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paperbodiesamongthestars · 3 years

Text

You matter. Or whatever.

Happy Valentine’s Day! I wrote something for the Harringrove Heart-On!

Read it on AO3 and check out all the other phenomenal works in the collection, too!

"Valentine’s Day is an abomination."

"Wow, Hargrove, don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel." Billy and Steve are in the parking lot, smoking before school starts, and Billy is in a mood. His shoulders are tense and there’s a tightness around his eyes that Steve is starting to recognize.

"This day is the fucking worst."

"Oh no," Steve says sarcastically, "you're going to spend your whole day getting cards and gifts from people who like you." Billy snorts.

"Giving someone heart-shaped shit on a pretend holiday invented by greeting card companies does absolutely nothing to convey that you actually like them. It's performative bullshit." That checks out, Steve thinks. He loves Valentine's Day. Well. Loved.

"I hate to break this to you," he says, "but your day is going to be chock full of heart-shaped shit." He drops his voice like he's sharing a secret. "I don't know if you know this, but Billy Hargrove still doesn't have a date for the party at the quarry on Friday. It's, like, open season." Billy rolls his eyes.

"Maybe I don't want a date," he says. "Gotta keep those options open. Besides," he adds as he watches their classmates streaming into the building, "those people either fear me or they want my dick. Or both. Like doesn't really enter into it." Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, but it doesn't really matter; their silences are pretty comfortable by now. Steve watches a girl walk past them with a cluster of pink heart-shaped balloons. He sighs a little before he can catch himself. When he looks up, Billy's staring at him. He has a look on his face that usually means Steve is about to be mocked. Mercilessly.

"You love this shit, don't you?" Billy asks, a little incredulous. Steve looks back at the balloons. He does. Well, he did. He would have done something like that, before. He's not sure what insanity compels him to say that, though.

"I used to, yeah."

"Yeah?" Billy reaches over to bump his shoulder, smile sharp. "You liked getting all those cards and flowers and balloons from admirers?"

"No. I mean, sure, but that’s not why I liked the day. I liked thinking of special things to do for N...for people." Billy snorts.

"Making sure everyone knew what a great boyfriend you were?" The question is maybe a little mean, but Billy's tone, surprisingly, isn't. Steve just shrugs. He stares at the entrance to the building, not really seeing it. He likes to think that he wasn't entirely bullshit.

"I mean, sort of? It was more about showing the person that I put some thought into it, you know? Like, I cared enough to do that because...because they mattered." He catches himself. "Or whatever," he adds lamely, but he knows it's too late. His soft underbelly is already on display. He risks a glance at Billy, who is watching him with an unreadable expression. He finally shakes his head and smiles, a little genuine, and that's not at all what Steve expected.

"You’re hopeless, Harrington." If Steve didn't know any better, he might describe Billy's tone as affectionate. Steve smiles back, tentatively and shrugs.

"Yeah, probably." And then they finish their cigarettes and they go to class.

Billy doesn't take a date to the party, but he does check with Steve twice to make sure he's going to be there.

Steve shows up at Billy's apartment for their weekly movie night with takeout, two aggressively unromantic movies, homemade sugar cookies, and a stack of Valentine's Day cards from the kids. Billy looks at them, a little bemused, when Steve hands them over.

"I tried to spare you, but they insisted," Steve says. "They made me open mine before they would let me leave. There are also heart-shaped sugar cookies in here somewhere. I have strict instructions about which ones were decorated specifically for you." Billy cocks an eyebrow in surprise and Steve shrugs.

"They invited you because they actually wanted you to come, you know." Billy looks down and doesn't say anything. He's a lot better physically, but sometimes larger groups are still a little much for him. Steve's voice goes softer. "It's also fine that you didn't go. Just...they actually do care about you. Despite the fact that you are a bitter cynic who cannot appreciate a holiday dedicated to love." His smile and tone soften the words. "And, as I have learned from personal experience, those nerds are absolutely relentless when they decide they like you, so. Probably best just to let them." Steve continues unpacking the bags and starts setting out boxes of takeout on the coffee table. He slides a plastic-wrapped plate of cookies across the table toward Billy. Billy glances at the cookies, and then looks again. His brow furrows.

"At least one of these appears to have a dick frosted on it. And that looks a lot like a hand holding up a middle finger." Steve smirks at him.

"I guess the kids know you pretty well." Billy tosses a throw pillow at him, which Steve dodges easily. He's laughing, and Billy can't suppress a laugh himself.

"Did you have a good time?" Billy asks, and if there is the tiniest thread of wistfulness in his voice, Steve knows better than to act like he hears it.

"It was surprisingly enjoyable, yeah," Steve admits. "Although I suspect I'm going to be shedding random glitter for months." He pauses, and then grins. "Max is a menace in the kitchen. We had to ban her just to get any decent cookies made. Haven't you ever taught her anything?" Billy shudders.

"I tried; it's impossible. No one could teach Max to cook. She and the kitchen just do not mix."

"Harsh, but probably fair," Steve says. He pulls an envelope out of one of the bags and tosses it on top of the pile. "That is for you," he says. Billy eyes it and then looks back at Steve. "Aren't you going to open it?" Steve prompts. Billy does, a little cautiously. It's a card made out of a folded piece of red construction paper. The front features a frowny face traced in glitter, two angry slashes for eyebrows. Billy looks up at Steve.

"Glitter is the devil," is all Steve says. Billy opens the card. Inside is a poem in Steve's messy handwriting.

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

You think Valentine's Day is an abomination,

And that's why I made this stupid card for you.

Billy snorts a laugh despite himself. Steve smiles, flushing slightly. He claps his hands together once.

"Alright. You will delighted to know that that concludes the 'celebrating Valentine's Day' portion of our evening." He pulls out the slasher movies he picked. "Ready to watch some idiots make terrible choices and promptly get murdered?"

"Sounds perfect," Billy says. They curl up in opposite corners of the couch. Steve watches Billy out of the corner of his eye as he casually opens the rest of his cards, catching a tiny, crooked smile and the way he gently traces a fingertip over the lace edging on one of the cards. Steve smiles a little to himself and goes back to watching the movie.

After Steve leaves that night, Billy puts the cards up on his fridge. Most of them come down, eventually, but the one from Steve stays up.

III

The smell of coffee is almost enough to overcome the smell of burned pancakes, but not quite. Steve sits at their kitchen table, staring glumly into his coffee cup.

"What possessed you to try making breakfast, sweetheart?" Billy asks him as he slides another perfect pancake onto the growing pile.

"It's Valentine's Day," Steve says. "I just wanted to do something nice for you." There's a long pause.

"Ok, but why not just make dinner?" Billy asks. Steve huffs and tries to think about how to articulate this.

"You hate Valentine's Day," he starts, and Billy glances over at him for a second and hesitates.

"I do," he finally says, slowly.

"And dinner is...I don't know...it's more serious. The stakes are higher." Billy cocks an eyebrow at him.

"Is this you trying to tell me that the meal that you're good at cooking is somehow better than the meal that I'm good at cooking?"

"No," Steve says, starting to get frustrated. "Breakfast just felt like...like less of a commitment to the whole day. Like I could do a little thing in the morning, and if you hated it, we could just move on." Billy's expression softens.

"Baby," he says. Steve waves him off.

"It's fine. I fucked it up anyway, so."

"You did," Billy says, and Steve scoffs, burying his face in his hands. Billy just cannot fucking help himself sometimes, he knows, but still.

"But," Billy continues over Steve's scoff, "I think it's sweet that you tried."

"You do?" Steve asks, looking up. The word sweet is not typically a part of Billy's vocabulary, at least not as a compliment. Billy drops a kiss at the corner of his mouth and slides a plate piled high with pancakes in front of him.

"Eat your pancakes," he says, instead of responding. Steve looks down at his plate and freezes. The stack of pancakes is topped with a smaller, heart-shaped pancake. His eyes snap up to Billy's face. He starts to say something, but Billy cuts him off before he can speak. "Eat your pancakes," he repeats, waving his fork threateningly for emphasis. Steve does, but he can't suppress the little smile at the corner of his mouth.

He can't suppress it for the rest of the day either. Eventually, Billy resorts to kissing it off of his face, and they go to bed much earlier than usual.

Billy is at his desk, collar unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, curls a mess. He's clearly been running his hands through his hair, so he's stressed. The stack of papers in front of him is truly staggering, and there are more on every flat surface in his tiny office. Billy appears to be organizing them into binders. Steve isn't really sure what his internship at this law firm entails, but this entire week he's been 'preparing exhibits' late into the evening. Steve takes a minute just to gaze at his boyfriend, who still hasn't noticed him. Billy looks exhausted, which is fair. He's juggling a double major, a T.A. job, and this internship. It's usually fine, but apparently oral arguments for some huge case start on Monday, so it's all hands on deck this week. Billy has only been home to get a few hours of sleep each night.

Steve knocks on the door jamb to announce his presence. Billy looks up at him and smiles, and some of the tension drains out of his shoulders.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Billy says, coming out from behind the desk. He draws Steve in for lingering kiss. "What are you doing here?" Steve holds up the bag in his hand.

"I figured if you couldn't come home for dinner, I could bring dinner to you." Billy cups Steve's face in his hands and kisses him again.

"I don't deserve you, baby." He grimaces. "I know this week has sucked. I'll make it up to you." Steve smiles at him.

"I know you will." He kisses Billy one more time and steps back. "I should let you get back to it so that you can come home and get at least a little bit of sleep at some point." Billy closes the distance between them and buries his face in Steve's neck.

"But I don't want you to go," he says, more than a little petulant. He's so obviously tired. Steve huffs a laugh and wraps his arms around Billy's shoulders.

"And I don't want you to have to be here anymore. If I'm not here to distract you, maybe you'll get to come home at some point." Billy sighs dramatically.

"You're right and I hate it," he says into the side of Steve's neck. Steve rubs his back.

"Just keep reminding yourself that you love this internship."

"Not right now I don't."

"But usually you do. And you're trying to turn it into a job offer. And oral arguments are going to go really well next week because of all this prep, and they're going to beg you to work for them." There's a long pause.

"Ugh, just shut up," Billy finally mutters. Steve laughs. They stay there for a minute, just breathing. Finally, Steve steps back.

"Drink some water in between all the coffees, ok?" He kisses Billy one more time and then he's out the door. Billy stares after him, wanting nothing more than to follow, but he has more to do tonight. He goes back to work.

He only realizes what day it is half an hour later, when he finally opens the tupperware container Steve brought him. He stares for a long moment. It's his favorite meal. There's steak, and the fancy green beans with the slivered almonds, and garlic mashed potatoes. The potatoes are in the shape of a heart. Billy looks at the calendar next to his desk and groans, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Fuck," he says with feeling. "Fuck," he says again, as he stares at the piles of documents he still has to get through.

It's after midnight when Billy finally gets home. He leaves his pants and his fucking tie and his button-up in a heap on the floor and slips into bed, wrapping himself around Steve. He nuzzles into Steve's neck.

"Baby," he says. Steve makes a sleepy noise. "Baby, I need you to wake up for minute."

"Mhmm," Steve says. "'m awake." Billy knows better.

"Can you sit up for me? Just for a minute, sweetheart." It's the only way to be sure. Steve grumbles about it, but soon he's sitting up in bed facing Billy. He rubs his face with his hands, and then his brow furrows with concern.

"Is everything ok?"

"I'm sorry I missed Valentine's Day dinner," Billy says. Steve just stares at him, confused. Then his face relaxes a little.

"Is that why you woke me up? It's okay. Besides, you didn't miss it. I brought it to you."

"You know what I mean," Billy says. He takes a deep breath, and then he leans forward and cups Steve's face in his hands. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course I--" and that's as far as Steve gets before his eyes go wide. Because he does know, Billy shows him all the time. He brings Steve coffee every morning, and he curls around him in bed every night and presses the softest kisses behind his ear, and he listens to the things that Steve says and actually remembers them in a way that nobody ever has before, but Billy's never actually said the words before. It's a whole thing for him, and Steve has tried so hard not to care about it that much, and it's fine, really, because Billy shows him all the time, but--

"I love you so fucking much," Billy says, and Steve thinks he might cry. Billy kisses him, and when they separate again Steve sneaks a look at the clock behind Billy. Billy catches him, of course he does, and he laughs and leans back in.

"Valentine's Day has been over for a while," he whispers against Steve's lips.

"You did that on purpose," Steve accuses after another kiss, smiling as he says it.

"I wouldn't do that to you, baby," Billy says. Steve pulls back to look at him.

"Because you love me," Steve says, thrilled by the words.

"Because I love you," Billy agrees, and then Steve lunges at him and they're too busy to do much more talking.

The law firm kicks ass at trial the following week, and Billy gets his job offer, and Steve makes his favorite meal again to celebrate. The next morning, Steve wakes up to mimosas and bacon and waffles with a frankly concerning amount of whipped cream. They spend most of the rest of that weekend in bed.

"I have to go," Billy says as he knots his tie. "Don't forget that we have that work thing at six tonight."

"Ugh," Steve grouses, still only half-awake. "Who schedules a work party on Valentine's Day?" Billy shrugs.

"It's not a real holiday, baby. We have to leave around 5:30 to give ourselves time to find parking, ok?" Billy seems nervous, which means this event is a big deal. He crosses the room to kiss Steve goodbye.

"I'll be ready," Steve promises. He leans up for the kiss and then reaches for the mug of coffee Billy has placed on his bedside table. "Have a good day!" he calls out as Billy heads for the front door.

"You too, baby!" he hears, and then the front door opens and closes. Steve stares at the tux hanging from the door of his closet. Who schedules a black-tie work event on a Wednesday? he wonders, but it's a fleeting thought. He reluctantly drags himself out of bed to get ready for work.

By 5:30 Steve is dressed and ready to go, hair looking particularly good, if he does say so himself. He leaves the bathroom and gets a look at Billy, who is also in a tux. He smiles appreciatively.

"Damn, B. You're just as gorgeous as the day I met you."

"I could say the same for you, pretty boy." They grin at each other, and then Billy closes the distance between them to run his hands up Steve's sides. He pulls Steve into a kiss, a slow, unhurried press of his lips. When he pulls back, he reaches up out of habit to tuck Steve's hair away from his face, but he stops himself before he touches it. "Don't want to mess up your party hair," he says, smiling. Then his eyes darken and his smile goes a little predatory. "Well," he corrects himself, "not yet, anyway." Steve shakes his head, smiling.

They're halfway to the restaurant--a fancy steakhouse that the law firm has apparently rented out for the evening--when Billy takes a wrong turn. Steve glances over, but Billy seems unconcerned. He takes a few more turns before Steve starts to recognize the route.

"Aren't we going to be late to the party?" Steve asks tentatively, not sure what's going on here. Billy grins back at him, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.

"We've got time. I wanted to make a stop first." Steve gets out of the car, bemused, when Billy parks in a familiar lot. He follows Billy along a short trail to an overlook with a weathered wooden bench. The view out over the ocean is a familiar one--they come out here often in the evenings or on weekends to sit with snacks or coffee. Sometimes they talk, and sometimes they sit in silence, just letting the sound of the ocean smooth over sharp edges and frayed tempers. Steve wonders if Billy is having one of those kinds of days. He seems fine, but that isn't always a reliable indicator with Billy.

They stand there for a moment, watching the sun sink toward the horizon, and Steve feels himself starting to take deeper breaths. The sound of the ocean, the warmth of Billy's shoulder against his, the smell of salt in the air--it's all familiar and beloved and soothing.

And then all thoughts of calm desert Steve entirely because Billy drops to one knee next to him. Steve looks over, confused for a split second, and then immediately overwhelmed because Billy doesn't have his sunglasses on anymore, and his eyes are big and so goddamn blue and full of affection and hope and a little bit of fear, and he's reaching for his jacket pocket and taking out a box. Steve tries to remember how to breathe.

"Baby," Billy says, and his voice wobbles a little and his hands are shaking just a tiny bit and it is so incredibly endearing that Steve feels his heart overflow. He's pretty sure he's crying already. Billy clears his throat and tries again. "I've never been the best with words," he says, steadier this time, "but I hope you know by now that I can't imagine my life without you. I love your big heart and your terrible taste in music and your ridiculous, beautiful face. I want to bring you coffee every morning and trip over your goddamn sweats because you never manage to actually get them into the hamper." Steve laughs a little through his tears, swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his tux. Billy's expression goes soft and serious. "I want to make you breakfast, and eat your incredible dinners, and fall asleep next you, and wake up next to you, and know that I can come home to you at the end of a bad day and you'll make it better just by being there. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Steve Harrington." Billy opens the box to reveal a simple gold band. "Say you'll marry me?" Steve hauls him to his feet and into a kiss, so happy he can hardly contain it. He cups Billy's face in his palms when he finally pulls back.

"Of course I'll marry you, you romantic bastard," he whispers as Billy takes his left hand to slide the ring onto his finger, and then they're kissing again. A few moments later, a thought occurs to Steve. "Did you just propose to me on Valentine's Day? On purpose?" he asks, a little incredulous.

"You know what?" Billy says, as though it's just occurring to him, "I think I did."

"But you hate Valentine's Day," Steve murmurs in his ear, amused. Billy pulls back far enough to make eye contact with Steve.

"I used to," Billy says, unable to suppress his smile.

"And then what happened?" Steve asks, smiling back.

"Then I met this boy and he taught me that love means showing the most important people in your life that they matter. Or whatever," he adds with a grin. "And it can be real, even if you do it on a pretend holiday invented by greeting card companies." Steve is a little surprised that Billy even remembers that conversation.

"Really?" he asks softly, touched. Billy huffs a laugh.

"Steve, I've had a Valentine's Day card from you on my fridge for years. In multiple apartments. A card that you made for me before we ever even got together, by the way."

"Yeah, but you were already into me by then," Steve teases.

"I was into you pretty much the first time I saw you," Billy says, and Steve knows that, has known that for a while, but he is still definitely crying again. He tucks his face into the side of Billy's neck. He's never been happier. They stay there for a while, just breathing and listening to the waves in the distance.

"We're definitely going to be late to your work party now," Steve finally says.

"About that..." Billy starts to say, and Steve pulls back to look at his face. Billy is grinning at him, clearly pleased with himself. "It's actually more of an engagement party? I rented out the restaurant, and everyone flew out for it." Steve is speechless, and then he's kissing Billy again.

"I guess it's a good thing I said yes," Steve murmurs eventually. Billy snorts.

"Oh, like you were ever gonna get a better offer."

"How dare you?" Steve says with mock outrage. "I'm an incredible cook and I look like this." He gestures toward himself. "I'm a fucking catch."

"Counterpoint," Billy says, grinning. "I make the best breakfast and I look like this." He gestures in the general direction of his abs. He may not be quite as cut as he was back in high school--Steve really is an incredible cook--but Billy still spends enough time in the gym to make damn sure that he looks good.

"That's true," Steve says, nodding thoughtfully. "And you did propose to me on Valentine's Day. You're a total sap. It's adorable."

"You take that back," Billy demands, horrified. "I've never done anything adorable in my life."

"That's not true at all. You're the absolute cutest, B."

"Cutest? Oh my God, I take it back. I'm un-proposing," Billy says, reaching for Steve's hand. Steve snatches it away.

"Nope, too late, you're stuck with me forever," he says, drawing out the last word. It’s a joke, Billy knows it is, but he also hears the tiniest thread of anxiety in Steve’s tone. Billy looks at him for a moment.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby," he says quietly, smiling as he pulls Steve in close to kiss him.

They are absolutely late to their own engagement party, and Steve's perfect party hair is a distant memory by the time they finally arrive. They receive an enthusiastic, slightly tipsy round of applause from all of the people who matter the most to them when they walk into the restaurant. It's the best Valentine's Day either one of them has ever had.

#harringrove #harringrove heart on #my writing #fluff

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