#mentioned steve harrington

[randomperson351]

My boyfriend’s back - BH

Summary: You needed to get information from Cameron Fields, a nerd that worked at the arcade, but that caused an argument with Billy. He comes to find you and Cam at dinner, much to your dismay.

Note: Imagine this is post mall Billy but he didn't die, just became friends with the party and now he hangs around them which led to him dating you.

Do not repost or rewrite any of my work. Minors and ageless blogs get blocked.

Masterlist

"You're sure she's going to be here?" Billy asked his sister, who directed him to Cameron's house where El had found you.

"Yes, she's here, now would you stop freaking out." Max berated her brother from the passenger seat of his car.

"Son of a bitch, why is she here by herself?" Billy shouted out mostly to himself, stopping his car and hitting his hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

"Because you decided to have a tantrum about how we weren't letting you, and I quote, 'beat the information out of him' so she had to take matters into her own hands." Max defended, getting out of his car.

"She shouldn't have come by herself, it could be dangerous." Billy kept going, pretending he didn't hear Max. He too got out of his car and started walking up the path to Cam's house.

Max just sighed and walked up with her brother, stopping before the front door and ringing the doorbell. When no-one answered, Billy kept ringing the bell until the door opened to reveal the one person he didn't want to see.

"Billy Hargrove."

"Cameron Fields." Billy greeted with a tight smile.

"What can I do for you, buddy?" He asked Billy with such a level of enthusiasm it made him want to punch Cam in the face.

Max could tell her brother was near breaking point so she jumped in before Billy's fist could.

"We were just wondering whether our friend was here, her name is Mara Haynes. Apparently she was round here having dinner?" Max said.

"You're just in luck, she's in the kitchen. Come on in and I'll go and get her for you." Cam replied, ushering them in and closing the door behind them, moving to the kitchen to fetch you.

"Would you stop with the scowl?" Max yet again berated Billy while they stood in the hallway looking over the Fields family photos.

"I can't help it Max, my girlfriend who I've just freshly had an argument with, is in another guys house having dinner while trying to get information from him by any means necessary. Excuse me for not exactly being a ray of sunshine." Billy replied sarcastically, watching Max roll her eyes before replying to him.

"Yeah, and who's to blame for the fight in the first place? You know Mara wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your relationship; even when you've acted like a massive douchebag.

"Shut up," Was all he could respond, knowing what the answer was and not liking it, "Keep watch, I'm going for a leak." Billy told his sister, going to find a toilet.

"Eww, gross Billy; why did I have to know that?" Max questioned with disgust, watching her brother shrug his shoulders in reply as he walked further down the hall.

As soon as he had left, Fields came round the corner and beckoned Max into the dining room where she met his extremely naïve parents.

"What's your name honey?" His mother asked with a glass of wine in her hand.

"Max, Max Mayfield." Max responded politely, looking around to try and find you but to no avail.

"Where'd Billy go?" Cameron asked Max.

"He just went to the toilet quickly, we left in a rush to get here so he didn't have time at home." Max explained further.

"Well do you want to stay, we have plenty of food here for two more guests, especially if you're both friends with Mara, she's such a lovely girl!" His dad offered, but Max knew if she let Billy stay for dinner all hell would break loose between the two of you.

"Oh that's very kind of you but-"

"Max." A voice interrupted her before she could come up with an excuse. Around the corner of the kitchen and into the dining room you appeared, slight shock and worry on your face as you thought she had come alone, with there being no sign of Billy.

"Mara." Max greeted you in relief.

"Is everything okay, why are you here?" You asked in a small state of panic, walking towards Max and checking her over for any injuries or anything; since dating Billy you had sort of adopted the role of mother to Max in a way, knowing what her situation was at home.

"Everything's fine, we just wanted to make sure you were okay." Max confirmed, giving you a hug as you bent down to embrace her.

"Who's we?" You asked, picking up on her use of the plural.

"She came in with her brother, said you were friends?" Cam explained to you once you had released Max and turned to face him. You sighed loudly and closed your eyes, preparing yourself because you knew exactly who he meant.

"Well I'd say we're a little more than friends, wouldn't you baby?" His voice echoed from the hall; he walked closer to you and slung his arm around your shoulder as you gave him a tight smile with a murderous look in your eye.

Luckily for him, the doorbell rang again, interrupting the vicious staring competition going on between the two of you and diverting your attention to the front door where Cameron was heading to again.

"So would you like to stay for dinner, we have plenty of food and enough space for an extra couple of people?" His dad spoke again, gaining yours, Billy's and Max's attention.

"Oh, no thank you, we have a family dinner tonight unfortunately." Max excused herself and Billy, but he was having none of it.

"Oh that's true, make sure you get home safe okay Max?" Billy turned and spoke to his sister, knowing who was at the door.

"If it's a family meal, why aren't you going to be there?" You questioned him in a monotonous voice, your eyes shooting daggers into his face when he turned to look at you, his arm still around your shoulders.

"Well because someone has to make sure you get home safely too my dear." He responded, shaking his head at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You were about to give Billy an earful when Max's lift home walked through the hallway.

"Guess who's here, Steve Harrington!" Fields exclaimed with glee, walking into the dining room with Steve in tow.

"Hey Max, its about time to be getting you home now little lady." Steve announced as he held his arm out to beckon her outside.

"Have a nice night!" She wished as she walked towards Steve, saying goodbye to Billy first.

"Night Billy." She said as he bent down, finally taking his arm off from around your shoulders, and giving her a quick hug.

"Night kiddo," he said, ruffling her hair before letting her go fully, "if one hair on her head is out of place when I get home Harrington, you're dead." He warned, just as a precaution.

"I know Hargrove, from the many times you've almost killed me before." Steve muttered, ushering Max outside.

"Well come on, we have a guest! Cameron help me extend the table and Miriam grab an extra plate for Billy, we have another amigo for this fiesta!" His dad exclaimed, causing the family to rush up and make room for Billy.

Max was almost down the bottom of the porch stairs before she heard your voice ring out from the front door.

"Max!" You called from the door, causing her to turn around and head back to the house, meeting you halfway up the stairs after telling Steve to wait in the car. "Why is he here?" You demanded.

"Look just give him a chance okay, you and I both know he can have hell of a temper on him when he wants to. He didn't mean what he said and secretly he's worried about you but we both know he'd never admit that out loud."

"But why should I have to, he hasn't changed and clearly won't!" You exclaimed, this was the last straw with Billy and now you'd had enough.

"Because as soon as you came into the picture he stopped being an asshole, that's why." Max told you calmly.

"Max, come on! You're going to be late if we don't get going!" Steve hollered from his car.

"Please just try, if not for him, for me. All I'm asking you to do is try." Max finished, hopping off the porch and into Steve's car. You stood and saw them off, giving both Steve and Max a wave before taking a deep breath and heading back inside.

When you re-entered the dining room, the anger that disappeared with Max had now reappeared when you saw where Billy had been placed.

Right next to you.

You resisted an eye roll and walked over to take your place, drawing Billy's attention to you.

"Everything okay?" He asked innocently, stretching his arm over the back of your chair as soon as you were seated.

"Yeah." You answered bluntly with a rise of your eyebrows to show how pissed you were at the entire situation.

"Well unfortunately Billy, you missed the main course; but you made it just in time for dessert!" Miriam exclaimed gleefully, waiting for Billy's reaction.

A slow smile made its way onto his face before he answered, "That's quite alright, dessert's my favourite anyway."

"Lucky for you Mara brought some cookies round, so its cookies and ice cream on the menu for tonight." Cameron's dad explained, getting up from the table and helping him prepare the desserts.

"Aww, she still knows me like the back of her hand." Billy gloated, looking at you with a strange look in his eye that you couldn't quite figure out.

"You see I've always liked sweets, of any kind," He started, looking at Field's mum as he spoke; slowly and with a low tone to his voice that had you on edge for whatever was about to follow, "But I would have to say an Oreo is my favourite, as Mara would know."

"Why Oreo's?" Miriam asked in confusion, which caused Billy to smirk; removing his arm from behind your chair and leaning forward on the table. You lifted your glass to have a drink, preparing for what was to come next.

"Well you see, it's because you split them in half first, and then eat all the good stuff in the middle."

That sentence nearly made you spit out your drink; whereas Mrs Fields merely laughed lightly and responded "I couldn't agree more, the creamy bit is the best, don't you think?"

At this point you couldn't decide whether she was shamelessly flirting or was genuinely that oblivious as to what Billy was saying. Luckily before the horrible conversation taking place could be continued, Cam and his dad walked in with plates of the cookies and ice cream, placing one on each persons table mat. You 'accidently' dropped one of your knives on the floor, so you reached down to pick it up at the same time that Billy did, but before he could sit back up, you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt; making him look at you.

"Listen Hargrove I don't know what bullshit game you're trying to play, but it stops now." You demanded in a hushed voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what 'game' you are referring to exactly." He replied, shaking his head at you slightly.

"Oh really? Well then I don't know either, all I know is that you are behaving like an immature, petulant, unbelievably jealous child that doesn't understand boundaries."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I can't believe you swooped so low as to get Steve involved. Steve! Literally the one guy you hate most in Hawkins that comes a close second to your father! Just so that you could intrude on something that I am perfectly capable of handling by myself. Meaning without you."

"Oh I swoop low? And yet you're the one bringing my dad into this when you know full well since I joined your little escapades that both me and Steve had been at least trying to stay civil with each other. You're the one that still came to Cameron's house alone even when I told you not to, you're the one that lied to me about where you were so I had to get Eleven to find you!"

"Are you serious? You used Eleven? She isn't some homing device you can use whenever you're feeling a bit fragile about your masculinity Billy!" You whisper shouted back, meeting his fiery gaze head on. Billy had always said he liked you because you had a fire that could rival his, and yet it seemed that fire could be your downfall.

"Everything alright under there dears?" Miriam's voice came, slightly concerned from the amount of time you had been under the table.

"Yes, everything's fine." You replied, lifting your head slightly before bending it back down to finish arguing with Billy.

"I don't have fragile masculinity!" He exclaimed as soon as your head lowered back to his.

"Then start proving it. Look, for the rest of this dinner, please just be normal and then we can go our separate ways." You proposed, now feeling somewhat desperate to have this night end. You lifted your head back up so Billy couldn't fight with you again, giving a quick smile to Miriam before smoothing out your dress, pretending like there was a problem with it.

"Sorry about that, dress got caught." You spoke softly, feeling a little teary after such a sudden blowout with what was meant to be your boyfriend.

"Oh no worries dear, it is so annoying when that happens." Miriam comforted. You gave a tight lipped smile and a nod in return as Billy sat back up as well, seemingly a bit more calm than before.

"So Billy," Cameron's dad started, grabbing his attention as you started eating your dessert with your unoccupied hand as the one closest to Billy still held the knife in it, "are you friends with Mara like Cam is?"

"I most certainly am, transferred to Hawkins High last year and hit it off immediately." Billy replied, nodding his head.

"Oh how lovely!" Miriam exclaimed, giving you and Billy a smile. She was most definitely drunk from the wine.

"Mara is really nice, she helped me with my car when it broke down on Baker's street and fixed it for me right then and there." Cameron chimed in, almost in a tone that suggested competition between how well him and Billy got on with you. Oh dear God in Heaven help me please, you thought to yourself, opting to keep quiet as a sudden staring match had begun between the boys.

Billy released a breath, barely even moving in response to his comment before adding one of his own. "You're right, Mara's really the type to get down on her knees if I need her for something."

That was the second time that evening you nearly choked on your food; even if it was only barely hidden. You squeezed the knife in your hand and poked the end of it into Billy's leg, causing him to flinch at the sudden arrival of pain; looking down first to see your hand holding the knife near his leg and then back at your face.

"Well I do always try and help people when I can." You spoke calmly, holding the eye contact with Billy and giving a small, tight, sarcastic smile.

"So Mara, do you have any siblings?" Miriam asked you, diverting your attention away from Billy. Since you were now focused on answering Cameron's mum, you didn't catch the fact that Billy was now leaning down again to get something off the floor; but you thought nothing of it.

That was until a sharp pain pierced into your back causing you to jolt forward and turn to see the source of the pain.

Billy had 'dropped' his fork on the floor and was now holding it in his hand that was resting behind your chair, and poking you in the back with it like you had done with the knife poking in his leg.

Trying to ignore the piercing pain in your back, you turned back to face Mrs Fields and answer her question. "I've got one little brother, he's 14." You answered with a grimace, luckily Miriam didn't notice.

"Oh how lovely! Billy, what about you?" She asked.

"Well you've met Max, and she's the only one. My 13 year old step-sister." He answered, loosening the pressure in your back, so you pulled the knife back slightly as well.

"Do they get along with each other like you two do?" Mr Fields asked causing you to stifle a sarcastic snort of laughter at the fact that you and Billy were currently assaulting each other with the cutlery.

"They get along, but not as well as me and Mara." Cameron interjected, making yourself and Billy look at him with a shocked expression.

"Oh that's a shame, I would've thought with you two around they might've been as close as you." Miriam said dejectedly making Billy smirk at Cam's deflated face.

"Well ladies and gents, it's nearing the end of the night I fear, lets clean up shall we?" Cameron's dad, Richard, announced; making Cam stand and clear all of our plates while he would wash them in the kitchen, leaving you, Billy and Miriam alone at the dining room table.

"You know, between us, I miss the days when myself and Richard were like you two. Young and in love, carefree and willing to go with the flow as long as we had each other. It was so freeing not to have to worry about anything as long as I had Rich by my side; not bills, not parents, not responsibilities-"she reached over to gently grasp your hand in her hers as she gazed into yours and Billy's eyes-"I see me and Richard in you two. And you won't believe how refreshing it is for a mother my age to know there are still people out there like you for my son. I don't care if Cameron thinks he can woo you into dating him and I'm not going to force you to; he's my son and I love him more than the world, which is why when the right one comes along for him, whoever that may be, I'll still love him just as much. But I can't let him try and worm his way between you two, its not fair for you. I see the way you look at each other, and whether you're in a quarrel or not, you still found your way back to one another and have that pure unadulterated love in your eyes. You only get that feeling once, and my son will not be the reason that you loose it. Be brave and be bold, trust one another and you can have the world, because the world will be right next to you, holding your hand along the way."

Miriam squeezed your hand a final time and let go, going to help the boys in the kitchen which left you and Billy alone.

Slowly, you retracted the knife from pointing in his leg and placed it back on the table, folding your hands together in your lap; not being able to look him in the eye. Slowly but surely he did the same with the fork in his hand, placed it on the table and folded his hands in his lap. There were a few moments of silence before you spoke up.

"We should probably get going." You announced, still not looking at each other yet.

"Yeah, yeah we probably should." He agreed.

You both stood in unison, tucking your chairs under the table and walking to the front door to gather your things. You only had a bag; Billy only had his signature brown jacket.

The Fields family all made their way towards the front door and said their goodbyes, watching you both walk off the front porch before closing the front door.

Since Cameron had picked you up, you had no lift home so you'd have to walk; and judging from Billy's silence, asking for a ride wouldn't be an ideal situation. You walked to where his car was parked in silence and just before he got in the drivers side you decided to at least say goodbye.

"See you soon, Billy." You said quietly with a little wave, making him lift his head from where his gaze was directed at the ground.

"Where are you going?" He asked pointedly.

"Fields picked me up, so I need to walk home." You explained, about to turn around and start walking before his voice stopped you.

"Don't be stupid you complete fool. It's freezing out here and you didn't bring a jacket, get in the car."

"Billy its fine okay, I'll survive the walk home." You turned around to keep walking when you heard him sigh before he ran up behind you and started walking beside you.

"What are you doing?" You asked exasperated.

"If you're walking, I'm walking." Was all he said as he turned to face you in the spot where you had stopped.

"You are not walking me home in this weather."

"You are not walking in this weather." He fought, getting closer and putting his jacket around your shoulders, "Now get in the goddamn car."

Finally relenting, you walked back towards the car; but grabbed Billy's wrist before he could walk around to the drivers side and he turned to look at you.

"I'm sorry-" You released his wrist and nervously shuffled your feet at your next words- "I shouldn't have come here alone, that stressed you out and I shouldn't have done it. I also shouldn't have stabbed you in the leg with a knife, or brought the subject of your dad into a fight or said you had fragile masculinity so I'm sorry about that too."

You stared at the ground nervously, but felt his strong arms envelop you in a hug as his head rested on top of yours. You gladly reciprocated, wrapping your much smaller arms around his waist.

"Thank you, I'm sorry as well. I should have trusted you and I shouldn't have brought Max or Steve into this; I shouldn't have crashed your dinner or poked you in the back with a fork or embarrassed you in front Cameron and his parents, even if he is a total dweeb. I'm sorry." He apologised, rocking you both slightly side to side.

"Thank you."

"They did have one thing right though."

"What?" You asked.

"I've got my world right by my side." He quoted from Mrs Fields earlier. You let out a breath of laughter through your nose before responding.

"Right back at you baby."

"Did you get everything you needed, information wise?" He asked gently.

"Yes I did, consider it handled." You told him with a cheeky smile resting on your lips.

"Good. I love you." Billy whispered in your ear.

"I love you." You whispered right back.

You pulled away from the hug and Billy flipped you so that you were leant against the side of his car and he was stood in front of you.

"Ready to go home now?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, lets go."

"Thank God! Can we get some food on the way home?"

"Billy we just ate." You reprimanded him once you were in the car.

"Fine, I'll just eat you instead."

[lesbianjackies]

My Girl

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 248

Warnings: Mentions of migraines, ibuprofen, and reader says once that she feels like dying. Really just hurt/comfort fluff tho

Summary: Steve comforts you after a bad day.

A/N: This is written for my dearest @decadentpaperduck, I hope you like it TJ!

General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1

Moots: @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa @roxetteblack @plumes-de-nuit @sapphireplums

You stared at the wall, blinking, trying to feel a little less like your head was going to explode. You groaned, falling back on the couch and covering your face with your hand.

"Hey, baby, are you okay?" Steve plopped down beside you and pulled your head into his lap.

"No," you said weakly, laughing a bit. "Got a migraine and I feel like dying."

"Well we can't have that happening." Steve grinned, ruffling your hair. "Have you taken anything? Ibuprofen, Tylenol, anything?"

You shook your head. "Haven't been able to get up off the couch."

"I'm gonna get you some medicine. Make you some tea and some soup too, all right? We can put on whatever movie you want, baby, and cuddle while we watch it." He leaned down and kissed your forehead. "I'm gonna get you feeling a-okay."

You laughed as he gently set your head down and walked into the kitchen. "Could you make me the tomato soup, please? And passionfruit tea, it's in the purple bags. If it's not too much trouble."

"Nothing's too much trouble for my girl," Steve insisted, grabbing a can of your favorite soup and reaching up for the box of tea bags. He quickly whipped up the food and drink and brought it over to you with two ibuprofen pills. "There you go, honey, you'll feel much better after you take that stuff."

You smiled. "Thanks, Steve."

He leaned over and kissed your temple. "Again, anything for my girl."

[hanighul]

🏳️‍🌈 Happy pride month, everyone! 🏳️‍🌈

[cigarettesandharringrove]

just a li ficlet because I’m a sucker for some wholesome harringrove & this idea just rotted my brain all day.

Enjoy~

Billy was always used to waking up alone, hell, he grew to embrace it as the norm for himself. It was one of the most consistent things in Billy’s life, along with Neils threats, and hangovers from partying any chance he got; it all made sense to Billy, even his hookups--they’d leave before he could open his eyes in the morning. Not that he cared all that much about it, he knew it was something about him, hard to understand but easy to let go.

Billy was always used to hearing his own heartbeat, it was always fast, ready for whatever shit would go wrong--because everything always went wrong for him, his mom leaving him with Neil in California proved that. Billy had a revolving door of people in his life, they’d enter briefly see all the shameful chaos that he is and as always, they would leave him. How could he blame them? Everyone always left in the end because he was stubborn and reckless, nobody wanted to play with a broken no-good sonofabitch like him. 

Billy was always used to settling for that, so it came as a surprise and his own personal shock that he had to adjust himself to change what was hardwired into him for so long. He went from waking up alone to waking up in Steve’s house, fuck, even in Steve’s arms--somehow his head was always on the pretty boy’s chest. Every-single-fucking-time, without fail, Steve would have Billy entangled in his arms in the morning. 

Billy wasn’t keen on it at first, he found it odd waking up to warmth--fleshy warmth, the small tickle of Steve’s chest hair against his cheek that roused him from his sleep. He thought maybe it was a trick at first too, that Steve would just leave him as everyone else did after awhile, get sick of him. 

But Steve didn’t, Billy wasn’t used to just how steady and calm Steve’s heartbeats were, that’s what made his race some morning’s because how could someone make Billy feel... safe? It scared and excited him since the day they kissed, and that Steve always held him in a comfort he wasn’t ready to admit explicitly to Steve. It sounded far too cliche and sappy, calling someone home was too fucking silly to say aloud. 

Now morning meant Billy got to watch Steve, lips pouted with a small bruise from them kissing the night before, love bites covering his shoulders, and a calm heartbeat that pulsed against his ear as he laid on Steve’s chest.  

“Mmm, Enjoying the view?” Steve quipped with a lazy half smile on his lips, hazel eyes meeting Billy’s curious blues. Stretching his arms out, then resuming their original place, holding Billy. 

“Your hairy jungle of a chest? No.” Billy pokes at Steve’s chest, their morning banter was another thing he had to get used to. 

“Oh, you hurt me,” Steve lets out a chuckle as he pulls Billy into a lazy hug and directly against his chest, adding to the theatrics. 

Billy pulls away shaking his head. “Your ego maybe, Harrington.” he rolls his eyes. 

“No, you definitely hurt me,” Steve’s usual playfulness turns solemn and it catches Billy off guard. 

“Really?” Billy watches as Steve’s eyes lock with his. 

“mmhmm, right here,” Steve points to the small bruise on his lip and Billy wanted to laugh because how fucking cliche was he?  “Oh, yeah that’s a nasty bruise,” Billy couldn’t keep a straight face and Steve smiled, his eyes softening. 

“Kiss it better for me?” It came out as defenceless and sweet, but a pretty boy like Steve it always was sweet like honey. 

And Billy, he was a sucker for that, “Hmm let me see,” he nears Steve’s face keeping just far enough that it teased the guy, “You sure a kiss will help it or make it worse, hm?” 

Billy watches as Steve’s hand brushes a curl from his face, his brow furrowing into worry then his bottom lip pouts, “Please?”  

Ah, shit, who was Billy to deny a kiss from his pretty boy, really? 

He leans forward and kisses Steve’s lips, always soft, warm, welcoming--and he would be a fool to say it didn’t make him feel deliriously giddy inside. What he didn’t expect was Steve’s hand gripping the back of his head firmly, fingers tangled in his curls as he pulled Billy closer into a demanding kiss. Opening up his mouth, inviting Steve to deepen the kiss; their tongues swirling, and Billy moans loudly in response because fuck, it was hot to be reminded that Steve craves this as much as he does. And it’s consuming for Billy, he’s surrounded by Steve with all his senses; Steve’s smell, his touch, his voice, the sight of him, and the taste of him--just drowning in him and fuck, he would never get quite used to that, someone like Steve who seemed so untouchable, to being quite literally smothered by him. 

When they pull apart, Steve grins cheekily like he had won at a carnival his favorite prize, “I feel much better now, so what are you thinking for breakfast... Waffles, eggs...?” 

Billy shook his head, “Shit, Harrington, you are something else...” He rolls onto his back as he sighs, feeling a warmth in his chest right down to his toes, he had to admit he could get used to waking up like this. Safe and homely with his pretty boy, Steve. -

[dawg3i]

what’s stranger things without a standoff including steve and a minor season villain ???

it won’t happen but it’s fun to think about steve maybe finally winning a fight

[jay-birds-fly]

Broke: Calling the Vecna’s door into the upside-down “watergate”

Woke: Calling it “the vecnussy”

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

“You had no right to fucking do that, Harrington,” Billy closed the door behind them. Susan was crying behind her bedroom door. Neil was cursing in the bathroom and kicking the cabinet, muffled by the walls and the toilet paper he had been stuffing up his nostrils to catch the blood. Steve stood by Billy’s flat bed, but didn’t make any move to sit down.

“What was I supposed to do?” Steve gestured to the door, “What? I supposed to just let him—“

“Yes!” he answered with wide eyes. The tendons in his neck ached and his eyes dried up when Steve frowned and clenched his fists at his sides.

“Look, I know you’re used to this kind of thing, but I can’t—“

“That’s just the point, Harrington,” Billy stepped closer and dug the tip of his index finger into the fleshy part of Steve’s shoulder, “You don’t get a say.” He repeated the movement. “You knock on the front door, you have your usual greetings, you listen to Neil belittle me a bit, and we come in here and shoot the shit. You don’t ever,” he stuck his hand out to push Steve down on the bed, “Do shit like you just pulled. That hurts me more. What do you think is gonna happen once’s he’s finished in there now?”

Steve glanced at the window and Billy glared at the curtain rising and falling with the spring breeze. 

“No.”

“Billy—“

“You can’t change everything, Harrington.” Upon noticing the red and slightly bloody knuckles on Steve’s right hand, Billy clutched each of Steve’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’m not changing, he’s not changing, fuckin’ Susan isn’t changing. And don’t even get me started on Max.”

Steve slumped forwards against Billy’s palms, “She’s trying.” He scoffed and Steve sighed through his nose.

“Max walks through that door every night and gets the privilege to miss the blood and tears spilled on the carpet she walks on. Susan cooks and bakes and braids Max’s hair, but she’s never once told me good night. You know that? Not once.”

Steve rested one of his own hands on top of Billy’s rubbing into Steve’s right shoulder, “She talks about you at the country club. My mother sees her at the pool sometimes. She says you’re special and asks about my fathers annual internship.”

Billy shushed him gently and stared blankly out the window again.

“Why do I care about what he thinks of me?”

Steve’s breath hitched, but he snugly held Billy close by the hip with his other hand. “He’s your father. And he could be the worst person in the world, and you’d still want him to smile at you. Just once. Or maybe just look at you. So that maybe he can see that you’re worth more than he’s been treating you like.”

Billy leaned forward and hugged around Steve’s head, “Where are your parents?” Steve didn’t look sad about it when Billy asked anymore, but he still held firmly onto him.

“‘Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.”

Steve made eye contact and rested his chin against Billy’s sternum, “They’re in Oregon.” Billy made a face and Steve laughed. “They didn’t say why, just said that had some business to attend to in Oregon.”

“I thought you made a deal with them.”

Steve rose his eyebrows, “Billy.”

“What?”

“I just punched your father.”

“Yes you did, I’m kinda surprised you made it out for the most part unscathed,” he kept his face neutral. Steve stood up fast just so he could make Billy step back on the momentum and wrap his arms around him to keep Billy in place. And then, as he was shock, Billy felt Steve raise his arms and hug him around the chest. Firm and soft. He could hear Steve breathing and feel the tip of Steve’s nose poking the side of his head.

“Billy?”

“What?”

Steve kissed Billy’s cheek, and then his forehead, “I’d do it again.”

The door opened with a bang.

part two

[metalheadcowboy]

I AM IN L O V E WITH THE BACK !!!

[stincorrect]

Steve: I’m done with you! All you do is get us into ridonkulous situations! Dustin: Seriously? Ridonkulous? Is that even a word? Robin: *walks in* Whoa! This is a ridonkulous situation! Steve: *gestures pointedly*

[ghostlynimbus00]

Jonathan likes to go to concerts in the city, but doesn't have a lot of options for people to go with. Because his mom and Nancy don't like the sort of music he does (or the whole concert scene), and Will is too young for some of the concerts he wants to go to.

But then him and Steve are trying to be friends, and like. Steve isn't really into the same music as Jonathan either but he's a lot more comfortable with the concert scene than Nancy or Joyce are. So like. Steve becomes Jonathan's designated concert friend. And things are still kind of weird and awkward between them but they're getting better.

and like. some of the bands Jonathan takes him to see are like... obviously queer and if Steve's being honest its a big deal for him. That bands like that exist (and so close to home!) and also that Jonathan really doesn't seem phased at all by any of it.

And then they're in the city, at another concert, and Steve's not really looking forward to the music but he is relieved to not be sitting at home alone.

but then they see a familiar face in one of the opening bands. Its billy hargrove and he sings some like. blatantly queer song. (i was listening to Parents by Yungblud when i had this idea but it doesn't have to be that song)

and Steve's gone into internal panic mode and just hoping that Hargrove didnt see them bc there's so much there to unpack and it'd definitely be easier to do if he doesn't get beat up again

and billy's mind is just racing like

"steve harrington is at my show, harrington heard me preform, harrington knows i'm gay, why is harrington here? is harrington gay? is that jonathan byers? is steve harrington on a date with jonathan byers? what the fuck"

[withoneheadlight]

very close, very close to the bone

{ max (& billy) | season 4 spoilers (kinda) | tangentially harringrove | spanish version | AO3 }

~

They find it in the trunk.

It’s the police who bring it. Shiny, black plastic bag, one of those huge ones, those as suitable for getting crammed with trash as for covering a body. Opaque, the kind that won’t let you get a peek. And Max’s only thirteen but this is the third she’s seen. Her grandma. Billy. Whatever’s inside this one the officers solemnly hand to Neil Hargrove.

Max feels like breaking something: the brand-new vase her mom reverently placed this morning in the dining room, yellow daisies overflowing. The sympathetic but stiff ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’ expressions in the officers’ faces. The freshly served plates with their steaming chicken soup waiting for them at the table.

The stoic, perfectly composed, solemn smile of Billy's father.

Because they’ll say it and Max knows it. They'll talk about it on their way down the gravel path on the front and will nod it to each other as they fasten their seat belts. They'll forget about everything else and just remember that by the time they've turned the key in the ignition, and then they'll go telling it around town for days, for weeks, an echo that starts at the Hargrove’s house on a Friday at seven and repeats and repeats and repeats itself until everyone has had the chance to feel adequately admiring.

What a man. Such fortitude. Hasn't shed a single tear. What an example of character.

And Max feels it thin, fragile, the skin of her knuckles, from how hard she’s clenching her fists.

When the officers finally excuse themselves with a light gesture and a nod, Neil shuts the door close very, very slowly.

The bag hits the floor with a bam! when he lets it slip down his hand. Round, gigantic, it looks fake, a cartoon-like bomb.

Neil Hargrove just stands there, staring at it and, on her shoulder, Max feels her mom’s fingers clenching hard, and the clock on the kitchen wall goes click. click. click. But nothing really―

Explodes.

“Maxine―” the voice’s harsh. Low. The hamstrings around Neil Hargrove’s mouth go taut. And Max knows what they’ll say, what will ricochet off tongues and walls and will be carried by the wind, in the end, all along the length and breadth of Hawkins.

But it’ll all be a fucking lie.

“―take all this garbage” his throat works. Up. Down. And Max can see it, just for a split second, how they get stuck in there, all those things nobody will ever get to know about him “Get it out”

When blood starts flowing again, Max’s hands burn, sting.

It costs the pain of biting down into her cheeks but Max nods, does as she’s told.

The bag’s so heavy she’s gotta drag it to take it outside.

When she comes back into the house and sits down to take dinner, Neil and her mom are talking about how incredibly beautiful the new vase looks.

x

Nobody’s ever gonna ask Max what she remembers, when she thinks about the night but, if they did, she’d know exactly what to say. No doubts and chronologically. And if they were to ever ask why, she’d say it’s because those memories are always different from the rest, more clear, focalized. They are the stream of a flashlight finding focus in the middle of the night, the golden circles coming off the street lamps. The flashing flame of a lighter, and the night closing in around.

What Max remembers:

Nights of made-up bedtime stories and nights of fever and warm kisses on the forehead, and falling asleep cuddled up to her mother.

Lullabies in the middle of the night, and his grandmother's sweet singing voice, and the softness of her laughter.

The first night dad didn't come back home, and the light from the hallway seeping in through the crack in her door, golden.

Shouts and a blunt sound coming from the kitchen. Neil Hargrove's low, hoarse, ever-so-reasonable voice, and Billy curled up under the table, crying.

Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Will, El. Sneaking out through her window. Sneaking in through her window. Words whispered under the covers, the static of the radio filling up the air.

And tonight, the night she sneaks out to rescue what little’s left of Billy.

It’s still there. By the dumpster. Dark and immense. A bomb about to blast, just like her brother. And Max is sweating, from the anguish and the pent-up rage and the three-in-the-morning cold sticking to her skin when she finally manages to drag it to her window and,

Under her bed, now Max’s keeping three treasures, stolen before Billy's room became completely empty: his brown leather jacket. The beaded belt that used to hang behind his door. His favorite Metallica album and, now,

The bag feels heavy. So heavy, with all the things kept in there. So Max takes them up one by one, two by two, three by three, carefully adding them to her treasure. Four, five, six in the morning, the clock click-click-clicking, but the bomb doesn’t explode either as Max dismantles it. Retrieves a little more of Billy, piece by piece. Cassettes and lighter gas and some crumpled clothes and some neatly folded clothes and, in a cloth bag, a straw hat fraying at the edges, a blue jacket, an envelope full of pictures.

Pictures of her.

Days of beach and blue sky and days of the light coming-in in stripes of gold through the kitchen’s window, and Billy smiling, and his mom smiling and the park in the afternoon and the blankets of his bed rolled up un a mess in the morning, and presents unwrapped on Christmas Day, and a tiny-tiny Billy barely hitting five with a scrunched up nose and a wide-mouth grin, baby teeth slightly apart and, then, the last one, a blurry polaroid: Steve Harrington’s hand, trying to block the lens of the camera, the sun aflaming his hair from behind and a happy smile, of joy and complicity and that other something. The kind of smile that illuminates everything the sun cannot.

The jacket, Max suddenly recognizes, is his and, for a split second of silliness, she thinks about whether maybe, maybe she should, give it back to him, but then she thinks that, if somebody would ever ask Billy what he remembered, when he thought about blue skies and sunny days, he would have surely thought about the days these pictures were taken. So she puts it all back in the bag again. Slides it under her bed, where from now on she'll be the one to keep it safe.

Then, swallows, comes back outside.

She finds:

That dark-green blanket that used to be on his bed.

A cardboard box with condoms wrappers, movie tickets, perfectly folded dinner receipts, one of those keyrings you can win at the fair that reads 'I love you, asshole', a Bruce Springsteen cassette.

A package wrapped in one of those cheesy birthday papers stamped with butterflies and flowers in pastel-pink shades, the exact kind that never fails to make her cringe. The surface’s crumpled, full of those little white cracks from having been stacked for too long, or too many times handled. It's the first thing that makes her hesitate.

That makes her wonder if she should.

‘Cause Billy is dead. He’s dead but it’s a strange feeling, an impossible feeling, as if his brother’s still occupying invisible spaces, filling the nothingness with his presence even when he isn’t here. And, in her mind, it’s like Max can hear what he’d say, with his perpetual bad mood and a cigarette dancing in between his lips,

“That’s none your business, shitbird”

So she does what she’d have done, if he were still here.

Tears off the paper and says it loud and clear, so he can hear her, "Fuck you."

It’s a skate. Brand new. Smooth, shiny varnish underneath. Drawn right in the center, a skull sticks out its tongue, flips her off, circled by fire.

Max loves it. And hates it. And she doesn't cry.

Thinks, what strength of character, Maxine, what fortitude. And hates herself.

Thinks, Thank you, thinks, asshole. ThinksI hate you, I hate you, I hate you so fucking much.

Doesn't even cry when she finds the letter taped to one of the right wheels, lined notebook paper neatly folded in three quarters.

Max unfolds it carefully and,

Starts to read.

x

She knew she’d find it in the junkyard.

It’s on the back, jammed into a corner. Open wound on its nose and badly burnt and, more than a car, Max had always thought of it as a predator. Terrible. Wild. Thundering. Mythological. Now, it just looks like a dead animal.

But even so, Max finds it hard to get close. Finds it hard to touch the rims of the wound and run her fingers along its curves and its ridges, mouth to tail. Hard not to shudder at the seven-thirty-in-the-morning―icy touch burning in the metal and the trepidation running up her spine at the thought that if either of them goes looking into her room, they won't find her there, asleep as they expect her.

(And it won’t be Billy who comes find her this time)

The trunk’s open, and it feels so heavy, when she pushes it up but, Max thinks, there are some stolen treasures that have to be returned.

So she puts in there, the cloth bag with the hat, and the photos, and Steve Harrington's sky-blue jacket.

Among the first of Billy's belongings the police gave to Neil Hargrove the day he was called to the station to certify his only son’s dead were: a wristwatch, a thin hoop earring, a carved ring, the car keys.

The only time Max heard Neil ask why they weren’t where he’d put them when he came back home (third drawer in the hallway console, behind that pile of bill envelopes and crumpled gas station tickets that keeps and keeps building up). She got slowly out of bed and slid the latch on. Then came back to hide under the covers, trying not to make a sound, her heart drill-drill-drilling into her temples, a metallic taste at the back of her tongue and a question: how long is it going to take for that latch to disappear from the right side of the door, appear on the wrong.

(Like Billy’s)

But the latch’s still where it was and. Neil never asked again so―

Max closes the trunk and turns the key.

The next part is the hardest.

She's been carrying it around for weeks. Thought she was waiting for the courage but. She was waiting for the rage.

And it comes. It burns her eyes. Her throat. Spreads like wildfire. And Max thought she knew rage. She swallows it, vomits it, breathes it, inhabits it every day, drowns in it, like living under the weight of water. But the rage she feels that same morning in the house at the end of Cherry Lane is different. It’s white, like the fresh coat of paint Neil Hargrove’s spreading on the facade, stained hands and a ‘Good morning, sweetheart’ and the smell of coffee and toast at seven in the morning, his mother's curls fluttering, red and precious, when she leans over to kiss her, asking, “Honey, what do you want for breakfast?”.

And the sun was flooding in through the window, gold and beautiful and warm. A perfect morning. A perfect life. A perfect family.

It's only been a month.

And Max thinks of that parallel darkness creeping around Hawkins. Violent and twisted and terrifying. She thinks That's reality. That, and not this.

The next part is the hardest but Max bites down on her cheeks and unlocks the driver's door and sits back into the seat. And inhales. Inhales―

She can’t breathe.

There’s a grave. But it’s empty. It says William Hargrove. It's not his brother's grave.

She turns the key to open the glove compartment.

That isn’t but this one is. This forgotten skeleton and the memory long wide roads and heavy metal, the rumbling of music still throbbing under the rotting skin of the dead beast. The smell of leather and cigarettes and that aggressive, kamikaze, inevitable way of living that was only his.

She grips the steering, tight, Mad Max she thinks, and the rage’s so white, it’s blinding.

‘Cause this is it. This is his brother's grave.

And she’s crying.

The first scream rips her throat off. High. High. To the top of her lungs, the highest. Makes way for the next. The next. Fuck you! Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou. She screams till it feels like they’re burning― the forest all around and this cemetery and the inside of the car. Like she’s burning. Watching through the tears how the flames creep high and high and higher, eating it all up. Devouring. Screams until her chest is hurting. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck all of you! Because the letter said Dear Max and,

Fuck you too, Billy. Fuck you!.

Now her brother’s dead.

When she finally stops, the world around’s still sun and clear morning sky at the end of summer. There aren’t ashes nor remains. But Max can breathe now. Can reach the letter she’s been carrying in her pocket.

She puts it in the glove compartment and,

“Thanks for the skate” she tells him, because if there’s anywhere he’d listen that’s here, inside this piece of metal that’s not breathing nor living not fighting, because it’s missing its heart. Inside this piece of metal where Billy kept all the things he loved. His treasure.

She wipes her tears with the back of her sleeve. Says, softly, "I'm so sorry too."

Gets out of the car and locks it up. The cold’s cutting like a knife, so she snuggles into her jacket, thinking that maybe it will fit her now, even if it's still a little big, that leather one she’s keeping safe under her bed that screams Billy, like no one’s screaming it.

The one that’d paint white-blinding-rage that Neil Hargrove's perfect, charming smile everyone talks so much about.

"See you tomorrow. Asshole" she says by way of goodbye, but still stares for a while at the way the painting shines under the rays of sun cracking the cold, the way the clouds reflect on it, the blue sky spilling on it like ink over the ocean.

x

She comes back the next day.

And the next, and the next.

Comes back every day.

Doesn't open the glove compartment again until two weeks later. Late August and the sleeves of Billy’s leather jacket rolled up tight up to her elbows and Neil Hargrove's picture-perfect smile peeling off like cheap paintwork and―

A letter.

There. A letter. Not the one Max’s got in her pocket now, not the one she wrote days ago, on that night, and left there even though she knew Billy could never find it. But a letter written on yellowed paper so skinny it shows-through, rigorously folded in three quarters.

Max's heart surges and she feels it thin, fragile, the extension of all her skin.

Because it marks into the paper, the long, crooked calligraphy, so harsh in some spots that it tears, hurts, but so soft, so delicately soft in others, curves that sway over each other, the ocean’s shore drawn in blue pen.

It’s Billy's handwriting.

Max slams the door close. Pulls the lock. Takes a deep, deep breath, hot leather and build-up heat, the smell of stale cigarettes and boy and all those times he took her to and back from school, the pool, the mall, to the wide, infinite beaches of California. The long, long drive here.

Hope creeps up her throat and Max catches it with her teeth, can’t let it slither out. It's too much. Too much.

Reaches for the letter.

It starts exactly like the other. With that thing they’ve never said out loud. That thing with which Max started her first. Her second letter. By the time she finishes, hope has turned into a snake, it slips out her mouth, curls around her ribs, bites at its own tail and squeezes, her heart, her stomach, her lungs. It’s a deceitful kind of hope, it begins and ends with Billy’s words when he writes,

―and I don't know where I am, Max. But I think it’s hell, and I'm scared.

But Max―grits her teeth, swallows her tears. Max knows where he is and, knows how you kill a snake, too.

Her brother told her how.

Chops off the head of that way in which hope’s strangling her, paralyzing her, because Billy’s in the upside-down but he's alive. He’s alive.

So she digs a pen out of her backpack and turns Billy's letter over, writes hers on the back with that thing they’ve never said out loud, and then seven words,

Dear Billy,

Hang in there, we're coming for you and, signed,

Mad Max.

Her hand’s trembling as she lays it like that, unfolded, fully displayed in the glove compartment.

So it’s the first thing Billy sees.

"Don't die, shithead" she says, inhales deeply "Okay?" her lips taste like spilled salt when she adds "Just wait for me."

She locks the car when she slides out. Now she knows there's someone on the other side who’s got the key too and, also, that some secrets gotta stay between siblings and, then―

She starts running.

Something in the world goes click. click. click: this time, Max is the bomb.

[yikesharringrove]

“My dad. He hits me.”

It had taken all of Billy’s strength to say. To overcome the embarrassment, and the shame, and the fear that he would be met with nothing but a guess you deserve it, then.

He didn’t look up. Couldn’t.

Couldn’t bear to see how big Robin’s blue eyes had probably gone, how Steve’s were probably full of rage and unshead tears.

He was so fucking ashamed.

Ashamed of his father. Ashamed of himself for never standing up. Ashamed of the whole damn situation.

“Okay. Uh, so what was the thing you were gonna tell us?”

Billy’s head snapped up to look at Steve, and something angry began to simmer in his gut. Because Steve looked confused and maybe a little like this was all some big joke.

“That was the thing, dickwad,” Billy snapped back, baring his teeth, ready to defend himself the way he never could at home.

“Uh, really?” And Steve just kept on looking confused, making Robin stare at him like she was trying to bore a hole into the side of his head with her glare. “Because you acted like you had some crazy news, calling us both to talk. And, I mean, this isn’t news.”

“Well, okay, Dectecive Harrington. Just because you fucking figured it out-”

“Billy, man. There’s nothing to figure out. All dads hit their sons.”

It was like time stood still. Like standing on an icy lake, not hearing the cracking beneath your feet until it was too late and you were being plunged into water.

Billy thinks he’s suffocating.

“Steve,” Robin licked her lips, looking like she didn’t know how to put this. “Does you father, does he hit you?”

“Oh, all the time.” Steve waved a hand, so cavalier, so nonchalant.

And this was not how Billy pictured this conversation to go.

“What for?” Robin was still pressing, Billy just sitting across from Steve, slack jawed and struck dumb.

“Oh, you know. This and that.” He began listing off on his fingers. “Being short with my mom, missing curfew, not setting the table correctly, not getting into college, accidentally driving on the lawn when I was backing out of the driveway, generally being dumb. I don’t know. Just stuff.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Now Billy was angry for another reason. That Steve had been dealing with the same awful shit he had, and thought it was normal. At least Billy knew it was wrong.

He stood up, kicking at the leg of the coffee table in front of the couch.

And Steve just kept on looking confused.

“Steve, are you serious about all this?” Robin was so much better at stuff like this than Billy, keeping her voice even as Billy paced back and forth, ready to explode.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I know it’s just one of those things no one talks about, but it happens all the time. It’s just, I don’t know, a fact of life.”

“So, if it’s a fact of life,” Billy was speaking through gritted teeth. “Are you gonna hit your boy?”

Steve looked down at his hands.

“I don’t, I don’t know. I mean, it makes me feel super shitty, you know? I just kinda always hoped I’d have daughters and then I wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

“Jesus, Steve. This is so fucked up. Like, you get that, right? The reason that was my big shitty news, is because it’s not a fact of life.”

“But, I mean, my grandpa hit my dad, and he hits me, and your dad hits you, and Lonnie Byers-”

“Weren’t you, like, best friends with Tommy H? Did his dad, do that?” Robin was trying to be more logical about it. Billy just wanted to take Steve and run the fuck away from their shitty fathers.

“Well, we just never talked about it. That’s kinda what you do. Don’t talk about it.”

“So, you think Dustin’s dad hit him? Or Lucas’s dad?”

“Uh,” Steve was blinking rapidly. “I mean, I guess.”

But, that didn’t make sense.

Steve has seen Lucas and his dad interact.

They seem close. They joke around with one another, and Mr. Sinclair takes interest in his son, and what he likes. He listens to him, and that’s so unlike Steve and his own father.

“Stevie, hitting your kid is fucked up. It’s not, normal.”

“It’s abuse.”

That hit Billy right in the gut.

Sure, he knows it’s bad, but putting That Word on it, naming it, makes it feel that much worse.

“But, no.” Steve was shaking his head, his arms folding over his stomach to hug himself. “No. I’m not, I’m not abused. It’s just. Some slaps. Maybe he’ll push me around. It just happens.”

“Steve.” Billy was talking through gritted teeth, his hands clenched on the back of the chair in front of him. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But you said-”

And the sound that left Billy actually fucking hurt as it tore its way up and out of his throat.

“It’s fucked up! No parent should hit their kid! And I was fucking scared to tell you two because I thought, I thought you’d tell me I deserved it, or-or that I should just buck up or something. I didn’t think I would be more proof to your fucked up theory.”

“Billy’s right. No parent should ever do that to their child.” Robin slid one hand over the polished wooden table to rest it on top of Steve’s hand. “And you don’t deserve that. Either of you.” Her head whipped around to glare at Billy, daring him to contradict her.

But it was Steve that did.

“I don’t know if you guys were listening, but sometimes I really do. And that’s ok-”

“Harrington, don’t you fucking dare say it’s okay. You don’t deserve that shit.” The fire in Billy’s gut was so immense, he’s surprised black smoke didn’t come pouring outta his mouth when he opened it to speak. “We don’t deserve it.”

And Steve still looked confused and like he wanted to argue back.

“My dad hits me because I’m a fucking fairy. And Byers’ dad hit him because he wasn’t fucking good at baseball or something. You think that’s reason to hit a kid? You think finding your eight year old staring at Jim Morrison a little too hard means you can break his fucking arm?”

Billy could see the second that it all came crashing down onto Steve.

And Billy can feel the searing pain of the tears dripping down his cheeks.

“If my old man were here, he’d hit me for bein’ a cryer.”

And then Steve had matching tear tracks on his cheeks and he could barely choke out-

“Mine too.”

[sparrowin]

i love steve more than life but the scene where jonathan beats the shit out of him in the alley will always be one of the most satisfying ( hot ) scenes in the entire series

[memes-saved-me]

The official sign for the Harringrove Fandom

[chrisbitchtree]

King Steve Shit

King Steve Shit. Max had coined the term. Even though Billy had his own car, a vintage Camaro that his mother had bought him for his 17th birthday, more often than not, Steve would pick Billy and Max up for school and drop them off after. Billy would insist that it wasn’t necessary, especially since Steve had graduated high school the previous spring, but Steve said it made him more comfortable to know that Billy got to and from school safely.

One afternoon in early March, Steve had gone the extra mile, carrying Billy’s backpack and gym bag to the front door for him, stopping for a kiss and whispered endearments and promises to text on his dinner break, before dashing off for his shift at the local diner. Max, who had been watching through the windows like a creep, popped out from behind the curtains, almost giving him a heart attack.

She had a grin on her face. “Carrying your bags to the door. That’s some King Steve shit”. Billy blanched. “Why the fuck are you talking about my boyfriend’s dick?” Max made barfing noises. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Billy had to laugh at that. “Why do you think they call him King Steve?” Max’s eyes grew wide as her face turned red. “I thought you called him that because he treats you like a queen!” Billy could barely breathe he was laughing so hard, but the thing was, Max wasn’t wrong. Steve did treat him like a queen.

***

Accepting love was hard for Billy. His parents had divorced when he was two, and since his mom travelled for work, he’d lived with his father full time, visiting his mother for alternating holidays. Living with Neil Hargrove, let alone being his son, was not easy. He demanded perfection in everything Billy did, and when he didn’t receive it, it was a boot to the knee, or a cigarette burn to the chest. If it wasn’t that, it was withholding dinner, or making him practice his free throw until he was so tired, he could barely stand.

Billy had spent most of his life being told that his mother didn’t really love him, that she only took him for holidays because the court demanded it. He was too scared to talk to her about it, worried that if he brought it up, what precious little time he got with her would be ruined. Billy knew that Neil didn’t love him either, not with the way he treated him if he forgot to take out the garbage or got an A instead of an A+, but Neil was all he really had, so he took the praise when he did do well and pushed the fear of his own father to the back of his mind. He figured it was something he must have done anyway to make him unworthy of being loved.

It was easy enough to cover up the bruises and scars, brushing off any suspicion that did arise, until it had all come to a head the summer before. Billy’s mom finally had a job that kept her in one place, that place being Hawkins, Indiana. She and her new family had moved there, to her new wife Susan’s hometown, from LA, to give Susan’s 13-year-old daughter Max a better chance at a regular high school experience after she’d been first caught coming home from a friend’s house drunk, then high a month later.

They’d invited Billy to Hawkins to spend the summer before he went back to San Diego for his senior year of high school. It was the longest he’d lived with his mother since he was two, and he had been nervous but excited to spend the time with her. The night before he’d left for Hawkins though, he’d forgotten to put the laundry in the dryer, and Neil gave him the beating a of a lifetime. His ribs and back were black and blue.

He’d made it through a single day in Hawkins before Max had accidentally walked in on him brushing his teeth, fresh out of the shower, and reported the bruises to Susan, who in turn had informed Billy’s mom of what Max had seen. After a long talk and a lot of tears, Billy finally told his mother what Neil had been doing to him for the last ten years.

He’d been shaking by the time he was done getting everything out. His mother had hugged him, and he’d had to fight the urge to flinch, not used to physical affection. “You can’t tell anyone, mom. He’ll kill me if he finds out that you know.” His mother had looked at him like he had two heads. “Billy, your father is never going anywhere near you again. You’ll be staying here with me. We’re going to enroll you at Hawkins High, and you can do your senior year there. I’m sorry baby, if I’d only known, I swear I would have gotten you out of there.”

They’d cried and held each other well into the night, Billy’s mother working to reverse some of the psychological damage that Neil had inflicted upon Billy. He’d went to sleep with assurances that she did love him and did want him, and so did Susan and Max. He was loved, and she never wanted him to forget that.

***

Within a week, Billy’s mother and Susan had flown out to California to gather his belongings, Billy and Max spending a four-day weekend at Susan’s mothers while they went. Both of Billy’s grandmothers had passed away before he was born, so this was the first time he got the full grandma experience. ‘Call me Grandma Gwen,” she’d said, when Billy had called her Mrs. Mayfield. They baked cookies, sat and watched the birds at the feeders in the backyard, and played boardgames around the kitchen table, while drinking fresh squeezed lemonade.

Billy had gotten home only to find out that while they were all gone, Susan’s brother and sister-in-law had painted his room and a new bed, dresser, and desk had been set up. The bed even had four posters with princess curtains. Billy cried when he saw it, remembering a conversation that he and his mom had had in an Ikea years before. There had been a bed with princess curtains set up, and Billy had told her that someday he wanted to have a fancy bed just like it. She’d remembered.

She came up behind him as he looked around the space. “I hope it’s not too childish now. I know how much you wanted a bed like this at the time.” The old Billy, the one who had been shamed into hiding who he really was by Neil would have told her that he wanted to take the curtains down. Not now. “No, they’re perfect,” he almost whispered, running his hands along them. It was like his own private hiding place, something he hadn’t had at his old home, with no lock on his door and Neil deciding it was his right to barge in on Billy whenever he wanted.

***

All of this had gone a long way towards making Billy feel like he was worthy of love, but what had really drove it home for him was meeting Steve Harrington. Steve had been Max’s sort of babysitter. While she was a little too old for one, for years, Steve had been the babysitter for Dustin Henderson, a boy who lived down the street, and Steve and Dustin still hung out sometimes, Steve chauffeuring Dustin and his friends to the arcade and the pool. He would sometimes pick Max up so she could tag along with them.

One day, about a month after Billy had arrived in Hawkins, the doorbell had rung. He’d answered it in his swim trunks, as he’d been just about to take Max to the pool. He’d opened the door to find the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen on the other side. He was tall, with beautiful brown eyes and floppy brown hair held back by a pair of black Ray-Bans. He grinned at Billy. “Hey beautiful, is Max here?”

It had taken Billy a moment to collect himself and speak in the face of that million-watt smile. Finally, he’d been able to regain his composure. “She is, but who are you?” Steve’s smile had grown. “I’m ‘the babysitter’.” He’d said, using air quotes. “I’m here to bring Max to the pool?” Max had chosen then to walk out into the living room, in her bathing suit, a large t-shirt covering it. “Oh, hey Steve, sorry. I forgot to tell you that my stepbrother, Billy, is going to bring me to the pool We’ll see you there though. I’m really sorry that you came here for nothing.” Steve had waved her off. “Don’t worry, Max, it wasn’t out of my way. And it wasn’t for nothing either. I had the pleasure of meeting Billy here.” He’d winked at Billy as he said it. “Oh gross,” said Max, making gagging sounds. “Please leave him alone, Steve.”

Steve did no such thing, making his intentions known immediately. Billy hadn’t known what to do with the attention. As soon as they’d gotten to the pool, Steve was waving them over, gesturing to the two lounge chairs next to him. “I saved the one right next to me for you, Billy. And I got you a soda. I hope you like Coke.” Billy had blushed, but had sat down next to Steve anyway, sipping the proffered soda.

***

At first, Billy had thought Steve was just a flirt, but he was, as it turned out, incredibly sincere about his affections. He worked hard to get Billy to let him in. Billy had been hesitant to start a relationship, wanting to sort out his feelings about everything going on in his life before he committed to anything with Steve. Steve respected that, letting Billy know he was there as a friend, even if Billy never wanted more.

He picked Billy up for his therapy sessions, waiting in the car with a treat in hand for when Billy was done, sitting silently with him while he ate and processed what he’d talked to his therapist about that day, or letting Billy cry on his shoulder when he needed to. He’d bring him home and walk him to his room after, so Billy could take a nap, tired as he was from the heightened emotions.

When Billy did feel like talking, they’d spend hours out on the back deck, chatting about anything and everything. Some nights it would be deep conversation. He shared more about his past, and Steve told him about his complicated relationship with his own father, or how he’d come to terns with the fact that he was bisexual in the 9th grade. Other nights, they would just shoot the shit while playing cards or looking at the stars.

Steve was always great with Billy’s family. He had them over for BBQs, included Max in movie nights, and got both Billy’s mom and Susan cards and flowers on their birthdays. No matter what Steve was doing, he was showing Billy that he was there, and he cared about him, and he always would.

***

When Billy had felt he was ready for a relationship, Steve was there, plotting a fancy dinner at a steakhouse in Chicago, and when he revealed his plans to Billy, who told him it was too much, he pivoted, planning instead a picnic under the stars in his backyard. At the end of the evening, he walked Billy to his front door, kissing him softly after Billy gave him the go ahead.

Billy was so happy that he’d given Steve a chance instead of shying away when they met. Steve told everyone that would listen about Billy, the great guy he was dating, talking as if Billy had hung the stars in the sky. His Instagram was full of pictures of the two of them, posing at the pool, in the car, or with Billy’s entire new extended family on his 17thbirthday.

He’d also introduced Billy to his friend Robin, who’d worked with him at the diner. She was starting her senior year at Hawkins High too, and once school had started in the fall, Steve would frequently pick up Billy and Robin for lunch. It only made Robin slightly sick how lovey dovy the two of them were, staring into each others’ eyes over a shared milkshake at the diner.

Billy had also found that he actually enjoyed school and extracurricular activities now that he was out from other his father’s thumb. He was at the top of his class, and star of the basketball team, but it’d felt good to know that if he chose to quit the team, or got a B, that he wouldn’t be punished with a slap to the face and no dinner.

***

The one thing that Billy had been in control of in his past life was whether he had sex, so he’d chosen to wait. He knew six months into their relationship that he wanted Steve to be his first. He’d told the other boy that he was a virgin, and Steve had vowed to make Billy’s first time extra special. He’d cooked Billy dinner at his house, then they’d gone to his room, taking their time making out, undressing each other, hands roaming all over. Steve had taken Billy apart slowly, making sure he was comfortable with every new thing he did. Billy had felt safe and loved as they basked in the afterglow. It was everything he’d dreamt of and more.

The following Monday at school, it had taken Robin all of 10 minutes to notice the change in Billy, pulling him into an empty classroom to talk. “Billy, did you and Steve…” Billy nodded excitedly. “It was perfect, Rob. He…” She’d held her hand up to stop him. “Woah there, please stop. This is Steve. I do not want details of his sex life. Sorry. But I am happy for you two. You both deserve happiness.” He’d entered his next class with a massive grin on his face, and it had stayed there for the whole day.

***

It had been a great year, filled to the brim with King Steve shit. His boyfriend had gone overboard at Christmas and Valentine’s Day, taking great care to show Billy how much he loved him. The previous summer it would have overwhelmed him, but now he was ready to take on everything Steve had to give him. Billy knew now that he was worthy of being loved.

***

It was now Billy and Robin’s prom night. Billy was going with Steve, and Robin was taking a girl from their history class, Heather. They’d all pooled their funds to make it a night they wouldn’t forget. They’d rented a limo and gone all out on their outfits. All the parents had gathered at Steve’s to see them off, and before they’d even reached the hotel that the prom was being held at, Billy was receiving notifications that his mother had tagged him in a photo album on Facebook. Grandma Gwen had commented on almost every photo at lightning speed.

It was the night of Billy’s life. Hte danced the night away with Steve, Robin, and Heather, and was crowned prom king. When he got back to their table from his first dance with Heather, who had been crowned prom queen, Steve had tears in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you Billy. You’ve come so far this year. I love you so much.” They shared one more slow dance after that before heading back to their hotel room for some fun.

Billy just had to get through a few more weeks of classes before spending a summer relaxing by the town pool when he wasn’t working there as a lifeguard, then he and Steve would be off together to Indiana State university. His future was bright and set to be full of King Steve shit, just the way he wanted it.

[artwraith]

Dr. Harrington and his Monster! :))))