#harringrove & the party

[harringroveera]

The Byers’ fight scene just got so much more interesting

[avalonlights]

[shieldofiron]

Steve: Billy we're trying to stop monsters.

[cuepickle]

Can’t decide if they fought each other or together

[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.

[hunnystufff]

Spooky month is back and so am I!

[weird-an]

Glitter everywhere. It doesn't get off.

Glitter will look good in a coffin. Billy knew it had been a stupid idea to snoop through Max' Halloween box. There had been so much glitter and all Billy could think about was David Bowie and that Drag Queen he once saw in California.

He stood in front of the mirror. Put a bit of blue glitter on his finger, a shine of silver and pink in it.

Now it's around his eyes and somehow on his chest, too. He stares at himself. He never thought he could look like this. He never thought he could... be that.

He hears footsteps. Heavy and way too early. He tries to rub the glitter off. It stays on. He scowls at his reflection, a silver speck in the dark of his room.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Neil stands in the doorway. Anger turning is face red, like he tried some of Max' makeup for her devil's costume last year.

"I'm sorry," Billy manages, throat dry and head filled with memories of bruises, all purple and violet. He prefers glitter on his face, he thinks.

"Oh, you'll be sorry."

Neil moves, but Billy does, too.

He's out, before Neil can grab him. Just jumps out of his window. He's running, he can't see, he can't breathe, he's just muscles and adrenalin.

He gets into the Camaro and drives to the only safe place he can think of. The only place he wants to be.

He rings the bell, leaving a trail of silver behind on the button.

Steve opens the door.

"Wow," he says, staring at Billy wide-eyed and...smitten? "This looks great on you."

Billy's blood rushes in his ears. Is there glitter in his blood?

"My dad doesn't think so," he says, voice smaller than he thought it would be. Closer to how he feels than how he want to show.

Steve pulls him inside. He's putting his arms around him, until Billy stops shaking. He kisses Billy, again and again, so sweet it hurts and so long it doesn't.

"You're really pretty like that," Steve says.

Billy snorts. There's glitter on Steve's lips. He likes it. A bit of him on Steve.

[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.”

[chrisbitchtree]

Billy, heavily influenced by his boyfriends soft lips, skilled hands, and sweet talking voice, starts sharing chauffeur duties with Steve.

The kids, all of whom except for Max are unaware that Billy and Steve are dating, are weary, but they need rides and trust Steve, so they take what they can get.

Despite multiple warnings from both Steve and Billy himself, it takes no time at all for the kids to start breaking the rules of Billy’s car, and soon, he’s furiously scrubbing footprints off the back of the front seats, picking up trail mix off the floor, and to his horror, scraping what looks suspiciously like dried snot off the window.

The next time he picks up the kids, he reiterates the rules, giving them one more chance to listen if they don’t want to start walking everywhere.

“Ok,” he says, looking them all in the eye in turn. “This is the last time I’m telling you guys. Feet stay on the floor, food stays in a sealed bag inside your backpack, and I can’t believe I have to say this, but your bodily fluids are to stay in your bodies at all times!”

Immediately, there’s a chorus of “But Steve lets us…” ringing out.

“But Steve lets us eat in the car!”

“Steve doesn’t care if we kick the seats!”

“Steve keeps tissues in his car!”

Billy doesn’t have the time or patience for this. “Listen up!” He shouts, turning around in his seat. “Do I look like a fluffy haired, Bambi eyed dreamboat that walks around looking like sex on legs?! Is my name Steve Harrington? No! I didn’t think so!”

It takes a not so gentle nudge and some meaningful eye contact from Max for him to realize what he’s said. No plea of temporary insanity or offer to let them eat in the car will buy their silence.

Steve’s very amused when Dustin races into Family Video, out of breath and red in the face, determined to be the first to tell him that Steve’s own boyfriend has a crush on him.

[harringrove-cafe]

Order Now

A massive thank you to @hunnysfwart for drawing Harringrove Card Soldiers and to @bigdumbbambieyes for helping me put all of this together ❤️

Text version below the cut!

Chrissy's Wonderland Tea Party ☕️

Desserts

Cheer Cookies

It appears that a certain cheerleader has left behind a giant teacup full of mysterious cookies. Will this irresistibly delectable variety of cookies make you grow? Make you shrink? Both? Neither? Dare to find out?

Zoomer’s “I’m Late” Carrot Cake Pop

Whether racing on foot, or zooming on your skateboard, you’ll never need to slow down with this mouth-watering carrot cake on a stick.

Buttered Applejack Unbirthday Cake 

Is it your Unbirthday? Well you’re right on time, then! Let’s celebrate your not-birthday with a 3 tier Chocolate drizzled Applejack cake!

Candy Cap Cupcake

Have you found yourself lost in a never-ending forest? Perhaps a bite of a sweet candy cap mushroom cupcake will help, especially if you’ve been shrunken down to the size of a caterpillar.

Queen of hearts Waffle Tarts 

Only this once will the Queen of Hearts allow you to have some of her delicious fruit tarts. This waffle crust, berry topped, custardy treat is sure to tempt you to swipe another. But beware, if the Queen catches you taking her tarts, it’s off with your head!

Fancy Nancy Fruit Salad

This fresh fruit salad is sure to put a Cheshire smile on your face. Rest assured that you won’t disappear, even if your salad does.

DRINKS

“DRINK ME” Forest Green Tea

“Do you ever feel like you’re…shrinking?!” This is a delicious Strawberry Green Matcha Tea blend with some sweet floating megaphone treats for you to snack on…if you reach the bottom of the bottle before you shrink, that is.

Cheshire Cappuccino

Are you going this way? Or that way? Well, whichever way you’re trying to go, take a cup of this cappuccino, loaded with a shot of espresso and served with Nancy’s novelty revolver spoon.

Telepathic Pink Flamingo

Would you like to challenge the Queen to a game of Croquet? Perhaps after you’ve had a delicious Pink Lemonade and Lemon Lime beverage. Not to worry, the Queen won’t use her powers to beat you (I think…)

Mad Max Marmalade Milkshake 

Even a fast-moving rabbit like you will slow down for this delightful treat. An Orange Marmalade Ice Cream shake topped with a California orange is certainly something worth your time.

Smoking Hot Summer (Rose Butterfly Tea)

If you still haven’t made your way out of Wonderland, why don’t you stick around and have a cup of Rose Petal and Butterfly blended tea with an important message from Heather in your cup. 

Chaotic Good English Breakfast Tea

You’re just in time for the party! Enjoy a bit of madness with a blend of robust teas, milk and sugar in a chaotic cup.

Order Now

[harringrovelover]

Steve will remember Tina's Halloween party for a long time, because at this party he broke up, met Billy, had sex with him in the toilet, later they became a couple, and now they are married

[harringroveera]

How Billy and Will first met each other

Inspired by @ventya text post

[avalonlights]

No strings attached. 🎵 | For @harringrovelovefest Day 1

Steve "The Hair" Harrington, heartthrob King of Late Night, is in a ratings slump and an all time personal low after his highly publicized break-up with glamorous hard-hitting reporter Nancy Wheeler. Just when he thinks things can't get any worse, the only guest he can't stand, glam rock revivalist and obnoxious playboy Billy Hargrove, spikes his ratings after their "rivalry" goes viral. Will either of their careers survive another fiery interview?

[shiphappensmate]

Billy: call the brats, they're not listening to me

Steve: I'm not their mom

Bily: just do it

Steve: alright, everyone! line up, get your asses in the car, we're going back to your houses

*the party immediately following like ducklings*

Steve:

Steve: no wait- listen LISTEN I'm not their-

[thissortofsorcery]

16 for the soft prompts? Harringrove, my one and only❤️💖❤️

Thank you ☀️

I, um. I did it again. So you get almost 2k. Yay?

---

16. laughing while kissing

It was the kid's idea.

They were spread around the living room at Steve's house after a long afternoon of swimming, with full bellies and painted with different shades of sunburn. Dustin had put a movie on for them to watch, but nobody was really paying attention to it. Billy himself was dozing on the couch, head on Steve's chest, letting the feeling of his fingers in Billy's hair and the sound of the tv and of the kids' whispered bickering lull him to sleep.

"NO WAY you can keep a straight face for longer than two minutes, Dustin!" Max yelled into the silence, jerking Billy awake. His groan joined the voices of the other kids' complaints, all of them yanked from their own silent daydreaming.

"Yes, I can!" Dustin yelled back. Lucas, in the middle of them on the floor, rolled his eyes. "Last week I lasted three minutes while my mom stared me down before I broke."

"What'd you burn this time?" Steve asked, and Billy felt the vibrations of his chest.

"I singed a curtain slightly, but that's irrelevant–"

"It's irrelevant because there's no way you can keep a straight face for two minutes if I stare you down," Max challenged, a smug expression on her face.

"Unbelievable," Dustin said, shaking his head. "Lucas, back me up."

"I'm staying out of this," Lucas said, sounding like the argument had already taken years off his life.

"You started this conversation!"

"No, I said the movie was so boring my face didn't move for fifteen minutes, you said that was impossible," Lucas argued. "Then Max said it was impossible for you, and you went off. This is between you."

"Fine, Steve! Back me up!"

"You can't ask Steve, he's my brother in law!" Max yelled.

"Well, he's my brother!" Dustin yelled back.

"They're not gonna let me sleep, are they?" Billy mumbled into Steve's chest, hearing it rumble when Steve chuckled.

"No, babe, they're not," He said.

"Fucking kids," Billy groaned, pushing himself up from the couch with a sullen look on his face. 

He got a Coke from the fridge as the yelling went on in the living room. The patio door muffled it much better, and he managed to enjoy a nice, rousing cigarette before he went back in to deal with the madness that was the dweebs when they were being stubborn about something.

Especially when it was Max leading the pack.

When Billy went inside, Dustin and Max were sitting across from each other on the living room rug, faces blank, two one dollar notes piled between them. Lucas, Mike, Will and El were watching them intently, spread around the couch and the loveseat. Lucas kept looking between them and his watch.

Billy headed for Steve, still in the same spot on the end of the couch.

"What's going on, now?"

"They bet on who can last longer," Steve said, rolling his eyes, but Billy could tell he thought the kids were hilarious.

Billy sipped his Coke and settled down on the arm of the couch to watch Max stare Dustin down, leaning her elbows on her knees, face carefully clear of any emotion. He could only see the back of Dustin's head, but he'd bet he was at least twitching.

"One minute, fifty seconds," Lucas called, on the edge of his seat. "Fifty one, fifty two…"

As he counted, the kids were leaning in closer to Dustin and Max, watching their faces avidly. El seemed fascinated by the game, with her chin on her hands, eyes bouncing between the two quickly, like she didn't want to miss a single twitch.

"Two minutes!" Lucas called, and Will and Mike started cheering. Under the noise, Lucas said, "Dustin can hold out that long."

Billy snickered when he saw one of Max's eyebrows twitch and her chin lift a little, fighting a reaction. He'd never admit it, but this was more entertaining than he thought.

Max leaned forward on her elbows, eyes fixed on Dustin's. Billy knew she would take being wrong personally. That meant she was going to make sure she wouldn't lose again.

She started twitching her ears.

Her hair was pulled back in a low braid, so they were visible, but the other kids probably wouldn't notice. Dustin, though, was staring straight at her. He wouldn't be able to miss it.

He didn't last long after that. He burst out into little giggles, and a second later Max let herself join him.

"Two minutes and thirty-four seconds," Lucas said. "Max wins!"

The living room erupted into chaos, the kids talking over each other and trying to decide who would challenge who next. 

Mike lost to Will who lost to Dustin, then Dustin lost to Lucas. Lucas beat Mike, but lost to Will, because Will apparently looked like a sad puppy. Max beat everyone but Lucas and El. And El, somehow, beat everyone but Mike.

Billy watched everything from the sidelines, relaxing his body into Steve, with one arm around his shoulders and Steve's arm around his waist. He thought it would take no effort at all to just tip his body to the side and slip on Steve's lap.

"But Billy's the one who's really good at this," Billy heard Max say. "He can go really long without like, twitching or anything."

"No way," Dustin says. "He would start rolling his eyes and calling us dweebs like two minutes in."

"Oh no, there's no way you're roping me into this," Billy said, putting his foot down. "No way in hell."

So now he's sitting on the floor, legs crossed, with the dweebs in a circle around him, staring at his face like a tiny Millennium Falcon is about to come flying out of his nose or something.

"You're all so fucking creepy," He grumbles.

"Ready…" Lucas says, eyes on his watch. "Go!"

He lets his face relax, jaw set, staring straight ahead. He counts his breaths in his head, focuses on his lungs expanding, and does not look at the kids' wide eyes looking at him. He fixes his eyes on a blank spot on the wall behind them until his vision blurs, and he lets himself get lost in his own head.

The silence grows. The kids watch him quietly at first, but they soon start fidgeting.

"How long has it been?" Dustin asks.

"Five minutes, eight seconds," Lucas says.

"Told you," Max says, and she sounds smug.

The living room is filled with tiny sounds from there, fingers tapping, people moving, someone leaving and coming back with a can that they crack open. Billy doesn't flinch.

"Oh my god, he's not moving!" Dustin says, sounding frustrated. "How long did you say he could last?"

"I've seen him go forty minutes," Max says. She doesn't say why Billy went so long without moving a single facial muscle.

"Forty minutes?!" Dustin screeches. "What are we supposed to do until then?"

"We can put on a movie," Will suggests. 

"We have to watch him," El says.

Billy counts his breaths. Feels his diaphragm move. He has to focus not to react. He didn't anticipate hearing the kids complain about being bored of something they nagged him into doing to be so fucking funny.

The noises of the living room get louder as they all get more restless, and every now and again someone will sigh like they're grounded with no TV, and Billy has to count his breaths again so he doesn't start laughing. It's worth it, though.

He hears Steve get up and go to the kitchen, picks up the sounds of him cleaning up the mess the kids left in there.

Every few minutes Lucas calls out the time, and the kids are less awed and more frustrated. Except for El, who's fascinated, still watching him like a hawk. Max is just smug.

"Fifteen minutes," Lucas says, like he's at the end of a marathon. "Let's call this."

"Okay, Billy wins," Dustin says, like he'd rather have his fingernails pulled out than admit it. "You can stop now."

But Billy doesn't. He just keeps staring ahead like he didn't hear them.

"Uh… Billy?" Dustin calls, crawling closer to his face. "You in there, bud?"

"Oh my god, he's not gonna move," Max says. "He's doing it to piss us off."

Dustin shoves his hand in front of Billy's face, waving it back and forth. Billy doesn't blink. 

"Hello?"

"This is so creepy," Lucas says, throwing himself down on the loveseat. "It's eighteen minutes, by the way."

"We have to make him stop," In the corner of his vision, Max throws her head back.

"Steve!" Dustin screams, "Steve, we need your assistance!"

Billy can hear Steve yelling back from the kitchen, "Oh, no way! You wound him up, you deal with it."

"El, can't you do something?" Max asks.

"No."

"We're going to die," Dustin says.

"Really?" Footsteps come from the kitchen, stopping by the couch behind Billy. Steve continues, "Demodogs are fine, but Billy's blank stare is where you call it quits?"

"I can't live like this, Steve!" Dustin's voice rises in pitch and volume.

"It's been twenty minutes," Lucas groans.

"Oh my god, you're so dramatic," Steve must be rolling his eyes into the sun behind Billy's back. He hears some shuffling, and then Steve is kneeling in front of him, directly in his line of sight. Steve has a fond smile on his face, and it's almost enough to make Billy's mouth twitch. "Hi. Sorry about this, I can't listen to them whine anymore."

Steve crawls slowly to him, until his knees are brushing Billy's legs. It's enough to make his breath hitch, and he knows Steve heard it, because his smile widens, pleased. Holding his face blank is taking all of Billy's concentration right now.

Steve's face is close, and it looms even closer, his bambi eyes half-lidded and sultry, the very image Billy's been dreaming about since he moved to Hawkins. He hears El gasp, and Max's murmured oh my god, and Billy balls his shaking hands into fists with the effort to not move. 

Steve's eyelashes flutter, so close to his. He can feel Steve's breath, warm on his face. His lips–

They touch Billy's, and he's gone, mouth spreading into a smile, and his hands come up to frame Steve's face so he can kiss him back once, twice, little smacks of kisses that Steve meets with a smile of his own. 

"You fucking cheater," Billy's kisses dissolve into laughter, and Billy tries to stifle it by catching Steve's mouth again, sucking on his lip, but it comes bubbling up his throat, dumb little giggles that infect Steve until he's laughing just as much.

They don't stop kissing, though, meeting halfway in between fits of laughter. Steve's already climbed onto Billy's lap, wrapped his arms around him, and they're willfully ignoring the kids' yelling.

"I had to put a stop to it before they started throwing things at you," Steve presses another kiss on Billy's smiling lips, pulling another giggle out of him.

"Thank you for saving me," Billy says against Steve's mouth, eyes closed, soaking up the warmth of Steve's body plastered to his front.

"I got your back," Steve says.

"Yeah," Billy breathes, takes in the smell of Steve. Billy's face is flushed pink from laughter. "I know."

------

Thank you for asking baby!!! I had fun with this one!

[cavinginhisfvce]

Billy, having a nerf gun war with the kids, when he's backed into a corner by Max and El, both holding their guns up at him with sinister smirks.

"Any last words, blondie?"

With his hands held up in surrender, Billy sighs, "tell Steve I love him. And he better not remarry!"

Before the words are even fully out, the two girls are pelting him with nerf bullets, cackling at his dramatic display of falling over the couch, a hand clutching his chest.