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OUTBROTHERED chapter 5: Billy gets more than he bargained for when he elects to drop off the catering at a local tech convention.

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

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Previous chapter

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easy, tiger. steve had said to him, taken billy’s shaking hand from his belt buckle and pressed his lips to the bruised knuckles. we’ve got plenty of time. put billy’s hand back to his own side, before reaching around him for the door knob to his bedroom.

billy kept eye contact as he walked backward with steve matching his steps, keeping them close till the backs of billy’s knees hit the bed. he landed with a soft oof, fingers immediately knotting into the ridiculously fluffy covers while steve stood over him. and oh. oh, billy wanted to touch.

so he reached out his hands but steve - steve backed away toward the door.

billy heard the distinctive click and grinned, more than eager for the real fun to begin. stripped the shirt steve had made him sweat through earlier.

steve himself remained where he was for a long moment. arms folded tight across his broad chest, back against the locked door. didn’t do anything, didn’t even say anything.

so billy kicked off his dirt covered boots. stripped off his gym socks and threw them right at steve’s face. he caught them before they could make any sort contact. held on a second before shoving them into his back pocket with a hint of a smirk.

and now billy was becoming a little more impatient with him.

well? whatcha waiting for, pretty boy? marriage? taunting. that was their language. usually got things moving along to billy’s pace.

absolutely not, b. steve replied with a firm shake of his head, a little grimace. good.

well then-

lie back, lemme just look at you.

and that was more like it. letting somebody look? he could do that, even preened at the attention. so he complied easily. sinking into the hideous and cloudy soft covers, hands coming behind him to just hang lax over the edge of the bed. all stretched out like a jungle cat. steve came closer then; gazed down at him and hummed a little, more to himself than anything as he stepped between billy’s open thighs and leaned down to stroke a finger over the raised, tender cut on billy’s cheekbone.

you think he’s teaching you to be a man, billy. but he’s not. he’s just. hurting you. i don’t want you to go back there tonight. then steve’s eyebrows knit together into an expression that makes billy’s stomach churn and his mouth turns down in a way that he wishes to never be the cause of.

i have to go back. if he doesn’t face his demons tonight he’s afraid he never will. and his mother, oh-

no, you don’t. you don’t have to go.

he’ll kill me. us. billy can’t have that. not steve. never steve. never - no - he sits up, churn in his stomach turning into a full on crashing wave. tastes his breakfast again. tastes seawater and gritty sand and-

no, b. he’s never gonna lay a hand on you again. steve has a knee on the bed between his thighs, one big warm hand on billy’s untouched cheek the other digging firmly into his hip.

how can you say that, steve? what can you do? you’re just a kid. he’s- he’s so much more than you. than me. he’s bigger and he’s stronger and-

and i’ve fought worse, trust me. steve’s eyes are hard. billy doesn’t want to believe there is anything out there worse than neil hargrove. but looking into steve’s eyes again, now seeing the fear and the fight and the grief. he does. he believes. and it terrifies him like nothing has before.

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Seven hours. Seven more hours and Billy would have escaped scot-free. At 5am, Steve was due to arrive at Billy’s bedroom window, help him silently transfer all his worldly possessions to the Camaro, drive back to Steve’s and add his belongings, and they’d be off to California. He’d never have to see Neil again if he so chose. And he certainly wouldn’t choose.

Things have a funny way of not working out for Billy though. Seven hours away from freedom and Neil has him pinned against his bedroom wall, Billy’s savings and a note from Steve in his fist. It isn’t even anything scandalous, just a little doodle of the Camaro driving into the sun, with the words Can’t wait to break free underneath. Steve had slipped it into his hand when he dropped Billy off after a date two nights before.

Billy had stowed it in a little box under the passenger seat of his car where he kept his savings. He didn’t dare leave things like that in the house for fear that Neil would find them, find him out, but even careful as he was, he was still pressed against his bedroom wall, Neil using words and knuckles in equal measure to try to assure that Billy would never break free.

As if thieving every dollar Billy has to his name before tearing him down to nothing wasn’t enough, five hours from freedom, Billy wakes up on his bedroom floor caked in his own blood to find his keys but no car in the driveway, no escape route, no hope.

No hope except one. The one ray of light left. So three hours away from freedom, he’s leaning against the side of a phone booth, blood smearing all over it, waiting for that ray of light to appear in the dark. He wonders if anyone will question what happened, or if they’ll just shrug and move on, easier to forget than think about what horror may have occurred here.

Suddenly 2am isn’t three hours away from freedom. It’s headlights blinding him as they approach in the dead of night. It’s Steve helping him up and into the Beemer, fussing over his bruises, kissing his knuckles, crusted with dried blood from the one good hit he got in. It’s worrying his split lip between his teeth, tasting the fresh copper seeping onto his tongue. It’s Steve driving past the now leaving Hawkins sign hours earlier than planned, a different mood filling the car than the celebratory one they’d anticipated when they’d hatched this scheme.

His escape may not be what he imagined, but it’s an escape nonetheless. His whole world is in the drivers seat next to him, hand gripping his own. He lets out a cry, of pain, of madness, of giddiness, he’s not sure. It surprises even him as it rises out the window into the early morning air. He’s free.

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i still think the funniest stranger things fandom moment will always be when billys scene in season 4 aired and we were all like "somethings up... thats not his ass..."

only to have it later confirmed it was in fact a body double because dacre couldnt be on set with sadie

cia should hire us

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Billy hargrove got a single grain of unconditional kindness and gave his life to save the person who gave it to him.

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chrissy & steve: somehow it feels like we've sabotaged ourselves

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Please reblog if you can

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I feel like Billy Hargrove would SOB when you hit his prostate. 

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Steve now has a cat and a boyfriend

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Donation request form @adeityofchaos for #HarringroveForPalestine

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and just separate pictures :ъ

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i think i’m in my smut era again bc here’s another nsfw

just thinking about Jason getting fucked so good by Eddie

so good that his eyes roll back a bit and he can’t control the sounds that pour out of his mouth because Eddie’s got two fingers hooked into his mouth, pressing down the tip of his tongue and he’s whispering filthy things into his red-tipped ear

good boy, take it, i know you love it

and it’s kinda torturous because his dick is pressed against the mattress under him, Eddie on top of him, the front of him pressed to Jason’s back, making sure the blond feels everything

pulling on his short hair and biting his neck, sucking a bruise into it

Jason’s joked about Eddie being a vampire but now he’s not so sure it’s only a joke

either way he cums all over his sheets for the third time that week and it’s only monday

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"For fuck's sake."

Jim already has a headache and apparently it's gonna get much worse. He pours himself a cup of the shittiest coffee in Hawkins and turns to the kid sitting in front of his desk.

"What happened, kid?" he asks. "Why would you do that?"

Billy Hargrove reeks of cheap liquor, trouble and the metallic smell of blood. His lip is split and he looks like he hasn't slept in a week or so.

Billy doesn't answer, just glares at him.

"Breakin' and entering is no joke," Jim starts again. He sounds as pissed off as he feels, because he still has Mrs. Carters shrill voice in his year, calling from Loch Nora about a burglar, about her fancy neighborhood getting sullied.

"I didn't do shit," Billy protests. "I…was just…"

He falls silent, mouth snapping shout like he regrets he even said a word.

"What?" Jim probes, because there's a piece of the puzzle missing.

Billy shakes his head, lips thin.

"Should I call the Harrington's and ask if you were invited?" Jim knows he's an asshole, but it comes more naturally to him than being nice.

Something flashes across Billy's face and his tan gets drained out by miserable paleness.

"Don't call them," Billy says, fingers digging into his thigh so hard his knuckles turn white.

"So, let's try again," Jim says, taking another sip from the dishwater the station claims is coffee.

"The key's under the flower pot," Billy mumbles.

Jim raises a brow. "And you know that why?"

Billy's eyes shoot dagger at him, the way only a pissed of teenager can look at an adult.

"Steve put it there for me," he says lowly, like it's a secret, something dirty and shameful you hide under your bed. "In case I need a place to go to…"

"So, you're pals?" Jim asks, huffing a laugh in disbelief. "Why didn't you say so?"

Billy's jaw tightens.

"Nobody knows," he finally says. His fingers find his necklace, tugging at the pendant. "It's better that way."

Jim is close to crack a joke about dramatic teenagers, but Billy's blue eyes are dark and there's a sadness there that doesn't belong to someone so young.

Whatever it is, Jim gets another piece of a puzzle - but apparently they're playing Hide and Seek.

"Okay," he says after a while. He'll put a stamp on the report, saying Confidential or similar shit. "You can go."

Surprise makes Billy look softer, less hurt. "What?"

Jim shrugs. "I've heard enough. Or do you want me to lock you up?"

It's a joke, but his throat clogs up when he looks down on Billy's file and sees that the kid had already spend a night the drunk tank a few weeks ago.

"Whatever, Chief." Billy lifts his hands. "I'm outta here, then."

The kid is halfway through the door, when it hits Jim. Billy can't go back to Loch Nora right now. Mrs. Carter is probably on guard.

"If you still need a place to stay, you can sleep in the break room," Jim offers. "The couch is a disaster though."

Billy stands in the doorway, eyes wide. He plays it cool when he catches himself.

"If I don't have to drink that shit." He points at the coffee. Jim can't blame him. Although 1 am is way too late to get cheeky.

"Just go to bed," Jim grumbles.

Billy salutes him. Jim can see his shoulders sinking, his whole body a bit less tense. Maybe he'll get them donuts for breakfast.

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me remembering that Neil Hargrove is canonically still alive in Stranger Things:

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Something was completely wrong with him.

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Steve and Billy's babies from my mythology au because I can (I'm totally blaming @/half-oz-eddie for this lmao)

No, they don't have a name or anything. I have no idea how to call them but I'm open to suggestions if you want. For now they are just existing lol

The girl is more an harpy, she got only the ears and the general hair from Steve. Even her tail is made of feathers; the little boy is more a mix between them, and instead of changing his arms, his wings are directly on his back (so they are two separate things).

(Also being them half harpy/half werecat I'm going to consider them some kinda of sphinxes, especially the little one lol)

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something so incredibly domestic to me about billy and steve just going on a walk together

steve turning up at the hargrove’s during winter break while neil and susan are at work and max is at the arcade. steve knows billy is at home because they talk now. they’re friends. sort of. so steve knocks on the door. rings the bell twice. tells billy to c’mon because he wants to go for a walk.

and billy’s just staring at steve like he’s lost his mind. ‘cause billy plays basketball, sure. billy lifts weights. billy swims. billy surfs. or did at least did. billy does, like, everything but billy doesn’t do wintery walks.

tells steve exactly that.

steve doesn’t take no for an answer, though. billy tells him he doesn’t have a winter coat and steve holds up the extra one he’s got in this big bag beside him and- billy doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. totally wasn’t too distracted by the way steve’s talking, face lit up and cheeks flushed from the cold.

billy comes up with a few more excuses but steve’s stubborn. billy knows from experience so he gives in. lets steve wrap him up in this huge coat, bitching and swearing the entire time. tells steve he’s gonna freeze his balls off and it’s gonna be all steve’s fault.

they leave eventually, though. steve grinning at billy the entire time, stupid dopey look on his face and billy trying to look at the trees instead. at the leaves. at literally everything except steve.

but steve’s looking at him. keeps sneaking glances because he’s got billy hargrove beside him, nose pink and eyes wide as he looks up at a flock of birds that just scattered. because billy’s got a hat on, pulled down to his eyebrows and a scarf that he’s pretty much buried the lower half of his face in.

because billy’s, like, cute. or whatever.

so they walk. and they talk. leaves crunching and birds chirping. sun flitting in through the trees. maybe billy lights steve’s cigarette, maybe they carve their names somewhere, maybe they kiss about it .. who knows !