#Billy hargrove deserves love

[camaro-and-smokes]

Menace, my beloved

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove,Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Harringrove, events take place post-starcourt, Billy survived, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pillow Fights, POV Steve Harrington. Words: 1703

Summary: After Starcourt Billy had moved in with Steve, and living with him wasn't always easy.

Notes: This is my @harringroveson-bingo card 1 prompt A3: Pillow fight.

::::::::::

“You always say that! I hate it!” Billy shouted and got up, storming out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom. Steve flinched as Billy slammed the bedroom door shut after him. He counted only to three before he heard Billy scream his lungs out. He took a deep breath. It was a sign that Billy was getting better. The less Steve could count to, the sooner Billy was letting his frustration out. Or at least sooner than before. Obviously, there was still a long path ahead before they could have any difficult discussions without Billy sparking his short temper into full on flames from less than three sentences from Steve he didn't like for any reason.

It wasn't Billy's fault. When they had started dating, Billy hadn't known how to control his negative feelings at all, for he'd been forced to bottle them more or less entirely for so long. Back then, he had simply walked out of the house and driven away whenever they had even a minor argument. It had led Steve being heartbroken for making Billy feel bad at all, which again had led them not really talking about anything important, and almost made them break up before they even lifted off the ground. Only when Billy finally had mentioned about his volatile situation at home, his walkouts had made sense to Steve, and they had gotten back on track.

And then, just a month later, Starcourt mall had happened.

When Billy had been in the hospital for a few months, Steve had once seen Neil rage at him. It had been the first time Steve had witnessed the obvious reason for Billy's frustrations. He'd decided on the spot that Billy would move out the moment he was released from the hospital and come live with him.

Which, ever since he had helped Billy walk up the stairs to the tiny studio apartment, had lead to a never ending number of arguments about Billy wanting to pull his weight, Steve telling him it wasn't necessary because he wasn't yet fully healed, Billy feeling Steve was belittling his capability of taking care of himself because he was trapped in a body that might never function quite the way it had before, Steve telling he didn't belittle Billy the slightest but wanted to give him time to heal because he loved him, Billy not hearing what Steve meant from his own rage - and that's how they always ended up in the situation where they were also right now.

Steve wanted to shake Billy so hard that all the unnecessary self pity and wallowing would fall out. Steve understood it was important for Billy to feel that he was in control of his life, especially now, but Billy just wasn't willing to give his body the time it needed to heal. He wanted his body to fix itself faster than it could, and especially because he kept his pre-Starcourt fitness as the goal for that healing, not having it all right now—if ever—was the source of all his self-loathing.

It was admirable that Billy wanted to work on healing his injuries and do it as soon as possible. While his progress had been quick thanks to his decisiveness, everything still took longer than he wanted.

On a good day, he could walk to the garage that was a few blocks away where the bruised and battered Camaro was parked, and do some work on it for a few hours, the time his brain allowed him to concentrate. After that, he had to come back home and sleep as long as his body needed to recharge on that day.

On a bad day, getting out of bed was a struggle.

The mindflyer had caused severe physiological and neurological damage to Billy's body, and he was simply refusing to get into grips with it. Even with all the exercise and physiotherapy, it could take longer to heal than he himself thought possible. And while finishing school in somewhat reasonable schedule felt attainable, because he was able and wanted to study for a few hours a week even if by himself, finding work after graduating that would fit his new state, depending on what it would be, might be hard.

Steve had tried to drill it into Billy's head that all he had to do for now was just to concentrate on healing and that he would take care of everything else. For now. Yeah, the money was tight, but he had talked his mom around to open his fund when he would turn 20, so it would get easier soon. But Billy was a hothead and maybe a bit too proud to admit that maybe he at least shouldn't feel bad about not being fully healed after just six months of which he'd been in a coma for a month. Steve thought that maybe the neurological damage contributed to Billy's shorter than normal temper too.

In any case, these were the challenges they were living with.

Steve put the kettle on to make Billy some tea and then waited for fifteen minutes allowing the tea to cool. Billy was having a bad day with the pain, but somehow tea calmed the nerves, so Steve made him a mug and took it with him. He knocked on the bedroom door. "Billy?" No answer. He opened the door and peeked in. Billy was sitting on their bed, looking out through the window. "I made you some tea," Steve said and raised the mug as he walked by the bed. He set the mug on the nightstand and sat next to Billy. He didn't dare to touch him without asking. For all he knew, Billy could be having the worst of days when he felt every single nerve-ending in his body. "Can I touch?" Billy nodded, barely visibly. Steve moved to sit behind him and hugged him gently. "I love you," he whispered. Billy looked down. "I'm not worthy of it. I'm not worthy of anything." “Yes, you are,” Steve whispered. “And you're doing such a good job of working on getting better. Even now you let out all the anger way sooner than before.” “I did?” Billy asked after a while. “Yeah. I could only count to three. Next time, I might even come after you and finish the argument right there and then.” Billy snorted. “Keep dreaming that dream for a while, for now.” Steve smiled. “You're a hothead, but you're my hothead,” he said, and kissed Billy on the cheek. “I still don’t like it.” “Yeah, well, for now you have no say in it. The Camaro stays in that garage, no matter how much the rent for the space is, and you keep going there at least a few times a week, if you can, and keep working on the car. You don’t even notice that you’re exercising your legs and hands when you’re there. It helps you get better, baby. It’s important. To you and to me.” “But you pay for fucking everything. I feel like shit for being just a free-rider,” Billy groaned. Steve sighed and hugged him tighter. “You need to get better first. You do what you can and that’s enough. And as I was saying when you stormed out, it doesn’t matter how you take part. If you can fill and empty the dishwasher, or study, or work on the Camaro…I love you, and I take anything you can do and contribute to our life together—as long as you keep your healing as number one.” He sighed again and set his chin on Billy’s shoulder. “And like I’ve tried to tell you so many times before, but apparently I need to remind you once again—our life together is not a numbers game.” Billy was silent for a long while. “Why are you so good to me?” he finally asked quietly. “Because you deserve it.”

Billy sighed a heavy sigh and hugged Steve’s arms. They looked outside in silence and just were.

Until Billy let go. It looked like that he was going for the mug of tea and Steve let go—but instead of the mug, Billy grabbed his pillow from under the duvet and hit Steve with it. “Hey!” Steve yelped. “What was that for?” “For being so fucking perfect. You deserve a smack for it.” “I’d like you to smack your lips on mine rather than a pillow on my head.” Billy whammed the pillow over his shoulder again at Steve and laughed. Steve tried to hold back the arm that held the pillow, but it was surprisingly strong—though Steve didn’t really use all his own strength to hold Billy back. Finally, he let go and scrambled backwards on the bed to grab his own pillow. By then, Billy had turned around and was on his knees on the bed, ready to hit Steve again. Steve managed to hit Billy on his shoulder before Billy’s pillow flew in the air again, hitting Steve in the shoulder. “Hey! This isn’t a fair fight!” Steve laughed. “I show you fair,” Billy said, grinning, and kept attacking Steve relentlessly. They both were laughing and hitting blows at each other with the soft pillows, Steve all the time avoiding hitting Billy with full force even by accident.

Finally, Steve laid down on the bed, giving in and burying his face into the mattress. “I give up, I give up! You’ve punished me enough!” Billy laid some more hits with the pillow on Steve’s back and then buried his face between Steve’s shoulder blades, laughing and hugging him. “Why are you like this?” Steve groaned into the mattress. “Because I’m fully capable of being a menace,” Billy grinned, and tickled Steve’s sides. Steve turned around, and before Billy could get away from his reach, he grabbed him into a hug, this time facing him. Seeing Billy’s eyes sparkling and a wide smile on his face, just like before everything went to shit, made Steve’s heart wanting to burst out from his chest. “Even though you drive me crazy,” he said softly and kissed Billy. “You’re my menace. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[ihni]

Happy birthday Billy!!

(I couldn't fit more people there, but just imagine they're standing out of frame. A whole HOUSE full with people who are ready to celebrate Billy's birthday, and shower him with gifts and food and love.)

[mangywayway]

Gently reminder that the Maid Cafè season is still in its full swing at @harringrove-cafe and the boys are ready to serve you, all dressed up 🤭💖

(and also to fashionably kick some rude customers' asses if needed)

[plistommy]

Billy taking King Steve’s ”crown” by fucking him silly at his house party and making him Billy’s bitch instead…

[weird-an]

The door bell rings. It's the new gardener, Steve's mom informed him a week ago and fucked off to New York. Like she'd be around to watch the roses bloom this year.

This has to be a joke, Steve thinks numbly, when he opens the door.

"Hey, Harrington." Billy Hargrove grins at him, a toothpick between his lips. He's wearing a black overall - and nothing underneath.

Steve stares at the tanned skin and wonders if saving the town from monsters and a whole ass apocalypse isn't enough and he's being punished instead.

"Hey!" Billy snaps his fingers. "I'm talkin' to you, pretty boy."

"Oh." Steve blinks. He knows his attention span is fucked, but Jesus. To be honest, Billy is in good shape. Steve can almost see him lifting weights and wiping the sweat off his face -

"For the third time. Where are your mother's fucking roses, Steve?"

Steve absently points behind himself. "In the garden."

"No shit." Billy laughs. "Show me, then."

Steve does show him. Billy makes a face.

He mutters something that vaguely sounds like "what a dump", but Steve is too busy to stare at his ass when he's kneeling in front of the first flower bed.

Billy actually works. His golden hair up in a bun, chewing on the toothpick. His chest is shining from sweat and Steve watches his biceps curl. His left nipple is peeking out of the overall. Fuck.

Billy also yells. At the plants. Calls his mother's favourite hibiscus a stupid motherfucker and flips off the oak tree.

Steve is watching him, torn between annoyance and the tightness of his jeans. Billy's hands are dirty from the earth and he's panting when he digs through a flower bed no one has cared for in an eternity.

"Does your bush need trimming, too?" Billy asks, raising a brow and waving the clipper at him. There's a leaf stuck in his tousled bun.

Steve's face glows and it's not because of the heat.

"Uh..Do you want... some water?" Steve asks mechanically. That's something he should have asked two hours ago. Instead he was busy... staring.

"Yeah, thanks, pretty boy." Billy grins, teeth shining bright. He's got dimples and his face is sprinkled with freckles. Shit, shit, shit.

Steve watches Billy down a glass of water, Adam's apple bobbing. He's so fucked. He hides in the kitchen until Billy comes in to wash his hands.

"Done for the day. Can be 'round tomorrow. This shit show of a garden will take some time to get finished."

Steve imagines his mother hearing her garden called a shit show and literally clutching her pearls.

"Alright." He doesn't try to sound too eager.

When Billy is gone, he inspects the garden. He can't believe that Billy fucking Hargrove is his gardener. That he's actually doing his job.

The roses look okay. So does the rest of the garden. From what Steve can tell. The bush next to the pool... is shaped like a dick. Great.

Steve gets himself a beer. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He's half hard in his jeans. He hates himself, because he's about to jerk off to Billy Hargrove.

There's a note on the table. It's a phone number.

"You're so fucking obvious," Steve reads. "Luckily you're hot."

Well. It's a win, Steve guesses.

[harringroveera]

AU where Billy escaped the Vecna’s curse because he’s not a hurt kid anymore & he’s already found his family

[ickypuppi3]

steve about billy

[missingbillyhargrove]

Billy survives the mind flayer and gets to go to California to be happy: and Listen I don’t edit and this isn’t good but I couldn’t help myself

[cavinginhisfvce]

Hopper, casually ruffling Billy's hair: You did good kid! I'm proud of you.

Billy, bewildered: The hell did you just do to me?

Hopper, lowering his hand: I just tousled your hair. Ain't nobody ever done that to you before?

Billy, grabbing Hopper's wrist: Keep. Going.

[nizomnas]

"Yeah, I wish I'd been, I wish I'd been, a teen, teen idle

Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title

Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible

Feeling super, super, super suicidal"

(Marina and the diamonds - Teen Idle)

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Maybe instead of getting better after Starcourt, instead of healing and mending that which has been broken, Billy just gets worse.

There’s no more playful grins behind cigarettes or keg stands held in good fun. No more speeding down empty backroads or engines revving in parking lots. He gets quiet, and that’s the scary part.

Because as soon as someone presses him to talk, he gets mean.

He outright says no when he’s asked to keep an eye on Max, because there are no repercussions anymore — his wounds from the “fire” haven’t healed just yet, and if he shows up in the hospital with new bruises over freshly cracked ribs, the doctors will suspect something.

So the most he gets is a glare from Neil and a stern do it or else.

And Billy, a believer of malicious compliance, picks himself up a walkie-talkie. Does whatever the fuck he wants while the thing sits on his dresser.

If any voices come through, he shuts it off, or at the very least tunes it to a channel that only he and Max use.

She knows better than to use it.

Things between them aren’t any less tense than before, but it’s different now. Now he knows.

So the playing field is even.

He doesn’t meddle in Max’s business, who she hangs around, and Max doesn’t burden him with asking for rides and things alike. Not that he could really do much with his car sitting in the junkyard — Harrington has taken over the task of chauffeur anyway.

Harrington, who apparently also picked himself up a walkie-talkie.

And who somehow managed to learn about Billy and Max’s private channel.

“Hargrove? You there?”

The voice is staticky over the radio, but not out of range. After the brief moment of shock passes, Billy rolls his eyes at the thought of Harrington parked down the block, sitting behind the wheel of his Beamer listening intently for a response.

Rather than reach over to his nightstand, Billy rolls over to face the wall.

His sheets have become more of a nest as of late. Gathered around him in piles because he prefers the chill on his skin to sweating beneath scratchy blankets.

He hasn’t changed the bedding in weeks. Hasn’t opened the blinds or really even left his room at all this summer — the pool has likely already filled his position. Not that he’d be going back any sooner than a year or two from now.

If he ever feels comfortable taking his shirt off again.

“Billy? Look, I know you’re there, man. Max said that this was the channel to reach you on, and—“

Billy snatches the walkie-talkie and holds the button down.

“Go fuck yourself. Over.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then static pours through. Likely the air conditioning in Harrington’s car.

“Touchy,” he tuts. Exhales a heavy sigh and blows a raspberry. “Don’t always have to be such a dick, y’know.”

“Being a dick isn’t something all of us have to try at, rich boy, so put your shit in gear and get off my block.”

There’s another brief pause.

“How’d you know I was in your neighborhood?”

“Walkies don’t work out-of-range, fuckhead.”

“Damn, okay,” Harrington huffs. “Sue me for wondering how you were doing.”

Wondering how I’m doing?

“Wondering how I’m doing?” Billy repeats.

He stares up at the ceiling, brows pinched together.

“Yeah? Y’know, like checking up on you?”

“Why?”

For months, Billy has done nothing but rot in his bed. Too sore to move, too short-fused to bother talking about it.

Too guilty to open any of the get-well-soon cards that he’s received.

Among the poorly-addressed ones with crayon scribbles from his former swimming students, he recalls one almost equally as poorly-addressed dawning the signature Steve Harrington at the bottom.

It was the only envelope he’d bothered to open. Practically had to rip it up with his teeth because of the lack of dexterity in his fingers, though, he never worked up the nerve to dial the number scrawled at the bottom.

Harrington scoffs over the channel.

“It’s like you’ve died or something, man. It’s worrying.”

Disregarding the flush spreading across his cheeks, Billy rolls his eyes and spreads out more atop his comforter.

“If you’re so worried, why didn’t you just ask Max?”

“If she answered my questions, do you think I’d be on this channel right now?”

Billy presses his lips into a line.

He knows he hasn’t been the best brother. Quite the opposite, actually.

But it still aches to learn that Max apparently refuses to so much as talk about him. Makes his limbs sink deeper into the mattress like gravity has doubled down on him.

Makes him want to shut his walkie off and never turn it back on.

“Well, you’re a few months too late on your check-up, Harrington,” Billy rasps. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head at the sound of his own voice coming out so wet and pathetic. “Walking corpse at this point.”

A beat of silence persists. Then the static comes through again.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I have a therapist that already doesn’t help, thank you.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Harrington trails off. He holds the talk button down for a long beat, absently tapping his fingers against the door panel in his car. Then, he sighs. “Is it okay if I use this channel again?”

Billy’s vision blurs and he sniffles. Thankful that it can’t be heard by anyone but himself.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice shakes with it.

And that’s how Billy’s radio goes from being dead silent to constantly filling his room with chatter.

It helps and it hinders all at once.

Billy smiles for what feels like the first time in over a year, and laughs, even. But each time Harrington tells a little joke or giggles over the channel, Billy’s heart starts to ache more deeply.

It opens up old wounds.

He feels like Neil knows, somehow, when they’re both in the kitchen together. Accompanied by nothing but silence.

Neil asks if he can babysit for the weekend, and Billy drops the mug that was in his hand with a shaky wrist, fearing an entirely different question that doesn’t even get asked.

When Neil would normally berate him, he simply watches the way that Billy flexes his fingers. The way that he makes a weak fist, unable to straighten his fingers completely once he relaxes them, and his brows pinch in mild worry.

“Still havin’ trouble?” Neil asks.

His voice is gentle enough that Billy’s eyes well with tears as he nods. Bites his lip to keep it from wobbling.

Neil pulls him into a hug and Billy sobs into his shoulder. Not because of the pain or disability, but because he thinks he’s let a hint of love creep back into his life after all this time.

Which should be a good thing.

For once, Billy agrees to watching Max, if only because he doesn’t have the energy to snark back right now. Neil pats his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Asks if he’s sure, like it’d be no issue at all for him and Susan to cancel their weekend plans.

Billy can’t help that he huffs a laugh. Can’t help that it comes out sounding closer to a scoff.

Why be accommodating now, after a lifetime of neglect and maltreatment? He shakes his head to himself, and his expression must give his thoughts away.

Neil digs his thumb hard into his shoulder, earning a stifled whimper and another influx of tears.

Billy cleans up the broken mug and wipes the liquid away from the floor by himself, knelt on his achy knees while he’s watched like a hawk from the doorway. Like he might shove the glass under the counter if he’s left unsupervised for even a second.

Over the weekend while their folks are away, Billy takes Max out to pick up a couple of movies and get a few snacks with Susan’s car.

Since he so scarcely leaves the house, he turns a few heads when people recognize him.

None so much as Harrington, who gawks at him from behind the fucking desk at Family Video. Billy glares hard at Max when she smirks at him before disappearing to the horror section.

The brunet is a bit more rugged than Billy recalls. Has a stronger jawline and more hair. Lots more hair.

It makes Billy feel especially pathetic, draped in a t-shirt that used to fit his figure well, but now swallows him more than anything.

That heavy feeling droops his shoulders down. He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away nonchalantly when Harrington abandons his station, leaving Buckley behind the counter floundering at the register.

“Look who’s out ‘n about,” Harrington chuckles. He has no issue reaching out and setting his hands on Billy’s biceps, moving close as if to inspect him. “Have I always been this much taller than you?”

Billy flushes red and straightens his posture. Brings himself back up to eye-level, which spurs a dull pain in his spine. He must not do well in terms of hiding it, because the brunet’s brows furrow.

“Do you wanna sit down?”

Rather than respond right away, Billy huffs and waves Harrington off of him. Shoots Max another glare when he spies her watching the exchange from behind a shelf.

“All I fuckin’ do is sit,” Billy grumbles. “If I knew I was gonna get a pity parade I would’a just sent the shitbird in.”

Harrington nods to himself. Takes half a step back and smiles.

“Alright with standing, then. Got it.” He tilts his head to the side. Eyes never leaving Billy for even a second. “Your hair’s grown out a lot.”

His gaze is a fond one. Like they aren’t in public right now. Like Billy is his damn girlfriend on prom night, and he’s seeing the gown for the first time.

Billy shrugs. Absently toys with one of the curls that dangles over his collar bone.

That weird pit is back in his stomach. The one that leaves him crying in the dark when Harrington signs off after hours of chatting about everything and nothing at once.

Billy wonders where he parks his car when they talk for that long. If he’s right outside or in the deep quiet of the woods, where the stars can really be seen and the train shakes the ground.

He’d rather Steve just climb through his window.

“I like it,” Steve adds. Nudges Billy’s elbow with his own. “It’s a soft look. Fits you really well.”

“Are you this nice to all the girls that come in here, or just the ones you wanna pork?” Billy teases.

Steve laughs, and it sounds so much better in person. Billy wants nothing more than to bottle it up and keep it forever.

Before the brunet can come back with a snide little joke of his own, Max meanders up to them. Holds up a few tapes for Billy to approve. Without really looking them over, he hands her the cash, and they all move back to the register together.

Steve rings them up. Max pays. Everything is so much slower than it should be going, like he’s trying to prolong the encounter as much as he can.

Billy understands the feeling.

When Steve slides Max the receipt, he’s less smiley. Billy turns to face the door, but doesn’t miss the way that Max nabs a pen and scrawls something on the slip of paper before sliding it back towards Steve.

Billy decides not to pry. Fears that if he asks, he’ll find that it’s some secret nerd shit that he can’t be privy to.

Fears that the heavy feeling will bear down on him again.

He doesn’t have to ask, turns out. The phone rings later that night, and Billy’s blood pressure spikes when Steve’s voice pours over the line.

“You should come out more often,” he says easily. “Really need some sun.”

Billy just tsks. They wind up sitting on the line for a little under half an hour. Billy wishes it lasted longer.

But he’d rather not explain the minutes away when his father shows him the phone bill.

Just before they hang up, after giggling at each other nearly the entire time, Billy barks out, “Don’t call here again.”

Then he hangs up.

Steve, naturally, gets on the radio not a few seconds later. Giggles and says, “Okay, dick. You can call me from now on.”

They stay up for practically the rest of the night talking.

Billy stares up at the ceiling and wonders how long this little thing between them will last.

He starts to question it more when Steve actually, by some miracle, convinces him to come out a handful of times.

The brunet is really touchy. Always has an arm around Billy’s shoulders or a hand on his back, and constantly bumps their knees together when they’re sitting down. Billy feels stupid for wanting more.

Why, he doesn’t know, because he’s fairly certain that he could ask for anything at this point.

Steve never calls again and that’s okay.

Billy prefers hearing whispers over the radio anyway.

It’s one evening in particular that Max is out of the house for the night, away at the Chief’s place for a sleepover, that the pit in Billy’s stomach turns into a black hole.

Steve has been ranting about his manager for the last half hour, only stopping to mention how a movie cover reminded him of Billy. How he couldn’t even wait to get home before he turned his radio on and pressed to talk to him.

The black hole consumes Billy before he can catch the words leaving his mouth.

“Do you like me?” he hears himself ask.

His voice gets choked up, and the second he lifts his finger off of the button, he rolls over and screams into his pillow. Quiet enough that Neil and Susan won’t hear, but hard enough to let a fraction of the tension out.

“Obviously,” Steve says. “Why else would I be friends with you?”

Billy presses his face harder into the pillow.

He can feel the pressure building behind his eyes. Feel the blistering heat of fresh tears and the throb in his temples as he huffs a strangled sigh into the pillow. Before he can even decide between turning the walkie off or fabricating a response, static pours through.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, he means do you have feelings for him,” Max groans.

There’s a beat of silence.

“What? Rea—“

“What the fuck are you doing on this channel?” Billy interrupts.

He can feel the veins in his neck straining from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. Can practically see red when giggles pour through the radio.

A red hot flush of shame paints Billy’s face when he realizes that Eleven is listening in too.

“What are you still doing on this channel? If you didn’t want us to eavesdrop, you should’ve switched forever ago.”

“How long have you been listening to us talk?” There’s a beat of silence. Billy huffs. “Max. How long?”

“How long have you and Steve been talking?” Max asks.

Her rhetorical question is accompanied by giggles that are cut off when she lifts her finger from the button.

There’s nothing but silence for a moment. Then two.

Billy’s vision blurs as he sets his walkie down on his nightstand. The cold fingers of embarrassment wrap around him and drag him down, lower than he’s ever been drug before.

He’s ruined everything.

His sister not only hates him, but she knows about him now, and the only guy he’s ever let himself truly like is going to want nothing more to do with him after this.

Not for the first time since Starcourt, he wishes that monster had killed him.

“Billy?” Steve asks gently. When there’s no response, he sighs. “Look, we can figure out the channel thing some other time, but… was she right? Is that what you were trying to ask me?”

Silence. Then, giggles.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m right,” Max teases.

“Radio silence,” Steve snaps. “Now.”

His tone is stern. Brotherly in a way that should be surprising, but isn’t, really.

“Signing off…” Max says dejectedly.

Astonishingly, the channel falls silent. Billy sniffles as he reaches over to paw at his nightstand, curling his fingers weakly around the radio.

He doesn’t press the button. Tries to swallow his silent sobs in a failed attempt to compose himself first.

“Billy?” Steve coos, voice much softer now. “If you don’t wanna talk over the radio, that’s fine, but—“

“Yes,” Billy rasps.

A beat of silence.

“Yes?”

“She was right.”

Billy winces at how broken his voice sounds. A whistle pours through the radio.

“Oh, man,” Steve chuckles, and Billy’s heart sinks. “The boy of my dreams wants to know if I have feelings for him? Are you dense?”

There’s a crisp millisecond of confusion before Billy presses the button.

“What?”

“Of course I like you, dude.”

Billy inhales like he just resurfaced for air for the first time in years.

“Why?” he breathes.

“You’re funny, smart, surprisingly sweet, and pretty easy on the eyes. Just for starters.”

If his heart was thumping fast before, it’s going light-speed now. All he can do for a few beats is focus on controlling his breathing.

“You don’t like me,” he murmurs. “Trust me, Steve, I’m fucked up.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s a little fucked up.” Steve hums a laugh to himself. “And I do like you. You’re not gonna be changing my mind about it anytime soon.”

“What if I told you to go fuck yourself?”

“I’d tell you that you don’t always have to be such a dick.”

A tiny hint of a smile creeps its way onto Billy’s face when he hears Steve chuckle.

His eyes are dry. The pool of dread in his belly has begun to drain, and he feels the slightest bit hopeful.

“If you’re so sure, then I guess picking me up for dinner and a movie sometime won’t be difficult for you, will it?”

Steve sighs fondly at the notion.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Are you accepting?”

There’s a brief pause. Billy’s unable to keep from smiling giddily to himself.

“Depends,” Steve lilts. “Gonna open your window?”

There’s a light tap on the glass. Billy pushes himself up and draws the blinds, revealing a grinning brunet standing about a foot below, holding his walkie-talkie.

Billy tosses his on the bed before he opens the window and leans his elbows against the ledge.

“Is this the part where you ask me to let down my hair?” he teases.

Steve chuckles, but furrows his brows as he steps closer to the house.

“Were you crying?”

Taken aback by the question, Billy wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Shrugs nonchalantly, which doesn’t seem to be the answer that Steve was looking for.

“I was expecting things to go a bit differently,” Billy admits.

Steve frowns, and the expression doesn’t look right on him. He reaches up. Settles his hand on Billy’s forearm, smoothing his thumb back and forth against his skin until Billy shifts to dangle his arm out the window.

The pads of Steve’s fingers are soft where he holds Billy’s hand, clasped and suspended in the air together.

Billy really does feel like Rapunzel for a moment.

“I can be a little thick-skulled sometimes,” Steve says softly. “You’re always talking about yourself like you’re some unsalvageable disaster, so when you asked me if I liked you, my mind instantly went there. I wanted to make you sure you knew for certain that I do.”

He gives a little half smile. Billy squeezes his hand gently. Hopes that Steve doesn’t notice how weak his grip is.

“It’s not like I really gave you any context clues.”

“True. You didn’t.”

“I am a bit of a disaster, though. Feels like I’m only good at messing things up sometimes,” Billy sighs. “Max already hates me, and when I thought for a second that you might too, everything felt so lost.”

Steve makes a face.

“I would never, and I’d like to point out that Max doesn’t either.”

Billy blinks. Huffs amusedly, and as always, it comes out sounding closer to a scoff.

“Pretty sure she does. You’ve said yourself that she wouldn’t even talk when you asked about me.”

After thinking on it for a brief moment, Steve laughs.

“Yeah, man, ‘cause she bites the head off of anyone who asks about you. Definitely told me to mind my fucking business more than once.”

Again, Billy just blinks.

He never considered that maybe it was a protective thing and not a shame thing. The revelation has a surprising amount of weight lifting off of his shoulders.

“Definitely sounds like her,” he says.

They share a chuckle. Billy flattens his other forearm against the windowsill and rests his chin against it.

“Thanks for trying to lift me up earlier?” he muses. “Didn’t really work in the moment, but still.”

Steve softly swings their hands from side to side and sighs.

“I can tell. Your eyes are all puffy.”

“Should’a seen me the other night.”

The brunet cocks his head to the side in mild confusion.

“What happened the other night?” he asks. “Didn’t mention anything while we were talking.”

“It was, ah… after we signed off for the night. It’s no big deal, really. I cry after most of our talks.”

Billy looks away. Steve squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Billy rasps.

His eyes prick with tears again and Steve steps closer. Drops his walkie-talkie in the grass and reaches up with his free hand to cup Billy’s cheek.

“Oh, you’re just a big crybaby, huh?” he coos. Billy chuckles sadly and leans into his touch. “If I’d known, I would’ve snuck over here sooner.”

“My old man checks in on me sometimes, so it’s probably better that you stay in your car.”

“Well, do you have a curfew? I’d love to steal you away every now and again and kiss your cute, stuffy nose.”

Billy sniffles, and chuckles again. Wipes his eyes with his free hand and shrugs.

“Haven’t really had anywhere to go ‘till now,” he says.

Steve nods.

“You eaten yet?”

A smile cracks across Billy’s face. Steve mirrors the expression.

“You buying?”

“I’ll spend my entire paycheck on burgers and fries if it gets you outta this fuckin’ room. I swear sometimes it’s like pulling teeth.”

They share a chuckle, and Billy sits up. Flushes red when Steve presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“Gimme a sec.”

Again, Steve nods. He’s slow to release the blond when he pulls away, and Billy can’t help that he’s grinning like an idiot as he opens the door and pads out of his room.

He finds Neil and Susan in the living room watching tv. Makes up some lie about a few friends having a kickback. Even goes as far as to apologize for the short notice.

His folks share a look. Susan spreads a big smile and sets her hand on Billy’s bicep.

“No worries, sweetheart. Go ahead,” she says. “Have fun, alright?”

“Will you be coming back tonight?” Neil asks.

Billy stays quiet for a moment. Then two, just processing, and eventually shakes his head.

“It’ll probably be too late,” he says, and clears his throat. “I have somewhere else lined up, though.”

He winces at his own words, regret beading on his skin like a cold sheen of sweat.

Neil nods. Turns his attention back to the tv.

“Just stay outta trouble.”

And that’s it.

Nothing more is said, but Billy still stands there like he’s waiting for something else to happen.

When nothing does, he nods curtly and pads back down the hallway to his room, deciding not to press his luck by letting them think too hard on it. Once he has the door shut behind him, he’s immediately leaning out the window again.

Steve has his walkie back in his hands, rocking back and forth patiently on the balls of his feet while he waits. He smiles when he notices that the blond has reappeared.

“What’d they say?”

“Go get your car, I’ll be ready by the time you pull up.”

Billy leans back. Grabs the window and shuts it just as Steve nods enthusiastically. Turns on his heel and jogs off of the lawn and back towards the street.

Giddy, warm feelings pool and buzz in Billy’s stomach as he digs through his drawers for jeans that he hasn’t worn in forever. Already has a date-worthy outfit in mind as he unfolds a pair.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when static pours through the radio still sitting idly on his bed.

“Update?” Max asks.

Billy rolls his eyes. Moves to grab it when another voice comes through.

“We’re goin’ steady,” Steve informs, out of breath.

“Yes!” Max shouts.

Then, a third voice comes through.

“Finally! Jesus,” Dustin huffs.

There’s a beat of silence, followed by Steve panting when he presses the talk button.

“How many of you dickheads are on this channel?”

“Just two?” Mike says. “Technically, since we’re only using two walkie’s.”

There’s laughter over the radio, and Billy rolls his eyes. Can’t really find it in himself to be mad right now with all of the butterflies swirling in his tummy.

“You’re all banned from the front seat of my car,” Steve huffs. “And the wedding, when it happens.”

“No! I wanted to be the flower girl!” Eleven whines.

“I was gonna walk you down the aisle,” Dustin adds.

“Good luck finding another officiant, then, I guess,” Lucas says with a scoff.

More laughter is had. Max and Mike chime in with various jokes about ring-bearers and bridesmaids, but they’re cut off when Steve presses to talk again.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I highly recommend switching channels.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Max muses.

Billy can practically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice when he speaks next.

“‘Cause I’m gonna start using this one for sex stuff, and it’s gonna get real weird real fast, so be warned.”

Multiple groans and sounds of disgust pour through the radio.

“Yuck,” Max says. “Switching channels.”

“Ditto,” Dustin adds.

Then silence. True silence.

Billy grabs his walkie.

“We really gonna have phone sex over the radio?” he muses.

Steve laughs. The subtle rumble of the engine is audible from the street as his car pulls up to the curb.

“Not if you hurry up and get your ass out here already.”

The blond bites his lip. Can’t believe for the life of him how light he feels. How, for once, he feels better for having survived car wrecks and slimy monsters in the dark.

Feels like letting someone new into his life won’t cause him grief this time around.

“On my way, pretty boy.”

[camaro-and-smokes]

Pretty (wo)man

Chapter 1: The blonde

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con Category: M/M Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Supernatural (Stranger Things), Prostitution, Sex Work, Sex Worker Billy Hargrove, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Smut, Anal Fingering, Prostate Milking, Genderfluid Billy Hargrove, Crossdressing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, First Time, Harringrove, Billy Hargrove needs a hug. See all updated tags for all chapters on AO3. Moodboard by the wonderful @a-redharlequin

Notes: This is my 7th entry to @harringroveson-bingo 2022-2023, card 1, B3: prostate milking.

General warning: This work as a whole includes themes related to and mentions of prostitution, sex work, and sexual abuse. I will add tags with every new chapter and notes when anything particularly nasty is being depicted, but if this kind of content isn't your cup of tea to begin with, please move on. Consider yourself warned. Please, proceed.

Chapters: [CH 1] [CH 2] [CH 3] [CH 4] [CH 5] [CH 6] [CH 7] [CH 8] [CH 9] [CH 10] [CH 11] [CH 12] / 12

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Summary: This was the first night Steve had dared to actually stop by the red light district at all. He'd driven by maybe ten times the past week and spotted the blonde in the corner four times. He knew that he would actually have to talk to him at some point. But even the thought of being close to him always made him so anxious that he just couldn't stop the car. But as the vision of having the blonde in his bed haunted his mind stubbornly, he had decided that tonight would be the night when it would happen.

::::::::::

Blonde. Blonde, blonde, blonde. It was always the blonde who lured himself into Steve's thoughts whenever he had a moment to himself. Ever since he had driven to the red light district and by the line of working girls for the first time, just to browse.

The blonde had been leaning to the brick wall that was filled with tags, smoking. She had the right amount of muscle in all the right places, and it had felt a bit odd for Steve that a woman with that built was there, because she would've probably made a killer fitness competitor.

The blonde had been wearing a red see-through gown with just a bra and panties underneath, and Steve had been admiring the look and after a while spent a moment putting two and two together with the blonde's flatter than normal chest and lack of curves on her waist. When it had clicked, the black pumps with at least four inch heels that had finished the blonde's look, had made his head spin.

This particular working girl wasn't a girl at all.

-oOo-

Billy stepped out of the john's car, spat out the sperm from his mouth, and walked back to his usual spot in the corner. He lit a smoke to get the disgusting taste of smegma off his mouth and dug his phone from his bag to fix his make-up.

The night had been a disaster, just two blowjobs the whole night. He was getting antsy about not being able to collect the missing six hundred for last month's rent he'd promised to pay in full tomorrow. This month's rent was about to be late again, but he couldn't ask for extension for it unless he had at least one month's full rent to pay. So the six hundred was the goal, and he was still missing four.

If he didn't come up with the money he would have to start looking for a couch to bunk until he managed to put together yet another pre-payment for another shitty apartment somewhere out of town. It looked a lot like the later would come to be if the night didn't improve and fast.

He was leaning to the cold brick wall of the industrial building, now fixing the lipstick that had gotten smudged with the latest blowjob when Cassie, an older prostitute who was kinda mother hen to all of the girls - and non-girls - working at the red light district, walked to him. "Hey Sweetie, I think the big Audi on the empty lot is there for you." Billy, who went by the name Sweetie in this job, turned his head to look at the car running idly a block away, exhaust gases painted red and blue in the rhythm of the strip joint sign on the wall of the building behind the lot. "Why do you think that?" he asked frowning. "He's been there for a few hours and he refused all the girls who checked on him. So, it must be you he's looking for." "Yeah, that's never at all concerning," he snorted. "You said you were short on rent and the night is coming to an end. Your choice." "Yeah, you're right,” Billy sighed. “Thanks. Oh, and good luck with your exams tomorrow!" Cassie started to walk away. "Thanks, I'm gonna need it."

Billy checked once more the make-up he had managed to salvage, put his phone in his bag, and started to walk towards the big car.

-oOo-

Steve had to take a deep breath and swallow when the blonde started to walk towards his car. He was wearing high heels, fishnets that reached his mid-thighs, a sinfully short cheerleader skirt that barely hid anything between his legs – Steve was almost sure that he wasn't wearing anything underneath it – and a cropped top in matching color that left his well toned abs and Adonis belt visible.

This was the first night Steve had dared to actually stop by the red light district at all. He'd driven by maybe ten times the past week and spotted the blonde in the corner four times. He knew that he would actually have to talk to him at some point. But even the thought of being close to him always made him so anxious that he just couldn't stop the car. But as the vision of having the blonde in his bed haunted his mind stubbornly, he had decided that tonight would be the night when it would happen.

He would drive in front of the blonde, get him in his car in less that a minute and then have his way with him.

Except that he wasn't brave like that when he wanted something this bad. Every time he had gotten out of the car he'd gotten such a bad anxiety attack that he'd had to return to the car. And he hadn't been able to tell any of the girls who had checked on him that he was looking for the blonde because he had barely been able to speak at all. So the night had just dragged on and on, and now it was already early morning hours – and he still couldn't get out of the car.

The blonde leaned into the car's window and Steve pushed the button on the door to roll it down. The blonde smiled. "Hey, you're looking for some fun, honey?" "Uh...I'm... I don't really do this, you know...I guess?" Steve managed to mumble. "Honey, you have to speak up. I can't hear you." Steve cleared his throat. His palms were sweating and he rubbed them together. He was sure the blonde could see his awkwardness a mile away. "Uh, yes, yeah-um, I'm, uh, looking for some fun." The blonde looked at him pursing his lips. "You're new to this?" "Uh-huh," Steve managed to stutter. "I-uh...I wanted to see you." A smile tucked the corner of the blonde's perfect lips, and it made Steve's breathing even shallower than it already was. "Well, you've seen me now. Wanna get closer? Maybe touch?" Steve swallowed. "Uh...yeah." "Hundred for a blowjob. Add one and a half to that for a fuck as a top or a bottom, either one works." "What about...just for a chat?" The blonde looked at him curiously. "Everything else is three hundred per hour, but I do nothing that involves cuffing or BDSM. Payment beforehand." "What if...uh, the whole night?" The blonde looked at him for a while chewing his lip. "Since you're a newbie and I happen to be missing rent that's due tomorrow..." "How much do you owe?" Steve blurted, maybe a bit too eagerly. The blonde looked away and took a deep breath. "You don't have that kind of money in cash, love." "Well, I don't know unless you tell me. Just tell me how much you owe and I'll pay that. For the night. Beforehand." The blonde looked back at him. "Two and a half thousand." Dammit. "Yeah, you're right, I don't have it on me. But, BUT! Wait! I have a thousand." Steve fumbled to get his wallet out of his jacket pocket, dug the money out and showed it to the blonde. "I have the rest at home, in a safe. Will you come for the thousand? I swear I pay the rest when we get to my place. You don't even have to come in until you have the money in your hand. I promise. A thousand just for the ride. Nothing else. Please?"

The blonde smiled sweetly and Steve's heart missed a beat. "It's ok, hun. It's so late that a thousand covers for the rest of the night anyway." The blonde opened the door and sat down on the passenger seat, and turned to look at Steve. Now that Steve saw him in a better lighting he forgot to breath for a moment. The blonde was even more stunning than he had thought.

-oOo-

Billy smiled at the brunet who squeezed the hundred dollar bills in his hand as if his life depended on them. ”I'm sorry, they're probably a bit sweaty,” the brunet said, embarrassed, as he handed the money to Billy. Billy took the bills, counted them and tucked them inside his bra. "You know, you don't have to be so nervous," he said softly. "It's just you and me. Do you have a name, honey?” ”Uh...Steve.” ”Well, Steve, should we then get going? You paid for the night and the sooner we get where you want to take me, the sooner you get what you paid for,” Billy said setting his hand on Steve's thigh. He could feel the tension gathering under his touch, so he just gently brushed the leg and let go. "Why did you let go?" Steve gasped as if he'd lost something. "I'd like you getting us to your place safely, that's all. Don't worry, I'll touch you again when we get there.”

-oOo-

Steve couldn't believe that the blonde was actually in his car. He was beautiful. It would be an expensive night, but he had waited and wanted it for it for so long that he was happy to pay for it. Even though the blonde had said that it was only the thousand for the night, he would pay what he'd promised.

The only pang of regret was that to the blonde this would be just a simple trade of money for a service. Steve would’ve wanted this to be so much more. But, if he could have the blonde for one night only, he'd at least have something beautiful to remember for the rest of his life. ”Uh...what's your name?” he asked, trying to make awkward conversation as they drove through the city. ”It's whatever you want it to be,” the blonde cooed. ”No, I’d prefer your name.” The blonde looked at Steve. ”Sweetie.” Steve glanced at him. ”I suppose that's your...artist name?” The blonde chuckled. ”Yeah.” ”It's nice. Is it because you're sweet?” ”If you'd like me to be.”

Steve had to swallow again because of the soft tone of the words, and wipe his sweaty palms one by one to his thighs. His heart beat fast and he could hear it in his ears so loud that it was hard to concentrate on anything else.

-oOo-

Once they got to Steve's building and the car was parked in the garage, Steve got out, and almost ran to open the passenger door to Billy, who smiled and thanked him. This client, Steve, was clearly enjoying the sweet feminine act, so Billy decided to keep it up as long as they got to talking what he really wanted.

They got to the elevator, and when the doors closed and Billy saw that the floor they were going was the 34th, he took Steve's hand in his. The hand was moist but warm, and it shook a bit. Billy squeezed it, and the trembling eased. ”Uh, I'm sorry that I'm so nervous. This really is my first time,” Steve said glancing shyly at Billy. Billy looked at Steve, and smiled. ”It's ok. There's first time for everything.” Steve let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

When they reached Steve’s floor, Steve opened the door to the condo. When he remembered his promise to pay beforehand he started to walk in himself. ”Oh, sorry, wait here, I'll get the...” ”I think it's better if I wait inside,” Billy said. ”Prying eyes, you know. And I said that it's fine...” ”No, I insist. Please,” Steve said, and opened the door fully to let Billy in. Billy nodded, and walked in.

He stood waiting by the door in the massive hall. He'd been places like this before, but no one in these had ever told him to wait for more money. Well, to be honest, no one had ever told him to wait, especially for more money.

After a while Steve came back with a stack of bills and handed it to Billy. ”It's the missing fifteen hundred. Please, take it.” Billy smiled shyly as he took the money. ”Thank you. That's really sweet of you.”

But no matter how nice Steve seemed to be, a cold feeling started to gather in the pit of Billy's stomach as he counted the money. The guy was actually willing to pay two and a half thousand dollars for not even a full night with him, and he didn’t even yet know what he wanted. In Billy's experience someone paying a lot hard cash ended up crossing boundaries, being very, very painful in many ways than one and reminded him of what happened at least for a few days, if not longer.

And no one had ever paid him this much. He was seriously afraid this night might become the most painful experience he'd ever had.

But he needed the money, so, like a champ, he put the money in his bag, and threw the bag on the table in the corner of the hall. Then he turned to Steve. ”So, what would you like to do, Steve?” he cooed, and stepped closer to him.

Steve ran his gaze on Billy from head to toe, his breathing shallow. He licked his lips, and moved to meet Billy, standing in front of him. ”Is it ok if we kiss? I mean, I remember seeing a film...” ”You paid a lot for the one night. Kissing is ok,” Billy whispered.

Steve's lips were soft as they touched Billy's. First just a peck, really, then another, the kisses lingering longer every time. Billy had kissed so many men and women and knew kisses of all kinds, but never had anyone kissed him so gently and intimately.

Steve pulled back a little. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." Billy smiled. "Really?" "Really. I still can't believe you're here." "I can be that. Someone you've wanted for a long..." Steve interrupted him. "No. I mean, for real. No role-play. I once saw you in that corner and..." He tried to find words to describe how he truly felt. "...and you were beautiful. The prettiest thing I've ever seen. And that moment I knew I had to have you. For good." Billy had to fight the urge to remind Steve that he shouldn't get too involved. He knew nothing of him as a person and that he was paying for him to be whatever he wanted him to be. Instead, he chuckled. "Well, if I wasn't pretty I guess I would be in the wrong profession." Steve looked at him earnestly. "Why are you a...in this profession?" Billy smiled at him sweetly. "Thank you for the interest, but it's really nothing you need to worry about, love. I'm here for you, remember?"

Billy regretted his words immediately as Steve's face fell a little. But he knew he shouldn't share any details of himself with a client or he couldn't keep it professional.

"Uh, yeah, right," Steve said and looked away. Billy took Steve's chin in his hand and turned him to look back at him. "This is all about role-play, Steve. Let's pretend that I'm everything you've ever wanted and that you know all my most intimate secrets. That I'm yours, all the way. Okay?" Steve smiled faintly. "Yeah," he whispered. "So, what would you want to do with me?" Steve took a strand of Billy’s hair in his fingers and brushed it gently between them, then he took the whole bunch of hair that was on Billy's shoulder and pushed it behind it. "Talk. Have dinner, watch TV, hold hands, make out." "We can do all of those things if you want to." "I'd like that," Steve said, suddenly on the brink of tears. Billy looked at him concerned, and set his hand on his cheek. "What is it? Oh hun, don't cry." "I don't know if I can do this." "Oh. Well, I can go, if you want." "No! I mean...” Steve paused, and took Billy’s both hands in his. “Please don't. I'm just...I thought I could handle having you here for one night only. But now that you're here, all I can think about how at some point you'll leave and don't come back." "Uh, I can come back, if you want,” Billy said slowly. ”It's not a problem." "I don't mean like that." "Oh," Billy gasped as he realized what Steve meant. "Yeah. I don't think that's something..." "Unless you, you know, wouldn't mind dating me? I-I could still pay you," he stuttered. Billy closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "It doesn't work like that, hun." "What if...what if...uh, I became your sugar daddy? I could pay you monthly allowance and I could pay your rent, and, and you wouldn't have to be on the street, and..." Billy took a step back, feeling the hair in the back of his neck standing up. "Why do you want me so much?" Steve looked at Billy with a sad smile. "I've seen you on that corner so many times, and you're always wearing something like this," he pointed at Billy's outfit, "and you shouldn't have to do that. Degrading yourself by selling your body." "Listen," Billy said sternly, "I don't need saving. I'm getting by just fine by myself..." "You had a debt of two and a half thousand,” Steve interrupted him. ”I hope it wasn't the full missing rent."

Billy closed his eyes grimacing and turned around. He walked by the table where his bag was, dug out the money he'd stuffed in it and set it on the table. "I'm sorry, but I don’t think this will work. Here's the full payment back. We don't owe anything to each other." He was almost out of the door, when Steve spoke: "Please, stay. I don't want anything bad to you. I just..." Billy turned around. "Love, I'm a prostitute. You rent me and you can use me any way you see fit. Most clients are fine by that. But you..” Billy sighed. “You have mixed reality and fantasy. I can't be your boyfriend in real life." "Why not?" "You bought me, once. I don't date anyone who buys me...” "Ok, then I'll pay you ten thousand for a week with me on a yacht on the Mediterranean," Steve said all of a sudden. "Start-starting from, uh, Monday next week," he stuttered. "And I pay for everything else too, including flights, and a proper wardrobe. And you can keep everything I buy you," he hastened to add.

Billy's eyes widened and he looked at Steve with his mouth hanging open.

"And you can keep all of this," Steve said, and extended his hand with the money from the table. "Even if you say no for the week and want to leave now. Knowing that I could help you even a little is enough for me." Billy looked at the money in Steve's hand biting his lip. Then he raised his gaze to meet Steve’s. "Please, take it," Steve said, and smiled a little. After a moment of reconsidering Billy took the money and clutched the bills in his hand for a while saying nothing. He really needed it, not to mention ten. With that he maybe really could finally get out of the street and do something else. His stomach twisted into knots because every single cell in his body screamed RUN but he didn't have any other choice but to take the offer. He cleared his throat. "I'll come. For the week." He swallowed and grabbed the strap of his bag with his both hands to hide how much they were shaking all of a sudden. "What's the schedule?" "Are you sure?" Steve asked. Billy smiled a nervous smile, and nodded. Steve pursed his lips. “Please, stay, at least for a while. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Steve walked to the corridor that was straight ahead, and after taking a few deep breaths Billy followed him. The corridor opened into a lavish living room with two white leather couches, no doubt very expensive art on the walls, and view over the roofs of the lit city. He'd seen his share of this high-class lifestyle, but never had he been invited in quite this way. He’d always been taken straight to a couch, or pushed down on the floor, or on a bed, fucked thoroughly and then ushered quickly out of the door.

Now Steve was opening a bottle of wine in the open kitchen that was in the other end of the living room. Billy looked around and sat on the couch, setting his bag next to him.

He had never felt more out of place.

Steve walked to him with a bottle of red and two glasses. “I’m sorry, I only have red wine. I hope that’s alright.” “It’s fine. I’m not picky,” Billy smiled a quick smile. As Steve poured the wine Billy saw the name of the wine: Château Corton Grancey Grand Gru. He didn’t have any idea what the wine was, but the label said France, so it had to be expensive. Just like everything else in the condo. Steve sat down on the other couch across Billy and took his glass in his hand smelling the wine. “Go ahead,” he said when he saw Billy hesitating. “Oh, right,” he continued after a while, and took a sip of the wine to show that there was nothing wrong with it. Billy took the glass and smelled the content. The aroma was rich and intoxicating. He’d never had wine that smelled so good. He took a sip, and the liquid felt as if he’d just drank the softest velvet. He let out a groan, and Steve chuckled. “Yeah, this is good,” he said smiling. “And don’t worry, there’s no need to drink all of this. I just...” He took a deep breath and looked at his glass. “I need to unwind my nerves just a little. I haven’t had anyone here with me in a long time, not like this.” “Why?” Billy asked. Steve chewed his cheek. “I just recently found out that I...that I’m also, you know, into men. I mean, when I saw you. So many things just...clicked, all of a sudden.” “So, why haven’t you had anyone here since?” “Because I wanted my first to be you.” Billy couldn't help but to smile at Steve's endearing honesty – even though he was still a bit concerned of what the night might still have in store. He took another sip of the wine. “So, what’s the occasion next week?”

Steve took a deep sigh. "There's a wedding. Of my ex. And I was invited to rub it in, for sure. But with you, I thought... you know, maybe I could pay back a little." Billy raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Sounds like a plan." Steve looked back at his glass, and took a gulp. "I'm not petty like that normally. But this occasion's just... She hurt me." "It's fine, you don't have to explain. I'll go wherever you want me to." Steve glanced at Billy, and nodded, drinking the rest of the wine from his glass. He set the glass on the table between them, and leaned back to the couch, rubbing his hands together nervously. He looked bashfully at Billy.

Billy looked back at him, and made up his mind. He would stay the night. He'd be safe, as long as he didn't drink more and didn't agree to be cuffed. Those two had been the source of actual pain in the past and he wouldn't make that mistake again.

He set down his glass, got up and walked around the table, standing in front of Steve. When Steve didn't do anything but just looked hesitantly at Billy's crotch, he gently brushed Steve's cheek with his index finger, and cupped his chin in his hand, turning Steve to look up at him in the eyes and leaning down to kiss him. He tried to match the kiss Steve had given him before, and Steve returned it in the same knee-buckling way he'd done the first time.

The kiss lingered between them, velvety like the wine they'd drank, as Steve's hands found their way on the backs of Billy's knees. He carefully moved his hands higher to the back of Billy's thighs pulling him gently towards him, and Billy straddled on his lap.

Steve studied Billy's face, as if trying to memorize the location of each freckle on each side of Billy's nose, or count the number of his thick lashes. "Jesus you're beautiful," he whispered. Billy smiled, and brushed Steve's cheek with his hand. "What do you want to do?" he asked. Steve searched Billy's eyes for a moment. "I'm kinda new to this...Can you show me? As in how...you know.” Billy nodded. "Sure. You like what we're doing now?" he cooed. Steve nodded, and looked at Billy's lips while licking his own. ”Okay then,” Billy whispered. ”You're welcome to do anything with me you'd do with a woman. Except hit. If that's what you're into.” Steve looked back at him in shock. ”Do clients really do that to you?” Billy's smile faltered. ”Some do,” he said quietly. ”I won't,” Steve said, and wrapped his arms around Billy's waist, moving his thumb in circles in the small of Billy's back. ”I couldn't. Not to a woman, or you. Pretty things must be cherished, and loved.”

Something warm bloomed in Billy's chest. No one had said anything that nice to him in a very long time. He had to remind himself that he'd have to be careful or he'd end up being hurt not by Steve but by himself if he let his emotions get the best of him.

Either way, the pain would still be the same.

Billy smiled and leaned down, kissing Steve again. Steve's hands wandered down on Billy's buttocks and underneath the skirt as they kept kissing slowly, their tongues lapping against each other lazily. "I want to fuck you," Steve whispered. ”Okay," Billy replied. "Have you ever had anal with anyone?” Steve shook his head blush raising on his cheeks. Billy smiled. ”No need to be embarrassed. It's not something everyone does. So, we need to start by opening me up. It's not like vagina that can be, you know, just warmed up other ways. It can be done with fingers or with a toy. I have those with me...” ”No, I want to do it. Show me,” Steve said breathlessly. Billy smiled, got up and took a condom and a tube of lube from his bag. He handed the rubber to Steve. ”You don't want your fingers get dirty on your first time.”

When Steve had the condom over his finger, Billy squeezed a generous amount of lube on it. ”How is it, you know, easiest?” Steve asked, the blush on his cheeks deepening. ”We can do it right here. Just push it in, gently.” Billy straddled back to Steve's lap, and his eyelids fluttered as Steve pushed his finger inside him. Steve thought that the blonde looked even more beautiful like that, if it was possible. Which it most definitely was. ”What then?” Steve whispered. ”Kiss me,” Billy breathed. And Steve did.

Billy moved himself on Steve's finger, and Steve couldn't help but getting hard from kissing him, him grinding over his crotch and at the same time riding on his finger. ”You can put in another," Billy said. "Just be careful not to break the rubber.” Steve did what the blonde asked, and pushed them a bit deeper this time. All of a sudden Billy opened his eyes wide open and rolled them around, letting out a tiny sound that Steve drank eagerly from his lips before stopping, worried. ”Did I hurt you? I'm sorry...” ”No hun, nothing like that,” Billy gasped and closed his eyes. ”The contrary.” ”It feels good?” ”M-hm, yeah. But you don't have to...” ”I want to,” Steve said eagerly. ”I want you to feel good.” Billy smiled. His clients usually didn't care for his pleasure the tiniest bit, but Steve was different. He let out a sigh and looked directly Steve in the eyes. ”Do it again.” Steve did, and smiled when the blonde let out a low groan that rumbled in his chest so loud that Steve could feel it. ”Is that...” Steve asked. ”Prostate. Yeah,” Billy said strainedly. Steve rubbed his fingers against the nub again, a bit harder this time, and drew a breathless right there oh god yes out of the blonde. ”Do you want me to...” Steve asked, and gently brushed his hand on Billy's hard cock that had forced itself out from under the short skirt. ”You can.” ”No, Sweetie, I'm asking if you want me to.” Billy let out another delicious moan as Steve rubbed his fingers against his prostate once again. ”M-hmm,” was all Billy could muster as a reply.

Steve went for Billy's dick, but before he could grab it, Billy took Steve's hand, stopping him. ”Uh, would you mind...” Billy said and swallowed, and felt himself blushing. Asking clients for favours was a definite no-no, but with Steve he dared to do it. ”I don't usually ask clients to do things my way...but would you mind doing this the other way around?” he asked shyly. ”I mean, if you really want to take good care of me?” A wide smile spread on Steve's face. ”Show me.” Billy got up letting out a moan as Steve's fingers left him, and got on his knees on the couch next to him. ”Push them in the other way around, and rub it, hard.” Steve stood up, and leaned on the couch with his other knee, pushing his fingers back in and doing what Billy told him to. After a few hard rubs and managing to pump Billy's cock just a few times Billy already whimpered I'm coming I'm coming please just don't stop followed by a horrified oh god no your couch just before his cum already poured on the white leather. Steve felt himself come embarrassingly in his pants just by Billy literally shuddering into pieces in his hands, now heaving and holding to the backrest of the couch with his dear life.

Steve leaned on Billy's side. ”That was fast,” he panted. ”Yeah, it was. Sorry.” ”You like that? I mean, when it's done like that?” ”It's called milking, and yes, I like it. Very much. I hope that was obvious,” Billy muttered. ”Uh, sorry, I just...I know nothing. You need to teach me,” Steve said, smiling. ”Take your fingers out, please,” Billy whispered. ”I'm afraid you have to wait a bit to get to fuck me.” ”It's ok,” Steve said, and sat on the couch letting out a heavy breath. He took the condom off of his fingers and set it on the floor. Billy looked at Steve grimacing. ”I'm sorry I messed up your couch. It must cost a ton to clean it.” ”It's fine,” Steve assured him. ”Doing that to you was definitely worth it. I messed my pants, so that probably makes us even, at least on the embarrassment scale.” The remark made Billy laugh and relax properly with a client for the first time in a long while. Steve smiled a lopsided grin. ”Come here,” he said and pulled Billy to sit on his lap sideways. ”I promise to get your skirt cleaned,” he whispered to Billy's ear. ”But we have to take it off first,” he continued, and licked Billy's earlobe with the tip of his tongue.

[animangalover-writes]

Billy Hargrove fandom I love you. You are the only safe space in this cursed fandom❤️

[msbillyhargrove]

I love my babes sm, they deserved so much better.

[plistommy]

A fic where both Eddie and Billy are fighting over Steve and Steve’s oblivious about these two metalheads wanting to fuck him so badly that they try to sabotage each other ’cause only one of them gets to have Steve and that tight ass…. Right?

[weird-an]

Billy Hargrove is trash and he knows it. He's worth nothing, but he looks shiny on the outside - good enough for people to enjoy him for a while and then toss him away for the real deal.

He still isn't even sure why Harrington indulges sometimes. True, Billy is a good fuck. He's got a tight ass and can swallow King Steve whole - which is kind of an accomplishment.

But Billy is trash and Harrington can afford so much more. Maybe Harrington enjoys it, because Billy is the poster boy of "no future", the one that has to be a secret, the one that takes what he can get, won't tell and won't make claims later.

This is why it hits him so hard. When Harrington cups his cheeks and peppers his face with kisses. Kisses the bruise on his collarbone and takes his time with him. Like Billy is some chick he takes out for dinner later and introduces to his parents. Harrington pets his hair and gets him off slowly and careful, like Billy's about to break if he's pushing any harder.

Billy cries on the way home and tells himself it's better to stop fooling around with Harrington. Because whatever that was, it wasn't meant for Billy. Maybe Harrington was imagining Wheeler or whoever. A person, not a body.

He can't stay away from Harrington though, because Harrington gives him a crooked smile with his biggest doe eyes and next thing he knows, Billy is riding him on the backseat of the BMW.

It happens again. When Billy's got a black eye, because his dad is angry and Billy chose the wrong moment to walk into the kitchen.

Harrington takes him home and wraps Billy in the softest blanket, kisses him like Billy holds a value, like he means something. Like he isn't a fake jewel you can buy at the mall, but the real thing people have to save a shit ton of money for to even consider buying.

Harrington tears Billy apart with his kindness, with his attention, with his big brown eyes looking at him like he's worried. Which is wrong, because no one gets worried about trash except when it piles up in front of your house.

"Don't go home," Harrington says like they're in a cheap TV drama, thrusting slowly into him. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

"I have to," Billy answers hoarsely, more speaking to himself than to Harrington. Because he has to, because he can't stay or he'll get this idea in his head that this means something.

The next time Billy is wiping away the blood dripping from his nose, Harrington pulls him into the hug, ignoring Billy's blood tainting his expensive shirt.

"I love you," he whispers in his ear and Billy wants to say no you don't, but his head is hurting and Harrington's words feel warm and tender and Billy wants it to be the truth.

Because even though Billy is trash, he wants to be worth something.