#some of us say slurs [looks at steve and hopper and whoever else]

[ickypuppi3]

“billy tried to hit the kids with his car”

that’s boring why don’t we talk about fred benson fully leaving another kid to die during that car crash

[beepboop358]

How I think the characters will react to Byler when it is officially officially confirmed in the show:

El: once El realizes she doesn't romantically love Mike, she will become an avid byler protector.

El is a badass independent woman with a pure heart of gold. She cares deeply for Mike because he was the first person to show her any sort of compassion, so she will want him to be happy, and after she grows closer to Will, she will want Will to be happy too. El won't understand the societal stigmas around Mike and Will liking each other, since she was raised in a lab away from society and then lived isolated in Hopper's cabin, she has no knowledge of what society deems right from wrong surrounding sexuality and love. She will think other people thinking Mike and Will's relationship is 'wrong' or 'unnatural' is utter bullshit and completely stupid, as she should!

Jonathan: he will be 100% supportive. He knows how Lonnie tormented Will and made homophobic remarks about Will being gay when he was younger. He has always encouraged Will to be himself and ignore what others say, especially what Lonnie says. Jonathan will also be a byler protector.

Jonathan knows Will isn't "normal", he even said Will was "good at hiding" in s1 which has several meanings, and he probably already knows Will likes Mike because of how he immediately turns to look at Will after Mike blurts out he loves El in s3 in Hopper's cabin.

s1 ep. 2: "He's trying to force you to like normal things, and you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed too."

s2 ep. 1: "No I'm serious. You're a freak. But what? Do you want to be normal? Do you wanna be just like everybody else? Being a freak is the best. I'm a freak. Who would you rather be friends with? Bowie or Kenny Rogers? Exactly. It's no contest. The thing is, nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world. You got it?"

------(Some subtle queer coding there with the Bowie reference; David Bowie was a bisexual musician, and he also sings the original version of the song "Heroes" that plays after Will's fake body is found in s1, and the lines that play while Mike cries and hugs his Mom are extremely queer coded: "And we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.")

Nancy: It's implied Nancy and Mike are pretty close, and honestly I think she has always suspected that Mike has a little thing for Will. From the look on Nancy’s face when he blurts out he loves El, it kind of reads as like she doesn’t believe him, because she knows something.

s1 ep.7: "I knew you were acting weird, I just, I thought it was beause of Will"

Joyce: will be 100% supportive, and a protective mama bear of Will as always, but also for Mike. Joyce will join the club of avid byler protectors along with Jonathan and El.

Dustin: avid byler supporter. I think he's picked up on how much Mike cares for Will, how Will cares for Mike, and has probably suspected at least something this whole time. Dustin doesn't care about being considered cool he cares about doing what he likes and being true to himself, and that belief for sure translates into how he views his friends as well. He will absolutely support Mike and Will and treat them normally.

s3 ep.3: "Instead of dating somebody because you think it's gonna make you cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around?" s1 ep.6: "Sometimes your total obliviousness just blows my mind"

Max: She seems pretty perceptive, so she's probably picked up on Mike and Will's 'special dynamics' by now, and we know she's definitely sick of how Mike treated El. She will be supportive of Will and Mike, but mostly she will just be glad Mike isn't with El anymore LOL.

Lucas: I think he definitely notices Mike seems to reallllyyyy care for Will, and that Mike doesn't act the same about El, although he claims too. I think Lucas sees through Mike's bullshit. Look at his smirking face and crossed arms when Mike frantically asks where Will is in s2:

and how he reacts the same way to Mike blurting out he loves El and "can't lose her again" in s3:

Hopper: he will probably want to kill Mike again.

"wait what?! so.. let me get this straight...all that time you were making out with my daughter, you were just...pretending to love her? You lied to her the whole time you two 'dated' yeah? And now you're dating your best friend. Oh god wait, I watched you tell him that asking him to be your friend was the best thing you ever did that night in the shed... Oh you little asshole!"

I can't imagine Hopper being homophobic towards Will and Mike, but I don't see him jumping up and down for them either. He will mainly be upset that Mike dated El when he was actually in love with Will, and not care so much that Mike is in love with another boy, just another person. But once he processes that El is actually okay, he will be fine with it.

Lonnie: is the literal scum of the earth! Obviously Lonnie will hate that Will is gay and dating another man. He will probably make some comments about how he "always knew it" and call Will and Mike homophobic slurs, probably at Will's birthday.

s1 ep.1: "He used to say he was queer, called him a f*g"

Steve: "Oh you two little shits are dating now? But I thought he was into the psionic chick? No? Okay, alright cool. Uh hey have you guys met Robin yet? I think you would get along, you know what I'll introduce you." Steve was so accepting of Robin coming out to him, there's no way he won't have the same kind of reaction for Mike and Will.

Robin: once she gets to actually know them and spend time with them, she will adopt Mike and Will as her gay sons and inspire them to be themselves and help them out whenever they need it. She will also pick up on the fact that they like each other immediately. If we don't get this pairing in s4 because of location logistics, I really hope we get it in s5!!!

Erica: she won't be homophobic, but she just won't care too much.

Karen: will encourage Mike to follow his heart, and like whoever he likes, because a relationship needs real love to survive, and she knows all too well what it is like to be stuck in a relationship with no love, and she doesn't want that for her kids, she wants better for them. She wants Mike to be truly happy no matter what, and she doesn't want to see him repeat her mistakes. Karen will be very supportive of Mike, and probably defend him to Ted.

s1 ep.2: "All this that’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just…I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. I’m here for you okay?”

Ted: he won't be as much of an asshole as Lonnie will be about it, but he will probably make some snarky comments.

s1 ep.7: “our son with a girl? *scoffing*”

[okaybutlikeimagine]

A Father’s Day Triptych

TW: past/referenced child abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, child neglect

(you can find it on AO3 here ♥)

Father’s day in the Hargrove household was always pulled taut with expectations of kindness and submission hanging over Billy’s head.

They didn’t always used to be that way. When he was a kid, Father’s days felt like a reprieve rather than a burden. Billy and his mom would prepare special things- a nice card that would make him laugh, those new fishing poles he’d been eyeing in the big sporting store a town over, a pretty cake with fresh fruit on top from the grocer down the way. His mother went all out. She’d get Billy all excited for it too. The strenuous relationships were softened for a day where they did everything they could to make him happy.

They really did… everything they could just to make him happy. Sometimes Billy still wonders why it had to take so much.

Around Father’s day, his mother would use all her spending money to make his father smile. It usually worked. And for that day, it was so good. It could hardly get better. Grilling and watching stupid baseball games Billy never cared about but would pretend to be interested in, just for him. Fake smiles almost became real. Hot dogs and hamburgers and watermelon always tasted better on those days when his father would put his arm around Billy amicably- when he would laugh at the card and compliment how Billy’s penmanship was getting better every year.

The year that she left was the worst.

The year that she left Billy stopped getting an allowance. He had no money to soften the edges of his father with fresh cakes and fancy presents. He panicked. He stole a stupid fishing keychain from a store and made a card from his school notebook paper. He presented them with shaking hands to his father who seemed glued to the couch, eyes bloodshot, surrounded by beer cans, baseball game so loud Billy’s ears felt sore.

He got a grunt and a lazy eye roll in response. A slurred groan of “your writing is sloppy”. A quieter admission of regret.

He got resentment. Billy was 9 and he knew it was resentment towards his very existence. He slid away to his room. There was no dinner to eat that night as his father passed out on the couch with the TV still on far too loud.

When Susan and Max came into the picture, Billy miraculously found a reason to be happy for it. Suddenly there was pressure taken off of him. He let Max know it too, as Susan encouraged them to go out and “at least get him a card”. They’d lazily look through all the forcibly funny and generic pieces of paper. Max was nervous that first year.

“It’s whatever.” Billy had grunted, looking through ugly green cards with stupid phrases on them. “She’s gonna bang him tonight, he won’t care about a dumb card.”

“Ew.” Max had whined, covering her ears and pouting. Billy couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It was never fun. Billy felt like he was on a leash all day long, obligated to do everything he could for his father just to keep him civil. Susan made a steak, the kids handed over the card, his father remarked how his penmanship was the mark of someone lazy and sloppy (no matter how hard Billy would try to make it as neat as he possibly could), and the day would end. And he could stop thinking about how this man still had a hand in his life.

…

Father’s day in the Hopper household was always bumbling and awkward.

By the time that first one came around, Billy was just beginning to feel less like a burden to the house and more like an addition. He’d found comfort in the space they all shared. They had a sort of routine set between all of them. There was still no second bed for Billy, so he still felt like he was imposing when Hop slept on the couch, but it was a sort of pull out couch by that point and Hop insisted and Billy decided not to pay it too much mind.

And that first Father’s day was just… awkward. Billy had completely forgotten the date- summer had just started for him and days were rolling by in hot and languid and lazy moments of feeling out every new situation. He had just started getting really serious with Steve. Not just touching for the sake of getting off but really starting to need and want each other in ways that scared him. In ways that made him want to keep things how they were- ways that made him scared to change a thing. It was a new and alien feeling for him.

El had inadvertently learned about Father’s day from Mike when he briefly groaned about dinner plans his family had. Billy found that out from El on their drive to the store to pick something up for Hop. She had to convince Billy it was a thing they should do, because Hopper was their father. He did fatherly things for them. He took them in and gave them a roof and food and asked how their days were and wished them goodnight and good morning, however groggily. He made stupid jokes that made them moan and he danced horribly to the old records he kept on their dusty shelf and he was horrible with laundry and he whistled as he did dishes.

He introduced Billy proudly in the grocery store once. It was the weekend after Billy had a really good basketball game that Hop had decided to attend. Hop bragged about it to some friend of his. Billy flushed red and elbowed him and tried his best to escape.

He thought about it every single day.

Billy and El bought a large cheesy balloon, ingredients to make a nice lasagna dinner, and a green and white cake from the bakery. The balloon was more for El. The lasagna was a little burnt. Hop was too nice to say he’d have preferred pie to cake, but he ate it anyway as they sat around the TV and watched whatever program was on. Billy only remembered as he fell slowly into sleep that night. He jolted awake quickly, remembering a sort of far off conversation months ago where Hop had proclaimed confidently that pie was the superior dessert of anything else- yes, even Eggo's with whipped cream and sprinkles. How he admitted cake was never his favorite.

Billy felt shame overcome him as he remembered, pushing himself out of bed and turning to the sofa with the immediate want to apologize for it. He wasn’t sure what came over him.

But instead of sending pleading apologies into the darkness, he just looked towards the sofa with a heavily beating heart and let his eyes adjust. And he thought about all that man had done for the two of them. Thought about how he took in these two stray kids. Thought about how he knew Hop was getting flack for it, because Billy heard the whispers and the snickers and the sneers about Hop running a dog pound. Thought about how he gave up his probably comfier trailer for the rundown cabin, gave up the main bedroom for the dusty spare bed, gave up the dusty spare bed for the couch, gave up parts of his sanity probably…

Billy didn’t wanna apologize anymore. He just whispered a thanks, even though it was hard to push up through his throat and would fall onto sleeping ears.

The Father’s days after that first one got better. They got Joyce, and along with her 2 boys that had their own rocky past with fathers and celebrations of them. Just four kids who feared and resented father figures. It ended up being better than Billy could imagine. It was never quite as awkward as that first Father’s day, but never quite comfortable either. That being said, it was never a bad day. The bar was low, but that didn’t matter. Billy found appreciation for the general ease all the same.

…

Father’s day in the Hargrove-Harrington-”whatever we’re together now and that’s what’s most important” household is filled with guilt and feelings of imposter syndrome.

They don’t celebrate it the first two or so years after they’ve adopted their first child. He’s just a toddler, he doesn’t quite understand yet what it is. And they… they’re still struggling with what it means to be fathers. They’re confident in their rights but they’re not immune to the judgmental voices, always eyeing them oddly when they’re out together with their boy or asking after the mother when they’re out separately. Always looking a little judgmental or harsh when they have to explain why the kid doesn’t look like them- whoever is with him at the time. Or getting looks of pity when the people clearly begin to assume it’s because they couldn’t get pregnant with whatever wife must be at home.

It’s hard to hear. It makes them question everything. If their boy doesn’t know what he’s missing, then there’s no need to explain.

Billy calls Hopper and feels his heart lurch when Hop and Joyce wish him and Steve a happy father’s day. They do it with joy and certainty. As if it belongs to them, too. Billy hangs up the phone and lays in bed for at least half an hour. Steve can’t get through to him.

It’s an odd feeling. A rough feeling. When they adopt their second child, a girl of 9 years old, they know they’re going to have to confront it. Their son begins school that year too. They find out about the day from their friends and television ads and store windows. The children are timid with them- they were adopted as supposed “problem children” from rough homes and tumultuous pasts. Billy and Steve don’t expect anything of them but they’re still not sure how to explain that. They figure ignoring is easier than explaining. Maybe it’ll make it go away.

It doesn’t work well.

And Billy… Billy’s just struggling being a dad. He couldn’t explain the job if he tried. He helps make lunches, he gives timeouts, he buys and subsequently sneaks himself some silly little snack foods when he’s hungry and busy and doesn’t have time to do more than rip open a pouch. He deals with tantrums over vegetables and he wipes mouths with napkins and he sings lullabies in the wrong key and he reads bedtime stories until he himself dozes off in the tiny bed with a small head on his chest and drool pooling onto his shirt.

He’s trying. He gets frustrated at stores. He gets a little hot headed, a little loud. His heart breaks when they cry. He’s straddling the line between being a pushover and a hard-ass. He lays awake at night, staring at the ceiling, dreading ever becoming like Neil. He asks Steve, in the stillness of the night when the darkness acts as the weight of every horrible outcome imaginable, if he’ll follow Neil’s wretched footsteps.

“You’ll never be like him, Billy.”

“How do you know? What if it’s inside me already.”

“It’s not.”

“Maybe it is… maybe I won’t be able to help it.”

He stresses and he struggles and he wants to rip his hair out.

But that first father’s day comes around with their new daughter and newly knowledgeable son. And the two children blunder around the kitchen while their two dads are asleep. And then they wake the two parents up, both teary eyed and breathing heavy, faces full of apology and sorrow, asking for help to clean up the mess.

And Billy and Steve find the kitchen a single step back from full on disaster. There’s juice all over the counter and dripping onto the floor, the cereal box is all soggy from it, the toaster is smoking, a plate is broken on the ground, the fridge is still open. Their daughter pulls on Billy’s pajama pants and holds out her finger that’s bleeding. He gets out of her that she somehow managed to cut it on the butter knife she was using to cut up some fruit.

Steve gets busy cleaning things up. He asks their son to help do smaller things like close the fridge and grab some towels.

Billy takes his daughter’s small soft hand into his large, rough one and plants a kiss on it. It sends something like pure love surging through his heart. He guides her to the bathroom to put a bandaid on it and asks if she’s okay.

“Mmhm.” She nods and his heart softens. She sniffles. “M’sorry. We wanted… wanted to make breakfast and w-wanted to do something nice.”

She sounds like the weight of the world is on her small shoulders. Billy sees himself at 9 years old, doing his damnedest to get anything close to a damn smile out of his father while he sat unresponsive and unamused on the couch.

His heart yearns. It breaks and it pulls and it screams and it shouts. He pulls her in close and hugs her tight and tries to find the right words. Tries to tell her it’s made his entire year. It’s made him feel validated and happy and worth it, like all of that stress is worth it just to know that these two children got up early as hell on a Sunday morning just to surprise their fathers. Just to surprise the two of them. Just to say they thought of them, wanted to give them something, wanted to make them feel special.

“It was nice.” Is all he can croak out through his froggy throat.

“It’s a mess.” She sobs, but he just grips her arms tighter.

“It was wonderful.” He says and he’s crying too. He can’t get the tears to stop. He’s kneeling on the bathroom ground, the two of them crying to each other.

And Billy swears he’ll never get good at the father thing. He has talks with Hop about it, when he’s feeling vulnerable and Hopper’s able to get it out of him. By this point they’ve adopted another child- an older boy, a teenager. He’s rough and he’s jaded. He listens to loud, angry music. He kind of picks on the other two kids, even though he’d jump in front of a bus for either one of them. Hop asks how he likes it.

“He’s a lot like you were, y’know.” Hop tells Billy, who still doesn’t really see it.

Steve doesn’t have as much of a problem with the boy as Billy does. Billy and him just never seem to see eye to eye.

“It’s because you’re the same people.” Hop insists. Steve agrees. Joyce affirms with pity. “You clash.”

They clash hard. They get into yelling matches. Billy never puts a hand on him, but the arguments aren’t exactly great. Billy cries to Steve at night, fear shaking him down to his core, still able to see and hear himself yelling at that boy who fights tooth and nail back with him.

“You’re not a bad person, Billy.”

“Why do I do that shit?” He asks, knowing full well no one but him could ever really know.

It’s not like it’s anything too vitriolic. It’s not like it’s anything really poisonous.

It’s over the fact that he stays out too late at night, and Billy gets worried. It’s the fact that Billy found cigarettes in his room and he knows the bad effects of cigarettes. It’s the fact that he pushed his little brother one day and made him scrape his knee and he needed to learn some boundaries. It’s the fact that he lied about his grades when Billy felt they gave him no reason to do such a thing.

It’s fatherly things. That’s what Hop assures him as Billy cries on the phone with him.

“It’s things I would have done with you.”

Billy never ever knows what to make of that. What to make of what he’d be like now if Hop was his father from the start. If Hop was there from the beginning. If Neil hadn’t made him a monster in his own image.

Billy does his best to get through to him. Get through to his son now because he’s his son now.

Billy feels like the worst, most undeserving father.

As the kids have gotten older, they learned better ways to celebrate father’s day. They learn breakfast in bed isn’t really what the two of them would prefer- a nice lunch and getting to spend some time with them sounds better. A homemade card always goes on the mantle or the fridge with the rest of the collection. A few hugs because those are like treasured gifts in this house with kids who have a history of boundary and trust issues with parental figures.

The older son catches Billy alone in the kitchen.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Billy replies awkwardly back. The silence is jarring.

“I uh… uhm.” He’s struggling. Billy wants to do something more than just stand here, but he’s not sure what. He doesn’t want to push anything too far. He wants to be good at this.

The boy puts a small, wrapped box on the counter with an envelope underneath and slides it over.

“Happy Father's day.” He mumbles, suddenly fidgeting.

Billy stares at them.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

There’s another pause, heavy with all the weight and worry in Billy’s heart. He reaches for the box, rips the paper open easily, lifts up the lid.

“It’s uh… it’s just a couple tapes of some of those… bands you like. And talk about. All the time.” The boy snickers, but it catches in his throat. He’s so nervous. “My friend’s family was getting rid of a bunch of their tapes and I know you’ve got your old tape player still so… uh… yeah.”

It’s a mixed bag of absolute classics. Some tapes he used to have, others he’s always wanted. Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, Def Leppard, Billy Idol, AC/DC, Alice Cooper… his heart skips. He lost a lot of his tapes after all the sudden moves he’s had to make. His eyes start to well.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” Billy pushes out on a whisper.

“Are they any good?”

“They’re… they’re awesome, kid.”

“There’s a card too y’know.” The boy adds, still shuffling nervously.

Billy slips it out from under the box, pulling his finger underneath the flap to open it.

It’s… it’s ridiculous. It’s one of the cheesiest cards Billy’s ever seen. He thinks back to all the stupid, jokey cards he used to pick out with his mother. The joke inside actually makes him laugh, loud and bright.

There’s words written underneath, quite a few scribbled out and then-

Sorry for all the trouble. I think I just don’t like knowing you’re right sometimes… but thank you for everything.

The words are nearly chicken scratch- wobbly letters clearly written with a nervous and shaky hand. The boy is damn near bouncing now, damn near trying to crawl out of his skin with nerves.

It’s the best, prettiest, most wonderful chicken scratch handwriting Billy has ever seen. He can barely see it now through his misty eyes.

“Your… handwriting is really nice.”

The boy scoffs loudly.

“Uh, thanks?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Still, Billy could swear he sees the boy preen, just a little.

“Thank you.” Billy says, fighting back tears, trying like hell to hold himself together. “I’m sorry, too. I don’t… I don’t have to yell at you so much. At all. I’m sorry about it.”

The boy is just staring at him, eyes a little wide and a little shocked. Billy feels his heart lurch. He just wants to be fucking good at this.

“I’m gonna do better.” Billy asserts through a not-so-wobbly-anymore voice

The boy gives a small smile that grows a bit wider. If Billy isn’t absolutely crazy yet, he’d say that the boy’s eyes are getting a bit misty too.

“So are those tapes actually good?” The boy asks, clearing his throat and trying to seem casual. Billy sees more and more of himself in him.

“Hell yeah… do you think I’d have bad taste?”

His son cackles just a bit, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, alright then. Whatever you say.”

There’s a pause. Billy takes the card and tucks it back into the envelope to save for himself- to put in a special place in his and Steve’s room. He then busies himself with shuffling through his tapes before his son says-

“We can… listen to some of them. If you want.”

Billy’s eyes shine with excitement and appreciation.

Listening to the tapes together is wonderful. They rib each other about what songs are better, what voices do and don’t sound the same, what the lyrics are like. They learn more about each other and maybe Billy is finally forced to admit that they’re a lot more alike than he realized.

And Billy starts to feel that maybe… maybe he can finally define what a father really means to him. And father’s days start to feel a bit more like they belong to him, too.

[mampysou]

Day 11 of Harringrove April.

Also read on AO3

Some blood and injury detail below and homophobic language.

Hug

He doesn’t know why he followed the noise; you’d think after everything that had happened over the last year in Hawkins he wouldn’t, but here he was chasing after a strange grumbling sound. He couldn’t quite describe it. It sounded human. Just. Whatever or whoever it was sounded in pain, and being the sap he was, he needed to check it out before he could leave with peace of mind.

The back street was dark and damp in the rain, the fat drops bounced out of puddles and dropped from his nose. The noise was getting louder and he tried his best to quiet his feet. His mother always said he sounded like a baby elephant when he moved around and complained loudly, and regularly, that he woke her on his way out to work. He was sure he had to turn one more corner and he would be in sight of whatever was making the noise.

He steeled himself, preparing to run in case he once again came face to face with a monster from a different dimension. Though running wouldn’t do him much good if he did. A sudden need to be armed tore through him as he scanned the floor for anything that could be used as a weapon. He picked up a trash can lid and swing it around a few times. If that hero guy in Dustin’s comics could use a shield to beat people up surely Steve could do the same, right?

He tested its weight and slipped his hand through the handle, gripping it tightly. All his friend would be cursing his name if they knew where he was right now. He had promised them and, in turn, made them promise him that this wasn’t something they would be doing by themselves ever. If there was ever any sign of trouble he should radio immediately and they would come running. Night or day his little pack of nerds would be there.

But for some reason Steve was convinced that this was something he shouldn’t call them for. It’s not that he won’t need them, but he felt like they shouldn’t see what’s coming. It sent a shiver of nerves and apprehension down his spine as he reached the corner. ‘Shield’ up and ready he took the final step towards the unknown.

The last thing he expected to see when he rounded the building was a person scrunched into the smallest ball possible, flithy, wet and bleeding. He didn’t recognise them, but he rushed forwards regardless. He checked the area for anything suspicious, before crouching next to shaking body.

He could see they were male now, no women in Hawkins were built like that. Strong arms wrapped over his head, like he was protecting it, and his knees touched his chest. A feat would have deemed impossible if he hadn’t seen it, due to so incredibly tight blue jeans.

The guy had cuts up his arms and what looked to be handprints wrapped around his wrists. His jeans had tears in them, and grazes in the holes like he had fallen on the pavement. He could see tiny bits of gravel wedged inside the cuts and scrapes, which were crying out to be cleaned.

Steve didn’t touch him at first, seeing how terrified this guy was he didn’t know how he would react. He just spoke to him in quiet but firm terms.

“Hey. How can I help?” he said seeing the whole-body shudder as his voice reached the boys ears. “You're injured and need medical attention; can I drive you to the hospital?”

The guy’s head shot up and Steve tried not to fall back on his arse. Billy Hargrove’s face looked back at him frozen in terror. His blue eyes ringed with red and both eye sockets turning deep shades of purple. His lip was cut and he had another hand print around his neck.

“No fucking hospitals.” He croaked voice not sounding anything like Steve knows it should.

Steve kept calm. It didn’t matter who it was, Billy still needed help and he would give it as best he could. “Right, so can I take you back home?” This reaction was worse. Billy flinched away from him, back hitting the wall, and Steve heard all the air puff out of him.

“Okay so not home either then.” Steve supplied.

Billy, who Steve was sure hadn’t recognised him yet, probably because his eyes were on the way to swelling up, tried to speak again. He coughed twice before he managed, “That ain’t my home no more.” And his head dropped back into his hands.

Steve nodded to himself and came up with his last suggestion, he had assumed that not hospitals meant, no police either because taking someone in in this condition would over lead to them turning up anyway.

“My house then. Its empty, just me home tonight and I have all the stuff I need to help you out.” He watched for any reaction and for a while there was nothing. Just as he was about to give in he caught the barest nod of his head in agreement.

“I am going to help you up, okay?” He reached out to grab Billy somewhere it probably wouldn’t hurt too much, only to be shoved away by tattered fists. Whoever did this to Billy, he obviously fought back. He watched as Billy tried to stand with very little success. Steve gently wrapped his arm around his waist, hoisted Billy’s arms around his shoulders and started the long trudge back to his car.

What felt like an hour later, but was probably only about fifteen minutes, they got back to Steve’s car. Billy went rigid next to him; he internally cursed the blonde must have recognised his car.

“Jesus fuck, of course it’s you, Harrington.” He spluttered around a cough.

“Yeah, yeah, just get in the car so we can get you sorted out, Hargrove.” He complained as he man-handled Billy into the bimmer. “What happened Billy?” he asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Got beat up moron. What the fuck does it look like?” he grumbled at Steve.

“Hargrove got beat up? Who did you fight a giant?” he asked trying his best to keep the mocking from his voice.

“No, just four guys.”

“Four? Why the hell did they do that?” he asked. How on earth Billy got a single punch in was beyond him. Fighting four people wasn’t like in the movies. They didn’t wait patiently for the first guy to stop hitting you then attack. No, they tended to rush you, hoping to over whelm, which clearly, they managed.

“What did you say to get in this state?” he amended. Billy had a notoriously short fuse; one Steve had been on the receiving end of more than once.

Billy looked so pale. His tan face was much greyer now losing nearly all its usual golden colour. “Was just being me. Didn’t know his friends were waiting. Fucking dick heads.”

“What do you mean being me?” he asked quietly trying not to spook him now he was opening up. He could only imagine he wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying.

“’m usually more careful ya know.” Billy’s words were slurring but he seemed to be on a role. “But he was hot and was flirtin’ so I thought fuck it. Let’s try.” Steve thought he got what Billy was saying but this is Billy Hargrove, he could be, could he? “He tugged me round a corner then his buddies were there and they just went off. Calling me a faggot and stuff.” He groaned. “My head is fucking killing me.”

Steve stayed silent. Just drove towards his house in shock. Billy had just told him he was gay. Or at very least liked to hook up with guys. He wouldn’t judge. He was friends with Robin and he could appreciate a hot looking guy. Rob Lowe and David Bowie were something else. So, yea, no judging here.

He pulled into his drive and Billy was drifting off in his seat. Steve knew this wasn’t great, he needed Billy to stay awake. He had no clue why, just that it was bad news. He slammed the car door shut behind him hoping it would jar Billy awake before he had to get him out of the car.

Luck was on his side for once as Billy stared at him, glassy eyed but at least awake. Heaving Billy into the house was no mean feat, especially as this time he seemed to be putting in little to no effort.

“You weigh a fucking tonne!” Steve complained as he propped Billy against the door.

“s’all muscle baby!” he grinned at Steve, tongue peeking out from behind his bloodied teeth and swaying a bit as he attempted to flex. Steve just held in an eye roll. Of course Billy was flirting, he would always find time to flirt no matter how beaten down he looked.

“Just get in the house Hargrove.” He said pointing in the direction of kitchen. Billy seemed to have regained some semblance of control as his used the wall to help him in the right direction. Steve tried not to cringe as he watched the smear of blood and dirt lengthen down the hall but at least he would have a while to clean it up before anyone else came home again.

He found Billy slumped on the floor, against a cabinet, head once again cradled in his hands. Steve collected what he needed from around his house and returned to crouch down near him again. He laid everything out in between them both and pointed to each one as he was about to use it. He moved slowly, gently and carefully whilst he cleaned and patched up Billy.

Billy just stared at him the entire time. He nodded silently every time Steve asked permission to do something until he finished. He still looked like shit but at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

“So...” Steve started, not really knowing where he was going. “Can I get you to go to the cops Billy? Those guys targeted you and that fucking sucks.” Billy was already shaking his head. “But Hopper could help you Billy!” Steve insisted.

“No fucking way. No one would help me, he would probably just add to the bruises. No one helps people like me Harrington.” He snapped, but there was no venom in it. Just aching sadness that Steve felt to his core.

“I did. And I would again.” He stated softly. But quickly he felt anger rising inside him. “You shouldn’t have to go through this shit just because you are... Because you like... Guys!” He was so angry by the end, how could anyone believe they were so alone that no one would help them when they were hurt and broken? Part of Steve screamed that he understood. It could have gone that way for him after Nancy if he hadn’t had Dustin or Robin.

“I’m dirty, Harrington. People don’t like dirty things.” He told him. His shoulders were slumped and he looked down and away from Steve.

Steve surged forward and ignored Billy’s flinch as he did. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled his head in towards his neck. It was a damn awkward hug but eventually Billy relaxed and locked his hands behind Steve’s back. As he held Billy he spoke to him. “You are not alone Billy. Any time you need help you come to me. I will help you. You aren’t dirty.” He hesitated but ploughed on to a confession.

“If you’re dirty then so am I. And so is my best friend. So fuck them and stay where we can help.” A silence hung in the air it was tense as he felt Billy’s hands tighten in his jacket.

“You’re like me?” he asked. His voice muffled by Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I am.” He stated. It was the first time he had admitted it to himself let alone said it out loud.

“Oh.” Not quite what Steve was expecting him to say.

“Yeah, oh.”

Billy lifted his head and looked Steve straight in the eyes and said, “So Harrington, can I take you on a date?”

Hope you liked it!

[anaking-streetwalker]

You Don’t Know What It Would Do

Steve wasn’t going to be a coward tonight. He swore it to himself.

(he was)

TW: suicide attempt, mentions of self-harm, homophobic slurs Steve was standing a step away from the edge of the quarry. Any closer and the rocks might slip out from under him, rendering him no control even over his death. 

(which was the one thing he hoped desperately to make his own)

His hands were in the pockets of the thin jacket he threw on before getting out of his car.

He decided on that one because it was lightweight enough to let his body float atop the water after it broke his bones. 

(he had a better, thicker, heavier another one in the passenger seat of the BMW if he decided he wanted to sink it.)

His legs felt a little wobbly. The pills he took earlier were finally doing their job, he guessed. 

The one night Steve Harrington had enough courage to not be a goddamn coward, the one night he finally wasn’t carting around kids, the one night he didn’t have a tutor, the one night he wasn’t third-wheeling on Nancy and Johnathan, he shows up.

Billy Har-fucking-grove. 

And he was really going to do it, too. Had the note in his car and everything, a small list distributing a few of his belongings under it. 

A car roared up along the road behind him, startling him out of thoughts he didn’t know he was having. Some sort of metal music poured out of the open windows along with the smell of cigarette smoke.

“The hell are you doing here, Harrington?”

His words were slurred but Steve didn’t think it was from anything drug-related. It sounded like he was just high off of the thrill of driving down the empty highway at 70 miles per hour. Steve understood that. Whenever his parents were around he’d pretend to be busy and drive to Indy and back just to avoid his dad’s fists and his mom’s words.

“You know, I really don’t see how it has anything to do with you, Billy,” he shouted over his shoulder as the Camaro came to a stop a few feet away. 

“Didn’t know we were on a first-name basis, pretty boy.”

“Yeah, well…” Steve trailed off. How did he respond to that? ‘I’m going to kill myself and maybe I’m just enough of a faggot to not want you to think I hated you when I was finally gone’?

He didn’t say anything else, only took a step back. He didn’t resent Billy enough to force him to watch another boy’s death. Billy sat in his car for a while longer. When he turned up his music, Steve turned and walked to his car. He opened the backseat and shed his thin jacket to replace it with the larger one. A flash caught his eye from the floorboard. Steve reached over to grab the bloody razor blade, slipping it in the pocket of the thick jacket.

“If you’re cold why don’t you just sit in your fancy car with the heating, huh?”

“Not cold,” he mumbled back. He stepped back toward the ledge, crossing his legs underneath him and sinking down slowly. The cigarette that had been hanging from his lips fell into his lap, tumbling into the rocks and snuffing itself out. He grabbed another one out of the box in his front pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag.

“Hey, King Steve! Can I bum a cig? Smoked all mine of the way here.”

The older boy just sighed and turned toward Billy’s car, tossing the whole box.

“Feelin’ generous tonight aren’t we, rich boy?”

“I’m not, actually. Just won’t need them anymore.”

“Aw, you trying to quit? Pretty boy finally got his morals together?”

Steve let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. 

“I was hoping that tonight I’d be alone out here so I could finally fucking jump, but you had to take that, too, didn’t you?” He got up and went to his car once again, fishing the note and list from his dash. He walked around the front of his car and approached Billy’s.

 “I guess you can give this to the police or whoever realizes that I’m gone since you’re already here,” he continued, offering them to Billy between his middle and pointer finger. Instead, the other boy grabbed his wrist. He either ignored the scars. 

“You can’t go dying on me, Harrington. Don’t want to end up babysitter for those kids of yours.��

“A little late for that, Billy. Just—just look away or something if you don’t want to watch.” He pried his hand out of Billy’s grip and turned back to the quarry. Seconds after, the driver door of the Camaro was slamming shut. 

“You’re being stupid, Harrington!”

“That’s kinda what put me here, Hargrove.” Steve vaguely registered a hand slapping him upside the head. 

“No, it’s not. This,” he gestured between Steve and the ledge, “is stupid. Everyone’s just going to be sad. King Steve will be gone and they’ll finally realize that there’s nothing to do in this shit town but go to your parties and sleep. Those kids? Hell, even my kid sister! What’re they going to think when Nanny Steve is gone? Who else is going to waste their time taking them to that damn arcade every day because of their stupid martyr complex?”

“I’m sure someth—”

“No, Harrington. You listen to me, now. You aren’t going to kill yourself. We’re not friends or whatever but it word gets around that you’ve offed yourself I might revive you and kill you again because of what it’ll do. To everyone.” Billy jabbed him in the chest at the end of his ramble.

“Now you’re going to get in your rich boy car and I’m going to make sure you get to your rich boy house and then I’m going to watch you burn that stupid note and throw the rest of it in your stupid rich boy pool. Oh, and you’re going to give me that blade in your pocket, am I clear?”

A ghost of a smile made itself evident on Steve’s face. How ironic—he hoped that was the right use of ironic—the boy who beat his face in not a year ago and hated his guts more than anything is the only one to give a shit. He didn’t realize that he was kissing Billy until a warm hard slipped itself in his back pocket. 

“Knew you were a fucking fairy, Harrington,” Billy mumbled.

“You’re squeezing my ass,” Steve shot back.

Steve ended up giving the razor to Billy, and he let the boy watch him set the note alight. He also let Billy take him to the hospital, where Hopper was waiting for them. Steve got some new meds and got his stomach pumped and was finally released a few days later.

(the strings were still missing from his shoes)

The next time he showed up at school, a small smile crinkled the corners of Billy’s eyes when he caught Steve’s in the hall.