overhead lights, and the radiator that sputtered and shook to a halt.

“Oh you’ve gotta be shittin’ me…” Billy mumbled.

Steve scrambled up and ran to open the door, Billy was quick to follow, peering his head out only to be met with a pitch black hallway. The silhouettes of the rest of the team started poking their heads out one by one, calling across the hall to one another.

Seconds later the coach’s door nearly flew off the hinges as he stormed down the hall towards the lobby, cursing and muttering under his breath. The team waited by their respective doors until eventually Coach Donaldson slinked back towards them. The chatter hushed as he cleared his throat, standing at the base of the hallway.

“It appears that the power has gone out and-”

“No shit Sherlock!”

“- thank you for the comment Mr. Metzer. What I was saying was that the storm has taken out the power, which also means that the heat has gone out-”

A collection of groans, curses, threats and complaints erupted from the boys, cutting off Coach Donaldson once again.

“-and unfortunately!” Coach yelled, getting the attention of the team again.

“And unfortunately, even if we wanted to find a different place, the snow has covered the roads pretty bad and the wind has downed a few power lines. So we are stuck here until the plows come tomorrow morning. For now, keep your windows shut and I suggest stuffing some towels around the doorframe to keep the cold air out-”

The hallway’s shouting and whining came back in full swing. This time Coach Donaldson didn’t even try to say anything more, he just waved his hands in defeat and slunk back to his room.

“Well isn’t this just the cherry on top of this dog shit trip.” Billy grumbled from behind Steve, his breath prickling the nape of his neck.

“Well, I’m gonna go see if they have candles or some shit. Don’t die of hypothermia, ‘k princess?”

He placed his hands on Steve’s waist, pushing him to the side, brushing the skin in the gap where shirt met sweats. Steve scoffed, backing away from Billy’s grasp. He sighed as the door swung shut; what kind of karmic debt could he possibly have to deserve this?

Minutes later, Billy returned, loudly barging through the doorway. Steve elected to ignore his noisiness in favor of keeping the peace, but all the insults he would have thrown vanished as he noticed the somewhat lumpy, cream colored candle resting in a tiny dish, held gently in Billy’s palms.

“You owe me big time, I really put on the charm for the stingy ass old lady at the counter, but I’m kind of irresistible. Especially with the older crowd,” he concluded, darting his tongue out across his lips.

“Eugh, you’re sick.”

Billy just breathed a quick laugh, quite satisfied in irking Steve. He fished his Zippo out from his pocket, popping it open and striking the wheel. He held the flame up to the wick for a moment and let it ignite. Steve watched, again surprised at his slow movements. As if the boisterous, quick Billy he had become so accustomed to, had magically been replaced with a smooth, calm version.

Steve resigned back to his cot, picking up his discarded copy of The Great Gatsby . A deep sigh escaped him as he opened up to where the sliver of paper stuck out of the edge of the pages. Beside him, the bed springs squealed. There was some shuffling, the sound of a zipper, more shuffling, then a dull smack as what Steve assumed was Billy’s duffle bag, hit the floor. After that, the pair was quiet for a while. Steve was stuck desperately squinting to see the pages in the dim candle light, and Billy hummed a song as he indulged in his own novel.

After far too long of time for someone his age, Steve finally reached the page Ms. Kelley requested they read until. He tossed the book over by this duffle, good riddance.Then glanced over to Billy, his face relaxed as his eyes skipped back and forth across the page.

Steve couldn’t help the start of a smile that blossomed on his face; maybe he shouldn’t have written Billy off so soon. I mean, sure, he had done nothing but tease and berate him this entire time, but he shared his cigarettes and could hold a fairly decent conversation, so it wasn’t all bad, he supposed.

“Are you starin’ again, princess?”

“Yeah, in horror , at your ugly mug.”

“Oh now surely you don’t mean that, sweetheart,” Billy mocked in a sugary tone, not bothering to lift his eyes from the page.

Steve pouted, proud of his quick comeback that was pitifully shot down by Billy. Regardless, he settled into his mess of blankets laid out on the floor in silence, too tired to snap back with anything.

Billy chuckled, “Let me finish this chapter and then I’ll blow out the candles, hm?”

Steve, for whatever reason, felt a flush rush up his face. Billy’s statement was so- domestic? That didn’t sound like the right word at all. But he waved it off before he could think about it too hard, huffed a response to Billy, and curled into the blankets. Cursing at the poorly constructed and all too thin blanket provided by the hotel, the cold air sent goose bumps up his arms as it seemed to weasel its way through the woven material with ease.

He shivered uncontrollably. He was turned away from the bed, staring mindlessly at the section of wall where the curtains didn’t quite reach the floor. Although he couldn’t be sure, he could feel Billy’s eyes on him as he squirmed and tried to pull the starchy blanket tighter around himself.

Behind him, he heard Billy sigh, and the sound of something being set upon the bed side table.

“Alright-” Billy started, a certain inflection in his voice that Steve couldn't nail down, “it’s only gonna get colder, and we can’t have the only semi decent player die of hypothermia. So…”

He trailed off, flipping back the heavy looking comforter on the bed as an invitation.

Steve craned his neck, giving Billy a quizzical look.

“I’ll take my chances with hypothermia,” and shifted back to stare at the wall.

“How mature. C’mon, get up here.”

“Bite me.”

“Alright, damn , just tryna be a gentleman.”

“As if.”

Billy glanced over, watching Steve shudder and tighten the blankets around him. He looked at his book, then back to Steve, then back to his book. He rolled his eyes then flipped over, his back facing Steve, who was still pretending not to shiver on the floor.

He blew out the candle with a puff, the springs creaking as he settled back into place. Steve’s breath hitched as he shuddered again. He pulled the blanket impossibly closer, pulling his head under it to trap as much heat as he could. Billy held in a sigh, if Steve wanted to freeze to death that was his own damn problem.

Despite his former macho attitude, it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before Steve broke. He shot up from his cot, abandoning his stiff blanket and tiptoed his way over to the bed. As slowly and quietly as he could, he lifted the comforter and slipped in. He watched Billy’s shoulders bounce as he snickered at the sudden dip in the bed and the creak of the springs.

“Not a fucking word Hargrove. Not. A fucking. Word .”

Billy hummed. Steve could practically hear his shit eating grin as he spoke, directly disobeying Steve’s rather clear instructions.

“Remember, you can look, but don’t touch, sweetheart .”

Steve scoffed, but they both held their tongues, their spines brushing gently as Steve snuggled into the much warmer bed.

***

Billy’s eyes eased open, barely registering the light pouring in from the windows and the birds outside chirping as he came nose to nose with Steve. He blinked, the sensation of his legs wedged in between Steve’s and his arms thrown around his waist.

He swallowed, his heart rate climbing and sending shockwaves through him. But like a deer in headlights, he remained perfectly still. Something felt- off, inside his chest. Almost as if he didn’t hate this, but he actually liked this, which only raised his concern. But feeling Steve’s soft, sleeping form hugging him like it was made to do so, the concern seemed to melt away. He focused on how his chest rose and fell against his own, the way the light from the window poured in through the slats of the blinds, casting a yellow glow onto the bed.

A tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like his father, was screaming to push Steve from the bed, rough him up a little and make him promise that nobody ever found out about this. But a more powerful force within him, allowed him to relax into Steve. Soaking in the contact that he knew would never, and maybe should never, happen again.

Steve made a quiet noise which made Billy jolt back on instinct. Unfortunately the movement only further woke Steve, who’s own limbs began stretching out and his eyes fluttered open, immediately growing to the size of saucers.

“Hey,” Billy said, covering the awkward-ness with his self proclaimed swagger.

Steve blinked at him, noting that Billy’s morning voice was gravely and low, because of course it was, and there was already a smirk pulling at his lips. Steve quickly ignored how his train of thought came to a screaming halt at the ‘you know what Hargrove’s morning voice sounds like’ station.

“Oh- oh my God-” Steve started, eyes darting down to their tangled bodies.

Billy laughed, quiet and low, not making any effort to move off of Steve. Instead, his hand drifted from Steve’s back to his hip. He relished in the bright red color Steve’s face took on.

“I swear to God I didn’t-”

“-I don’t really give a fuck, Steve .” Billy cut him off, his voice breathy and quiet, the use of Steve’s first name catching him off guard.

Their eyes locked, slanted aqua ones meeting wide brown ones.

They said nothing, just stared in silence. Billy’s hand remained firmly planted on Steve’s hip and their chests were still flush together. Both caught in the purgatory of being too scared to be the first to back off and equally scared to be the one to keep this going.

A shiver ran up Steve’s spine as Billy broke and pulled him closer. Steve inhaled sharply through his nose, noticing Billy’s hand trail further up his side, slipping under his shirt to rest higher on his torso. Billy smirked, his eyes breaking the tense contact to flick down to Steve’s lips, which hung slightly agape.

“What’re ya doin’…” Steve started, not speaking above a whisper and not really caring about the answer, just needing to say something .

“Dunno.”

Before either could say or do anything else stupid, there was a pounding of fists on their door. Like scared cats, both the boys scrambled up and away from each other, stumbling off the bed and racing to the door.

Billy opened it so just he was visible, a painfully faked smile on his face and smoothing his hair back in place in an attempt at nonchalance. His eyes met their point guard, Kenneth, with a shit eating grin

“Morning.”

“Someone better be fucking dying.”

“Nah.”

“Damn, coulda fooled me with your idiotic pounding on our-”

“ -okay whatever, Coach just wanted me to tell you that you dickwads have like an hour before the buses leave, got it?”

“Oh we got it, Kenny.” Billy deadpanned, throwing up a half hearted salute.

“And it’s not Kenny! Its Kenn e-”

Before he could finish the door slammed in his face, a smirk toying on Billy’s face.

“So, uh, what’d he want?” Steve asked, clearly wanting to skip over the whole ‘woke up in each others arms’ thing.

“Nothin’. Kenny’s a moron, what's new. Buses leave in an hour.”

“Cool.”

The two stared at each other for another few seconds, neither knowing what to say in the face of what they had woken up to. Wordlessly, they broke their tense eye contact, and with flushed faces started moving around the room, clothes and packing their things.

Both of them prayed that neither would bring this incident up ever again and yet, they simultaneously hoped they’d be assigned as roommates for the rest of the season.

#hwb2025 #fic #GlassOfAppleJuice

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