#practically plastering his body to neils

[achillean-heartbeat]

good afternoon beautiful people i am going sick in the head thinking of Neil wearing his orange bandana. just neil and his bandana,,, yeah,,,

[saintmuses]

❝𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡❞

Pairing:

Neil Lewis x Jonathan’s Sister!Reader

Summary:

Having a crush on her brother’s best friend who displayed awkward loser vibes did not match the trope of being with a college cheerleader like her, and he did not feel the same way about her or so she thought.

Warning(s): SMUT. Oral (f-receiving). Mutual pining. Minors, dni! Note: the lyric is from Cruel Summer, and I kid you not if you do not realize what the lyric means; to put it in a simple explanation, this fic will say it all.

Word Count: 1.1k

Y/N did not have time for this. She groaned internally as she walked on the sidewalk with a brown backpack slung on her back. 

She got called by her annoying brother, Jonathan, who needed her to bring his backpack which he had forgotten when he came over for the weekend.

Her schedule had been filled with cheerleading practice, competitions, and Friday football nights that had been gruesome. On top of that, she took honor classes at college with endless homework. She was surprised she was able to find time to bring Jonathan’s backpack.

Being twenty-one and in her last year of college had opened a lot of opportunities and experiences that she could gather for years to look back on.

She wanted to be a writer. Ever since she was a little girl, she used to write in her little journals until the pen would run out of ink or when there weren't any fresh blank pages for her to fill out. She would write childhood fantasies of how princesses would save themselves. To be their own heroes every now and then. 

"Y/N," she heard her brother calling out from the side of the building as she entered Gumshoe Video store. She sighed before sauntering over when she saw Jonathan waving with a grin plastered on his face with someone sitting on the couch next to the one where her brother was sitting on.

She blushed when her eyes landed on the man who was sitting with a plastic disposable cup with dark liquid in it. 

She had an enormous crush on Neil Lewis. The owner of the store who happened to be her brother’s best friend but being insecure didn't really allow her to pursue him.

He was a definition of awkward loser type, but he really was a film buff. Classic movies was his turf, and if her friends found out about her crush on an ‘awkward loser’, they would make fun of her for it because liking guys like Neil was an illegal unspoken law in friend groups. Women that he dated never really appreciated him as who he was, but her…oh she would treat him so well. However, she doubted he was into her.

Yes, that would give her a reason to avoid Neil despite Jonathan’s attempt to hang out with her while he was around.

However, this is one time she was not able to avoid him since she did not know he was going to be with Jonathan.

"Hey," she smiled shyly once she was standing in front of them, flushing slightly when she caught his smirk in her peripheral vision. She silently cursed her inner schoolgirl crush.

Her lips curled around his name in an inaudible gasp as she fingered her clit lightly, arching her back in pleasure, the sound emitting from her throat.

It was later that night after she got back from the campus, her parents left her a note saying they were out of the town for the weekend, so she couldn't handle the tension that was thrumming through her body at the sight of Neil earlier.

A foreign finger slid from the bottom of her slit to the bundle of nerves, circling around it in a way that had her arching off the bed.

She then stiffened, consciously knowing that a hand that wasn't hers had sent her into a spin, and her eyes shot open to see blue eyes reflecting hers with the curl of a smirk painted on his lips. He raked his fingers up her dripping slit before he withdrew his hand, reaching for his mouth with his glistened fingers, with eye contact between them causing her to moan.

After sliding his fingers out of his mouth, his lips curled. "Thinking about me, weren't you." He asked rhetorically as he hovered her form.

Her eyes flickered, "Neil." She let out an audible gasp while flushing deeply. Arms raising with intentions of covering herself from him which was halted by his hands.

"Don't" he said softly, letting her wrists go. He then raked his eyes from her face to her breasts, "you're beautiful." He said hungrily.

"How did you get in here?" She frowned, flushing deeply at the lust that was shone in his blue eyes.

He gave her a lazy grin, "Jonathan told me there's a key under the flowerpot." He slowly reached between her thighs, “he wanted me to drop the bike off since he’s going out tonight.” His eyes flickered downward, inhaling the heady scent that was all her. Flames began to lick her spine at his brief action. “I decided to come in here and hang out with you…” he trailed off, licking his lips. “Shockingly, I came into this predicament.”

He then started to move his finger upward until it grazed her clit. Her hips jerked as she bit down her bottom lip to keep the keen noise from escaping her throat.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispered, leaning over her before he captured her lips with his. 

She moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes. It was filled with ferocious intensity as if he'd been wanting to kiss her. She then felt him parting his lips ever so slightly before his tongue reached to trace her bottom lip.

She gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to battle dominance with her tongue. She felt his fingers curling around her kneecaps before sliding downward towards her thighs to pry them apart, then he withdrew from her lips. 

She inhaled slowly before exhaling to gain control over her breathing that was disrupted by his passionate kiss. Before she could open her eyes, a gasp tore from her lungs when she felt the heat of his tongue sliding through her slit.

Her eyes immediately trained onto the man whose head is in between the juncture of her thighs, her stomach quivered at the sight. She never had anyone going down on her before, but it felt so good coming from him.

She felt his tongue swirling around her clit before a heavy sensation of pleasure rolled through her body when his lips parted and started sucking lightly between his lips.

A whine tore from her lungs, throwing her head back into the pillow. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and her hips arched off the bed, mostly towards his mouth.

"Fuck," she groaned. He slowed down his ministrations before withdrawing from her thighs. "Neil..." she trailed off, opening her eyes.

A grin curled his lips, his eyes were heavily lidded with lust as he stared down at her, "don't worry, baby. We're not done yet."

[miniscule-rabbit]

Bloody Tissues

Bloody tissues.

Andrew sat on the grimy bathroom floor surrounded by dozens of bloody tissues.

Fuck, he thought. The grisly sight brought back memories of high school, wearing heavy hoodies even in the summertime to hide his mangled skin. He shuddered. He could practically feel the eyes staring at him again.

Andrew tipped his head back against the wall and sighed, tears marking a path down his cheeks. He pressed yet another tissue against his arm, glaring at the offending wound. He glanced down at the floor, speckled with drops of blood. His gaze quickly shifted up to the knife sticking out of his armband haphazardly laying on the closed toilet seat.

He silently begged his skin to stop bleeding, please, not wanting to admit to Neil that he had relapsed yet again. The song Iris came over his headphones, and he let out a soft breath of amusement at the lyrics.

You bleed just to know you’re alive.

Yeah, Andrew understood that. All too well.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back yet again and let the soothing music wash over him. They remained closed until a knock against the bathroom door startled them open.

“Uhh, just a minute,” Andrew called hurriedly, scrambling to pick up the tissues all over the floor and throw his armbands on. He hoped his wound had stopped bleeding, but his black armband would do a good job of soaking up any offending blood. He jumped to his feet and plastered a smile across his face before throwing open the door and leaning against the doorframe.

“Hi.” He smiled.

He watched as Neil’s concerned gaze traveled around the bathroom before landing on the floor.

The floor that still had blood stains on it.

Shit.

Andrew scowled as Neil opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Andrew interrupted him.

“Look, please don’t say anything. I’m already upset enough that I gave in, I don’t need someone else’s lecturing on top of everything.”

Neil said nothing, but turned around and walked away. Confused, Andrew decided to check on his cut. He peeled off the armband and looked down at it. Shit. Still bloody. Suddenly Andrew felt a warm body slide past him. He looked over and there was Neil, damp washcloth in hand. He knelt down and started cleaning the blood off the floor as Andrew poured rubbing alcohol over his arm to sanitize the wound. They finished their tasks around the same time, Andrew cursing at the sting of the cold liquid pouring over his open skin. Neil looked up at him.

“Do you want some help with that?”

Andrew scowled but nodded yes. Neil silently left the room and Andrew heard him rummaging around the bedroom. He returned with a needle, thread, and a bottle of vodka. Andrew silently held out his arm, and swallowed some alcohol to numb the pain. However he could still feel it as the cold needle passed through his flesh. Within a few minutes, it was over, and Neil carefully tied off the thread. They cleaned up and made their way to the couch, where Andrew lay with his head on Neil’s chest. He pressed a kiss against Andrew’s head, and within a few minutes, Neil was asleep. Andrew could feel sleep’s hold on him tightening, but before it pulled him under, his mind flashed back to the sight of Neil carefully tending to Andrew’s wound. He smiled and gave in to sleep’s warm beckon. Everything was going to be okay. He didn’t have to worry about the bloody tissues.

[kevindayscrown]

The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.

Part 1 The lost bet

Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.

Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. If you haven’t read the Introductory post, you are adviced to do so or you won’t understand shit. 

It started with a bet.

A lost bet.

Of course, the Foxes of the Exy team are used to placing bets amongst themselves over the smallest and silliest things. It’s when they include others that it gets complicated.

Ask any of them, and they will not be able to tell you how it started, probably to avoid the embarrassment. Ask the ice hockey players, and they will gladly fill you in.

It started in the athlete’s dining hall. The unhealthy featured option for the day was pie. Nicky, of course, had left class early just so he would be able to get a piece for himself and his cousin with the sweet tooth. Pie ran out early if you weren’t from the firsts to wait in line.

It just so happened that a group of hockey players were behind Nicky in line. Nicky, with the remarkable ability of not being able to shut up, started blubbering about how sweets were not allowed in the dorms after Kevin kept bitching about it.

One of the ice hockey players – Bryce Matthews, left defenseman – dared to make the following statement:

“Bet you that Day wouldn’t even dare eat today’s dessert. That guy has his racquet stuck up his ass. Doubt he would ruin that freaky diet of his.”

Of course, that was a challenge, a bet. Nicky wouldn’t dare not accept it. Especially from their ‘sworn enemies’.

“Oh, really? Bet you I can get Kevin to eat the entire thing.”

The two of them agreed to it after also discussing the terms for the winning and the losing side. Nicky knew he had to get Kevin to eat from the pie.

He didn’t.

“Kevin, I’m telling you, we will all regret it.”

Kevin gave him a blank stare and pushed the plate away, thinking that Nicky was messing around, trying to annoy him. He soon realized that wasn’t the case.

“Seems like we are going to have guests at the rink today,” a voice said from behind him. Kevin turned around, finding none other than Jiang Eric, standing there with his two lackeys at his side, grinning.

It was unusual for the Ice Hockey Captain to take pleasure in such stupid bets his own team usually engaged in.

But this involved Kevin.

And if there was anything Eric was more passionate about than Ice Hockey, it was annoying Kevin Day.

“What did you do this time?” Aaron snapped at Nicky.

“I may or may not have placed a bet.”

“See you there after practice!” Eric called and fist bumped his teammates as they exited the dining hall, their laughter echoing around the room.

Turns out, these were the terms that Nicky had agreed to:

The losing side’s team would have to come over to the winning side’s facilities and spend the entire evening after afternoon practice playing the other team’s sport.

Which meant that the Exy team now had to put on skates and spend two whole hours balancing on ice.

“Hemmick, I swear, I’m gonna murder you.” Kevin was furious. Of course, they couldn’t just not go, it was a matter of pride.

They were in the lounge when afternoon practice was over, discussing how they would manage to not make fools out of themselves. Allison was the only one who was having fun with this, seeing as she already knew how to skate.

Andrew was munching on that piece of pie from earlier.

(Neil may or may not have smuggled it for him after it was left untouched.)

“Look, I just think we should all be blaming Kevin for not trusting me,” Nicky said, holding his hands up in defense. The foxes let out exasperated sighs of frustration.

“Why are y’all sitting on your asses?” Heads turned as Wymack spoke. The coach wouldn’t admit it, but perhaps seeing his foxes on skates was the most amusing thought he had had in a while. “Get going. Or they will think you are all a bunch of cowards.”

The Foxhole Rink was as big as the university’s Exy court, though there had been talks of reconstructions, seeing as the team had been climbing up the ranks. The Ice Hockey team – all six players of the starting lineup – were waiting for the Exy players.

Eric’s grin from earlier was still plastered on his face as he held up a pair of skates and threw them at Kevin, who caught them just in time.

“Welcome to my domain, Day.”

The Exy Foxes were led to the locker rooms and were given spare equipment that would fit them best. It was rather similar to their own equipment so they easily slipped into it.

Then the ice hockey players came in with the skates. Spares of all sizes that the Foxes could choose from according to their size. They passed them down one by one and helped the exy players tie them properly.

“Need help Day?”

Kevin had managed to squeeze his one foot in but it was harder than expected to figure out all the laces and the straps. Admitting he needed help, however, would be just another blow to his confidence.

Eric kneeled down nonetheless and picked up Kevin’s foot. He secured the skates and then held the blades up, attaching them as well. Kevin grumbled something under his breath but Eric doubted it was a thanks.

They only exchanged a glance before Kevin tried getting onto his feet.

“Hey, this isn’t that bad,” Matt said. Indeed, balancing on the blades while on a stable floor wasn’t too bad. It was tricky at best, but the foxes knew tricky.

It was when they slid on the ice that they realized exactly how tricky it was.

The first one to fall on his face was Aaron. The Foxes rarely heard him curse so colorfully.

Dan was clinging onto the side of the rink with wobbly legs that threatened to give out at any moment. Matt was easing into it slowly. Allison gracefully skated past them with a small flick of her hair.

Kevin was also holding onto the ledge, deciding there was no chance he would let go.

That was, until he saw Eric glide in, looking surprisingly graceful for a six-foot five guy with all this heavy equipment on him.

Kevin slowly pushed himself off of the ledge and slid across the ice, holding his hands out for balance while also holding onto the hockey stick. He couldn’t understand how Eric could move around, block hockey packs and coordinate his team at the same time.

“It’s not as hard as it looks,” Eric said, which somehow annoyed Kevin more.

“At least it explains why you are all such thickheads,” Kevin snapped back.

Kevin noticed Eric’s eyes narrowing underneath the helmet. The goaltender moved to him in a way that made Kevin try to move backwards. His left foot slipped and he lost his balance.

A hand around his waist stopped him right before he hit the ice. He looked up and saw Eric, his hockey stick dropped as he had moved to catch Kevin from falling.

Eric wasn’t sure why he had done it. The first lesson to ice skating was that you would fall many times before you’d even be able move. It was mostly harmless.

He told himself he had just felt responsible for startling Kevin and immediately pulled him upright.

“Part your legs.”

“Excuse me?” Kevin asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Part your legs. Keep just the right amount of distance between your feet. Lean your body slightly forward and find your balance.” As Eric talked, he pressed one hand on Kevin’s stomach and the other on his back, adjusting his upper body properly.

Kevin was too stunned to push him away.

Thankfully, Andrew had not been in the first six to enter the rink or he would had probably tried to stab Eric with the blade of his skates for touching Kevin.

“Ready to try playing? I promise I’ll be gentle.” Eric said and winked as he picked up his stick. Kevin convinced himself it was a trick of the light as he moved forward.

[none-but-y0u]

h/c of clingy!steve and and how he starts dating again and he gets in relationships where he always feels the need to be around the person and not because he’s codependent but because he likes the feeling of being around someone who wants him around.

and this probably takes places a a year or two after starcourt happens and the kids are a little older and going through their “i don’t want to be around adults” phase which means they don’t need him as much which is fine because he knew they were going to grow up eventually and if his parents had been around he’d probably go through the same phase.

and yet, it does cause a little pinch in his chest every so often when he calls on the radio and no one picks up or when dustin cancels their movie night because he’s studying or trying (unsuccessfully) to take some girl out on a date.

so yeah, he starts dating again because what’s a sure fire way to fill the void of loneliness. and the dates always start off fine. he was king steve so he still has his moves (no matter what robin says) and he’s always able to get a few dates out of a person before they start getting annoyed with him.

he doesn’t mean to do it on purpose but sometimes the loneliness overwhelms him and the quietness of his parents house dwarfs him and he just needs to be around someone who can help him forget about it for a moment. but others don’t see it like that so when he calls them up at 3 am to see if they want to go to the quarry because his mind won’t stop racing and he’s on the verge of another breakdown, or if he stays practically plastered to their sides when they’re at big events and he’s reminded of being at these kind of events as a child and how alone he felt then and how alone he feels now, well they just don’t seem to get it. they don’t seem to get that when the world feels like it’s closing in around him, he just needs someone to stand by him and hold the gates open for him until he’s able to do it himself again.

so yeah. these relationship never last very long and he always ends up finding himself alone, cowering in the dark of his house, praying the dark of his mind doesn’t overtake him.

and then billy wakes up.

steve finds out through the grapevine one day when the kids are over and one of them briefly mentions that max is visiting billy which is why she isn’t over at the house. and some part of steve wants to know more but the kids have already moved on and he doesn’t want to waste his few moments with them talking about someone who they all have a weird history with, so he drops it.

two nights later, the thoughts start up again almost like clockwork and steve throws himself out of bed and shuffles to put his shoes on. he drives to quarry, bubbling with the feeling of an impending breakdown clawing its way inside of him, desperate to overtake him.

he pulls into the quarry, and stumbles to his spot, but when he gets there he finds that his spot has been taken.

billy looks different from before but not really. his skin looks paler but that might just be the moonlight, and his hair looks wilder but in a way that makes steve want to run his hands through it and braid it. but he keeps that thought to himself.

they don’t really talk except for when steve asks billy if he wants a smoke and billy says he’s not allowed to so they fade back into silence for the rest of the night. at the end, steve drops billy off at his government sanctioned apartment and drives back home to get two hours of sleep before he has to go to work. steve doesn’t think about billy or how he feels a little bit lighter.

it happens again a few nights later. steve brings billy a candy cigarette this time around because “i won’t feel as guilty for smoking when you can’t” billy snorts but takes it anyways. their fingers touch in the process, and steve’s fingers tingle afterwards, but he doesn’t think about that. just closes his eyes, inhales the smoke, and basks in the silence with billy.

they’ve been doing this practically all autumn now and steve’s starting to look forward to their 3 am nights. it always starts off the same, both boys still slightly awkward and quiet, but eventually they open up. steve telling billy about how lonely he gets sometimes and how he’s afraid it’s going to take him one day. billy telling steve about his dad and how even though the mind flayer was terrifying, nothing beats how scared he is of neil. and along the way steve realizes that the talking helps him not feel so overwhelmed but also the sheer fact of just being around billy fills him with this kind of peace in the pit of his stomach that’s starting to turn into something else.

but of course. all good things come to an end and winter’s coming and it’s getting too cold to meet especially with billy’s body still recovering.

steve’s driving billy home one night and billy has had a frown on his face the whole time they’ve been at the quarry and in the car and steve just knows this is going to be like all his past relationships even though they’re not even technically in a relationship but he knows it’s gonna hurt just as bad if not more.

they pull up to billy’s apartment but nobody makes a move to leave so they sit there in silence for a moment. steve’s pressing his fingers into his thighs trying to prepare himself for what he knows is about to come.

billy barely gets out the “can’t do this much longer” when steve’s nodding and trying to force his eyes to stop watering and “that’s fine. figured it’d come to an end eventually.”

billy doesn’t start to move which pisses steve off a little because most of his relationships the person can’t get away quick enough from him after they break up. steve wishes billy would go too because he doesn’t know how much longer he can push off the brook threatening to spill over within him.

next to him, billy finally puts his hand on the door to leave, and steve let’s out a breath that this is almost over but at the last moment billy turns around, some sort of nervousness in his eyes.

“can’t do this much longer” billy repeats and steve nods because yeah he heard it first time. he doesn’t need to be reminded of it. he knows when he’s not wanted anymore.

but billy isn’t done apparently. “can’t do this much longer so maybe next time we can meet at my place. not as fancy as the quarry but there’s heating and food. and if it gets too late for you to drive home, then i got a bed too.”

he says the last prt with that signature grin of his but steve knows him well enough now to be able to tell when he’s nervous. and steve doesn’t want that because if he’s reading this correctly and he thinks he is then yeah he wants that. wants that and more.

“what kinda bed you got?” he asks.

billy shrugs and says “i think it’s a twin” but he’s biting his lip like he thinks that might be a deal breaker.

steve sits for a moment, thinking on how this could change everything and how he desperately wants it to. he looks to billy with his own king steve smile and “might be a tight fit being side by side, but i think we could make an adjustment for it to work.”

billy’s face lights up and steve’s stomach is fluttering and it takes them several minutes before they’re able to search themselves to make it upstairs.

they start dating after that and it’s so good. but some days, the world gets too tight around steve. and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold the gates open much longer by himself, and he’s knows this is where they always leave him. but billy doesn’t. instead he welcomes him. opens his arms wide and let’s wrap himself around his body as he whispers words of praise, love, and adoration into steve’s ear. and steve loves it 

[fallenfurther]

Homecoming

This is a story I’ve been planning for over a year and finally feel readyish to post it. This first chapter has been reread about ten times so it’s about time to release it. It introduces the main OC for the story, which will spend the next fifteen chapters exploring Jeff’s return to earth before Josie comes back into play. 

Thank you @misssquidtracy for being my cheerleader, this would be no where near as far written if you hadn’t enjoyed it so. 

I hope you enjoy chapter one, which is set between Series 2 and 3. 

AO3 and FFN

First Impressions

Josie stood outside the hall and took a deep breath. You can do this, she thought, you already have the invite for the invite only event. They might be the big bosses, the people who matter, but you matter too. You just have to network. Don't sell yourself short. 

She steeled herself again and swallowed. She really didn't belong here. London was a long way from the compassionate community she grew up with in Scotland. But the idea of getting stuck there and never fulfilling her dreams made her determined, despite the imposter syndrome that plagued her. She looked down at herself and tried to feel comfortable. They were her smartest clothes: a black pencil skirt, blouse with frilly collar and a fitted, thanks to Nancy's excellent seamstress skills, suit jacket. They were all high street brands which wouldn't compare to the designer suits and dresses she'd be mingling with. The only saving grace was the simple diamond chain around her neck. Worth more to Josie than anyone would know, and it gave her the courage she needed. Brushing down her jacket and holding her head high she strode forwards.

She had been so fixated on herself that she almost bumped into a mature couple. Josie stumbled out an apology and let them in first. Flustered, and having lost any semblance of confidence, she entered the room. 

****

Another networking event, this time forced on him by Lady Penelope. Scott scouted out the room as he sipped his Scotch. Many eyes were on the two Tracy brothers, all wanting but not yet daring, to approach. The power of his presence in a room of businessmen never ceased to amaze him. 

"Found someone you like yet?" Gordon chimed cheerfully from beside him, though Scott knew him well enough to hear the bored undertone. Penelope had invited Gordon and of course he had said yes, his brother absolutely smitten with the lady. Scott shook his head. Events like this maintained Tracy Industries reputation, though they also gave Scott his player reputation. It was an easy place to pick up a girlfriend or let off some steam. Scott surveyed the room again. Within sight there were a few women who appealed to him. 

"I don't always leave with someone." 

Scott took a sip of his drink. 

"Oh, so you're not the ever-successful ladies’ man we thought you were?" Gordon teased. 

"Well, I didn't say that." Scott chuckled. "I just don't always want company."

Gordon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I bet you've had many failed conquests. You just don't want to admit it."

Scott shook his head. "You believe what you want, Gordon."

"Bet you can't get a random woman to sleep with you," Gordon challenged. 

Scott bit his lip, trying not to rise to Gordon's bait. Yes, Scott had been planning to find some company for the evening, but a bet? He shouldn't sink to that. Thankfully, the CEO of a small engineering company that had worked with Tracy Industries a year ago strolled over. Scott slipped into CEO mode and exchanged the required pleasantries and confirmed that they were considering working with their company again, before one last handshake. 

"So, the Great Scott Tracy is backing down from a challenge?"

Scott rolled his eyes. Gordon was bored and just trying to find a way to entertain himself, but Scott did like a challenge. What's the worst that could happen? With a sigh, he gave in. 

"What are the stakes?"

"If you can't seduce the woman I pick, then you give the swimming pool its biannual clean."

"And if I win, you are on deck lounger duty for a month."

“Deal.”

Gordon held out his hand and Scott shook it. He knew this was a bad idea, but it 

would liven up the evening a little, and Scott was in the mood for a little fun. Something to help him relax after a tough week. His brother’s eyes scouted the room looking for the ideal candidate. The smirk that appeared on Gordon’s face worried him. 

“The next woman to walk through the door.”

Scott raised his eyebrow. It was a gamble, but Scott understood why Gordon had 

done it. He nodded and took a sip of his drink. Both men had their eyes on the door. A few people left, but no one entered. When the door finally opened, they both held their breath. An older couple entered, their outfits and demeanour radiating their importance. A quick sideward glance at Gordon confirmed he was holding back a laugh. Scott sighed before looking back toward the couple. Behind them the door opened again and in walked a lone woman. 

“That one, the nervous blond.” Gordon announced. 

A nod from Scott and he accepted the challenge. His eyes surveyed the woman. She was young, probably about Virgil’s age, and she definitely looked uncomfortable. Her clothing was smart and fitted her well, but he could tell they weren’t the high end fashion that many were wearing that evening. Her hair was loose, brushing down past her shoulders, and there was nothing wrong with her features. She had the kind of appearance most people would look over, including himself, for someone more striking. Scott started to formulate a strike plan. He knew he had to avoid overwhelming her, she probably wouldn’t be expecting to get the attention he was going to give her. He turned back to his brother; whose attention had turned to something else. Scott followed Gordon’s gaze to see Lady Penelope with a tall man, laughing away. The man was obviously flirting with the aristocrat. The clenched jaw and stiffened stance of the aquanaut gave in to jealousy he was feeling. Without a second thought, Gordon strolled over to the gathering and joined in, a fake smile plastered his face. Scott shook his head, before turning back to his target. 

****

The glass was chilled in her hand, and Josie took a sip of the non-alcoholic mojito with the hopes it would help steady her nerves. Practicing her breathing techniques briefly, she turned around only to come face to chest with someone. She was flustered again and felt heat rise in her cheeks. Her eyes fell on the man in front of her and her heart jumped. 

She froze. Her instincts put her on high alert. This man looked like trouble, and she had just made contact with his deep blue eyes. He smiled at her, dimples deepening in his cheeks when he did so. Mind over body, mind over body, she repeated in her head. It was the intensity he gave off, the way he held himself like he was in control. He hadn't been surprised by her almost bumping into him. He'd know she was there and hadn't moved. She'd seen this before at university, she'd learnt the signs from experience. But still, why did they always have to be attractive? Why did they always gravitate to her? Josie rolled her shoulders back and gave him a brief nod. 

“Excuse me.” Josie smiled politely, ducking as gracefully as she could past him. 

“I’ve not seen you here before.”

Josie paused. His deep voice demanded her attention. She was here to network, at least she could get him over and done with. She could keep her cool, watch out for his game. Josie was wiser now. She turned around and held out her hand.

“Josie McNelly, engineer for Taybrooke Aeronautics, Satellite division.”

He shook her hand firmly. The man looked familiar, though she couldn't place where from. 

“Scott Tracy, CEO of Tracy Industries.”

That explained the familiarity. She smile grew as she thought of her brother’s prized 

poster of Jeff Tracy which had hung above his bed. Josie could see the resemblance 

to the astronaut. Same eyes for certain. She'd been shocked at the sudden loss of the great Jeff Tracy. Not that her brother had ever met him, but the astronaut had been such a big part of their childhood. Especially the fights over who was greater, her admiration for Neil Armstrong was still just as strong. The memories threw her, and suddenly she had no idea what to say next. How do you network again? What do you talk about with the CEO of Tracy Industries, one of the best engineering companies in the world? Facts about the company filled Josie's head and thankfully one stood out.

"Tracy Industries doesn't have a UK branch, so may I ask what brings you to London?" 

Josie took a deep breath as the man paused; glad she could make an impression. She congratulated herself while remembering what she was here to do. She'd failed to get a job at Tracy Industries on multiple occasions, maybe this could be a way in. She almost laughed at herself. The CEO was unlikely to care for someone as low down the pecking order as she. Part of her wanted to try, just in case. If people less qualified could get experience and jobs over her by knowing the right people, maybe she could too. That was why she was here, to get the contacts so she could play their game. 

"You've done your research. Tracy Industries works with some UK based companies that are represented here tonight, and the event is being hosted by a good friend of mine. I've not heard of Taybrooke Aeronautics before, care to give me some insight?"

His strikingly blue eyes gazed down at her with sincerity. It threw Josie to see it in someone she suspected of having ulterior motives, however she'd tried to keep her cool. Staying wary, she engaged with him. 

"Taybrooke Aeronautics is a small Scottish company. It started with plane design and manufacturing then branched out into satellites and astronautical technology. It's well known for its niche and unique satellite designs. It's entirely based in Scotland and has various sites throughout the country."

"Have they done anything I might have heard of?"

"Have you heard of Global One?" 

"The GDF's space station."

"Yes, the thrusters that keep it in orbit are a product of Taybrooke Aeronautics. They are actually my design."

"Your design? Aren't they normally developed by a team of engineers."

The surprise on Mr Tracy's face was priceless. It wasn't the first time people were shocked by what Josie could do, and she was planning to make sure it wasn't the last. If she wanted to become a big name rocket designer, she was going to have to blow a few minds. 

"The initial design was mine, obviously other engineers had input over materials and the like, but the actual design hasn't changed much. Taybrooke owns the patent, but my name is on it, so you can check it if you don't believe me. They aren't the only thing I've designed that's currently on orbit. Two of my resistojet rockets were used in some private satellites that were launched late last year."

Josie refused to hide her pride. Her family was proud of her achievements even if they didn't understand them. It was why she was here, to continue making them proud of her. She and her brother had had a dream and she was going to fulfil it if she could. 

"That's impressive. Have you considered applying for a role in the Tracy Industries aeronautical department? I'm sure we are always in need of people with your kind of skills."

Josie took a deep breath. She wanted to believe Mr Tracy. Every engineer wanted a job at Tracy Industries, it was considered one of the industry leads and had fantastic employee benefits. The company was known worldwide for taking care of its workforce, but she had never made the cut. Neither did she believe this man would remember her beyond today. It was time to end this conversation and see if anyone here might actually be interested in hiring an engineer. Josie met his gaze and prepared to say her piece. 

"I have applied for various aeronautical and astronautical roles at Tracy Industries since graduating. I've been called to interview twice, one at the European branch in Germany and another at the Japanese branch. Both times I was turned away for lack of experience. The Japanese branch didn't believe I would fit in with the company's culture and the European job was given to the son of one of the employees. It appears that I’m currently not what Tracy Industries is seeking. It’s been interesting talking with you Mr Tracy, but I have just spotted someone that I would really like to speak with, so if you’d kindly excuse me. Have a pleasant rest of the evening.” 

Josie turned and strode away from Mr Tracy. She headed into the crowd, not looking back, keeping her eyes open for the people she'd flagged on the short guest list she had managed to obtain. There were representatives here that might help get her into the industry. Not that she wouldn't stop applying to Tracy Industries jobs, a girl could dream, but she was realistic. Josie knew she had to work her way up and she needed to make the right contacts. 

****

Scott watched Josie walk away. She weaved into the crowd and disappeared from his sight. Gordon had lucked out and this bet was going to be harder than he thought. Miss McNelly may be nervous, but there was something beneath her words and her guard was up. He would have to change his approach, and unfortunately, he couldn't use Tracy Industries as bait. Josie wanted a job and she seemed to believe Tracy Industries didn't want her. Even if he could promise her a job, he was sure she wouldn't believe him. Scott was so used to women warming to him, swooning over his smile, and in many cases excited by the prospect of spending the evening with someone from International Rescue. Josie hadn't even mentioned it or made an indication that she knew he was part of the elusive organisation. Scott headed to the bar and ordered another scotch. He lent against the polished wood, swirling the drink in thought. He had to get her to lower her guard, to open up. His eyes hit the crowd and he sighed. Scott knew he was going to have to take the plunge. 

Almost an hour later and Scott hadn't been able to get close to Miss McNelly. He'd glimpsed her but being in the crowd meant he had to be polite to the other attendees, especially those who the company did business with. Duty called without the usual klaxon that echoed through the villa. Although Scott did want to be rescued from the current conversation; fisheries in the Atlantic were more Gordon's realm. He inspected the room, going from head to head in search of Miss McNelly. He easily spotted Gordon, standing next to Lady Penelope who was conversing with a young businessman. At least his brother wasn't having much luck either. Continuing, he spotted Mr Sandip with whom he'd had a pleasant conversation with at a previous gala. Excusing himself, Scott headed over to the man, but as he neared, Scott got a glimpse of whom he was talking to. Josie's hands were moving as she described something, and as he stepped up to the pair, he could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. There was a sparkle in her grey eyes that hadn't been there previously. 

"Mr Tracy! How good to see you again? How have you been?"

Mitchell Sandip had spotted him out of the corner of his eye and had turned to offer him a hand, which Scott took with a smile. 

"I'm very well, thank you, though I wasn't expecting to see you here." 

"Yes, well, the representative from the engineering department that was meant to attend became unwell. With so few people free to come, I drew the short straw. Though, seeing you has greatly improved my night."

Scott laughed at the accountant, his friendly demeanour had charmed Scott last time they had met. 

"Now, Mr Tracy, have you met Miss McNelly? She has quite the head for numbers. Unfortunately, she's not after an accounting job otherwise I'd snap her up before anyone else could!"

Scott turned to the woman in question, eyebrow raised. Head for numbers, well she was an engineer. He watched her straight up and nod politely at him. 

"I'm rather good with calculations.”

Mitchell's hand landed on Scott's arm, drawing his attention away from Miss McNelly. The shorter man's hazel eyes peered up at him full of excitement.

"She's being incredibly modest, Mr Tracy. I was certain someone was pilfering funds, and after a week I managed to work out who and how, but I hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet. I’ve just finished collecting all the evidence and sent it to HR. Well, I was just discussing yearly finances with Mr Yang over there, and I was just throwing a lot of numbers about, as you do, trying to show off, when Miss McNelly pipes up saying my calculations are wrong. I told her they weren't, and she said they had to be unless someone was swindling money. I was shocked that she could work it out like that, then she rattled off her calculations faster than anything. Like I said, I hadn’t told anyone and Miss McNelly here was able to work it out in minutes. Obviously, I had to confirm this wasn’t just a one off, so Mr Yang and I rattled a few numbers off, and Josie performed the calculations there and then. All in her head and fast as can be. It was incredible!"

Scott turned with Mitchell back to Miss McNelly. There was a proud smile on her face, even if he could see that she was still nervous. Her fingers were playing gently with the hem of her jacket. 

"I've always been fast with numbers."

"Are you certain you don't want to be an accountant?"

Miss McNelly laughed, a blush coming to her cheeks. 

"As I told the Professor during my interview at Cambridge, when he asked why I was pursuing a career in engineering over mathematics; for me mathematics is easy. I don't want to be bored. I want to be challenged." 

A cheeky grin graced Josie's lips, obviously warming to Mitchell's easy charm. It was hard not to smile around Mitchell, the man had a unique manner that just set people at ease. 

"How about a drink then?" 

“Fantastic idea, Mr Tracy. I’m sure Miss McNelly is in need of one too.”

Scott beckoned over a waiter, who swiftly moved around the other attendees to reach them. 

"I'll have a sherry, if you don't mind."

"I'll have a Scotch please. What would you like, Miss McNelly, another mojito?"

Josie hesitated a moment and seemed to become uneasy, her fingers returning to her hem. 

"Another mojito would be lovely, thank you." 

"Is that all?"

"Yes, thank you."

Scott dismissed the waiter, still intrigued by Miss McNelly. There was so much to uncover, and although he was starting to feel that he'd be cleaning the pool next week, he hadn't given up. Mitchell was just the person he needed to help break down those walls of hers.

"So, a Cambridge graduate then? I've a friend who did engineering at Cambridge university."

"Yes, it's a fantastic institution. It took me a year to find my feet, but I thrived once I did. Did you visit your friend while he was there?"

Scott chuckled slightly at the thought of visiting Brains at university. His father hadn't met the man yet and he would have been a kid himself. 

"No, I never got the chance."

"That's a shame. It's like a world of its own. All the best equipment within old buildings and traditions which go back centuries. Although it was fun at the start, with all the formal dinners and dressing up in your gown, it does get a little mundane after the umpteenth time. Sure, it's a three course meal with wine from some excellent chefs, but you can't eat that rich food every day and it's expensive. I could keep myself fed and watered for a week for the price of two evening meals!"

"I must admit, I didn't make the best decisions when it came to food during my first years in the Air Force."

Scott thought back to the instant noodles and takeaways he'd indulged in on the weekends. The freedom that came with not having to eat Grandma's home cooking had been liberating. Though he did eventually learn to cook a few simple dishes during his time in the Air Force. 

"Most of us make bad choices at university. It comes with being young and free." 

There was a sadness in her tone and her face dimmed slightly. What mistakes had this woman made that she regretted? Did it have something to do with the guard she hid behind? She put on a forced smile, and he knew he had to keep her engaged. Unfortunately, Lady Penelope and Gordon decided to make their entrance to the group. 

"Oh! Why hello Lady Penelope, and you are…."

Mitchell held out his hand to Gordon, who shook it with his usual amount of enthusiasm. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott caught the movement of Miss McNelly's hand. She was once again fiddling with her jacket. 

"Gordon Tracy."

"Ahhh, Mr Tracy's brother. I see the resemblance now."

Scott hid his laugh behind a grin, though he caught Miss McNelly’s eyes darting between him and Gordon. He wondered if she was picking up on the same resemblance. Scott watched as Lady Penelope, and then Gordon, introduced themselves. The drinks they had ordered arrived, and Scott noted the way Miss McNelly took a tentative sip of the drink. The small talk started, though Scott caught the small sips she took frequently, as a way to keep herself busy. She was definitely out of her element, which might explain why her guard was up. He listened in, gaining snippets of information about the woman. Gordon was keen to keep her chatting, probably as a way of distracting her from him, thus improving the chances Scott was going to lose the bet. After a while, Miss McNelly politely excused herself. Scott watched as she headed in the direction of the bathrooms, he hoped that meant she’d be back. 

“Miss McNelly is quite the interesting character, don’t you think Scott?”

Scott could see the small grin on his brother's face and the gleam in his eye that revealed to Scott the hidden meaning. Gordon thought the bet was his and he’d gotten out of his chore. Another business associate of Tracy Industries joined their group and stole Scott’s attention. Miss McNelly never returned. 

****

Finally getting away from yet another business proposal, Scott headed to the bar where Gordon was perched. He lent against it and turned to survey the room with his brother. 

"No success then?"

"As much as you've had with Lady Penelope."

Scott's eyes fell on Miss McNelly. She was chatting with Mitchell again. Maybe he still had a chance. Turning to the bartender he ordered a Scotch and mojito. Gordon raised his eyebrow at the order. 

"One last chance. I'm not going to give in that easily."

Scott grabbed the drinks and headed toward Miss McNelly. She'd just shaken hands with Mitchell and the man had turned to chase down someone on the other side of the room. He took a breath and turned on the charm. 

***

Josie watched Mr Sandip hurry after someone and smiled to herself. He'd promised to pass on her details to recruitment. She was feeling beat but was pretty pleased with her efforts. She'd sold her company and thrown out a few business cards. Hopefully she'd made her mark. The whole event hadn't been as bad as she'd expected, though that one alcoholic drink had eased her nerves a little. She was happy to have been able to keep it to one. Glancing at her watch, she confirmed it was late and she still had some travelling to do. It was time for her to leave. 

"Miss McNelly, care to have a drink with me?"

Dread filled her as the familiar voice spoke from behind. Turning she immediately noticed Mr Tracy was standing between her and the exit. She took a deep breath. In the man's hands were two drinks: an amber spirit and a mojito. Her breath caught in her throat, the situation bringing her back to a night she wanted to forget.

"You got me a drink?" 

She stared at the glass. She suspected it had alcohol in it, having ordered one in front of him, but what else did it contain? She couldn't confirm it wasn't spiked. Would he do that sort of thing? Save people one day, drug them the next? Rich people never made sense to her though. They defied logic. 

"I thought we could chat a little more." 

He held out the mojito, forcing Josie to make a choice. Did she trust the man? She looked up into his face. He had a warm smile that met his eyes and she wanted to trust him. She wanted so much to believe he was a good guy. But her fear was there, deep inside as it always was, and she couldn't. She smiled at him as she reached out her right hand and plucked the glass of what she hoped was scotch, from his grip. Josie kept her eyes locked on his as she raised the glass to her lips. The amber liquid was not one she'd tried before, probably a vintage out of her price range. She was thankful it wasn't peaty; she hates those. His mouth dropped in shock as he looked at the cocktail in his hand. Josie couldn’t help the smile as she fought not to laugh. She let the liquid roll over her tongue and down her throat. 

"I'm Scottish and it's the end of the night. You never asked me what I wanted." 

She locked eyes with him as the shock faded from his face. Mr Tracy glanced down at the cocktail briefly, indecision in his eyes. Josie was still on edge, ready to step back if she had to. She decided to test the water. 

"Take a sip. The mojitos here are the best."

Josie challenged him. If he refused to drink it then it must be spiked. If it wasn't, there was no reason not to take a sip. His hand stayed where it was. 

"I'd rather the scotch."

"This scotch is mine now, and you don't want to waste that drink now, do you?"

****

Miss McNelly's face was serious. Scott felt slightly uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. It was a challenge. For some reason, she wanted him to drink the mojito. He hadn’t expected her to take his drink and she had sipped it without grimacing. Never before had he met someone who acted as she did. Most people wanted to know more about him, most pestered about International Rescue, but not Miss McNelly. It felt like she had never warmed to him, even if she had seemed better and more relaxed during their conversation with Mitchell. Scott didn't want to drink the mojito; it was his most despised cocktail. What was this woman's game? 

"No, thank you."

"Fine." 

Scott was shocked again when Miss McNelly took the cocktail from him. What happened next, happened both at lightning speed and in slow motion. There was nothing Scott could do to stop it. 

"Thank you for the drink, but I don't appreciate the attention you've given me. I tried to make it clear I wasn't interested."

The cocktail glass was thrust in his direction, its contents flying out at him. Ice and mint hit his face as the sticky fluid started to soak into his shirt. As if that wasn't enough Miss McNelly stood on her toes, stretched up and poured the scotch into his hair. It trickled down his neck. 

“I’m not interested.”

Miss McNelly stalked past him. Scott didn't know how to react. One part of him wanted to storm after her and demand an explanation, though that would probably make things worse. This is what he gets for accepting a silly bet. He turned on his heel and headed towards the exit. Gordon was sitting at the bar and the smirk on his face became laugher as Scott approached. His brother was struggling to stay in his stool. 

"I'm calling it a night."

"Sure Scott….I look forward...to watching you...clean the pool." Gordon gasped between spasms of laughter. 

****

Josie bolted. She started running once she had heard the door shut. She didn't stop, not looking back and running as fast as she could to the nearest light rail station. Fear was a great motivator, and she didn't slow until she was on the platform where she gasped for breath. Josie had never been a runner. She hated it. Her eyes never left the entrance until she was on the train. Only then could she start to relax. Once in the carriage the tears started to fall. She’d overreacted. She'd made a scene. Her body shook. How stupid could she be? Slipping her phone out of her jacket she swiped up her call history and tapped the first person on the list. 

****

Josie lay back on the bench. It was around the corner from the hostel she’d booked for the night. The cheapest way to stay in London was to share a bunk bed with a stranger. There was no way she could have a private conversation in a room of sleeping people, and this random street bench was the easiest option. If there was ever someone she needed right now, it was her best friend Graham. His thick Scottish accent rang out from her phone. 

“Seriously Josie, ye need to stop seeing every man as a potential threat. Cannae a man just be polite?”

“I don’t suspect all men, just the ones that make me feel uncomfortable.”

“Ye said this guy was Scott Tracy, right?”

“Yes.”

“Scott Tracy, the Commander of International Rescue and pilot of Thunderbird One?”

“Maybe, I can’t remember which one flies which.”

“Hold on, ye can list every damned fact available about the Thunderbirds, but ye cannae tell me who pilots them?”

“You sound like my brother! Why should I care who flies the Thunderbird? I want to know how they fly!”

Graham rolled his eyes, and Josie couldn’t help but laugh at him. She twisted onto her front, her arm aching from holding her phone in the air. 

“Well, I’ve looked him up and I think ye would have been safe to drink that mojito. Although I’ll admit that he probably was hitting on ye. According to the gossip blogs he has picked up the odd girlfriend from events like that. Not that they last long, with him spending most of his time savin' people. If ye hadn’t been so aggressive ye could be heading back to Scotland with a great story! Imagine being able to say ye slept with the pilot of Thunderbird One!”

“A. I prefer Thunderbird Three. B. I’d rather spend the night with Thunderbird One herself. C. If I’d known, I would have given him your number.”

Josie stuck her tongue out, only to watch Graham contort his face in response. They both ended up in a fit of giggles. 

“At least ye still have a good story for the next campfire. Many girls have slept with Mr Thunderbird One, but I doubt many can claim they threw a drink in his face.”

A groan left Josie as she placed her forehead against the wood, breathing in its damp musk. She was never going to forget this and once it’d been passed round the town, it would definitely make its way to work. They would never let her go to another event again. 

“I’m an idiot. The whole night was pointless. No one is going to want to hire me now.”

“Definitely an idiot. They only let those into private schools.”

Josie scowled at her friend, though she was fighting a smile. It was an old joke, one that Graham used when she needed to see perspective. It reminded both of them how far they had come. Even if Josie was still stuck in Scotland. She yawned at the same time as the fifteen-minute warning was announced on Graham’s end. 

“Looks like we’re both in bunks tonight.” 

“Righty-ho. G'night Josie.”

"G’night Grey.”

Josie was just about to end the call when Graham decided to get the last word in. 

“And Jo, FYI Gordon Tracy pilots Thunderbird Four.”

Josie glared at him. The last thing she heard was Graham’s laughter as the screen went black. Cradling her phone in her hand, she stared at it, before turning her head to the sky. She couldn't see the stars that she knew were there. Josie may not have her dream job, yet, but Graham always reminded her of how lucky she was.

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

I know it’s not what you usually write, but could you do hc’s for Nicky / Aaron / Neil learning the actual timeline for Andrew and Roland’s “relationship” and then completely cutting Roland out of their lives? Bonus points if Neil like, kills or calls up Ichirou to kill him :) thanks :) I need closure :)

Don’t we all, babe? Here’s a lil something for your trouble

“How old were you when you lost your virginity,” Andrew read off the block. All the Upperclassmen, save Renee leaned forward in anticipation. Amidst the flood of articles published upon Andrew’s admittance to Easthaven, the media had muddled much of the story in regards to the entire Pre-Thanksgiving Fiasco. While Neil had taken the time to clear things up with the Upperclassmen, he’d left out a lot of the details, namely Andrew’s history of trauma. 

“It’s none of y’alls fucking buisness-” Aaron started. 

“Seven.” It was as though someone had sucked all the air out of the room. “He was dating my foster mother. She knew what he was doing. So long as she got her check, she didn’t care.”

Folding his hands in his lap in an attempt to sate his urge to reach out, Neil let his eyes go out of focus. Every single fiber of his being ached to touch Andrew. For eight months, Andrew had stood by his side, quelling his every urge to run despite the looming threat of his father. Even after Nathan’s death, Neil had bolted awake in the middle of nights, iching to cut and run. Every single time, Andrew had hooked a hand behind his neck, drawn him close, muttered quiet reassurances until he’d smoothed over all of Neil’s ragged edges. Admitting this could not be easy for Andrew. Why he’d even done it, Neil didn’t know but he wished that he could offer Andrew with at least a fraction of the support he’d provided him in the last year. By nothing short of a miracle, he was granted the opportunity to. 

Andrew’s arm dropped from off the couch back, settling across Neil’s shoulders. Immediately, Neil felt himself relax. 

“How old were you when you chose to have sex for the first time?” Nicky asked, hesitantly. That wasn’t a distinction anyone should ever have to draw and it cut Neil deeper than any of his father’s knives. 

“Seventeen,” Andrew answered. The Foxes collectively exhaled. In South Carolina, the age of consent was sixteen. It probably wasn’t a good call to grant hormonally charged teens the legal ability to consent to sex but what were they going to do? Have sex with an adult? 

“Who was it?” Nicky asked. Aaron groaned, clapping his hands over his ears. 

“Roland,” Andrew admitted. The second the name left his lips, Nicky’s smile faltered. Aaron’s hands dropped away, his brows knitting together as they always did when he was sorting through something. 

“No way,” Nicky laughed but it was false cheer. Concern welled in Neil’s chest. “Andrew, when you were seventeen, Roland was…”

“Twenty-three,” Aaron said. His voice was empty, devoid of all the fury painting his features. “He was twenty-three years old and you were a child.”

“I’m more than capable of making my own-” Andrew started.

“No you fucking weren’t!” Aaron roared. “He was your boss. Not only was he older than you, he was in a place of power.” Once more, a pregnant silence fell over the Foxes. None of the Upperclassmen nor Kevin deigned to intervene. 

“Aaron-” Andrew began.

“No,” he snapped. “I don’t- I can’t,” Aaron said as he rocketed out of his seat. Storming through, he knocked into the table and sent the jenga tower toppling. 

“How about we call it a night?” Matt asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before he began clearing away the blocks. Renee moved next, clearing up the glasses and coaxing Dan and Allison to help her with the dishes. Nicky stood, his movements mechanical as he made his way from the room. Kevin followed him out in silence. It wasn’t until everyone had left the room that Andrew moved. Unfurling from where he’d curled up on the couch, he drew his arm back from around Neil and stood. 

“Andrew,” Neil called quietly. There was something poisonous in the gaze he turned on Neil but it did nothing to deter him. “He wasn’t just older or your boss. He didn’t respect you.” Andrew’s lips curled in a snarl. “You had to handcuff him just to keep his hands off you.” Neil’s voice broke near the end but he didn’t care. It seemed to break something in Andrew too.His apathetic facade fell back into place but there were cracks in it now. From the slump of his shoulders to the muscle ticking in his jaw, Neil could see how their words had affected him. Andrew didn’t believe in regret for it was the result of shame and guilt. Surely, he felt neither of those things now. There was no shame in sating his desires. All teens had them. There was no guilt in it either. He wasn’t the one that had done anything wrong. 

Fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket, Andrew slipped one out of the carton and lit it up. He headed out the door with Neil at his heels. They parted ways at the door to their room, Andrew headed for the stairwell in search of some time to clear his head and Neil headed for their bed to give him the space he undoubtedly needed. 

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“How was y’alls weekend?” Bee asked, chipper as ever. “I heard you forwent the usual Columbia outing in favor of going to one of Dan’s game night.” Aaron’s heart stumbled. A wave of anger washed over him, thinly veiling the anguish beneath. Seven. Andrew had been hurting since he was seven. Not only that, but he’d allowed the unthinkable.

“How can you stand him?” Aaron asked, his body trembled as he struggled to contain his anger. 

“How can you stand her?” Andrew countered. As always, he looked entirely uninterested in the proceedings. He was slumped down in his chair, absently stirring his hot chocolate. 

“Tilda didn’t rape me.” Bee sat a little straighter. Immediately, her gaze flicked towards Andrew. Aaron watched as Andrew set his cup back onto the desk. 

“I trust Neil.” 

“Like you trusted Roland?” Aaron’s voice came out sounding cold, empty, and nothing like himself. Fury lit up Andrew’s face. “He was twenty-three, Andrew. An adult! You were seventeen. What the fuck were you thinking?” A heavy silence settled over them. Bee always gave the boys a few minutes to cool down or pick up the conversation without her own intervention. Just as she opened her mouth, Andrew spoke.

“It was the first time I’d felt in control of things,” he said finally. “Everyone was always taking what they wanted from me. My… arrangement with Roland was purely transactional. I got him off and I got to feel like I was in control.” Andrew picked his mug back up from the desk. Aaron watched as he drained it in one go. “In retrospect, I see that I wasn’t. My sense of control was an illusion that Roland allowed me to maintain so that he could get what he wanted.” 

“That’s a very interesting insight, Andrew,” Bee remarked. She made several notes on her clipboard as Aaron digested his brother’s words. That was all they had time for. The two of them allowed Bee to walk them to the door of the clinic and drove back to the court in silence. 

Despite it being the middle of practice, Nicky was standing in the parking lot. 

“Hey,” he said, plastering a smile to his face at the twins’ approach. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked. He watched as a shiver ran down his cousin’s spine at the chilly tone. 

“I left the flash drive with all my old photos of Erik at the house a while ago. I’ve gotta go grab it so I can make him a video for our 7th anniversary! Kevin’s letting me borrow his car too. How was Bee?” Neither of the twins answered. “Alright, good talk!” Nicky called after them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Good talk indeed. It seemed that neither of the twins suspected a thing. Cutting the engine on, Nicky peeled out of the lot. A month after Riko’s death, the Ravens had sent his old car to Kevin. They’d said that, as his brother and closest family member, Kevin should be the one to inherit all his belongings. Of course, their intentions weren’t as pure as the media portrayed them to be. Every single one of Riko’s belongings served as a reminder of Kevin’s time in the Nest. 

The Foxes had held a bonfire on the beach in which they’d burnt all of it. Neil had attended as well. From what Nicky had managed to wring from him, his mother had died on a beach and Neil had been forced to burn her body. 

“It won’t be easy,” Neil had admitted, “but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The smile that had stretched across his had been so undeniably fox-like that Nicky had done a double take. 

It was nice seeing Neil smile. It was even nicer to see the way Andrew relaxed around him. The two of them had been forged in the hellfires of their upbringings into the most wicked blades in the Fox arsenal. But that didn’t mean they were invincible. Even the sharpest of knives could be scratched and chipped and, eventually, broken. 

Ever since Andrew first arrived in Columbia, Nicky had sworn he’d protect his cousins to the best of his abilities. He’d never once managed it. In fact, more often than not, Andrew was the one protecting him. It was time he paid him back for it. 

Nicky pulled into the parking lot of the ramshackle apartments at the edge of Columbia in record time. Atop his car, lounged a familiar figure. 

“Nicky?” Roland called as he sat up. His eyes were red and he reeked of weed. “What are you doing all the way out here without Andrew?” Nicky could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin. 

“When did you start sleeping with him?” Nicky asked, struggling to keep his voice steady. Roland’s brows knitted together as he thought.

“Started maybe… four years ago? It ended as soon as your little runner joined the line, though. Shame,” Roland said, sliding off the trunk of his car, “Andrew was the best I’d ever had.” 

“Do you know how old he was?” Nicky demanded. There was no hiding the way it trembled now. 

“He was seventeen.” The answer was immediate and it knocked the air out of Nicky’s lungs. “He was legal,” Roland said with a shrug. The old one two, he heard Matt say in his head. It suddenly struck Nicky that Roland was older than he was. 

“He was a child,” Nicky roared. “My child!” Before he even realized, Nicky had closed the space between them. His hand came up, curled in a fist. The jarring pain of his own knuckles connecting with the side of Roland’s jaw knocked him back into his body. 

“What the fuck, Nicky-” Roland started but, as he looked up from where he’d fallen, terror washed over his face. 

“Don’t you ever speak to me or my boys again,” Nicky snarled. The drive back passed in a blur. Making his way up the stairs mechanically, Nicky headed back to his own room. When he opened the door, he found Andrew settled on the couch with Neil in his lap and a controller in his hands. Aaron was stretched out on the other couch, watching the screen. 

“Can’t wait to lose a fourth time, can you, Minyard?” Matt taunted. 

“Fuck off, Boyd,” Andrew snapped. Aaron laughed, warm and bright, and the sound filled the room. Nicky watched as Andrew’s gaze flicked over to his brother, the ghost of a smile flickering across his mouth. My boys, Nicky thought with a smile. 

“Come on, Nicky,” Matt called. “I need someone who’ll put up a real challenge.” 

“Get ready to have that fine ass of yours handed to you,” Nicky shot back. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’ve missed quite a few birthdays,” Neil said, offhandedly. 

“That’s a helluva birthday present, Abram,” the man on the other end of the line remarked. 

“It is,” Neil agreed. The man huffed an exaggerated sigh. 

“Fine. You’ll have Roland’s head by the end of the week.” 

“Thanks, Uncle Stuart,” Neil said. He could feel the cruel smile curling his lips but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was one of the monsters after all.

[kevindayisafrog]

Part 3 of the Kevaaron thing TW - panic attacks

The sun was plastered across Kevin’s pillow as Andrew threw open the curtains. “Good morning”, Nicky grumbled from bed as he rolled out and yawned into his hand. Andrew grunted in reply and shot Kevin a bored expression. “Wakey, wakey”, he shoved Kevin’s shoulder before leaving the room and going into the kitchen. “How are you?” Nicky looked up at Kevin’s bed with a pitying smile as he started to get dressed. Kevin rolled over to turn his back on Nicky and willed everyone to fuck off so he could process his thoughts without someone watching him relentlessly. Nicky left the room, leaving Kevin to lay alone staring at the plain white wall with the sun’s yellow mark across it. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as he tried to fall back into a dreamless sleep. He awoke last night in the early hours screaming and scratching at his throat, Riko’s hands feeling fresh and real as he crushed his windpipes. It didn’t take long until Neil dived into the bed and pinned him down as Andrew shoved a pillow on his face to stop his screaming. He lay awake now with his eyes closed tight against the morning light. “Kevin, we’re leaving in 5 minutes, so get ready. Andrew said he’ll happily leave you behind if you don’t hurry up”, Neil’s head popped around the door and glared up at Kevin. He awaited Kevin’s response before muttering to himself and entering the room to Kevin’s drawers. “I’ll dress you myself if I have to”, he grumbled as he threw clothes at Kevin’s head. “Get out and get ready”, he left the room again and closed the door as Kevin still laid stiff in the bed. He wanted to move, knew he had to, but his body was lead. He turned his head slightly as his phone went off with a message from Wymack: ‘I don’t want to see you today, give yourself time off or I’ll sign you up to a fucking marathon’. He groaned at the text and finally pulled himself out of bed and began getting dressed. He couldn’t just skip practice because of Riko’s death, he couldn’t be that fucking weak. He pulled his jeans on and kicked on his shoes before walking to the bathroom. “There he is”, Andrew looked Kevin up and down but Kevin just slammed the door shut behind him. He grimaced as he caught sight of himself in the mirror; at his paled skin and deep purple bags under his eyes. He looked dead. He ran his toothbrush under the tap and slowly squeezed on the toothpaste with shaky hands. He brushed his teeth slowly as his body didn’t even have enough energy to move his hand. He spat the toothpaste out as a sob escaped his throat with a burning feeling. He gripped the edge of the sink and squeezed his eyes shut tight as his lungs began to push out of his ribs and through his skin. His breathing slowly ebbed out until the air in the room cut off all oxygen and he just stood there in pained silence. He threw his toothbrush into the sink and scrambled for the bathroom window with trembling hands. He managed to push it open on his third try and breathed in sharply at the cold morning air. His lungs tore in his chest as the taste of iron clung to his throat. He stay like that, crouched over the low down window, for what felt like days until the air finally pulled his lungs back into place and his chest stopped twisting painfully. He closed the window and collapsed by the toilet as the ball of bile swelled up through his throat. He dry heaved into the toilet and swore breathlessly until all that came up was an empty gag. He flushed the toilet and lay on his back with the cold floor sending goosebumps across his sweating body. He hated living like this. “Are you ready?”, Nicky’s muffled voice came through the door as Kevin used all his energy to stand up and gargle water around his mouth. “Yeah”, he whispered as he swung open the door and followed Andrew out into the hallway. “You look like death”, Matt yawned as the upperclassmen made their way past the monsters’ dorm. Kevin stared at his feet until a light hand brushed his lower back. “Survived the night, then?” Aaron looked up at him and Kevin tried to smile. “Barely”, he muttered as they left the dorm.

[captainfile]

Baby, Don’t Tread

Words: 2225 

Ao3 link 

Andreil-centric. Warnings for Andrew being nonverbal for unspecified reasons and Neil practicing some negative self-talk! Title and summary from “Tread On Me” by Matt Maeson.

Summary: I could hardly sleep, so I don’t And I could hardly speak, so I won’t

Andrew hadn’t moved in a few hours. Neil had returned from class to find him on the couch, a heavy textbook propped up between his stomach and thighs, socked feet tucked between two cushions. One of his legs was wobbling every once in a while, as if burning off absent energy by habit instead of necessity. There was no answer to Neil’s greeting, but that was hardly surprising. He just couldn’t help but notice as the sun dipped lower and dinner came and went, but Andrew didn’t get up to join. Didn’t move a muscle, really, but for the one leg and an occasional page turn. He didn’t look up, not when anyone addressed him, not when Neil sat down at the far end of the couch with his own homework. 

“Hey,” Neil tried, and earned a glance. He didn’t hold back his grin, but Andrew didn’t snarl at him for it. “There’s leftover chicken, if you want some.” Andrew didn’t look at him a second time; didn’t look anywhere but his textbook. Kevin shuffled around in the kitchen, complaining just loud enough for Neil to hear about the dishes and the freshmen. 

“Andrew, you eating?” Nicky called out, and when Andrew didn’t respond, he leaned into view and held up a tupperware container half-full of oven-grilled chicken. “Are you hungry?” He pressed. Neil watched Andrew move his head slow, turning to face his cousin, eyes just this side of unfocused for a lingering moment before they caught on. Andrew blinked. His face didn’t show anything but his attention. Nicky gestured with the tupperware. “Dinner,” he said. 

Andrew didn’t answer. He looked down at the couch, head turning just as slowly back to his textbook, and blinked a few more times. His lips thinned. He would eat, Neil concluded then, but he probably hadn’t so much as opened his mouth since breakfast. Andrew closed his textbook and tucked it against his hip as he stood and made his way to Nicky. 

Secretly, Neil was a bit ashamed that he found Andrew’s actions strange, but Nicky seemed equally bewildered, so he vowed to take the afternoon in stride. 

“I want to run the drill from last night again.” 

“See, I don’t think it’s very useful,” Neil argued, thoroughly distracted for a moment by Kevin as he made his way to a dropped backpack in the corner. It seemed he was also inspired by Andrew’s studiousness. “They weren’t ready for it. Sub in Matt and Aaron so they can get comfortable with backliners who actually know what they’re doing.” 

“Are you insulting me right now?” 

“They won’t only learn by watching, Nicky.” 

“They won’t learn by being carried, either-“ 

“-do you want them to learn the drill, or not-“ 

“Fuck you,” Kevin snapped, then sat with a too-loud thud next to his backpack and got out a notebook. Neil rolled his eyes and sank further into the couch. He looked over the back, though, to check on Andrew, who seemed entirely unaware of the room and chowed down on the cooling leftovers as Nicky hovered and spoke in cut-off half-questions. “When you’re-“ 

Neil heard the rest of the sentence and cut Kevin off. “Fight your homework, not me, asshole; I don’t give a shit.” 

“You definitely give a shit,” Kevin grumbled, and Neil was about to gripe back at him when Nicky swooped in and leaned over the back of the couch. 

“Has he been like this all day?” 

Neil frowned. “Like what?” 

“All… I don’t know. He seems fine, but it’s like he isn’t there.” 

It was obvious who they were talking about, and Andrew appeared at Nicky’s side without a sound, looking at his cousin the same way as before. Attention, no tone to it. He didn’t speak. Nicky jumped only a little in surprise. 

Neil asked, “Andrew, how was your day?” 

Nicky looked at Andrew. Kevin, from the floor, looked at Andrew. Neil didn’t want to add any more pressure, so he looked at the textbook still in Andrew’s grip and watched his knuckles not change a shade in response to the situation. Andrew seemed entirely, genuinely, thoroughly, completely, absolutely disinterested. He stayed quiet. 

“Andrew?” Kevin piped up, head tilted curiously. It was likely fueled by some complicated Exy-centered logic, but he asked, “you alright?” 

How bizarre. Andrew didn’t react to that either, not for a long moment, and when Kevin sucked in a breath to continue it seemed like a mime had possessed Andrew’s body for a moment: his shoulder bumped up to his ear in an overly-exaggerated shrug and then he nodded once, head moving so forcefully that Neil could hear the bones in his jaw and collar thunk against each other. With no further explanation, Andrew returned to his previous pose on the couch. Neil was paralyzed. The sunset had made itself at home on the couch while Andrew ate, and cast a romantic glow to the ends of his blonde hair and the highlights of his face. Neil wasn’t close enough to appreciate how the light caught his eyes- he didn’t dare, even as his stomach dropped out at the relaxed slope of Andrew’s shoulders, at how he ducked his head a bit to hide from that light behind his textbook. Nicky’s hands curled over the back of the couch and squeezed until the fabric groaned. Andrew took a deep breath and- when the whole room leaned forward a bit to hear him- sighed. 

//

Aaron and Nicky were arguing about something only tangentially related to Exy, so Kevin didn’t have much reason to start ranting. He tried striking up a conversation with Andrew, which was fruitless, as per usual, and Neil was excited enough about escaping campus that he answered noncommittally when Kevin’s interest turned to him. With the background chaos of quick words from such similar voices that Neil could tune them out and pretend it was one idiot talking to himself, Neil watched the road contentedly. He relaxed against the passenger seat and glanced down at the center console; he imagined setting his hand palm-up on it and having Andrew hold onto him for the rest of the drive. It was a nice image. 

Andrew had been fairly quiet all day. They had chatted lazily over breakfast, and when everyone piled into the Maserati, he had grated out a confirmation for their activities. Neil had been confused at that more than the quiet- Andrew didn’t talk when he didn’t want to, didn’t say anything he didn’t mean, that was all well and good with Neil. But audibly, visibly struggling to speak? Holding onto his words like he’d been carved hollow and they were all he had left? Expression shuttering over some kind of pain? Neil was chilled by it. 

“Hey!” Roland shouted when Andrew and Neil inevitably found their way to him. Other customers were outright ignored, but lucky Neil, no one was too upset. The night was still young. “What can I get you all tonight?” 

A beat passed. 

Several, really, between Neil’s earlier worry and the deafening music. 

One too many. The moment lingered and still Andrew said nothing, attention very obviously divided between Roland and Neil and the people around them. The sooner they ordered, the sooner they could retreat to the booth, but Andrew did not order any drinks. Neil plastered on a smile as Roland’s began to waver. 

“I’ve got it,” he blurted, and rattled off some requests that he didn’t remember clearly enough. Roland was sufficiently distracted, and soon enough, they were carrying two trays to the table. Neil grimaced when the three already seated began to complain. Surely they’d care a little less after a few unpleasant gulps. Andrew seemed to settle in for a long night in his spot at the same time as the other three nearly vibrated with a want to dance, gazes darting to each other and out into the crowd and down to the drinks. 

When they were gone, Neil’s worry resurfaced. It wasn’t that something was explicitly wrong, not like Andrew had fought with his brother or heard from an old enemy, not like any of them were in danger at all. He seemed the opposite, really, except that one moment. Ice cream went down as quickly as it normally did, just as sickeningly sweet as Andrew liked it. His hands were at rest, armbands intact and untouched. For all Neil could tell, Andrew was having a normal day, but… Neil was still worried. He rambled to fill the space that was left in the absence of their nonsensical table conversation, gestured to iron out the curl building in his hands, kept Andrew in his sights but looked away as much as he could stand. Hadn’t Nicky said something, forever ago? It was like someone had hit mute on Andrew, but he simply didn’t care and lived on. Neil ignored the alcohol to keep himself from breaking and asking about it. 

Worse, breaking and asking. 

Fuck. 

“It’s like you don’t even care about Exy, you guys always make fun of me,” Kevin whined as he was dragged inside. Neil took care of everyone’s shoes and, when it seemed like Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin would all live to the morning, he made for the couch. 

Andrew’s supernatural ability to move faster and quieter than a ghost would probably never stop surprising Neil. He didn’t flinch, though, just turned when a light tug on his sleeve announced his presence. There was nothing to read in Andrew’s expression for a moment. The pair of them were left with the backdrop of a dark living room in Columbia, drunk stumbling audible from the bedrooms. Complaints, too, mostly Kevin’s, drifting through the walls and rattling hidden pipes. Neil waited and waited for something to happen; he could be patient, he could stand there for hours just looking at Andrew in the dark. He could wait for a car to drive by and light up Andrew’s jaw through the living room curtains, for both their eyes to burn until they passed out in the middle of the room, for the sun to rise and birds to sing and Andrew to speak. Neil knew stillness as a tool of life on the run, knew nonchalance and manners to cover panic and desperation. 

It was only a moment, though, before Andrew invited the question. His shoulder drifted just slightly, his grip lingered on Neil’s sleeve. “Yes or no?” Andrew nodded. “I-“ Neil didn’t want to doubt him. “Can you… say it?” Andrew’s lips thinned, and even in the dark, even in a nanosecond, Neil knew the answer without understanding the reason behind it. “I’m alright with that,” he said quickly, or as quickly as the laws of physics would let him. “Upstairs?” 

Andrew nodded again. They went upstairs. 

//

Now, Neil was stupid. Unbelievably so, inconceivably so. Neil had never learned a thing in his life, in his own humble opinion, and the things he was good at involved just the bare bones of brain activity. Obviously. Through this unfortunate reality, Neil had started to notice a pattern. He decided to draw it out to better understand it. The sketch was yet another example of Neil being generally unremarkable, but it didn’t have to be beautiful. 

He drew Andrew Minyard, dressed in all black for a night out at Eden’s Twilight. Shoulders sloped just so, hands relaxed and capable, mouth a single line. 

He drew Andrew Minyard, standing in the corner of the girls’ dorm on some accursed movie night, elbows loose. 

The day Nicky had commented on the silence, inhaling cooled-down chicken. 

In the middle of a late-night practice; no one was communicating, and someone pinned it on Andrew, and then Nicky got mad and they all only stopped yelling at each other because Kevin was an easier and more universal target than Andrew. 

Those moments felt different. It was like Andrew had something to say, but no words to use. He had powered through only the most necessary statements in those times. Usually when he was quiet it was because he meant to be. It was as surely a fact of life as Neil’s dumbfuckery that Andrew was a calculating sort of man. He never did anything he didn’t want to, never stayed put when he wanted to move. Always knew what he’d say before he said it. Andrew was powerful, really. 

The air shifted over Neil’s shoulder, but he didn’t look. Neil leaned back in the desk chair in some wishful thinking that he could lean on Andrew, who moved fluidly to sit on the desk and shake out a cigarette. 

A conversation passed between them in a glance. Andrew rolled his eyes. “What, I’m supposed to think you’re ugly?” Neil scoffed defensively, and cherished the brief push of calloused fingertips on his chin. It felt like… Neil didn’t have a word for what he’d never felt before Andrew. It didn’t matter. Neil was stupid. He just tossed his chin back in Andrew’s direction and blurted, “yes or no?” And grinned into the kiss Andrew gave him, leaning in slowly with a fine-tuned focus like Neil would never be in this spot again. He knew both their shoulders sagged from the way they shared breath more than any visual evidence or exploratory hands. 

He knew and cared that Andrew was comfortable.

[bird-in-a-cage]

Cocktober Prompt #3 - Freaky Friday

The plaid walls were a dead giveaway something was wrong. The soft sheets and too many pillows were another. Billy blinked at the ceiling a few times, tried to place where he’d woken up this time. It wasn’t anywhere he recognised. And he hadn’t had more than a beer the night before so couldn’t blame alcohol.

Things just felt, weird. 

Usually when he woke the first thing he craved was a cigarette, to get out of the house as fast as possible, hopefully before Neil was up so he couldn’t be dragged into another one sided lecture about being a model citizen. But this morning he didn’t. His mouth tasted different too. Both toothpaste and mouthwash still lingering around. Not a trace of nicotine.

It was only when he looked at his hands getting out of this strange new bed did the panic set in.

They weren’t his hands. Not by a long shot. Far too slender and femanine almost. No rings. No bruised knuckles. Skin smooth and pale. He tripped over his feet finding a mirror in the closet and just stared wide eyed at what was in front of him. Moved arms and jumped and blinked to check the releflection was real.

The person staring back was Harrington. Every inch of him. Billy pinched this body he was in and it hurt, kicked his shin against the edge of the door hard enough to leave a bright red mark and that hurt too. So this was definitely real. Billy was frozen, looking at himself trapped in another form. Internally he was panicking. Of course he was, he’d just woken up in, presumably, Harrington’s house in his damn body like it was a Halloween costume. Logical thoughts weren’t exactly easy to make happen.

He was 100% certain he wasn’t going to work today though.

Billy ran his hands over his new body, walking his fingers over moles that dotted the skin, across his new stomach and over his hips and chest. Stretched his arms out in front of his new self. Nothing felt as thick as before, but there wasn’t a lot of weight difference. It wasn’t as if Billy felt he’d now be able to jump higher or dance or whatever. He feathered his fingers through his new hair and okay, it was soft. So so soft. Like touching through a cloud even first thing in the morning. No wonder Harrington always looked like he took so much time on it.

There was one other thing he needed to check. Just out of curiosity. Hidden under the boxers on his hips. Billy had seen it before in the showers but this was the literal sense of up close and personal. And if this was all the weirdest fever dream then it wouldn’t matter anyway, he’d wake up at some point and be back to his regular old self. And really, what else do you do when you wake up in someone else’s body? It's practically a step in the body swap handbook.

With a new grin Billy kicked the shorts off and stood naked before the mirror, turning slowly from side to side on the balls of his feet. He knew Harrington was hung but having it attached was something else. For a laugh he spread his feet a little in the shag carpeting and worked his hips, his new cock swinging back and forth like a damn bell. It wasn’t that Steve was bigger, Billy definitely had the girth, Harrington was just longer. And liked to keep his bush trimmed from the looks of it. Least that part made sense. The boy was so meticulous with his look everywhere else. The panic that had been bubbling up inside melted away as Billy moved back to the bed, licked over the new teeth in his mouth, and settled up amongst the pillows.

Let’s see what makes Stevie boy tick…

Billy spat on his palm before taking a hold of his new dick, slowly spreading the slickness up and down. It felt nice to hold, not as good as his own but still, nice. It responded in kind, quickly getting hard with the attention and every drag of foreskin down over the blush pink head and back. Billy hoped this wasn’t a dream anymore, he couldn’t go back to now knowing this was how Harrington felt when he jacked off in bed, how he looked. How he somehow still had space to grow until it was downright not fair. How his thigh muscles got tight when Billy stopped stroking long enough to give the balls some attention. He couldn’t help but grin around a moan that sounded so forgien but Billy would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he sometimes thought about hearing it. Of course Harrington liked his balls being played with. How very middle class. Every tug and squeeze sent pleasure rocketing through his spine and down to his feet. It quickly became a two handed operation, slipping down the bed until Billy was flat on his back, pumping his fist in earnest over his cock.

Steve was fucking sensative that was for sure. It felt like barely any time at all before Billy was right on the edge, that feeling never changing in theory but Harrington’s felt different. Starting down in his toes and creeping up inch by inch, making Billy’s brain foggy and his mouth slack as the room became engulfed in the sounds of heavy breathing and slickness from both spit and precome that was beading at the slit. Billy only really paused to look down, to watch Harrington’s cock weep and twitch and push out another wet pearl, practically begging for release. To be swallowed. Shit, oh he’d have to convince Harrington to do this again. If he ever got back into his own body. He needed to know what it was like to do this to Steve, now he knew some of his soft points. Places to give the most attention too. Bet the guy would fucking scream getting his balls sucked on.

Three more pumps and Billy came. Hard. it crashed through him like a tidal wave, taking over every inch, rendering everything else in that moment utterly pointless and unimportant. Yeah, he would definitely need to find a way to make Harrington feel that under his regular body. Somehow. Billy panted in the bed, his chest splattered with cum. He licked at a drop that landed near his lips. Steve didn’t taste too different, maybe a little sweeter from all that ice cream.

He had done Harrington a favour and cleaned himself up in the bathroom, which was about the size of Billy’s living room, put pants on, and was busy just looking at Steve’s face staring back in a mirror. Poking and prodding at cheeks, thumbing around the shells of new ears, tonguing over his gums, when the door suddenly popped open. Buckley was stood there, that girl Steve worked with in the mall, looking beyond stressed out and panting, holding onto the doorframe like she’d sprinted all the way across town to get here. It also appeared she’d gotten dressed in the dark. Mismatched shoes, almost comically high waisted jeans and a bright neon sweater that was definitely too big.

“Are you Billy?!” She demanded, cheeks red but eyes on fire. 

Okay well this day just, somehow, got even weirder. 

Billy just blinked at her reflection. Apparently that was enough of a confirmation for her to disappear down the hall and come back not even moments later and toss a shirt at Billy’s head.

“Put that on! We’ve gotta go!”

“Go where?” Billy asked, putting the shirt on as he was dragged out of Harrington’s mansion of a house he didn’t even have time to properly explore yet. There were so many cabinets and cupboards unrifled. He didn’t even have time to think about searching through Mrs Harrington’s jewelry box... 

Parked out haphazardly on the driveway was Billy’s camaro. He froze seeing himself sat in the front seat, hands gripping the wheel so tight they were white. Buckley tugged at Harrington’s arm to get Billy to move but he stayed stock still.

“What the fuck is happening?” Billy demanded. “Talk Buckley or I’m not leaving. How am I in my car?”

Buckley’s eyes darted around. She started biting at her thumb. Even though Billy had only been to Scoops when she was there a couple of times, neither of those things seemed like anything she would do. Billy took a moment to really look at her. Past the weird fashion choices and bird’s nest of hair. Past the no makeup and desperation plastered all over her face.

“Look, I… I kinda fucked up. I can explain everything just, can we do it in the car please?” She spoke in more hushed tones, still tugging at Billy’s arm to get him to move even another step. It wasn’t going to work like that though. Billy needed to know exactly what the hell was happening before he was about to be kidnapped by himself. He glared down at Buckley, or whatever his glare looked like now. Apparently it didn’t do the trick.

“God I look dumb doing that…” she muttered under her breath.

That’s when it all clicked. The penny dropped and shattered through the glass ceiling.

“Holy shit… Harrington?” 

Buckley blushed. It was clear even through the redness already on her face. Steve was stuck as Buckley. Billy was stuck as Harrington. Then by the process of elimination…

Oh shit, this would be fun.

Billy smirked and walked calmly over to his baby, engine still purring, leant down to look at himself sat behind the wheel. Fury was clear over his features, just staring straight ahead at the end of the culdesac and the turning spot to get out of Harrington’s fancy neighbourhood.

“Well, well, well...” Billy started. “The chick has a dick.”

“Get in this fucking car before I kill us all. Dingus is already hanging on by a thread, don’t think I won’t do it,” she spat out through gritted teeth. Apparently she didn’t know how to dress either, clearly just grabbing what had been on Billy’s bedroom floor before probably racing out of that house.

Billy couldn’t exactly blame her on that one.

With a shrug he climbed into the back over the passenger seat, Buckley got in the front, knees pulled tight together, hands not knowing what to do with themselves. The car had barely set off again before Billy couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Either of you two wanna tell me what the fuck is happening?”

Buckley went to open her mouth, his mouth?, but it was Hargrove that spoke. Practically roared over the sound of the engine working overtime because it was in the wrong gear. It was painful to Billy’s ears.

“This asshole found one of my mom’s spell books and thought oh wouldn’t it be such a fucking great idea to go saying incantations without knowing what the fuck he was doing?! So now I’m stuck as you, Steve is stuck as me and you’re stuck as him until we can get to my aunt’s place in Indy to fix all of this! And once she does I never want to see either of you ever again!”

Billy blinked a few times just trying to process all that information. It sounded weird being said in his voice for a start but, spell books and incantations? God the midwest was full of weird bitches.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think this would happen, did I?” Buckley spat back, peeling away from being pressed up against the door in shame for the first time.

“You didn’t think at all Steven! You never do love spells on a full moon without knowing what you’re doing. God if you weren’t me I’d punch you!”

The grin that grew on Billy’s face was palpable. A love spell huh. Maybe when they were all back in the right bodies that could be something to be worked on. For now they were pulling onto the highway towards Indianapolis, finally in the right gear. Billy just sat back and listened to them bicker like an old married couple. He’d enjoyed being Harrington for a few hours. And if it was true he was stuck like this because maybe Harrington had feelings well, Billy maybe wouldn’t say no to giving that a try too. After this, anything was possible.

[senstia]

Neil being good at singing? Neil singing while reading a book and Andrew? Poor Andrew.

your ideas are always immaculate my friend here u go🎉

Ever since Andrew had learned Neil could sing he couldn’t get it out of his head. While he was at practice, in the shower, during sessions, all he could hear was Neil’s pretty voice, all he could see was Neil’s pretty face. It was terrible. He couldn’t pay attention to anyone, he was more jumpy, more prone to blushing. His skin was hot, his pulse always racing. How the hell could a good singing voice be such a turn on?

It was even worse when Neil was actually singing. Luckily he never truly belted out songs, but every once in a while he would sing or hum quietly while he was doing homework or on a car ride. Every time it drove Andrew crazy. It was driving him especially crazy right now. All the foxes were in the room too. This made things about one hundred times worse because normally Andrew would shut Neil up with a hard kiss and touch him until that quiet singing turned into desperate moaning. But no. Today all the foxes were here which kinda ruined his usual plan.

Andrew couldn’t stop his fidgeting hands as Neil sang quietly as he thumbed through some school book. All the foxes were chattering quietly around them.

Neil had been singing like this for long minutes now and Andrew was at his breaking point, trying desperately to hide the damning evidence that Neil was driving him crazy. His ears and neck were bright red, his pants were tighter, he couldn’t stop fidgeting his hands. He just hoped no one noticed his small tells. But of course he knew that hoping for something was useless and usually ended badly. Today was no different. First he heard soft laughter. Allison’s poorly hidden eavesdropping made him want to turn around and knife her but she was Neil’s shopping buddy now and he didn’t want to take away Neil’s new rare forming friendship. Sigh. Neil always ended up complicating such simple matters. Unfortunately Andrew was resigned to the fact that Neil would be annoying him til he was dead. Oh well...

Neil glanced up, noticing Allison’s attention on them. He caught Allison’s eye, shook his head and frowned, and then looked to Andrew. His eyes softened as he did. Neil took in Andrew’s form, eyes quickly going to his reddened ears, then his hands, and then his tightened pants. Neil’s eyes widened as they snapped back up to Andrew’s face.

“Drew?” Neil questioned softly.

That word. That damn nickname sent a bolt of electricity through Andrew’s spine. Damnit Neil.

Andrew glared, “Shut the fuck up Neil.”

Neil barely concealed his grin. He tapped his pencil against the desk, cocked his head to the side, “What did I do?”

“I hate it when you sing,” Andrew bit out.

Neil’s eyebrows rose a fraction in surprise. Then his grin widened to a satisfied smile, all teeth.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that right now,” Andrew growled, shoving Neil’s face away.

Neil just laughed softly and closed his book, turning to face Andrew fully.

“Roof or shower? Your choice.”

A thousand images flashed through Andrew’s mind. Neil on his lap on the roof, no space between them. Neil pressed against the concrete, the stars wheeling above them. Neil’s body dripping in water, surrounded by the steam of the shower. Neil’s flamed cheeks from the heat of the water and the heat of Andrew’s mouth. The way Neil’s ice blue eyes reflected the night sky, the way they reflected the burning of his cigarette. Neil’s wet auburn hair plastered against his head, accentuating those perfect cheekbones. Rivulets of water sliding over Neil’s full lips, down down down until the water reached the secret places Andrew wanted to put his lips, his tongue. The goosebumps on Neil’s arms from the bite of night air and the bite of Andrew’s teeth against his neck.

It was an impossible choice. Andrew flip flopped between them both as he stared at Neil. And then he decided that the walls of this dorm were quite thin and if he chose the shower, Allison and the other foxes would hear every moan he pulled out of Neil. While this idea was enticing, he wouldn’t subject Neil to that if it wasn’t something he was comfortable with. But the idea of the foxes hearing them, until there was no more bets, no more questions about their relationship, until they ran out of the dorms to avoid hearing the noises they’d been searching for for months, yeah that sounded like damn good revenge.

“They’ll hear us in the shower,” Andrew said quietly. He wouldn’t choose the shower if Neil wanted complete privacy.

Neil contemplated Andrew’s words for a moment and then shrugged, “I don’t care.”

Andrew stared at Neil, tried to see if Neil was telling the truth or saying the words for Andrew’s benefit. Then Neil’s eyes sparkled, his face shifting into something mischievous.

“They’ll regret all the eavesdropping and questions after this,” Neil said with a wicked grin. Andrew just nodded and took Neil’s hand, leading them both to the adjacent bathroom.

Ten minutes later all the foxes screeched in surprise and disgust and excitement at the noises coming from that bathroom. They all scrambled out of the dorm as quick as possible.

Aaron grimaced, “You guys know Andrew did that as revenge right?”

“What revenge?” Matt asked.

“You guys are so damned nosy about their relationship and that was payback for all the gossip and bets,” Aaron said, pointing to the abandoned dorm for emphasis.

“Okay fine. Maybe we should stop with the bets. They’re obviously in love and Andrew just made it quite apparent that they’re... close... “ Allison said.

“Yeah and I really don’t want to find out what Andrew will do next if he thinks we’re still nosing in on him and Neil,” Kevin said, grimacing.

“But I am gonna miss all the money I’ve been winning,” Allison sighed.

The foxes just laughed and made a silent promise to leave Neil and Andrew be for a while.

[coffeeandchemicals]

Combo of 2, 17 & 38 for the Harringrove horror prompts. Please and thank you!

Thank you @introvertia for the prompts! Sorry it took so long - I hope you enjoy this!

The prompt list is here, if anyone wants to send me more!

Trigger warning for homophobic language and gore.

 all that's left is a ghost of you

 Billy had only been town for a few days, but he’d already noticed something wasn’t quite right with this King Steve that everyone was talking about. Something wasn’t right, but no one seemed to notice. Not the ex-girlfriend who kept giving Steve wide-eyed sad looks as if she couldn’t quell her own guilt. Not the ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend who actively avoided Steve’s gaze whenever Steve saw him in the hallways. Not the kids that Steve drove around taking them from school to the arcade to home and back again as if Steve was their personal chauffer.

 But Billy noticed.

 And Billy watched to see what would happen. To see what Steve would do. To see if Steve would finally snap.

 And Billy needled Steve to see if he could get a rise out of him. To see what emotions, if any, would cross Steve’s face. To see if Steve would give in to whatever he was trying not to feel.

 And Billy waited.

On the basketball court, Billy pushed into Steve’s space, plastered himself against Steve’s back, and let himself feel the heat of another body against his own. Billy almost made a move in the showers, but he saw Steve’s flat, emotionless face, anger flashing for the briefest moment when Tommy had brought up the ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend. (Billy wasn’t sure why Steve was surprised – those two had sexual chemistry that could light shit on fire.) So, Billy pulled back, he didn’t want to work with anger at someone else. If Steve had felt anger towards Billy, Billy could twist that into something more visceral, something baser. But Steve hadn’t, so Billy decided to wait. Billy decided to bide his time.

 Then things became truly fucked up.

 Billy had been out looking for Max on the orders of his dad, sporting a necklace of bruises, and a healthy dose of rage that simmered under his skin. He was focusing on tamping it down, trying to contain it, when he pulled up to the Byers’ place. Before he even got out of the car, he could see Max’s head peaking through the window, her orange hair glinting in the dim light.

 Then Billy saw Steve, looking resigned and rejected as always.

 “Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?” Billy drawled, letting the cigarette smoke curl out of his mouth, as he took Steve in. Steve didn’t even flinch.

 “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants,” Steve replied, his tone lacking any kind of bite.

 Billy sauntered up, letting his rage flicker into something more physical, definitely something more like lust. He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and said, “I won’t–”

 “Steve!” someone yelled as they come barreling out of the house, past him, and past Billy in three seconds flat. It was the curly haired kid – Billy couldn’t remember his name – and his face was covered in panic.

 “Dustin, I thought I–” Steve started to say, but is cut off.

 “Steve, we gotta go now. Like right now. Like should have left ten minutes ago now.”

 Steve sighed, long and drawn out. But the other kids had already come tumbling out of the house, herding him forward towards his car.

 Max stared at Billy, her eyes wide. “Look,” she muttered, “Billy, I can’t explain. But I have to help.”

 Billy glared at her and the other kids, taking in the organized chaos that shifted more towards chaos as the kids tried to pile into Steve’s car.

 “Fine,” he snapped, then he grabbed the keys from Steve’s loose grip. “I’m driving. Max, you tell me what’s going on.”

 Steve attempted to protest, but his words and tone were lackluster at best, like he’d slipped into some sort of apathy.

 “C’mon, Harrington,” Billy said, as he circled his hand around Steve’s wrist, “let’s go.” Billy maneuvered Steve into the passenger seat without any protest. He wondered what was going on in Steve’s head, why his eyes were so blank and empty. He dropped into a crouch in front of the open door and snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s unfocused gaze.

 “Huh,” Steve muttered, “I’m not a dog, Hargrove.”

 “Sure,” countered Billy, “But, man, you’re gone. I watched you disappear in the span of two minutes. What’s going on?”

 “Nothing,” Steve snapped, spinning to face the front.

 “Monsters,” yelled the curly-haired kid – Dustin – “we need to go now!”

 Monsters and tunnels were apparently the things plaguing Hawkins. Billy pieced together the fucked-up picture from the kids talking over each other. He kept making eye contact with Max in the rear-view mirror to confirm that this was, in fact, not a joke. She looked terrified enough that Billy decided the story must be true – or at least partially true.

 “Right,” said Billy, as he rummaged through Steve’s trunk to find some sort of weapon – a tire iron would do nicely – “all you kids stay here.”

 “What –”

 “No!”

 “Billy!”

 Billy stopped them all with his practiced glare. “Me and King Steve here will go check it out.”

 “Yep,” Steve said, twirling his bat, looking more awake than Billy had ever seen him. Maybe Steve was sporting a death wish. Maybe he was looking for that adrenaline high.

 “It’s toxic,” Dustin said, passing bandanas and goggles first to Billy and then to Steve. Billy took them and wondered how a bandana would save him from a poisonous atmosphere, but he put it on anyway and checked to make sure that Steve was doing the same.

 “You just need to distract them,” said the pinched-faced kid, who Billy thought was named Matt or Mick or Mike. “You need to give El time to close it.”

 “Uh huh,” said Billy, “let’s go, pretty boy, we gotta save a town. Or some shit.” But Steve had already walked to the hole in the ground and jumped in by the time Billy had finished talking. He rolled his eyes and jumped down after Steve.

 The tunnels were eery. The lighting was dim and diffuse, as if things couldn’t quite get into focus until they were right in front of your face. The vines – or whatever the fuck they were – shifted constantly, creating rustling noises that echoed through the enclosed space. The air felt heavy as if it weighed Billy down and stole his energy. It made goosebumps crawl up the back of Billy’s neck.

 “Well,” muttered Billy, “isn’t this a nice place.” He heard piercing screams in the distance and footsteps that sounded like they were coming closer.

 “C’mon,” said Steve, voice muffled under his bandana, “we gotta go this way.” He jerked his head back indicating a direction that Billy was pretty sure went the opposite way of the town, but he could tell that it would be incredibly easy to get lost in this maze. Billy picked up the can of gasoline that one of the kids had dropped down and headed after Steve, wondering if this was some sort of nightmare he was going to wake up from.

 “You alright, amigo?” Billy asked, after the silence had stretched out between them for a few minutes. He needed something to cover the squelching noises that the vines made every time he stepped on one. It made him think of intestines spilling out of some monstrous abdominal cavity. It caused his stomach to roll and bile to rise in the back of his throat.

 “We’re walking in some creepy tunnels, going to fight fucking monsters. We’re armed with a bat and a tire iron. What the fuck do you think, Hargrove? Are you alright?” Steve snapped, spinning around on his heel to face Billy.

 “I’m just peachy,” said Billy, grinning, even though he knew that Steve wouldn’t be able to see it. “I finally got to meet the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a little shove and Steve responded by balling his fist up in Billy’s shirt.

 “Do you think this a joke, man?” Steve spat out. “Can’t you take something seriously for once in your life?”

 “My whole fucking life is a joke,” Billy muttered, as he grabbed Steve’s wrist in an effort to pull him off. “I’m gonna die a fucking virgin in some toxic tunnels filled with demon dogs. And my dad will laugh at my funeral.”

 “What,” said Steve, stepping back. “What about all those girls I see you with?”

 “Just for show,” whispered Billy, heart pounding and stomach clenching, feeling more fear than when he’d dropped down into the tunnels. “Gotta keep up the image. Otherwise Neil will kill me. And he’ll still laugh at my funeral.”

 Steve dropped his hand and just stared at Billy. Billy couldn’t read his expression, just saw his brown eyes, obscured by goggles, flit up and down.

 “What,” said Billy, throwing his arms out, “you ain’t ever seen a fucking faggot before?”

 “You–” Steve started to say, but then his jerked his head back. “Billy, c’mon, they’re coming.” He grabbed Billy’s wrist and yanked him forward as Billy suddenly heard the approaching din balloon in volume.

 “Fuck,” Billy gasped out and took off after Steve. “How did they find us?” he panted out, as he caught up to Steve.

 “Oh, I dunno, maybe it was all the talking – you’re not exactly subtle.”

 “I’m not subtle? Amigo, I’m as subtle as they come.”

 Steve peeled around the corner and yelled over his shoulder, “Dude, you hit on me in the showers. At school. You were fucking naked. You don’t think I didn’t notice that?” Steve dropped his gaze to Billy’s crotch in an exaggerated gesture.

 Billy flushed. Yeah, that hadn’t been exactly inconspicuous.

 “That was one time,” Billy yelled back, as he stumbled over the vines and almost fell into Steve. Because Steve had stopped short. Because there was a pack of fucking monsters staring them down only twenty feet away.

 They were trapped.

 “Well. Shit,” said Billy, as he glanced over his shoulder to see the other pack closing in. “Am I going to die?” he forced out.

 “It would appear that way,” whispered Steve, as he backed against the wall, but jumped forward almost immediately as the vines shifted behind him.

 “Fuck it,” said Billy, dropping both the tire iron and can of gasoline. He wrenched down his bandana.

 “What are you doing?” Steve asked, as he put two hands on the bat, getting ready to swing at the monsters.

 “Being unsubtle,” responded Billy, as he yanked down Steve’s bandana. Then he leaned in and kissed him, trying to inject all the feelings of wanting, desire, fear, and hope into it. At first, Steve didn’t respond, but then he kissed Billy back, bringing one of his hands to cradle the back of Billy’s head. Billy licked his tongue across the seam of Steve’s lips and sighed when Steve opened to him. He let his hands move up and down Steve’s back, feeling the muscles shift beneath his fingertips.

 Steve jerked back, “Not now.”

 “We’re gonna die, seems as good a time as any,” muttered Billy, leaning forward, trying to catch Steve’s lips in another kiss.

 Steve shook his head, pulled up his bandana, and then pulled up Billy’s. He dropped down in a crouch and eyed both packs. Then he picked up the tire iron and tipped over the can of gasoline, letting it spill down the tunnel.

 “I’m gonna light this,” said Steve, softly, “and then we’re gonna run that way. There’s fewer of them. Are you ready?”

 “No.”

 “Too fucking bad. Run!”

 Steve dropped his lighter and the gas whooshed into flame. Then he grabbed Billy and took off towards the smaller group. Billy started swinging as soon as they were in range, but one of the monsters took a huge gouge out of his thigh and another locked onto his forearm. He gritted his teeth and tried to fight against the pain. His managed to shake the monster off his arm, but blood was pouring out of both wounds. He dropped to all fours, hoping that his death would be quick, but fearing that it wouldn’t be. Then Steve was wrapping an arm around his middle, trying to pull him up.

 “Why,” Steve gasped out, swinging the bat to knock another monster away, “are you so fucking heavy?”

 “’m not,” slurred Billy, as he tried to get to his feet. The tunnel was filled with smoke, further decreasing visibility. And then all the monsters took off, running down the tunnel as if they’d been summoned.

 “What the fuck?” Steve said, as he finally got Billy standing.

 Billy surveyed Steve, he didn’t seem to be hurt too badly, just scratches on his arms and legs.

 “C’mon, we gotta go.” Steve pulled on Billy’s arm, trying to get him moving.

 Billy took a few shuffling steps forward. “I don’t think I can make it.”

 “Bullshit,” said Steve, “don’t tell me after all the shit you’ve been through in your joke of a life that some teeny tiny flesh wounds are gonna stop you now.”

 “And what if they are,” Billy forced out as he took a few more steps.

 “Then there was really no point in kissing me,” Steve said, throwing Billy’s arm over his shoulder to take some of Billy’s weight off his injured leg. They took a few more steps, but the blood was still streaming out of the wound on Billy’s thigh.

 “Hang on,” Steve said, as he ripped off his jacket and dropped down in front of Billy. And wasn’t that a heady vision – Steve on his knees in front of him. Billy would have liked it more if he could’ve seen Steve’s face, but by the time that thought had crossed his brain, Steve had finished tying the makeshift bandage around Billy’s thigh.

 “Let’s go.” Steve got Billy’s arm over his shoulder, put his arm around Billy’s waist, and they started their awkward shuffle run down the tunnels.

 Billy heard the kids before he saw them. They were leaning down into the hole, yelling their heads off for Billy and Steve to hurry up. One of them had found a rope, which was good, because as they got closer to the opening, Billy was sure they wouldn’t be able to climb out.

 “Guys,” snapped Steve, “he’s gonna need some help. I’m gonna boost him, you guys try to grab him.”

 “I’m fine,” countered Billy, as a he reached for the rope with his injured arm. His fingers wouldn’t close around it, he couldn’t maintain a good grip.

 “Billy,” Steve said, “you’re going to have to use your legs and it’s gonna fucking hurt. But if you don’t, there’s no way you’re gonna get outta here.” Then he clasped his fingers together so Billy could step in the bucket of his intertwined hands.

 Billy did as he was told. Steve was able to lift him higher than Billy would have gotten if he’d taken a running leap it. He clung to the rope as he tried to shimmy up it. He could feel hands grasping at his shoulders, trying to pull him up. Then he saw Steve on the rope below him, trying to give him something to push off of. And, finally, Billy was able to throw himself out of the hole, with Max pulling on the shoulders of his jacket so he wouldn’t slide back down.

 He saw Steve’s very tired face, but something surprisingly animated given how blank those eyes had been earlier. Then he saw nothing but darkness as he passed out.

   “Billy, you’re at the Byers’, we’ve patched you up. Max said you probably wouldn’t want to go to the hospital,” Steve said, as his face swam into view.

 Billy blinked a few times to clear the haze. His throat was dry; he swallowed a few times and then Steve was there, passing him a glass of water. Billy sat up and looked himself over – both his arm and leg were wrapped in a clean, white bandages. And he wasn’t wearing pants. A blanket was draped over his lap and Billy wondered who had undressed him.

 “You always go commando, or is that for special occasions?” Steve asked, as he sat back on the coffee table, next to the couch that Billy was lying on.

 “Special occasions,” countered Billy, his voice was rough as if he’d been asleep for awhile.

 “Yeah?” said Steve, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward, dropping his elbows to his knees. “Don’t worry, it was only me that saw you.”

 “I dunno if that makes me feel better or worse,” muttered Billy, closing his eyes as he slumped back down.

 “That depends on if you want to kiss me again or not.”

 “Always want to kiss you,” Billy slurred out, as exhaustion began to take hold. He cracked open his eyes to stare at Steve. “Do you want me to?”

 Steve leaned forward, eyes twinkling with amusement and… something that looked like affection, “Yes,” he whispered.

 And Billy drifted off feeling the ghost of Steve’s lips against his own.

[femmeharringrove]

take these broken wings

(brief assault mention)

Steve Harrington has the most beautiful wings the world had ever seen, as far as Billy is concerned. And Billy is an expert in this sort of thing.

Because Billy Hargrove has the second most beautiful pair of wings the world – they resemble the wings of a scarlet macaw, sort of. His scapulars and primaries are switched, though, the feathers closer to his back a deep azure while his primaries match the brilliant red of his marginal coverts. His secondaries are mostly that same blue as his softer scapulars, save for the line of emerald just under the gold plumes of his secondary coverts. It’s a sight, the bright swirl of colors, and as if he needs any reason more to brag about them, they’re big.

When he was little, his mother used to laugh as her poor baby would stumble over his long wings. She used to take him to the beach, let him feel the saltwater air in his feathers as he lifted his wings into the breeze. Just as she taught him to surf along the coast, she taught him to fly. Her wings were small for an adult, though not by much, but it didn’t affect her aerial skill one bit. Billy can still see how she sliced through the pale blue sky, impossible to miss with her swirl of colors just like the boy’s. And like Lilian Hargrove, Billy was once a spectacular flyer, charming plenty of girls, and a few guys, with his speed and agility with a promise that his wings weren’t the only thing capable of moving so fast.

“You know what they say about big wings,” he liked to say, a mischievous gleam in his winking eyes. He used the line on Steve exactly once and ended up spending the next five minutes torn between huffing and pouting at the other man, and genuinely worrying that five minutes of continued laughter might end up sending the giggling goober to an early grave.

He didn’t get to wow the brunette with his agility and skill, however. Two years before he ever heard the word Hawkins, a drunken Neil made sure his son would never put on such a gaudy show ever again. The bones in a wing were easy to break thanks to their porous build, and Billy was already known for being a high-flying daredevil; the doctor never thought twice when Neil brought the bruised teenager in with a clean break in his left ulnar, a messier break in his metacarpus, and a dislocated phalanx. The phalanx never set properly, and neither the ulnar. By the time Billy got to Indiana, his left wing was angled weird, and his speed and agility both were shot. Billy rarely flew in Indiana, but he didn’t have to take to the sky to earn his rank among the social elite.

Because Steve, his only source of competition for the top of the social chain, Steve’s wings were small.

In truth, they’re almost underdeveloped in size, and the first time Billy saw them he snorted, which led to Tommy poking fun at them for a solid ten minutes.

But then, in basketball practice, while Billy plastered himself right up against those brown feathers, the sun just managed to catch on his primaries and Billy was stunned long enough for Steve’s shoulder to smack into his jaw and make him bite his tongue.

Because in the sunlight, Billy realized they were golden.

Or, not completely gold. The best comparison Billy can draw is to a golden eagle, with their varying shades of brown and the added golden flames coloring the tips of their wings. Steve’s feathers follow no actual pattern, a dark coffee secondary nestled right up against a more chestnut feather. And while plenty of them have golden tips, most of his feathers are speckled with golden moles, much like his skin. They’re almost impossible to spot unless he’s sunning, but Billy’s gotten good at spotting them, actively looks for the variety of color there.

But Billy couldn’t tell him back then, so he took every opportunity to insult the stunning plumage while strutting around Hawkins High like a damn peacock, massive ruby wings drawing plenty of attention. He fluffed them up when chatting up the ladies, allowing them to pet the marginals and masking his uncomfortable grimace with an easy smile. Sometimes he liked to crowd into Harrington’s space, spreading his wings wide so the other couldn’t get by while he spat his taunts for the day. Steve’s eyes always stared at the deep red softness of his feathers, but he never dared touch. As much as he regrets it now, the shorter man tugged on speckled primaries more often than he should have, if only to see Steve’s wings flutter violently and tuck in closer to his body. The blonde liked to think he just enjoyed watching Harrington suffer. The little voice in his head liked to whisper that there was a far more dangerous reason for his teasing.

Either way, before Billy knew he loved Steve, he knew he loved those wings, even if he teased them mercilessly. They were graceful, a little messy, but if his eagle assumption was right, then Steve would be one hell of a sight up in the sky.

If he wasn’t such a dumbass, maybe he would have gotten a chance to see it while they were in school. But after shoving the taller guy around and beating the snot out of him an absolutely livid Max growled that he’d managed to snap Steve’s right radius.Steve had been unable to fly the rest of the school year.

The only time he ever saw Steve fly was just after the older boy graduated, outside of the mall – and he wasn’t really flying, more hovering as his strange gaggle of kids demanded to see how many of them he could carry in the air. The answer was three, Billy learned.

Steve knew he could actually grab all six, if he had to. Steve’s capable of a lot when under pressure.

His wings are an odd cross between his father’s golden eagle brown and gold, and his mother’s Italian sparrow rainbow of browns. They took after Misses Harrington’s smaller size, something his father often took pride in teasing the boy for, but as a child he zipped through the air like a hummingbird, never able to keep still very long. Even now, his wings often flutter and fuss, like they’re itching for flight.

They are, they always are, but he can’t just fly off like he used to.

In spite of the teasing, Steve always loved his feathers. It was mostly because of his nonna, her nimble fingers preening and stroking his downy feathers for hours when he was a child. “These are special wings, passeroto mio. They are a treasure, do not ever forget that.” Steve promised he wouldn’t.

But Billy Hargrove and his gaudy personality and gaudier wings had him second-guessing himself. He fell in love quickly with the mesmerizing red and blue, and idly found himself wondering almost all the time if Billy could like his feathers half as much as he liked his. Most people didn’t, he knew, and he’d always been okay with that, but Billy was the first person he found himself wanting to see his wings for the treasure they were.

Judging from the way Billy tugged at them, he decided early that the answer to his burning question was a resounding no.

He liked Billy, except for when he’d grab his feathers and tug like that, like his father did sometimes when he wanted Steve to stop moving or when he was particularly angry. He really didn’t like Billy when he snapped a bone in one of his wings, but he figured at least that would cure him of his unbearable crush, and for a time it did. After that night at the Byers, Steve rarely thought about the boy – not that he had much of a choice, because he suddenly found himself the single mother to a hoard of unruly children and their unruly feathers. His days were occupied with chartering them around, buying them whatever they wanted, and, most importantly, preening their disastrous feathers every now and again.

Steve was maybe the best preener in the state of Indiana. He could do it in his sleep, his fingers deft and gentle and altogether perfect for the job. By the end of a preening day, the Harrington mansion usually had a rainbow of colored feathers floating around, from the sleek black of Eleven’s crow feathers to the green and yellow of Dustin’s lovebird appendages. Even Nancy still came by, her speckled kestrel feathers mingling among the rest of the party’s. Sometimes, she asked if she could return the favor; Steve always tucked his messy wings in close before quietly rejecting the offer.

The entire time they dated, Nancy never touched Steve’s wings. In fact, no one that knew Steve could say they saw anyone touch the soft feathers. As good as he was at preening, his own wings were a disaster of crooked primaries and messy scapulars. He let Tommy preen him once, just after his nonna’s death, but it had felt so intensely intimate that he’d panicked and never let another person do it again. It was common knowledge that wings were a bit of an erogenous zone for many, but for Steve it was, and still is something bigger than that. For years, only his grandmother touched them, if anyone else was going to do it then he needed to feel as safe with them as he’d felt with her.

In the almost six years after her death, nobody qualified in his mind.

But that hadn’t mattered in July, when he and Robin got stuck trying to convince a bunch of Soviet spies that they only sold ice cream for a living. Both had quite a few feathers tortuously picked off, but that was far more bearable in Steve’s mind than the way the apparent general in charge of their interrogation stroked along his scapulars and the undersides of his secondaries, muttering in broken English about how he’d get this little songbird singing. It felt wrong, he didn’t like the tone of the man’s voice, and he was positive he’d never felt more violated in his life, but It was a scenario he’s since pushed back into the box of other memories labeled ‘DO NOT OPEN’ stored in the basement of his brain.

When assault and slow torture didn’t get anything out of him, the Soviets decided to break a few bones, pop a few sockets just so. Tore a few muscles in the process.

Robin couldn’t fly for months after.

Steve isn’t going to fly again, no matter how much his wings flutter in anticipation.

It breaks Billy’s heart sometimes, watching Steve watch the sky with a wistful expression. But between random fights with other boys, previous run-ins with the Upside Down, and a plethora of sports injuries, his muscles aren’t willing to sustain flight without worse injury. He can try, in theory, but Steve isn’t willing to put himself through that sort of hope when the risk of failure is so large.

“I’ve done my share of flying anyway,” he told Billy one night, when their friendship was new and uncertain. “It sucks, but I’ll live, yeah?” At the time, Billy couldn’t fly either. Billy couldn’t do much, his body was still finishing the process of putting itself back together again after being possessed and almost destroyed by a monster from another dimension.

“Yeah,” he whispered in reply, trying to sound casual as he grabbed Steve’s hand and squeezed.

He was in the hospital for months, his wings cramped and confined to his bed as he re-learned how to talk, how to walk, how to be Billy Hargrove. He was pretty sure all his feathers would have just fallen off if not for Max in those difficult months.

Max, who owed him absolutely nothing after the years of shit he’d put her through. He’d almost killed her friends on more than one occasion, yelled and fought and hurt her at every turn, and yet she visited him dutifully every day, brought books for him to read and chatted to fill the silence for a little while. Her wings, sharp black with the bright freckles of a European starling, would flutter about anxiously whenever she came by, especially when she began trying to preen his dull wings.

He fought her every attempt until a particularly bad day when Billy was just too tired to fight. Even as he growled and hissed, she tucked herself behind him on that hospital bed and spent hours arranging and re-arranging the scarlets and blues and greens and yellows. Billy was surprised to find it wasn’t a terrible situation.

In fact, he loved it.

So he harassed Max into preening his wings every time she showed up, and eventually began preening her himself. It provided the pair a chance to start over, really, and even as he continued snarking and snapping at her after finally being released, there was a clear fondness each now held for the other. It was nice. Billy hadn’t had a true familial connection in a very long time, he’d missed it – not that he’d ever be telling Max that.

Besides, he didn’t need to be so lovey and affectionate on Max, she gets enough of it from Steve.

Max likes to say she’s the one responsible for their friendship, even if Dustin and Will try to contest her claim. Billy doesn’t particularly care, because regardless of who started the idea, all six of the little gremlins came together to force the men into hanging out, and if they hadn’t then Billy never would have learned that Steve could make a huge dish of lasagna from scratch, including the noodles. He never would have learned that Steve liked to play guitar, bouncing around like a basketball and narrowly avoiding catastrophic injury as he avoided desk edges and walls with his hips and wings, strumming and singing like he was the leader of some rock band. He never would have learned that Steve could crochet and knit like a pro, or that crocheting is actually a great way to channel his anger instead of beating the shit out of something.

Most importantly, he never would have learned that Steve Harrington is the kind of sap who admitted to having crushes by dancing them around the kitchen while singing about his feelings, his voice muffled against Billy’s curls as he pressed his face into the top of the shorter man’s head to hide his furious blushing.

This relationship, this apparent romance is new and more fragile than anything Billy’s ever had, and he knows he’d go to the grave to protect it. They’ve hardly been together three months, but it’s been the best three months of his life. Steve’s a damn cat, always crawling into his lap to curl up under his coffee wings and sleep, or to just straddle his boyfriend’s lap and cover Billy’s entire face and neck with kisses for no reason. Steve’s affection is overwhelming, it’s everything he’s been missing. Billy can’t get enough of it.

Which is why they’re hiding in Steve’s room, the six-person party of rat children downstairs accompanied tonight by Steve’s apparent seventh child Erica.

“Actually,” Steve grinned when Billy commented on the extra kid, “I have eight. You just haven’t met Holly. You’d love her, trust me.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Mike and Max countered almost completely in sync. Later they’ll learn they’re wrong, but at the time Steve ended up nearly choking with the force of his giggles as Billy’s feathers puffed up while he glared at them.

They’re playing some game or another downstairs, or there’s a board game out on the table at least. From the sounds of it the only game they’re about to play is ‘can we have an all-out war without breaking anything in the expensive Harrington living room’ which is, by far, the most anxiety-inducing game Billy’s ever seen. Steve hates it too, but he’s hardly paying attention, too busy breathing out pretty sighs while the blonde’s mouth nips and sucks and licks at every mole he can find on Steve’s pale skin – he sucks a light mark over a binary system of moles just on the underside of his boyfriend’s jaw and is pleasantly rewarded with a sound more substantial than a sigh. Steve’s long fingers tangle in his hair, tug on blonde curls, and his lips whine Billy’s name in a half-hearted attempt to get the former lifeguard to stop.

Billy, the menace he is, continues on to a dark mole at the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder, tongue sliding over the soft flesh before his teeth bite down. Steve hisses above him and tugs on his hair a little harder. Then his fingers are sliding down to his neck, playing with the hair on Billy’s nape, grasping his shoulders tight.

“Bill,” he groans. But then Steve’s tone changes into something more urgent and important. “Billy, hang, hang on.” Billy really, really doesn’t want to, but he stops and lifts his head up so that he can meet Steve’s blown eyes.

“What’s up, pretty boy?” Steve takes a minute to find his words, brows furrowing before he spits it out.

“I, uh, I wanna – can I touch them? Your wings?”

Steve’s hands have expertly avoided Billy’s wings for the entirety of their friendship, and the first few months of their relationship. Billy can’t say he’s noticed before.

But now, right now as he blinks in the face of the other man’s wide-eyed, anticipating stare, he’s all too aware of it. Billy frowns.

“You don’t gotta ask, baby,” he insists. He can feel Steve’s hands fiddling with one another behind his neck.

“Well, yeah, maybe, but you don’t like it when people touch them.” Steve sits back slightly, closer to Billy’s knees than his hips as he rushes his reasoning. “Like, I used to see people touching them all the time and you always got so stiff, and I get it, I don’t like when people touch mine without asking, and I don’t ever, ever want to make you feel uncomfortable, Billabong.” His smile is sheepish, and Billy can’t breathe. “You sure it’s okay?”

Billy’s never been genuinely in love before this exact moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, Stevie, you can touch ‘em.” And of course Steve’s fingers are light as the feathers he strokes, carefully admiring the silky feel of Billy’s marginals and smiling like he’s just done the most important thing in the world. Billy can’t stop staring at his stupid face.

“They’re so soft,” he whispers. And Billy wants to continue making out with the magnificent creature in his lap, wants to mark him as his, but Steve’s got other ideas at the moment. He slides off of Billy’s thighs with practiced ease and crawls behind him. “Take off your shirt,” he orders softly, like it’s more of a polite request, but Billy doesn’t have to be looking to know Steve’s got that determined little smirk of his on his face, the kind of smirk that turns gentle requests into commands.

Billy’s happy to obey.

And he’s the last person in Steve’s little group of loved ones that learns about how talented Steve’s long, bony fingers are. He’s absolute putty in his boyfriend’s hands, quite literally purring as Steve moved through ruffled feathers with a practiced ease. And Billy didn’t need to be preened, he never goes out in public unless his wings are already in pristine condition, but there’s a sort of intimacy that comes with this sort of attention, a closeness Billy’s never willingly allowed anyone but his mother and stepsister to have with him. And truly, Billy craves that with Steve. In the plaid-coated confines of Harrington’s room, on the soft covers of his bed, he feels like his entire heart is on display, his most intimate feelings there for Steve to see. This bed is where he’s cried and yelled and whispered his fears and frustrations, he’s broken down and come undone on this mattress. And now, he’s offering another show of his trust, another part of himself he’s struggled to protect open for Steve to see – and Steve understands the significance of it. He doesn’t rush, takes his time. His fingers move methodically through the already neat feathers.

And as if that isn’t enough, as if Steve hasn’t already given him the world, he opens his mouth and absolutely praises Billy’s plumage. He coos over the bright colors, murmurs about the soft feeling, tells him he loves Billy’s wings, loves Billy. And Billy can do nothing more than struggle to stay sitting up, eyes half-closed in absolute bliss as he’s loved on in the best kind of way. His primaries tremble as Steve’s fingertips brushed against the underside of his scapulars, and he hears Steve’s intrigued hum.

“What are you up to back there, huh?” Billy’s voice is much softer than it usually ever is, and he cranes his head back to try and look at his boyfriend. He’s met with a sweet-looking grin, all teeth and crinkled eyes.

His eyes are dangerously incapable of hiding his moods and emotions, and even in their half-shut state Billy sees the playful mischief sparking in their whiskey depths.

“Nothin’ at all, Bill, m’just preening my pretty parrot of a boyfriend.” But he’s definitely not just preening, not anymore, because there’s now way Steve has any reason to preen the tiny feathers on the underside of the base of his right wing. And the delicate movement of Steve’s finger isn’t enough to actually preen anything in the first place; he’s stroking, and it forces one shuddering sigh from Billy’s lips. It must be what Steve’s looking for, because the little menace hums a pleased note at the sound, and Billy can hear the smile in his voice.

“You are incredible, Billy Hargrove,” he states. “Remind me again how on earth I got you all to myself?” His soft hand palms against the small stretch of skin between his wings, and Billy’s brain short-circuits for a moment. There’s Steve’s hum again, and Billy’s three seconds away from losing his entire mind. “Do you have any clue how stunning you are? You have any idea how much I fucking love you?” He has the audacity to scratch just so at his scapulars, and Billy’s halfway to turning around with every intention of showing Steve exactly how much he fucking loves him, but he hears the warning thunder of footsteps before he can finish, and he’s scrambling to the other side of the bed as Dustin throws the door open, already halfway through a ramble about how they didn’t mean to break the glass this time.

“ – and I told him to stop but you know Mike can’t listen for shit, and – and – oh, gross!” The kid’s whole face twists up as he covers his face with both of his hands. Behind him, Max is absolutely red and struggling to stifle her laughter, and Will desperately looks anywhere but the bed. “We’re right here, and you’re trying to debauch our babysitter?” Billy’s jaw drops.

“Why are you little shitbrains blaming me?” he complains. “You don’t see Steve’s feather’s floating around here, do you?” Dustin somehow manages to look even more mortified, and Steve desperately tries holding back the giggles violently shaking his shoulders, his wings fluttering.

“Stop traumatizing my kids, Bill,” he manages, scooting out of bed. “I’m gonna start charging you guys when you break my cups, that’s the second this month.” Steve’s move towards the door is stopped by a strong arm wrapping around his middle, and he yelps softly as he’s tugged back into bed.

“Nu-uh. You shits broke it, you shits clean it up. Your debauched babysitter has some preening to do,” Billy grunts. Dustin squawks indignantly, and Max yanks on his arm before he can say anything.

“If we hear anything, Dustin and I are coming back!” she warns as she tugs him out of the room, Will scurrying out ahead of them as fast as possible. The door closes with a bang, and Steve dissolves into a fit of laughter as they hear the redhead’s faint call to use fucking protection.

“You’ve scarred Dustin and Will for life,” he snorts. Billy can’t help his fond smile as he settles Steve on the bed, moving to straddle his boyfriend’s hips.

“They’ll live with it. I can’t believe you just sat there and let them blame me for that.” Steve’s still laughing, his head shaking with his amusement as his hands settle on Billy’s denim-clad thighs.

His eyes shine with playful mischief as he gazes up at the shorter man. “How am I supposed to preen from this angle, huh?”

Billy’s answering grin is downright devious. “You can preen me later, birdie. I’ve got a better activity in mind,” he replies.

“Oh, really?” Steve’s lips twist into a smirk. “Does this activity involve any debauching, Hargrove?” He laughs as Billy swoops down to steal a heavy kiss from his smiling lips, large red wings obscuring them both from the rest of the world.

“You bet your sweet ass it does.”

[marvelslut16]

A helping hand

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Synopsis:(Y/N)’s younger sister is part of the party. so what happens when she witness’s Billy getting hit when she goes to pick Max up and then when he arrives bloody and bruised on her doorstep two days later? Will she help him and let him in on her life before Hawkins, or will her hatred for him make her turn him away? Takes place between seasons 2 and 3.

Word count: 2602

Warnings: First (and possibly only) time writing for Billy, so he’s pretty OOC. Swearing. Abuse. Neil being the grade a asshole that he is. Talk of domestic violence. Angst?

“Stay in the car, I’ll be back in a minute,” you turn around to face your little sister, Carol, who’s sitting in the back seat flipping through the pages of her seventeen magazine.

“Okay,” she glances up at you. “We’re supposed to be at the arcade in ten minutes, we can’t be late.”

She’s frantic that she’ll be late and upset Dustin. “Ah, young love,” you tease her as you step out of the car, catching the last seconds of her sticking her tongue out. Carol and Dustin had been friends their entire life, and she’s been in love with him for almost as long. 

You make your way to the front door of the Hargrove house, you’re here to pick up Max and drop the two off at the arcade to meet up with the rest of the party. It was a cold and snowy January in Hawkins, so the kids obviously couldn’t ride their bikes or skateboards. As you get closer to the door, you swear you can hear the hushed tone of someone yelling at their kids. You ignore the uneasy feeling rising in your stomach and knock on the door. 

Susan Hargrove answers the door with a fake smile plastered on her face. You’re about to greet her when you hear shouting coming from down the hall. “You’re just a worthless fucking faggot Billy,” you hear a male voice bellow, you make eye contact with Max over her mothers shoulder. She looks embarrassed, which makes a deep frown appear on your face. This must be normal. “You’re too busy staring at yourself in the mirror that you can’t drive your sister to the arcade, you make some girl come out of her way to get Maxine.” Billy and his father are now in your line of sight, but blocked from your sister's view because of your frame.

Before you can assure them that it’s no problem and that it was actually on the way Billy mumbles, “she’s not my sister.”

“We’ve already talked about this,” his father seethes. “You need to learn respect and responsibility.” As the last word leaves his lips the sound of flesh on flesh resonates in the air. 

It takes you half a second to realize that Neil’s hand is in the air and Billy’s face is turned away from the door. The smack happened so fast that you almost missed it. A small gasp leaves your lips, reminding everyone that you just witnessed their dark secrets. Billy’s blue eyes snap to yours as they seem to glow in rage, but towards you and not his father. There’s also a sadness deep within those angry eyes, a sadness that only someone who can relate can see. 

Max is frantically pulling on her red winter coat, trying to get out of the house as fast as humanly possible. 

“I’ll have Max home by eight,” you give Susan a sad smile. “I have to go shopping, but then I’ll be at the arcade with the kids for the rest of the time. And really, it was no bother picking her up, Max and Carol get along great.”

“Bye mom,” Max mumbles as she pushes her way out the door and towards your car. Susan gives you one last sad smile, and your eye’s briefly flick to Billy who looks like he’s about to break something, before the front door closes. 

As you walk away you can hear Neil’s voice pick back up, there’s a part of you that wants to cry for the poor broken boy on the other side of that door. But it’s Billy, the bully, the new king of Hawkins High. The Billy that goes around tormenting Steve, and the one that makes fun of the nerdy kids. No, you wouldn’t cry for him. He’s just as bad as his father. 

Max and Carol talk and laugh the entire way to the arcade. Max pretending nothing happened, and Carol none the wiser to what goes on in the Hargrove house. Carol is impatient and practically jumps out to the car before it stops moving, five minutes late from when she promised Dustin she would be here. Max is slower, almost like she’s at war with herself on whether to say anything or not.

“Max,” you say as she slides a foot out the door. “If it’s ever too much and you need somewhere to stay for a night, our door is always open. No questions asked and no one has to know.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly before following your sister into the arcade.

When you drop Max off later that night Billy’s Camaro is nowhere to be seen.

--

At school the next morning you feel a tight grip around your wrist as you’re walking down the hall to first period. Before you can properly react you’re spun around and engulfed in the strong scent of cologne and cigarette smoke. You’re once again greeted by Billy’s angry blue eyes as he pulls you into a secluded corner. 

“Let go of me,” you glare at him, yanking your wrist away from him. Taking a few steps back, wanting as much space between you and him as you could get. Billy looked angry, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be on the receiving side of that anger. 

“I don’t want your pity and you best not say anything to anyone about what you saw yesterday (Y/L/N),” Billy threatens. Even though it’s the middle of January Billy still only has half of his shirt buttoned. His chest muscles visibly flexing with his erratic angry breathing. 

“Why the hell would I say anything? Just so you can deny it before beating me to a pulp like you did to Steve? I’ll pass,” your eyes narrow at the bad boy. “And I sure as hell don’t fucking pity you. Yeah, you’re life sucks, Neil sucks. But you choose to be just like him. Abused or not, that’s no excuse to become the bully Hargrove. A bad life doesn’t give you the excuse to be a shit person. And you could try to be nicer to Max, while she may not be the one getting hit, living in a toxic home is just as terrible.”

Billy takes a step back, like you’ve burned him. His face holds a faint trace of sorrow, good. Maybe he’ll be knocked down a peg or two. Out of the corner of your eye you see Steve shoot you a weird look as his eyes land on you and his enemy. 

“Harrington,” you call as Steve walks passed you and Billy. He stops and turns around, raising an eyebrow when his eyes flick to your company. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Studying for our calculus test,” he watches you intently as you step closer to him, still wondering why you were with Billy. 

“The kids are coming over to watch the new Indiana Jones, do you want to join us? We can study after the movie, I love Harrison Ford too much to actually miss the movie,” you laugh softly. “Plus my parents left this morning, so I’m babysitting seven hormonal middle schoolers alone, please save me.”

“You’ll be fine,” Steve laughs at your over dramatic attitude. 

“Half of them are dating each other, and then my sisters crush on Dustin, I can’t handle all that drama on my own,” you whine as you start to walk down the hall. “Plus it's free pizza, popcorn, and all the ice cream you can eat. And a new episode of Saturday Night Live when the kids fall asleep” You bat your eyelashes at your friend and co parent to the party. 

“Fine,” he sighs reluctantly. “But Hargrove better not be there.”

 “Like he’d ever show up,” you laugh as you run down the hall as the warning bell sounds. 

--

Before you know it, it’s Saturday afternoon and you’re surrounded by kids. Susan dropped Max off first, and the poor woman couldn’t look you in the eyes. And that fact that Billy, who according to Max always takes her places, wasn’t the one dropping her off made you slightly worried. 

You’re about twenty minutes into the movie and throwing popcorn at Steve when there’s a hesitant and irregular pounding on your front door. “Stay here,” you tell the kids. Steve follows a few steps behind you.

 You’re greeted by Billy’s bruised face when you open the door. He has a bruised and swollen eye that pairs with his split lip. Dried blood on his chin and drops on his white shirt. 

“Oh my God, Billy,” you breathe. Your body works without your brains help, and you gently grab his wrist and pull him into your house. 

“I know you said the door was always open for Max,” his voice hoarse, almost like he was in a screaming match earlier. His right arm wrapped tightly around his torso. “Do ya think you can make an exception for me?” Max joins the three teens when she hears Billy’s voice, her face falls slightly at the sight of his condition. 

“Steve, Max, why don’t you guys go back to the movie. Billy, let’s go get you cleaned up,” you grab his hand and gently pull him towards the stairs. Steve goes to protest, but Max pulls him away with her. 

“What happened?” you ask after you shut the bedroom door behind you, running to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. Billy remains silent as he watches your concentration face as you lightly dab at his split lip.

“I was working out too loudly, then I accidently spilled his beer,” Billy won’t look you in the eyes. 

“We graduate in a few months and then you’ll be free,” you interject optimistically. 

“You know I’ll never change, right?” Billy says as he thinks back to what you said to him school.

“I think you can,” you sigh, grabbing some aspirin. “You just choose not to.”

“What do you know?” he snaps, blue eyes murderous. 

“More than you would think,” you deadpan, lifting his shirt to rest under his pecs. Boy was it hard not to just rip it off completely. 

“If you wanted me shirtless you just had to ask sweetheart,” Billy winks and seductively licks his lips. You inhale sharply, trying to ignore the rush of heat you feel throughout your body. Sure he’s hot, bet he’s a manwhore and an asshole. Don’t fall for it. Instead of verbally responding, you push on his ribs without warning and it’s his turn to inhale. “Shit!”

“They don’t feel broken or fractured,” you stare at the splotchy blue and purple bruises forming over his rib cage. 

“How would you know?” he asks through clenched teeth. 

“I have years of practice,” you hand him the aspirin and wait to talk until he swallowed the tablets. Were you really going to tell him this? “My dad, my birth one, used to toss me around like a rag doll. Carol got lucky, he liked her so he would never hurt her. But when he was mad at something she did he would just take it out on me twice as hard. I had to clean myself up when my mom would shut down, and I’d have to fight through the pain to check to see if anything was broken. One night it was so bad that I was unconscious on our kitchen floor when my mom and Carol got home. That’s the day my mom decided to leave him.”

“How old were you?” Billy’s face a mix of sadness and anger. 

“Younger than Carol and Max. We moved around a bit before finally landing in Hawkins,” you’re afraid to look in Billy’s eyes. Afraid to find that pity he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. “I know you have a distaste for the town, I did too when I moved here my freshman year, but it’s the first place we stayed. It’s where my mom met my amazing stepdad, it’s home to some of us.”

“That’s why you offered Max a place to stay when it gets bad,” his voice softens as he stares at the side of your face.

“I had nowhere to go. Carol had nowhere to go,” you sigh. “I couldn’t let Max suffer through the same life we did.”

“I didn’t know,” he reaches forward and rest his fingers on top of yours. 

“No one did, you’re the only one,” you pull your fingers away from his to wipe a single tear away. “Carol doesn’t even know, the doctors say she’s blocking out the memories, that it was so painful her brain refuses to remember it.”

“I want to be better,” he refuses to look you in the eye, opting to pick at the corner of your comforter instead. 

“And you can be, one step at a time Billy,” you gently place your hand on his shoulder He finally looks up at you, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It’s why I said you could change, be better. I’m nothing like my father, and I know you're strong enough to be better than yours.”

“Will you help me?” he sounds so vulnerable and defeated. So broken.

“Of course, as long as you’re actually trying.”

Thank you,” he lays down on your bed, pulling the sheets up over him.

“Do you like Saturday Night Live?” you ask as you walk to your door,

“I love it,” he gives you a lopsided smile you’ve never seen before. 

“Cool. Get some sleep, and you can join Steve and me when it’s on tonight.”

“Anything for you sweetheart,” he shoots you a lazy wink. 

“And Billy? You owe me big time,” you put on a fake scowl as you look into Billy’s tired blue eyes. “You made me miss shirtless Harrison Ford.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. He’s too caught up in the way the bed smells like your floral perfume, and the strawberry shampoo that you use. He takes a deep breath, deeply inhaling your scent, trying to memorize it. To memorize the smell of safety and home. His eyelids grow heavy and he drifts off to sleep, wondering what changing would mean for the two of you.

“Where is he?” Steve immediately jumps up from the couch when you walk back into the living room.

“Upstairs sleeping off some pain meds,” you send hi a warning look. “Now how much did I miss?”

“Harrison is making out with the blonde chick,” Lucas says through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Well that narrows it down,” you laugh lightly. 

“They’re giving the stone back to the village,” Carol adds. You let out a long sigh as you realize you missed almost the entire movie. You give Max a small smile, hoping that it conveys to her that Billy is alright. 

“When’s Hargrove leaving?” Steve asks annoyed. 

“He’s actually gonna watch SNL with us tonight,” you meet Steve’s angry eyes. “He promised to help make french toast in the morning.” That may have been a lie, but Steve doesn't need to know that. But something tells you that you’ll be able to convince him to help. 

“So when are we gonna order pizza?” Carol cuts in, wanting to cut the tension. 

“In a little,” you promise, as you sit down to enjoy the last few moments of Harrison Ford. 

An hour and a half later, when the pizza’s on it’s way, you go upstairs to wake up Billy. “Don’t let me down Billy,” you whisper to his sleeping form as you lean against your door frame.

Part 2: Too much

Forever tags:  @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[kitsutaes]

pluto protector

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, coming of age-ish, bffs2lovers!, astrophysicist!reader, & artist!taehyung

word count: 2.6k

rating: pg-13 i guess

warnings: none

a/n: this is inspired by rex orange county’s song pluto projector, a song i love so so much. also this fic is split up into small parts & it focuses more on tae’s and reader’s small but important moments together !! i hope you like it even though it isn’t too heavily edited. p.s. thank you teresa / @sketchguk for looking this over !! you da best !!

summary: you and taehyung have been in the same galaxy, orbiting one another for as long as you could remember. but as time passes, gravity pulls you in closer and closer, ready for the two of you to collide.

Kim Taehyung was your protector. Just at the age of nine, Kim Taehyung held your hand as the two of you ran around the playground, feet hitting the wood chips that spewed around. His disheveled chocolate brown hair bounced around as he ran, eyes bright as he turned around to look at you. He had a goofy smile plastered on his face, exuberant as any nine year old at the park with his best friend should be.

“___! Let’s go on the swirly slide!” Taehyung yells, pointing at the bright red slide ahead. The playground near your neighborhood was huge since it was already part of an already massive park. While the park had its own variety of plants and wildlife, the playground consisted of slides, swings, monkey bars, and corkscrew climbers that allowed you to climb up and slide down like you were going down a fireman’s pole; only round and round instead of sliding straight down.

“Okay, but only if we go on the monkey bars next Tae!” You respond, swinging your arm that held his hand. Your eyes matched his, bright and bubbly. Taehyung nodded as the two of you climbed the blue steps that led to the big red swirly slide.

“You first or me?” Taehyung asks, letting go of you hand to grasp the yellow metal bars on the sides of the red slide. You roll your eyes, seeing his mischievous grin, basically telling you he was he was ready to go first.

“You.”

Sticking out your tongue at him, Taehyung takes off, gravity pulling him down until his sneakers hit the ground. He turns around, motioning for you to slide down.

“C’mon ___!” Taehyung calls from below. His arms are crossed as he waits for you to come down. You nod, your own hands gripping the metal bars Taehyung previously held onto as you’re seated on the bright red plastic. Letting go, you slide down, feeling parts of your hair stick up to the underside of the slide.

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he knows what’s coming next. You’re up and off of the slide, ready to chase him and zap him with your finger charged with static.

“___! Come and get me!” Taehyung giggles running off to the opposite side of the playground to avoid getting shocked. You’re right behind him, but you trip on your own foot, falling onto the wood chips.

Instead of a smile, you’ve got a pout on your face. Eyes turning red, brimming with tears, ready to cry. Taehyung’s looking back at you with a worried expression, heels turning around as he’s running back towards you.

“Tae!” You cry as his arms are helping you up, feet standing upright once again. His hands are gripping onto yours, leading you back to where your parents were.

“It’s okay ___, I’ve got you.”

At the age of twelve, Kim Taehyung was still your protector. Although you ended up with different teachers and classes, the two of you didn’t drift apart like most friends did as they entered middle school. Most kids ended up finding new friends, groups, cliques–forgetting and leaving the friendships they made when they were just a few years younger. But, you and Taehyung weren’t like most kids. The two of you stayed together in gravity’s grasp, never leaving the solar system you shared.

Just like always, after school, Taehyung came over to do homework with you since you shared the same subjects. His green backpack would be plopped onto your carpeted floor right beside yours, colored pencils and papers almost spilling out of them.

“You had to read The Monkey’s Paw too?” You ask turning around in your seat, nose scrunching at the thought of the story Mrs. Tang read to your class today that gave you the chills. It was a story written by W.W. Jacobs that just had to be a part of your English class’s “Poetry and Short Stories” unit and you couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Taehyung was seated on your bed while you were seated at your desk. Taehyung looks up from his math homework, nodding at you. 

“Yeah, I kinda liked it.” He says, giving you a small shrug as you shudder.

“It was creepy!”

Taehyung laughs at your expression, your face showing that you were totally repulsed that he slightly enjoyed the supernatural short story that was required to be read in every 7th grade class.

“Just a little bit,” he responds as he looks down at his homework, “I bet you’re enjoying science right now though.”

Taehyung was 100% correct, you were loving science this week. This week’s unit was about space and that was something you held close to your heart. There was just something about the universe, galaxies, protostars, and planets that intrigued you to no limit. You wanted to be like Neil deGrasse Tyson and Carl Sagan, exploring the vast universe full of the unknown. Just last year it was announced that Pluto would no longer be considered a planet and just that, broke your heart to pieces; Taehyung was there to witness it. Your love for the little planet was undying, feeling as if it deserved much more appreciation just like Neptune and Jupiter. In your eyes, Pluto was something special.

“Yes, oh my gosh! We get to make a presentation of a planet of our choice, and I’m still picking Pluto. I don’t care what Mr. Peterson says.” You scoff, a determined look gracing your face as you turn back around in your seat.

In that very moment, in Taehyung’s eyes, you were something special.

Graduation had finally fallen upon you. After days of graduation practice, you were finally here; sitting in the risers, that was placed on the fifty-yard line of the football field, clothed in your graduation gown that possessed one of your school’s colors. The night had overtaken the sunny skies, leaving you and your fellow classmates and friends underneath the shining stars as well as the bright stadium lights your school used for all sorts of events.

Your parents were in the stands, most likely with Taehyung’s family, along with other parents and family members of graduating high school seniors with their phones and cameras taking pictures to capture this once in a lifetime moment.

You didn’t graduate a valedictorian or salutatorian, but at least you made it until the end. It may pain some to hear it but grades aren’t everything. Despite getting kids into higher level colleges, grades don’t and can’t define a person, you learned that the hard way. High school’s about learning about yourself and the people you surround yourself with. Are they real friends? Do they talk about you behind your back? To you, it’s about exploration, finding the people who fit you well and help you shine brighter like the stars, and hopefully avoiding space debris that just get in the way.

Taehyung’s seated a few rows above you with only a few people separating the two of you, meaning you’re still able to make faces at each other, winking and scrunching your noses while the ceremony proceeds.

He looks great, handsome even. Dark locks trimmed just for this special event, since his mom made him. His bright eyes are shining even brighter with the reflection of the stadium lights as you peer up to look at him. 

Seeing him like this, you realize how grown up he looks. Despite only being eighteen, the Kim Taehyung sitting a few seats away from you definitely does not look like the Kim Taehyung you met in 3rd grade. That Taehyung you met years ago is still somewhat the same as the Taehyung now, but just older, more mature–not mature, but more. It makes you realize how time flies, because it literally just seemed like yesterday where Taehyung first moved in a couple houses down from yours. Your neighborhood was full of elderly people, so when you found out a kid your age had just moved into town, you were ecstatic. Ecstatic to the point where you bugged your mother to take you to meet your new neighbors.

You smile to yourself as you look away, eyes reaching the stars that you were always fond of. 

This was a moment you hoped you would remember forever.

“I felt like gouging my eyes out.”

Taehyung’s eyes roll at your complaint. You just came out of your physics class with Mr. Garcia’s lecture picking at your brains during the entire hour and a half. You and Jungkook (the only person you knew in that class) walked out looking as if your souls had left your body; even though that was exactly what happened. The two of you part ways with a tired wave as he had another class to attend. 

Taehyung had been waiting for you since his class finished a few minutes before yours. He was nose deep into a book when you find him sitting on a bench just outside your building. His bright blue hair made him easy to spot anywhere. He made you dye his hair before the semester started, insisting on trying a brand new look.

Before the two of you graduated high school, you’d done college applications. You’d gotten into one of your dream colleges, opening the acceptance letter in front of Taehyung and your parents. Taehyung on the other hand, didn’t tell you what college he got into until after the graduation ceremony. It led to you punching his arm while exuding tears of happiness. Now, at the age of 21, you’re spending your time attending classes, studying for exams, while downing cups of coffee during breaks with your best friend.

“Seriously ___, your fault for wanting to be an astrophysics major.” Taehyung scoffs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off to one of the coffee shops you and Taehyung frequent the most. Fortunately it was close, just a couple blocks away.

Smacking his arm away, you frown. “You say that every single time.”

“I’m just stating facts.” Taehyung shrugs, wrapping an arm around you again, and this time you don’t fight it.

Your own arm wraps around his waist, gripping onto a part of his coat. Taehyung, even though you didn’t want to admit it to anyone else but yourself, made you feel safe. Whenever he’d scoop you up into his arms for a hug, or just had his arm around you as you two walked down the street, it made you feel loved. Knowing that someone cares in this world full of fortunate and unfortunate events, is one of the greatest feelings in this world. 

“I wish I was still in astrology 101 or 102, learning about the stars, black holes, and the Milky Way,” You say, grinning cheekily at the man beside you. “—not the chocolate.”

“I literally wasn’t even going to say that.”

“Liar.” You snort, nudging his side with your elbow. The two of you have reached your destination, ready for caffeine that you’re desperate for. Taehyung’s arm has left your shoulder, a certain warmth departing with him, as he opens the door for you like the gentleman he’s always been.

“What do you want?” He asks as you both reach the cashier and glass display case showing an ever so wonderful variety of pastries to eat with an already amazing cup of coffee.

Peering through the glass you see some newly added goods, alongside the usual but you already have your order in mind.

“I’ll have a macchiato and some madeleines please,” You say to the woman manning the cashier with a soft smile, while taking out your wallet from the small pocket of your backpack. Taehyung’s hand stops you, handing his own credit card to the lady who grins cheekily at the two of you. She was around maybe thirty years old.

“Tae—”

“And I’ll have a hot chocolate please.” Taehyung’s lips are pursed, nodding his head as she repeats your order.

“You guys are a really cute couple by the way,” She smiles, handing Taehyung back his card along with the receipt while you’re left standing there staring at him with wide eyes as he thanks her for the compliment.

At the age of 24, you’d think you would have plenty of things figured out. You don’t.

But at this age, you’ve learned that things really aren’t constant in the world, and that everything’s prone to change. Although somehow, there’s one thing in your life that hasn’t really changed.

“Tae, where are we going?” You whine, head leaning on the car window. Taehyung had just picked you up from work, a long day of work, and all you wanted to do was go home.

You and Taehyung had been dating for awhile now, after he admitted his long time feelings for you when he took you to his studio and painted you your favorite planet in the Milky Way. His feelings for you were returned, having loved him ever since you were kids as well. Now, he spends most of his time at your apartment as if you two shared it; not like he didn’t do that before already. 

“___, you’ve asked me that 5 times already and I told you that it’s a secret.” He says, turning his head towards you for a moment before looking back on the road. You don’t see it, but he’s sporting a small smile on his face. Taehyung’s been waiting to show you this secret of his for quite some time.

Your head isn’t leaning on the window anymore as you recognize where you’re headed to. “Wait, we’re going to your studio?” The road to Taehyung’s art studio is one that isn’t too familiar but isn’t unknown as well.

After a few more minutes of driving and parallel parking (which actually doesn’t take Taehyung long to do it) you’re already standing in his studio, gazing at his works of art.

“Tae, these are incredible.”

While you’re gaping at his paintings, Taehyung’s laughing at your reaction to his creations. This is the first time in a long time you’ve visited his studio, and the first time in a long time that he’s shared his pieces with you. While you’re studying about outer space and the secrets of the universe, Taehyung’s in his studio painting his heart out whenever he wasn’t busy.

Whenever he was in the mood to paint, he’d enter this zone, totally blocking out anything and everything, letting his passion for the arts take over. Sometimes when he’d pick you up to have a cup of coffee or when he’d come over to have dinner at your apartment, he’d have paint marks all over his hands and occasionally his face. 

Like you with your science idols, Taehyung admired plenty of incredible artists who worked with various mediums like, Claude Monet, Keith Haring, and especially Vincent Van Gogh. Taehyung had this affinity for Van Gogh’s artworks that even he couldn’t fully explain why he loved them so much.

“Wait until you see this,” Taehyung says, reaching towards one of the canvases he had stacked and leaning on the side of his wall.

You’re so immersed into some of his other paintings you don’t realize he’s right beside you, ready to reveal one of his latest pieces. Taehyung loved to experiment with different mediums, always trying to find his niche. You noticed even though he painted a variety of things, he loved to paint scenery. You could feel yourself getting absorbed into his creations full of lush greens and calming sunsets, fluffy clouds, and sometimes quite the opposite.

“___,” Taehyung nudges you, poking your cheek to get your attention and it definitely works. You’re turning your head, eyes catching a painting of Pluto that looks exactly like the real deal, as if you’re seeing the planet with your own eyes.

“I love you ___. As much as you love this little planet and as many light years it would take to reach other universes out there.”

[jexnmcrexu]

Lullaby

This is my piece for the Forget Me Not Zine (Link to come)

Enjoy!

Read also here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664813

The first time it happened, Neil was staring at the bunk above him. He’d temporarily moved into the monsters’ dorm after figuring it’d be easier to keep an eye on Kevin and go to night practices without having Matt wait up for him every time. He saw Kevin’s mattress shift, felt the bunk shake as Kevin climbed down, heard his feet hit the cold tiles-- and still he was startled when Kevin softly called his name.

Neil turned his head a little and looked at Kevin, focusing on the shadows splayed across his face, making it look all sharp angles and moonlit green eyes.

“Yeah?” Neil murmured.

Kevin stayed quiet, rigid, his discomfort evident in the way his fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides. Neil understood immediately. He shifted on the bed, moved closer to the wall, and lifted the blankets in the empty space.

“C’mere,” he said. Kevin hesitated a few seconds more, and then gingerly got under the covers in the spot Neil offered. He laid on his back, staring at the bunk above them. Neil moved to mirror him, but turned his head slightly to the side to be able to look at him. He looked tired, and there was a trace of something dark in his eyes.

“Was it him?” Neil asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Kevin didn’t turn around or reply, but his breath hitched, and Neil noticed. He decided that was answer enough, so he turned his back to Kevin, closed his eyes, and tried not to think.

---

When Neil woke up, the bed was empty. They didn’t talk about it.

---

It happened again, though. This time, Neil woke up with a start, confused, reaching under his pillow and finding it empty. His heart climbed up his throat as he desperately tried to remember where he was. He fought the panic down as a slightly strangled “Mom” left his lips, then he felt a hand in his hair, pulling slightly, grounding him, and he thought, Andrew. He took a deep breath as his vision cleared and he turned his head around, only to find Kevin looking at him with a deep scowl.

“You’re not Andrew,” Neil said stupidly, breathing hard. Then he remembered where Andrew was, and he flopped back down on the bed. Kevin disentangled his fingers from Neil’s hair slowly, and moved from his kneeling position on the floor to sit at the edge of the bed.

“No,” Kevin said simply. Neil looked at him, the familiar scowl and the tension of his shoulders, and something eased in his chest. He closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them again, Kevin was looking at him with an equally familiar intensity. “You were screaming.”

Neil took another deep breath. Nathan had been there, and so had Neil’s mom. He decided he didn’t want to  think about it.

“I’m fine,” he said. Kevin glared at him, but Neil ignored it.

Kevin seemed to hesitate for a second, and Neil waited him out. Kevin looked more exhausted than usual, and Neil couldn’t figure out what had-- oh.

“You miss him,” Neil said, staring hard at him.

Kevin pressed his lips together tightly. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Andrew.”

Kevin stayed quiet, and that was all the answer Neil needed. It made sense, he thought. Andrew had been Kevin’s rock for almost two years now, they’d been practically attached at the hip, and now Andrew was gone. And, Neil suddenly remembered, Kevin wasn’t used to being alone.

He looked at Kevin, hard, and Kevin stared right back, like he was daring him to say something, chin jutting out slightly. The gesture made Neil’s palms tingle with something like excitement, but he wouldn’t be able to explain why. He made a decision and moved back in the bed in silent invitation.

Neil thought he saw Kevin’s shoulders sag a little bit-- with relief or defeat, he couldn’t tell. This time, when Kevin got under the covers, Neil didn’t turn his back to him, but settled with one arm under his pillow and the other tucked close to his chest. Kevin looked at him for a moment longer and then settled on his back, slightly stiff. Neil closed his eyes and didn’t dream anymore.

---

It became a habit after that, and Neil couldn’t say he minded. He was used to sharing a bed with his mom, and even after a year and a half of sleeping alone, having another body by his side eased him a little bit. Kevin seemed to be sleeping better, too, if the receding purple under his eyes was any indication. Aaron and Nicky had even stopped questioning it, instead deciding to ignore it-- or, in Nicky’s case, make an inhuman effort to keep his mouth shut after the look Kevin gave him when he asked, “What was that about homosexual athletes again, Kevin?”

They didn’t really talk about it, though. Neil didn’t know if it was because they didn’t want to, or because they didn’t need to-- the reason why they were doing it was obvious. Kevin had always had someone beside him, be it Riko, or Jean, or Andrew. Andrew had left, leaving Kevin alone for the first time in a year and a half, and he desperately needed something, some one to hold on to.

Neil, on the other hand, had started to rely on Andrew and his promise to keep him alive more than he’d wanted to admit. Sometimes the panic and the nightmares became so unbearable he had to almost physically remind himself he’d promised he wouldn’t run anymore.

What Neil and Kevin needed, they’d reluctantly realized, was each other.

One thing Neil had started to notice, though, was that sometimes he would catch Kevin’s eyes lingering on him in the lounge during practice, and then flicking away, a frown on his face. Neil started to notice other things that he had absolutely no business noticing, too, like the heat of Kevin’s leg next to his when they sat side by side on the couch, or the brush of their arms when they passed each other during drills. It was very distracting and set Neil on edge, but he was starting to get used to it.

And then the Winter Banquet happened, and Kevin figured out who he was… and then he left for Evermore.

---

When he came back, he thought things would change. He thought Kevin would withdraw from him the way he did with everyone else, thought he’d have to move back into his own dorm. What else was he supposed to think, after Kevin’s reaction to his appearance and his brand-new tattoo? He’d probably have nightmares if they slept in the same room, let alone the same bed.

That night he went to bed exhausted, bones weary and injuries aching. He was about to give up on waiting for Kevin to join him (why was he even waiting) when he felt a dip in the mattress beside him. His heart sped up and he turned around slowly, watching as Kevin fought something inside himself and finally got under the covers. Neil took a deep breath and waited.

“Tell me everything,” Kevin said finally, voice rough and shoulders tense. So Neil did.

---

Two nights later, Kevin woke up thrashing, a raw whimper escaping his throat. Neil moved away from him, trying to be as unthreatening as possible until Kevin regained consciousness of his surroundings. Once Kevin was still, breathing hard through his nose and hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, Neil moved again, closer to him. He tried to put himself in Kevin’s shoes, tried to think of what he needed, and decided he probably wanted some gentle comfort. Neil wasn’t the best at handling these sort of situations, since his childhood had been as far from ‘gentle’ or ‘comforting’ as it could get, and his years on the run with his mom hadn’t been much better, but he knew he had to do something. After he’d gone to Evermore, he understood more than ever why Kevin was the way he was. He didn’t necessarily agree with the way he handled himself, but he understood. That feeling, that necessity to not think about himself and help Kevin instead, scared him, but he decided to ignore it for now.

Before touching, Neil asked, “Okay?” trying to make his intentions perfectly clear.

Kevin looked at him with a start but nodded. Neil propped his head up on his elbow and sought Kevin’s left hand beneath the covers, carefully touched his fingertips to his scars, tracing each line with a softness he didn’t know he was capable of. Kevin was looking at him intently, but he didn’t move, so Neil didn’t stop. Finally, Kevin relaxed enough to shift and settle back down on the bed, never removing his hand from Neil’s. He turned on his side and his gaze bored into Neil, intent and with a level of intimacy that unnerved him. But Neil didn't back down, staring back all the same. Eventually Kevin closed his eyes slowly and his breathing deepened. It was only then that Neil pulled back his hand and rested his head back on the pillow, facing Kevin. For the first time since he took that plane to West Virginia, his normally reeling thoughts were quieted as he nodded off, watching Kevin's chest rise and fall slowly.

---

Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes they spoke about Andrew, and sometimes Kevin was drunk and loose-tongued, and he’d tell him about his first year at Palmetto, about that time he tried to recruit Andrew, about everything that had changed since then. Neil knew the story from the papers and Nicky and Aaron, and Jean had talked about the reason Kevin hadn’t insisted, but he wanted to hear it from Kevin himself.

“He didn’t care,” Kevin said, and there was a glint in his eye that Neil knew was a reflection of his own. “He was so good, and he just didn’t give a damn. He still doesn’t,” he added, with a hint of bitterness. Neil kept his eyes on him, watched the alcohol-induced droop of his eyelids, and knew it bothered Kevin greatly that he hadn’t been able to get through to Andrew yet.

“He does care,” Neil said, with more confidence than he felt. He wanted to believe Andrew cared more than he let on.

Kevin shrugged, noncommittal. Neil decided to bring up what Jean had told him.

“Why didn’t you insist on getting him to join the Ravens? Why didn’t Riko? Jean said--”

Kevin looked unhappy at the prospect of Jean sharing anything about him with anyone, even Neil, but explained anyway. “Yeah, Riko wanted Andrew to be a pet. He wanted Andrew to be like Jean. He wanted him to be ‘my pet,’ but he would’ve been his anyway. Andrew couldn’t be that. I wouldn’t let Riko have him.”

Neil watched the heat rise high in his cheeks with fascination and decided to leave it at that. He pulled Kevin down beside him by the collar of his shirt, wincing at the sudden sting in his arms. Kevin settled next to him with a huff, prying Neil’s fingers carefully away from his shirt, annoyed at Neil’s carelessness. They were closer than they usually slept, but Neil decided to blame it on the alcohol. He’d noticed Kevin got a lot touchier during nights like this, and he found he didn’t mind too much. Since he’d joined the Foxes, he’d discovered he craved physical contact in a way he never had before-- that he’d never realized he did.

Kevin lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips to Neil’s tattoo, making Neil shiver slightly. Kevin frowned, but didn’t pull his hand back, just left it there, his thumb brushing against Neil’s cheekbone. Then he finally let his hand fall, but he didn’t move away. Neil could feel the warmth of his breath on his face, smelling of vodka and mint, and he closed his eyes, letting out the air he didn’t know he was holding. When he opened them again, Kevin was asleep.

---

The night before Andrew was supposed to get out of Easthaven, they skipped night practice to go to bed early. As they settled under the covers, Kevin told him about his relationship with Andrew. He was way more sober than Neil expected him to be to have that conversation. Kevin said they’d been hooking up before Neil joined the team. Why-- if-- they had stopped, Kevin didn’t say, and Neil didn’t ask. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.

According to Kevin, Andrew had made the first move. After Columbia, Neil thought that made sense. They had been out at Eden’s, Kevin was tipsy but not drunk, and Andrew had taken him by the back of the neck, had asked him “Yes or no?” and Kevin, confused but not unwilling, had said yes.

After that, it’d become a habit. Except it wasn’t just at Eden’s, but in the dorm, in the locker rooms, sometimes during night practice on the Court. Kevin’s cheeks blushed a faint pink as he explained, but he didn’t give any other hint of his embarrassment, just kept on telling Neil about it.

And oh, Neil realized, Kevin didn’t think it was just a hook-up. He didn’t say it, he certainly didn’t even imply it, but Neil knew. After years of watching Kevin, and after the last few weeks watching him closely like nobody else did, Neil could tell how much he cared about Andrew, beyond his wasted potential on the court.

When Kevin stopped talking, they laid in silence for a few minutes. Neil could hear the sound of a video game in the living room, and the faint sound of Nicky and Aaron’s voices.

“He’s going to be back tomorrow,” Neil said, searching Kevin’s face.

Kevin held his gaze. “I know.”

Neil nodded and took Kevin’s right hand in his, carefully but determinedly intertwining their fingers between their bodies. Kevin took a deep breath but said nothing. Neil shifted on the pillow they shared, putting his head under Kevin’s chin, a breath away from his neck, and exhaled slowly. Kevin stayed still for a few seconds before scoffing softly and getting comfortable. Neil closed his eyes, feeling Kevin’s rough palm under his own, and remembered his mother's words, his promise that he'd live. It wasn't him and her anymore, nor just him. But still, he couldn't help but think that the Foxes along with Andrew and Kevin were a part of him now. And he'd fight like hell to make sure all of the pieces of him survived.