#Billy Balls Flower

[hollywoodoutbreak]

Since Hannah Montana ended its run in 2011, Miley Cyrus has devoted nearly all of her efforts to building up her music career. And she's done so very successfully: Each of her four studio albums (plus an EP) have made the Top 5, and she's had a pair of No. 1 singles, with Wrecking Ball and last year's Flowers, which is still on the Adult Contemporary chart. Meanwhile, her acting career has, for the most part, been on the back burner. With the occasional exception, like her excellent 2019 episode of Black Mirror, most of her screen appearances have come as, well, Miley Cyrus. In an interview with W Magazine, though, Cyrus announced that she's once again interested in pursuing her acting career, provided the right roles come along. Early in her career, of course, her father -- singer/actor Billy Ray Cyrus -- played a large role in helping her navigate her showbiz career. We've spoken to Miley many times over the course of her career, and she's told us that no matter what she's wanted to do, he's always been a supportive father.

Cyrus can be seen in a new interview on "My Next Guest Needs No Introduction with David Letterman," currently streaming on Netflix.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 1

Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).

So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.

I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.

Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.

Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.

****

Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:

PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE $1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS $3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985 SENIOR BALL

Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.

There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.

Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.

“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.

Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.

He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.

He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.

There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.

And Steve hoped it was a good day.

****

Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.

Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.

Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.

He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.

He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.

“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”

A couple of kids snickered.

“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.

That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.

Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.

“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”

“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.

The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”

“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”

The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.

When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”

Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”

“323B.”

“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”

Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”

Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”

This time it was Harrington who winced.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.

“Shit.”

Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”

Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.

“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.

Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.

“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”

“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”

Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.

“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”

“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.

Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.

Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.

“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”

Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”

He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”

Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”

And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.

And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

****

Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.

Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.

Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.

He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.

So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.

He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.

Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.

He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.

Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!

Now that was an idea.

He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.

A smile spread over his face.

That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.

He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.

Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.

He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.

****

Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.

He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.

They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.

The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.

And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.

Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.

But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.

To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?

Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.

But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.

He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.

He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.

“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.

“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”

“What did you do?”

So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”

“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”

Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.

“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.

Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.

It would just have to wait until Monday.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART THREE)

Summary: After the previous day's events relentlessly play out in your head you come to the realisation it's time to move on from any hopes you had of rekindling your relationship with Tommy. But just as you decided to turn the page, Tommy's thoughts begin to be plagued by the past. His attempts at confessing how he really feels short lived when he discovers he has been betrayed on the day his plan to take out Billy Kimber falls apart.

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining

Authors note: The song Y/N sings is "Where have all the flowers gone" covered by Olivia Newton-John.

" Shit..." you said as you looked in your bathroom mirror dabbing the cut on your throat with a cotton ball doused in alcohol as you glanced down at your trembling hand, quickly grabbing it with the other to stop the shaking as your frustration with the constant nerves engulfing your every waking breath refused to relent. Walking over to your bed you sat down as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes. How was there even any left? You thought to yourself as you rested your head in your hand, exhausted from another night of almost no sleep. Biting the corner of your mouth you gave up letting the tears fall down your arm as the previous day's events played out in your head, tormenting you over and over again at the bitter pill you had finally forced yourself to swallow. This was it. I'ts over, there was no point in trying to kid yourself into thinking otherwise. Tommy may not have said the words to you himself but Kimber's men had made it clear to you of his feelings when they had a knife pushed up against your neck threatening your life. He was protecting the new barmaid he had known for five minutes by giving your name so freely, putting you in harm's way, the woman he had known his whole life the same woman he once wanted to marry at all cost. You thought to yourself as you glanced at his pocket watch sitting on your bedside table, glaring at it as if he had returned his love back to you, discarding anything he once felt for you like he had with your own feelings for him. Standing up you wiped your tears away as you straightened your body out trying to regain some sort of control over your emotions. Would he even care if you told him what happened when you left the Garrison? What did it even matter, you quickly determined. You had no intentions of telling him, you would not let him think you needed his protection, have him pity you, have him believe you couldn't fend for yourself. You was on your own now that much was clear, his feelings towards you finally understood when he replaced the one thing you never thought he would with such disregard and heartlessness. If Tommy was moving on it was time you did the same. No more tears no more day dreaming of what could have been. From this day forward you promised yourself not to let the heartbreak he had caused you drag you down any further. New me, new start. You mentally hummed to yourself like a mantra as you looked in the mirror hanging on the wall, holding up the burgundy dress you had picked out against your body. "Fuck him" you said as you nodded at your reflection, reassuring yourself on the hardest decision you had ever made. Grace can have him, good luck to her.

" Where is she?" Tommy huffed as he loomed over the large table in the room adjacent to the betting shop as his family looked on shrugging their shoulders. " I dont have fucking time to wait around for her shit" Tommy said as he pulled out his new pocket watch, the weight of it not feeling the same, the shape of it not sitting in his hand how he liked how he had become accustomed to.

" Yes your relentless brooding over her is not obvious at all" Polly uttered quietly under her breath as she licked her finger, turning the page of the newspaper in front of her as Arthur and John sniggered at eachother.

" What's that, hm?" Tommy said as he leaned forward his eyes darting between the three of them as Arthur put his hands up in defence unable to hold back the laugh he had been trying to keep in. You were getting under his skin, and Arthur found it the most comical thing he witnessed all week.

" Sorry brother" Arthur said as he sniffed back his laughs clearing his throat. "But she always has had you by your balls. Not that you'll ever admit it" Arthur snickered as the whole room let out a burst of small laughs whilst Tommy's face twisted in anger. There was nothing more loving than teasing a family member in the Shelby house.

" Right you all done? " he said pointing at everyone as he pulled his pocket watch out to check the time again " Five minutes" he mumbled as he clenched his jaw. " I'll fire every single one of you" Tommy muttered as he sat down in his chair with a huff.

" Alright now that you've had your little temper tantrum can we get to business. And she's ten minutes late not five" Polly said taking a sip of tea, a smile on her lips as she watched the realisation on Tommy's face. His watch for the first time in ten years was on time. Fuck. He had become so used to it being five minutes late he would plan all his meetings around the little habit you had started ten years ago, never bothering to or wanting to turn it to the right time. Except this time you was ten minutes late. Just as Tommy was about to get into another rant about your tardiness the sound of your heels echoing loudly though the betting shop had everyone but Tommy turn their head.

"Fabulous" Polly mouthed to you when you walked into the room, motioning up and down with her hand at your outfit as Tommy's head nearly flew of his neck when he turned to face John and the wolf whistle he had just sent your way.

"There she is" Arthur said, sending you a wink of approval as you strutted through the room with a new air of confidence passing by Tommy as he finally turned his head to you. Looking you up and down Tommy cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat hitching his trousers further up, his eyes widening as he looked you over. Was this for his benefit or everyone else's he wondered as he looked at the way your dress hugged every curve of your body, every curve he could never keep his hands off.

" You're late" he said as his eyes pierced into you, piercing through that fucking dress you had decided to wear to make him jealous, to torment him. He thought to himself as he tried to stay composed, tried to stop himself from saying something he would regret.

" Oh am I?" you replied nonchalantly as you pulled a chair out from the side, scrapping it along the floor to the opposite end of the end of table. " Only five minutes though" you said sitting down, having not once looked at him since you entered the room.

" Ten" Tommy replied as he leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, his fingers resting in front of his lips as he watched you brush your hair behind your shoulder. Something was different. And since when did you start wearing dresses like that? Tommy thought to himself when he suddenly determined you had a new man. His only evidence being that dress he couldn't keep his eyes off and the small remark you made the other day about your relationship being over, a remark that had been playing on his mind ever since. His eyes still boring into you, Tommy quickly decided he'd find the bastard you was dating and rip his throat out for daring to go near you. Had everyone forgotten the warning he had given?

" Replaced that too I see" you said finally looking up as your eyes locked onto each others, a smirk on you lips as you enjoyed your new founded confidence. Last night's events had finally given you the push you needed, the wake up call you had been longing for.

"Shall we start" Polly said as everyone else who had been watching your interactions finally shifted their eyes away from the palpable tension between you. Nodding his head Tommy lit a cigarette shaking the flame from the match as he continued to watch you in the corner of his eye.

All throughout the meeting you could feel the heat of his glare burning into your cheeks with every minute that passed whilst you constantly fidgeted in your chair, desperately wanting to free yourself from his incessant stare. Your confidence was back but not enough to face his piercing blue eyes that he enjoyed watching you squirm under and the foul mood he had forced you and everyone else to endure. As for Tommy he had no interest in what his family had to stay. Instead he was more concerned as to what had you looking so pleased with yourself so poised, a far cry from how you had been in recent years. His concerns only heightened when John went over dates for an event Tommy had planned for everyone in celebration. A celebration for what, nobody new yet.

"Talked with Aunt Pol, only date free is February the fifteenth, in a month's time for your...whatever it is" John said chewing on the end of his pencil as he squinted at his handwriting on the piece of paper in front of him. " No the sixteenth" he said looking up as Polly rolled her eyes.

" The nineteenth" she said as she shook her head at her nephew whilst John shrugged his shoulders replacing the pencil in his mouth with a toothpick.

" Right yeh, fine" Tommy said as he mentally went through the dates in his head, hoping his plans in a week's time would go the way he wanted to actually have something to celebrate about. "Y/N you gonna write that down?" he said looking to you as he tapped his fingers on the table trying to gain your attention.

" I can't come" you said as you finished writing in your notebook finally looking up to see the irritation growing in Tommy's face.

" It's a company gathering. You don't have a choice. Moving on..." Tommy said as he flicked his ash into the glass dish beside him as he lent back into his chair.

" I'm not obligated. It wasn't in my contract" you said as you crossed your arms.

" You don't have a contract" Tommy scoffed as he rubbed his brow in frustration.

" Well I want one, that way I know exactly where I stand"

"Think you're making it pretty clear were you stand sweetheart" Tommy said as you glared at him. " So what is it that has you so busy you can't come, care to share it with us?"

" I have plans with someone" you lied. In truth, you didn't have any reason to not got to Tommy's event. You just didn't want to, knowing you wouldn't be able to endure another evening watching him with her again.

"You have plans with someone in a month's time? Who?" Tommy asked stubbing out his cigarette getting annoyed with your short response" With who Y/N?"

" What's it got to do with you?"

" Another man, is that it hm? You fuckin..."

" Right think we're done ay" Arthur said standing up as he clapped his hands together cutting Tommy off in attempt to break the tension before a slagging match ensued between you both. Staring eachother down you was the first to get up, briskly walking away with a scowl on your face as Tommy brushed his hand down his face.

" See that fucking attitude I have to deal with?" Tommy said as he stood up turning to Arthur. It wasn't the first spat you had ever had in front of everyone but it had been the first time in a long time that you finally bit back at his words, catching him of guard.

" Wonder where she learnt that?" Arthur said as he placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder before walking off with a smirk on his face.

" I won't stand for this kind of attitude in a work place! Hey, you all listening to me?" Tommy shouted as he turned to everyone in the betting office and their weak attempts to hide the amusement on their faces.

" We hear you baby brother!" Arthur called out as he grabbed his hat walking out the door. Clearly everyone was mad at him, mad at the way he had treated you the previous evening in the Garrison . But Tommy was just as mad at himself for letting the events play out. He felt blindsided by Grace's gift. He needed you to know that, he needed you to know the last thing he wanted was to be parted from it.

It had been a few hours since the meeting when the tension between you and Tommy had almost turned into a full blown argument one that potentially had the chance of you launching anything you could find at him. Thankfully Arthur had intervened, stopping you from embarrassing yourselves in front of the whole betting shop. For the remainder of the day you had stayed out of each others way letting your anger towards one another simmer down. But an hour before closing time Tommy had called you into his office. His plan was to apologise for the previous evening, albeit in a cold uniquely Tommy way. But nonetheless he felt guilty for what had happened last night. Little did he know, he was only going to make things worse. As you entered his office Tommy looked up from the various papers on his desk to the scowl still spread across your face. You was clearly still mad at him, did he really think he could just apologise and his cruel actions would be forgotten?

" Hand me my diary" he asked as he rubbed his forefinger above his top lip watching you as you crossed your arms in frustration. Did he seriously ask you in here to fetch his diary for him ? You thought to yourself as you stormed over to the shelves behind him as he cleared his throat reaching for the pack of cigarettes on his desk. Slamming it on the table in front of him you started to walk off when he grabbed your arm stopping you.

" I need you to write down the dates John gave at the meeting" he said as he looked up at you and the storm of anger building in your face.

" You couldn't have done that yourself?"

" Forgot them" he said as he picked up a pencil handing it to you.

" You never forget anything Thomas Shelby" you snapped back grabbing the pencil from his hand as you started turning the pages, a little huff leaving your throat that Tommy couldn't help but smile at. " What's this?" you asked pointing at a black star one week from today.

" The day I finish my dealings with Kimber. The dates" he said nodding at the book, lighting a cigarette as your hand wavered over the paper at the confirmation from Tommy himself that what Kimber's men had said yesterday when they had you pushed up against the brick wall behind your home was Indeed true. Turning the page a sudden surge of discomfort started to build within you, a discomfort you hadn't felt since he left for France. He was putting his life at risk once again, and the only reaction you had was worry, worry that he wouldn't come back from it. " There" you said quietly, pushing the book towards him as you turned to leave.

" Y/N' wait" Tommy said as he stood up walking over to you." The other day at the Garrison...the pocket watch i didn't want to.."

" Just stop Tommy" you said as put your hand up cutting him off " We've both moved on, why hold onto the past right? " you added as Tommy let out a deep sigh whilst you turned your head away from him avoiding as much eye contact as you possibly could.

" That's the thing, I never mov... What's that?" He said as he moved your hair away from your neck, you body flinching as his thumb rubbed along the small knife mark on your skin. " Y/N who did that to you?" Tommy said, his voice getting lower as a surge of anger started to course through him.

" It's nothing Tommy"

" Nothing? You're lying" he replied with a scoff as he moved your hair away again, ducking his head down to to get a better look when you swatted his hand away. " Looks like someone had a knife to your throat" he said as he let his hand drop to his side, fury rising within him at the mere thought of someone hurting you.

" Don't be ridiculous. I was cutting my hair and nipped my skin. Why do you care anyway?"

"You never was very good at lying Y/N" Tommy said huffing as he watched you bite the corner of you bottom lip whilst you fidgeted in place. " And you really think I stopped caring about you?"

" Yes" you said as the words caught in your throat, tears welling in your eyes as you spun around to the door not wanting him to see you like this. His pity was the last thing you needed to add to you ever growing list of reasons to feel insecure.

" Y/N wait, I need to know what happened " he said as he tried to turn you around but stopped as you shrugged him off you, opening the door then slamming it shut behind you.

" Fuck sake" Tommy muttered under his breath as he watched you return to your desk through the window of his office. There was no way he would let this slide. You was clearly lying to him and he was determined to find out why.

As closing time approached you picked up your belongings when your movements had Tommy who was deep in thought abruptly stand up grabbing his coat and hat. If he was coming out here to bombard you with questions as to what happened he could forget it. You thought to yourself as you hurried to the door hearing him call your name. "Fucking door" you mumbled, pulling at the handle trying to open it as you looked over your shoulder to see Tommy heading your way, luck finally falling upon you when John stopped him putting the book of takings in front of him. Open, open, open! You thought as you rattled the handle pulling it back and forth when the door suddenly opened with ease and Grace walked in.

" Y/N" she said as she looked you over, taking in your reddened face from your efforts, a small chuckle leaving her lips. " Came to surprise Tommy after work" she said as she continued to stand in your way.

" How lovely" you said sarcastically as you tried to push past her when she put her hand on your arm.

" I know about that old pocket watch you gave Tommy all those years ago" she said looking at you. " Best you let go off the past, after all Tommy said it was only a silly little teen fling" she said with a small smile.

" Fling?" You repeated taken aback by what she had just said, what Tommy had said to her.

" Childhood sweethearts never last Y/N, don't be naive" She said in a mocking tone, belittling you without an ounce of shame at her hurtful choice of words. What were you saying, what had she said? Tommy panicked as John continued to bother him with the takings of the day. As your head turned to face him, Tommy swallowed harshly at the sight of a tear falling down your cheek.

" Let her go Tommy" Grace said placing both her hands on his chest as he walked over to where you had been standing, watching you storm out onto the streets of Watery Lane as the door closed behind you.

A fling, a fucking fling. He once asked you to marry him, promised to spend the rest of his life with you, her words couldn't have cut deeper if they tried. Let them have eachother. You thought to yourself as you clutched your coat around you heading for home, back to the four walls where you knew you would ultimately fall apart once again, your new founded confidence short-lived your own promises discarded, dwindling down into a pile of self-doubt and surrender after Graces cruel remarks. Could things get any worse?

One week later..

Today was black star day, the day Tommy planned to take out Billy Kimber and all of his dealings. Sitting in the corner of the Garrison nursing the drink you had ordered over an hour ago you glanced over to see Tommy and Grace standing behind the bar pouring drinks for his men, undoubtedly to numb any nerves that threatened to appear risking the plan Tommy had been preparing meticulously for weeks. Lifting his head from the glass of stout he was pouring Tommy caught your eye. It was the first time in almost a week you had looked each others way, anything you had to say to one another was passed on to anyone in the betting shop that was willing and had the patience to deal with both of your stubbornness. But today was different and Tommy couldn't help but notice the way you was looking at him, the same way you looked at him as you both waited on the platform for the train to arrive and take him and all of the other men saying goodbye to their loved ones off to war. The only difference between them and you was you had barely uttered a word to eachother, his final goodbye before he boarded a quick peck to your cheek.

And as if you had been transported back five years, tears started to form in your eyes as you abruptly stood up leaving the Garrison like you did when Tommy stepped on the train not once looking back, leaving you alone and heartbroken. What you didn't know was, Tommy did look back. He pushed his way past all the other men in the carriage in search of a free window shouting your name as he desperately tried to get a glimpse of you one last time before he left for war.

"Y/N!" Tommy shouted as he grabbed his coat and hat racing out of the Garrison. He wouldn't let what happened on that platform five years ago play out again.

" Tommy wait! What are you doing?" Grace called out after him as she watched the Garrison doors close behind him. " Why does he always go after her? He doesn't even love her anymore" she seethed as she looked to Arthur who raised his brow downing the rest of his drink.

" Doesn't love her? He's a stubborn bastard but he never stopped Grace" Arthur said as he walked away leaving her fuming at Tommy's unrelenting devotion to you.

"Where have all the young men gone,

long time ago?

Where have all the young men gone?

Gone to soldiers, every one..."

You sang, tears streaming your cheeks as you sat by your little brother Georgie's gravestone, his life taken like so many others during an air raid. Wiping your tears you continued to sing as if time had stood still and you was back in 1916 sitting on the grass in the only place you felt peace and calm, waiting for the men you loved so much to return from war.

" Do you still sing that song for me?" Tommy said as he slowly approached you, afraid you'd stop.

" Leave me alone Tommy" you sniffed as you stood up brushing the remaining tears away from your cheeks, looking out at Small Heath in the distance.

" We live in the same town, work in the same place. I can't...I don't want to" He said as he stepped closer wanting to reach out to you, wanting to hold you in his arms like he should have done all those years ago.

" Yes, Tommy Shelby doesn't care what anybody else wants, what anybody else asks does he? you replied misunderstanding the meaning behind his words. " Why did you follow me?" you sighed picking up the dead flowers by Georgie's grave as you turned around making you way down the hill not wanting to even wait for his response when Tommy put his arm out, stopping you from walking any further.

" You were crying" he replied feeling like a teen boy again stuck on what he really wanted to say. " Y/N I.." Tommy sighed as he brought his thumb up, brushing it down your cheek. " I knew you would come up here" he said, his hand dropping from your face as he abandoned the small speech he had prepared as he made his way to the cemetery to find you.

" Crying, I've been crying for five years, only now you notice?!" you scoffed pushing past him.

" Oh I noticed, its not like you try and hide it, do you? " Always pushing it in my face, have you forgotten who's fault this all is, eh?" Tommy said as his stance stiffened, his coldness towards you making a swift return when you didn't respond to his veiled attempts to be tender with you.

" Here I almost forgot. Throw it in the cut like you did everything else when you came back from France, like you did my heart. After all it was just a fling " you said storming back to him as you pulled his pocket watch out of your coat, shoving it into his hands.

" A fling? Y/N!" Tommy called out furrowing his brow as he watched you run down the hill. "You broke my heart first, you fucking broke mine first!" Tommy shouted back taking his cap off as he brushed his hands through his hair. " Fuck!" He yelled throwing his hat onto the grass as Jeremiah and Arthur came running up the hill.

" Tommy!" Arthur shouted as his brother turned around to face them, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand.

" What? What is it?" Tommy sniffed as his eyes darted between them both. "Well?"

"Tell him what you just told me" Arthur said breathlessly as he turned to Jeremiah stood beside him.

" Just heard there's to van's driving up the Stratford Road. An old Corporal of mine said he recognised some of the men..he said it's the Kimber boys"

"Ada wake up! You and the baby get into the ball ring where there's lots of people" Tommy said as he stormed through their house on Watery Lane as Arthur, Jeremiah and his son Isaiah followed behind him.

" What's going on?" Polly said as she took in Tommy's panicked state.

"We've been fucking betrayed" he replied rubbing his forehead. " Someone let slip. Kimber's men are on their way here" Tommy said as he paced the room back and forth.

" Yeh but you can handle them Tommy" Polly said having confidence that her nephew had another plan if something like this was to to happen.

"It's just us. All the Lee's are on their way to Worcester, we're outnumbered" Tommy said as the realisation his plan had fallen apart started to sink in. "Fuck!" he shouted as he slammed his hands down onto the top of a cabinet, the pictures and ornaments rattling from the force of his outburst.

"Who else knew today was the day you was moving on Kimber? You said you kept it a secret who else did you tell? " Polly questioned as Tommy leaned his weight on the mahogany wood, clenching his jaw at what Isaiah had told him before they had all entered the house.

" Isaiah" Tommy said as he turned his head to the young Blinder. " Tell them what you just told me"

" Tom, I don't think she was..." he said as he stepped forward when his boss cut him off.

" Tell them!" Tommy shouted turning around, his patience wearing so thin he was close to loosing any self-control he had left.

" The other day I saw Y/N with Kimber's men in the alley way behind her place. I thought she'd come to you and tell you herself. Tom they look like they roughed her up " he said as Tommy scoffed at his remark.

" Nah I don't believe it. Y/N would never..." Arthur said when Tommy interrupted.

" Betray me? She fucking hates me, you've all seen it " he replied raising his brow as he stepped closer to his older brother. " You've always stuck up for her, but she did this, she threw us under the bus. All of us, even you Arthur" he said pointing his finger in his older brothers face.

" I'd back away if I was you Tommy, because this time I won't let you win baby brother" Arthur said pushing him in the chest away from him. " We've known her since we were bloody kids. Y/N would never betray this family, she's one of us" Arthur concluded as he walked away grabbing the bottle of whisky on the table, pouring himself a full glass before he too lost control of his temper.

" Tommy that girls been devoted to you the moment she met you, you're blinded by your bitterness towards her. Did you not tell anyone else? Polly asked as Tommy shook his head forgetting or ignoring the fact he had, the very same person who had written it in his diary. No, Tommy's sights were set on you, only you could have done this only you could have betrayed him.

NEXT PART

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[passivenovember]

(sharing again because I'm so proud of this one)

When Billy Falls in Love

--

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red. 

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here-- 

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag. 

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows. 

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close. 

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar. 

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him? 

About his bones and blood. 

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--” 

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull. 

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

--

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue. 

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking. 

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black. 

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back. 

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness. 

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him, 

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock. 

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong. 

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies. 

If it kills him. 

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers. 

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington?  What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away. 

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky. 

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks. 

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks. 

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this. 

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

--

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt. 

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard. 

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door. 

Eddie doesn’t move. 

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up. 

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him. 

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy. 

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?” 

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him. 

He smells like peaches. 

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch. 

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare. 

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image. 

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

Billy stops. Waits. 

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning. 

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And. 

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does. 

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now. 

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then. 

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy. 

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him. 

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

[unamused-boss]

Say What?

Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader

18+ Smut. semi-public sex Summary: Date night went exactly how it should be. A night of passion and love after the events of Starcourt back in the summer. Now that spring is here new things are happening. Until Eddie Munson is being wanted for murder and everyone shows up at your house to get some more help. But Eddie Munson being wanted for murder won't be the only surprise.

This date night was everything you could have ever wished for from Billy. A drive in movie to a lot, a romantic dinner at a nice restaurant. Billy made every stop. He got you flowers, held the door open for you, cuddled you at the movie; ever since the incident at the mall he has become a more thought out person. He was already thinking about you everyday, but now he thinks about his effect on others. Especially with the others from when Starcourt happened.

However for now he wants to keep you to himself. Your relationship has been secret since the beginning of last year. Billy is utterly obsessed with you. He wants to be around every second of the day, holding you, kissing you, touching you in any way possible.

"Ah~ah~AH!" Which is what he is doing right now. Your ass straight in the air. His rough hands holding your waist helping with slamming his cock right into your pussy. Your moans not stopping only getting louder and louder with every thrust he sends into you. At this very moment your are so happy your parents are out of town for spring break.

"You like that baby~" Billy sighed. "You want some more, princess." The use of the pet name made you clench around his cock. You felt him lean down to your back, not stopping his motion in the slightest. His breath fanned the nape of your neck his lips connected to your hot skin. Leaving a trail of kisses all along it. His hands moved from your hips and to your breasts. Cupping them, squeezing them, playing with them it felt like static all throughout your body. The overflowing sense of pleasure filled you. God it made you even more wet. His thrusts began to feel more sporadic. "Come on babe, I know you can take all of me."

"Ah~ ah~..." Your moans and whimpers continued. With one deep thrust you felt Billy go balls deep into your pussy. "Holy shit~!" You two were left panting. You fell to your bed, Billy continued to hold himself up with his arms. You felt his cock slowly the heat never leaving your body.

"You wanna go another round." Billy grinned.

"Yes!" You flipped over to face him on top of you. You pull him down to capture him in a lustful kiss. His hands groping every inch of you. Legs entangled and arm wrapped around each other. Nothing but pure adoration for one another. "Can I ride you?" You asked breathlessly.

"Hell yeah!" You were flipped over laying on his stomach at the moment. You giggled leaning down to him to capture one more kiss. Your hips rose over his hard cock, pulsing just waiting for you. You bring your hips down, with the help of the slick from before it was a little easier to get his dick in you. You moaned at the sensation. Your hips started to grind into him, his hand forcing your hips further down onto his cock. To was all to blissful.

Till your landline started to go off on your bed side table. You both just starred at each other. Not knowing what to do.

"Answer it." Billy said.

"What?" You chirped. "Why?"

"Cause I wanna see you hold yourself together while I'm fucking you." God that made you even more wet.

"What if I moan into the phone?" You panicked to your boyfriend.

"Then I guess you better stay quiet, sweetheart." Billy said, lowering his voice in just the way you love it.

"Fine." You huffed leaning your body over to grab the phone. Every muscle tensing with pleasure as you moved. The receiver was in your hand. "Hello?" You answered, Billy's hand moving from your hip to your clit. Rubbing it causing more friction between you two.

"Hey! (Y/N)!" Fuck it's Robin.

"Hey Robin, what do you need?" You asked. Billy started to move his hips into a forward motion. Fucking right into you. You felt like you were bitting through your lip to keep any noise from coming out of your mouth.

"So how ya doing?" Robin asked, there was something behind this phone call. But you were focused on other things.

"I'm doing good." You steadily said. "What's with the-" You were interrupted by a rough thrust from Billy's hips. You inhaled in, "What's with the late night call girl?"

"Oh I just wanted to chat for a minute." Yep there was definitely something going on behind the call. Another rough thrust was pushed into you. His constant grinding made you want to drool at the delicious sensation happening in your vagina.

"Ah-hem, can this wait till later Robin?" You asked desperately. Your bodies were heated, sweat was dripping from every curve, the constant motion made you mad.

"No! I mean, no it can't- wait what?" You heard faint voices in the back ground of the call. Billy flipped you over.

"Ah!" You squeaked out at his action. You now lay beneath him as he thrusts into you. "Mmhm~" You moaned into your pressed lips. His head dips into your neck leaving lustful kisses all it.

"Are you okay?" Robin asked.

"Yep! just fine, just stubbed my toe."

Billy leaned up into your ear, "That's all baby~" he whispered into you ear, kissing the shell of your ear.

"Oh okay." Robin said. "Well I was wondering if-" You didn't hear the rest that she had to say. Billy's thrusts quickened even more. Pounding into with every ounce a strength he has. All you focus was on keeping quiet. The sound of your skin slapping against the others was riveting. Their bodies yearned of one another. Light touches soon turned into clawing down Billy's back. His thrusts hitting every part of your body never stopping. You wonder if he is even tired at this point, his stamina did not falter. Your skins was flushed to the point that you as if you were burnt. Burnt with the pleasure of a man that could satisfy you. Your free hand was tugging at the curls of his hair. His thrusts become untamed. The sensation over powered you.

"So does that work for you?" Robin's long ramble finally concluded.

"Yeah, totally works. I gotta go now Robs bye~" You desperately spoke into the phone. Slamming the phone back down where it should'v been the whole night. Hung up. "Ah~Ah~Ahh~".

"That's it baby, come undone for me." He said hungrily. His movements become even faster. Unrhythmic patterns flow through your body. Your moan finally become unleashed. Every possible noice comes out of you with pleasure. "You ready Baby~".

"Yees~" Billy kept his hips in motion. Pounding into you, however that speed started to slow done. You knew you both were close to being undone. He gives one last thrust right into you. Electricity runs through your veins. You swear your neighbors could hear you from the noises that you were making. Billy takes his time taking himself out of your pussy. He laid himself next to you. You both now lay in bed breathless from your actions.

"That was amazing..." Billy huffed.

"Yeah~" You breathlessly spoke.

Last night was the most riveting night ever. You don’t remember much from your night of fornication with Billy. You do remember Billy helping you to the bathroom through out the night. The sun was coming through the curtains in your room. You felt the warm skin go across your skin. You stretched your arm out to fin Billy. Your hand found the small of his back, you rub your hand up his back. You leaned up onto his back, kissing all along his neck.

"Hey handsome~" You kissed Into his skin.

He flipped over, taking you into his arms. " Hello~" he brings you closer than you already are. You look over to the clock on your bedside to see it read 10:57 am.

“Damn, we were out for a while.” You joked, cuddling yourself back into Billy.

"That just means we gotta make up for lost time." Billy dipped his head into your neck, kissing all over your jaw. You giggle that the ticklish sensation from some of his stubble rubbing against your cheek. You try to move back, away from Billy, but Billy following you. Now on top of you, smushing you under his weight, holding you in place, peppering kisses all over you. This morning could not get any better.

The ring of your door bell rang through the house. You and Billy both stop what you are doing. 'who the hell is here?'

"Where you expecting someone?" Billy asked.

"No I don't think so?" You answered. "I don't know how- Shit it's Robin!" You quickly get up frantically looking for clothes to wear. While putting one the first thing you saw.

"Where are you going?" Billy asked.

"To see what they want so they can go away." You said. "Then we can go back to where we were." Kissing his cheek then sprinting out your bedroom. You make your way down stairs to the front door.

"Seriously what is taking her is long?" The muffled voice of Steve Harrington can be heard. You open the door not only to be met with Steve and Robin; but also Max, Dustin, and Nancy. 'What the hell did you agree to last night?'

"Hey guys, whatcha doin here?" You nervously asked.

"You know why." Steve said, acting like you knew what was going on. "Now let us in." Before you could protest anymore everyone made their way into your home. Billy can hear everyone from your room. Everyone was talking all at once, you didn't know were one thing ended and were it began.

"Everyone shut up!" You yelled. "What is going on?"

“Munson is wanted.” Steve put blankly.

“Munson? Like Eddie Munson?” You questioned.

“Yep, that’s the one.” Steve stated again. Everyone took a brief minute to explain the whole situation to you. Chrissy’s death, the upside down, a wizard named Vecna, and how this possibly brings Max into the mix.

“So what did you need my help for?” You were still confused. What was the importance of being brought into this.

“Well you’re the reason Billy is alive maybe you can help.” Nancy reasoned. She had a point, you did save Billy. You were able to find a way to break through the mind flayer’s control. You guess they do have a reason to come for your help, you've been in this supernatural problem for long but these guys have been your friends for a longer time.

“Of course, I’ll help you guys.” You smiled. “You guys can come back tomorrow, I’m kinda preoccupied.”

Everyone was silent not knowing what to say next till. “Is that Billy’s shirt?” A confused Max asked.

“What?” You said, completely put back by what she said. You look down to, indeed, see that you did put on Billy’s shirt. 'shit'.

"Uh- N-no, it's not."

"Why did you stutter?" Max questioned.

"It just surprised me that's all." You replied, hoping that would stop her from asking any more questions.

"Any ways, we need to see all the files you stole from the lab about the upside down." Dustin cut in.

"I didn't steal those files Dustin." You said back to him.

"Ah yes because it's normal for someone to steal super secret science files from their dad's place of work. Don't worry I do the same." Steve sassed at me.

"You literally said last night on the phone you would let us do this." Robin rebutted.

"I did?" You said. Everyone shook their head in agreement. "Well my room is a mess, you won't find them."

"Oh please, you're like the cleanest person we know. What is there a sock on the floor you didn't pick up." Robin joked.

"We're going in your room." Steve sassed, He made his way up the stair to your room, everyone else following him along.

"Wait do not go up to my room!" You yelled, hopefully giving Billy enough time to hide. Which he was able to do, hiding in your closet. However he was not able to hide the discarded clothes on the floor from the night before. Everyone else quickly made it into your room. As you made it up there you quickly noticed no sign of Billy, which was a relief to you.

"Ah- let me get those files for you." You quickly made your way to were the files were held. Clearly stepping over the clothes that you choose to give no attention to.

"Why are there men's clothes on your floor?" Max asked.

"Um they're my cousin's." You frantically respond.

"Your cousin's?" Nancy asked peculiarly. You nodding in agreement to her words.

"Yep."

"You don't have cousin's." Nancy said.

"How do you know? You never asked." You rebutted back. "The files aren''t in the place I put them." You try to change the topic to something different.

"(Y/N) really, those are Billy's pants." Max said, pointing to the clothes on the floor.

"No they are not Max." You said, making your way to the closet door to look for the files. "I can assure you that those clothes aren't Billy's." Your statement was said. However you rip open the closet door. Only to be met with a butt naked Billy Hargrove. You both look at each other wide eyed. Everyone's eyes were wide, their jaws were on the floor, and they were all dumb founded. The fact the Billy was in your closet naked was the second to last thing they were expecting out of this day.

"Oh my fuck." You swore.

"Explain. right now." Steve said.

Which you did, after getting Billy his pants. You explained that you and Billy were dating from the start of summer back in 85. You both cared for each other a lot. How he asked you out. How you both wanted this relationship to be kept secret. Thinking your friends, on both sides, would not like your relationship. But you both love each other very much, and no one's opinions was going to change that.

"That's basically it." You finished.

"Aww, that's so sweet." Robin cooed.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Steve questioned.

"Um did you not just hear the whole story Harrington?" Billy retorted to him.

"Be nice." You sassed at him. "We wanted to tell we really did, especially after what happened at the Mall. But every time we would over think it." Billy wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple. Everyone sat in silence from the words you had said.

"It's okay." Max reassured... "But why him."

"Max." Dustin grumbled out.

"It's an honest question." Max stated.

"She does have a point." Steve said. You just laughed at your friends. Happy that they didn't blow up on you like you thought they would.

"So what's this about Munson being wanted for murder?" Billy questioned.

"It's a long story." You sighed, kissing his cheek.

"Ew don't do that." Max complained. You laughed at Max, while Billy just grumbled at the red head.

"You guys change then we, can figure out how to help Eddie." Nancy stated. Everyone agreed leaving you and Billy to change. Until Robin came back into the room.

"Ha, quick question." She spouted. "So by any chance, were you guys- um- doing anything when I called?" The lesbian nervously asked. You and Billy just looked at each other.

"No, Robs we weren't." You smiled at her. Saving her from what would have been a life altering moment.

"Great. I don't believe. But I gonna go with it." She said before running out of the room. Now you and Billy are alone.

"Well that was fun, sweets." Billy smirked.

"It sure was." You smiled. "Well I guess the thrill is go now."

"Maybe, but at least I got you." Billy said. Bringing your lips to his sealing them in a kiss.

PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS!

I do not know if this is good or not. I was kinda making it up as I go. Feed back would be great.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎSerendipitous (Part Two)౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: non consensual touch, cheating (not on billy), forced betrothal, verbal abuse, controlling parents, physical abuse, gaslighting pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: stuck in an arranged betrothal, you think you'll forever be trapped until you meet billy and your world is flipped upside down (part two) author’s note: thank you thank you thank you for all the support! sending love *mwah* Series Pinterest Board (updated) Series Spotify Playlist (updated)(chapter starting at Crimson and Clover)

"Don't let 'em getcha down, sunshine."

Billy's words echoed between your ears all the way home as you prepared to face your parents, and potentially Henry.

You felt unusually happy as you made the trek despite the looming prospect of your family. When you were close to your house you even took your shoes off, feeling the warm earth beneath your feet. Everything seemed brighter now to you: the sky, the grass, the flowers. It was all enhanced somehow, just when you'd thought it couldn't be more beautiful.

When your house got into view, you paused and took a deep breath, feeling anxiety hammer at your chest.

"Don't let 'em getcha down, sunshine."

Your feet moved you forward.

As expected, the second you opened the door you were met with voices shouting at you. They demanded to know where you'd been, why you weren't wearing shoes, why you'd disappeared last night, who you'd been with.

You could hardly place which questions were coming from who, only that Henry was mercifully not present.

"I had a headache," you said quietly, feeling slightly guilty that you'd worried them. "I didn't want to ruin anyone's night, so I figured I'd just come home. But I got lost."

They scolded you for not telling anybody you were leaving, saying Henry had been very worried about you. Thinking back to how much he'd drank while you were with him and knowing he'd undoubtedly drunk more, you doubted it. Still, you felt bad, understanding why they were upset. If your story had been true, it would've been foolish for you to leave like that. But you'd rather have them be mad about that story than the real one. So, you apologized, and they sent you to your room for the rest of the day.

You shut your bedroom door behind you, your parents' comments hardly stinging like they would have in the past. As a child you'd developed the habit of internalizing the negative emotions of those around you, the result a tangled mess of guilt sitting on your chest like a lead ball. Somehow that weight was lighter right now.

Going to the mirror, you brushed your hair away from your neck, revealing the love bite Billy had left mere hours ago. Touching it, you couldn't help but smile. It was proof last night had really happened.

As you looked over yourself, at your messy appearance, you didn't see the ghost that used to stare back at you. For the first time in who knows how long you'd made a decision for yourself. And it had felt marvelous.

Forget Henry, forget everything. You'd had a taste of independence, and it was addicting.

Your horse raced up the hill, your hair flying behind you, the wind kissing your cheeks. Once you'd reached the top you tugged on the reins, looking back at your companion.

Billy chuckled good-naturedly as he rode up beside you. "Who knew ya'd be able to beat me?"

"I told you I knew how to ride," you smiled, and he tipped his hat.

"Well goddamn," he grinned, and you looked down, your cheeks flushing pink. Even being in his presence had you flustered in the best way.

After a day sequestered in your room, you'd been allowed back out of the house under a very strict curfew and a promise made on your part to allow Henry to call on you since he'd apparently been so concerned.

The visit was painful in a multitude of ways.

He sat far too close, causing your fists to clench and knees to squeeze shut involuntarily. Of course, he insisted on kissing you, and all you could think of was the only other man whose lips had touched yours.

"You're not to ever leave my side at a party again," he'd said in a tone that was light but burningly threatening. "You embarrassed me in front of my friends with your outburst and scared me half to death when you disappeared. It's a miracle you made it home at all by yourself with how vulnerable you look."

"It's a miracle you remember after how much you drank." You'd meant for that to stay a thought, a silent pushback, but it fell out of your mouth before you could stop it and your eyes widened in horror. Henry hated it when you commented on his drinking.

You saw it coming before it happened. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist so tightly you let out a strangled little noise. Your breaths were becoming increasingly rapid as he leaned into you.

"Say it again." He did not raise his voice, which made his words all the more terrifying. You searched his eyes, the worst possible scenarios running through your mind.

When you hesitated, he shoved your arm against the corner of the table and you whimpered, trying to hold back how much it hurt. "I said, say it again."

"I..." you inhaled once through your nose, your heart still running like a rabbit. "Thank you for being so concerned. I won't do it again."

"That's better." Henry let go of your wrist and you slowly brought it back to rest on your lap. If you moved too quickly, he'd grab it again. You couldn't help but look down at your arm, at the bruises already forming both from the force of the table and his fingers.

Henry noticed, and he exhaled once through his nose. "If you were better, I wouldn't have to do this to you, you know that? Look what you made me do." He waved a careless hand at your arm. "Now I have that on my conscience."

All you could do was nod, your eyes falling to your lap.

You'd seen Billy in the market that afternoon, and he'd approached you with a smile that made every worry you'd had over the past two days melt into nothing. When he suggested you go for a ride the next day you'd immediately agreed.

Now here you were, sitting atop a horse next to him on a hill that overlooked a magnificent valley.

He was looking at you, you could feel it, and you liked how when you turned to meet his eyes he didn't look away. There was that jaunty half smile again. It would have weakened your knees if you'd been standing.

"Where're we goin' sunshine?" Billy asked, and his horse tossed its head as if wondering the same thing. Something about him letting you take the lead had you sighing internally in a longing way.

You looked out over the line of trees, studying it. Turning back to him and nodding your head in that direction, you said, "I haven't explored that area yet? Should we...?"

He gave an enthusiastic nod. "Lead the way."

Your heart did cartwheels as the two of you rode off side by side. It was invigorating to be out doing your favorite thing with someone like Billy. Someone who seemed to love it as much as you did.

When your horses breached the beginning of the trees both of you slowed down, just riding contently next to each other. You looked over and caught the sight of his thighs, appearing as firm and thick as you knew them to be. Now you were remembering how it felt to have one pressed up against you-

"See somethin' ya like?"

You met his eyes again. He was grinning cheekily. Focusing back on the path in front of you, you said, "I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"Just the opposite," he chuckled. "You can look at me 's much as ya want. I'll encourage it."

His words left you smiling. "I suppose I should tell you you're allowed to look at me too."

"Only if ya want me to, sweet thing," Billy lifted the brim of his hat so he could see you better.

You giggled, looking away as you blushed. "Have you ever been down here before?"

"It's as new to me as it is you," he said, looking out ahead and squinting. "There's somethin' over there."

Billy tugged on the reins to move his horse faster and you copied him. As you got closer to the spot, you could see what he was looking at. A small, weathered cabin smack in the middle of a clearing.

You laughed in delight, the surprise warming your heart. "How lovely."

"'S a miracle it's held up I reckon." Billy climbed off his horse, tying it to a tree branch. He politely held out a hand so you could get off too, and you accepted, gracefully stepping down. His other hand found your hip to steady you, and even the slight touch sent excited shivers through your body.

He checked to make sure nobody was inside, and that was the first time you ever saw him hold his gun. The sight probably should have scared you, but the protective nature of it all had you nearly swooning.

Once it was clear, you stepped inside. It was a dusty, one room setup, but you found it charming. There was a fireplace to the side, and cabinets lining one of the far walls.

"It feels like a storybook," you turned to look at Billy, who seemed pleased with your excitement.

"It's somethin' to be sure," he looked up at the roof. "Reminds me of a place my family stayed at when I was a kid. We were trekkin' 'cross the country to the West and we ended up in a cabin just like this to start, four of us in one room."

"You must've been brave," you looked at him as he talked about his past. "How old were you?"

"Young," he nodded, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Was a hard journey. But we made it."

"Does your family live here?" you questioned curiously.

"They're all gone now," Billy's smile dimmed just a bit. "Got sick in a couple different ways."

Feeling a twinge of sympathy, you stepped closer to him. Your hand found his, cautiously clasping them together. It surprised you when his fingers curled around yours, squeezing back. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Billy lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "Thank you, sunshine."

He rubbed his thumb over your knuckle, and then sat down on the dusty floor, pulling you down with him. "C'mere." He patted his thighs.

Smiling, you straddled his legs, facing him as he leaned against the wall. His big hands held your waist as his eyes fell on you, not sexual at all in nature. Just looking.

"Tell me more about your family." You smiled, settling in his lap. "How did they treat you?"

"My mama was the sweetest person ever to walk the earth," he reminisced, the thought turning his lips up again. Then he reached out and poked your cheek. "Other than you 'f course."

"Oh please," you looked down, half laughing.

"I mean it, sunshine," he squeezed your waist. "You're all sugar and no spice. Well-" he thought for a moment. "Maybe a little cinnamon."

That made you giggle, which made him smile lazily. "'nough 'bout my family though. Tell me 'bout yours. How do they treat you?" Billy repeated your words, but the question unintentionally held more weight than it had when you'd asked it.

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment, your eyes finding his again afterward. "They...they treat me as well as they are able."

"Oh?" his brow quirked slightly. "How so?"

"It's not easy for them," you decided on saying. "I don't make things easy for them."

Billy searched your eyes, and you avoided his look, certain those piercing blues could see straight into your soul and cause all your secrets to rip from your throat. He didn't say anything until you were looking at him again.

"You're a sweetheart if I ever saw one," he said quietly. "Anyone who doesn't think so needs to open their eyes."

The way he said it was so smooth and gentle that you couldn't help but believe him. Billy's eyes lit up when your smile reappeared. It was so intimate, the way your happiness satisfied him.

As you looked into his eyes you thought, with that familiar stab of guilt, of your fiancé. But it wasn't over hurting Henry. It was over Billy.

He was a good man who was obviously starting to care about you. And you cared about him. He didn't deserve to be a pawn in the game you were playing to try and reach freedom. You decided to tell him. Tell him that you were engaged, and you were sorry and let him leave you to find some other lucky girl.

You opened your mouth to do so, but before you could speak, he said, "I know why ya left in such a rush the other morning."

A jolt of surprise made you pause. Had he heard from someone else? "You do?"

He nodded grimly. "It's your family, ain't it? Ya don't think they'll approve of me?"

You were frozen. That wasn't entirely untrue. Your father would never approve of you being with someone like Billy. If his horizons of marital prospects for his daughter hadn't only been comprised of the so-called gentleman of Atlanta society, you likely would've married long ago.

Billy noted your silence and nodded, picking up your hands and holding them between your chests. He held your gaze. "Look pretty, I...I had a real nice night with ya. It was special." You could have melted into a puddle at the way he said it.

He squeezed one hand, bringing it to his heart. "I meant what I said that morning. I don't just do that with any gal. I..." his chin bobbed as his stare became more intense. "I like you. And I wanna keep seein' ya. If who your family is means we gotta keep it quiet for a while that's alright."

You were floored. So he didn't know about Henry. Pushing that aside, you focused on what he'd said. He wanted to be with you.

Still feeling guilty, you squeezed his hand back. "Billy, that's not fair to you. I don't...you shouldn't have to get tangled up in this." You meant it in both the way he thought you meant and the way you really did.

His eyes were soft, and he left your hand on his heart in favor of stroking your cheek. "It ain't your fault they are the way they are. I know how some folk 'r set in their ways." Billy held your cheek so warmly that you leaned into it, seeing a flicker of light in his eyes when you did.

Leaning closer so you could see he was serious, he said, "I mean it. I like you. More 'n like you. And I wanna keep seeing ya. no matter the circumstances."

Billy was so earnest and honest and true that you felt like a monster. But the way he held you, the way he looked at you...you'd be a fool to resist.

So, you stayed wise.

"I want to keep seeing you too," you whispered, your lips parting in a little smile.

His face split into a grin and he closed the gap between your lips, kissing you for the first time since the other morning. This kiss wasn't like the passionate ones you'd shared before. It was so soft and sweet that you nearly ached.

Your hand fell from his heart, and he picked it up again, the long sleeve of your dress falling down slightly. The bruises.

Billy noticed. Of course he noticed. You braced yourself for what he'd say.

But not a word fell from his lips. He just studied your wrist for a second, then lifted it to his lips as if to kiss away the pain. Butterflies.

You knew it as soon as his lips touched your skin.

Oh.

I'm falling in love.

In the weeks that followed, you discovered there were a multitude of different ways to sneak out of your house.

Paranoid about someone catching you, you tried to rotate so it wouldn't be suspicious. But it turned out that your parents, caught up in their own affairs, hardly noticed what you were doing as long as you were home at the time they'd told you to be.

And so you were free.

Months of being trapped and miserable melted away the more time you spent with him. Billy was a door that opened to reveal everything that was wonderful.

The two of you explored every nook of the surrounding land on your horses. He showed you his favorite places and you showed him yours, surprised and delighted that a few of them overlapped.

Whenever he spread out a blanket you knew you were going to be kissing him a lot, often leading to more. He'd bring you to some river or wildflower field and pull you down between his arms, his lips devouring you until you were senseless. Oh, his kisses. They were the nectar that kept you breathing.

He showed you other ways of being intimate. You'd been surprised and confused the first time he'd pushed your skirt up and dipped his head between your legs. But Billy had walked you through it, keeping one arm wrapped around your thigh and the other propped up on its elbow so you could hold his hand.

It was a renaissance. Your pleasure, your freedom, your love. After so many years being drained by Atlanta society you hadn't been sure any of those were possible, especially the last. Billy was showing you they were, especially the last.

Billy listened to you. He cared about you. He was steady and smooth and easy in all the best ways. He kept a hand on you when he could, but it was never in a possessive way, more of an I'm here way. He was receptive to what you wanted, perceptive to your moods. Not that there was a variety; it was hard for you to be anything but happy around him

He made you laugh, filled you with a kind of giddy joy that had you giggling even when there was nobody around except the memory of him. Billy's entire being filled you with the kind of joy one could only dream up. It did not take you long to realize you loved him.

Just being with him was bliss. You felt like you could tell him anything in the world. Well, almost anything.

Your fiancé hung over the two of you like dead weight threatening to drop at any moment. Desperately, you wanted to tell Billy about it, especially after rougher days when Henry called on you and you needed comfort. What held you back was the thought of Billy feeling sorry for you, but also the fact that it was more likely now that he'd leave you once he knew. And you couldn't bear for this to end sooner than it had to.

So you guiltily stayed silent.

Even though you didn't tell Billy anything about what was going on, he was so perceptive that it likely wasn't hard to notice not everything was right with you.

There was one time when he had you lying on your back under the shade of a tree, kissing you feverishly with one leg keeping both of yours open.

His fingers glided up your waist, and you sighed at the feeling. One of your hands was tangled in his hair, with the other flung above your head.

You didn't even notice his hand had been going there, but when you felt it on your breast you sat up, panicked. That day in the drawing room.

Billy, understandably, was perplexed, but in a worried way. "You okay, sunshine?"

Gathering your bearings and reminding yourself that it was just him, you nodded, your breathing evening out again. "I'm sorry. I just..." you trailed off, looking up into his eyes. They were nearly cerulean as they stayed fixed on you, checking to see if you were well.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Billy assured you, slowly reaching out to hold the side of your face. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth, almost like a question.

You turned your head to kiss him fully, your hand going to hold his other one. He responded slowly, easing you into the kiss. In a split-second decision, you lifted his hand and pressed it back against your breast, letting his fingers splay out over it.

He pecked your lips once. "Ya sure?" Another tiny kiss, his nose nudging yours. "You okay?" Billy experimentally cupped your breast, making sure you weren't flinching or wincing before his lips dove onto yours again.

Nodding, you pulled him close, and he slowly lowered you back atop the jacket of his he'd spread out for you to lay on.

The other episode was slightly scarier.

You'd been out for hours with him, on horseback for most of it, but he'd suggested you find a place to watch the sunset. Agreeing eagerly, you followed him to a pretty hilltop that he said had the best view.

The sky had been painted glorious streaks of orange and blue and purple and pink, reflecting on the few clouds left in the sky. It was romantic and peaceful watching the sun sink into the earth while you were snuggled under his arm.

When the stars started to poke their heads into the darkened sky Billy began pointing out constellations. Fascinated by what he knew, you listened, your eyes growing heavy as the lull of his voice relaxed your mind. One minute you were nodding along as he told you the story of Cassiopeia, and the next you were dreaming.

When you awoke, you didn't know where you were, only that you were cozy and warm and lying on top of something equally cozy and warm.

Cracking your eyes open, you saw that you were lying on your tummy on Billy's chest, your legs between his. He'd spread his jacket atop you sometime during the night to serve as a blanket. Given the fact that you were usually a light sleeper, you were surprised he'd managed to maneuver you into this position without you knowing. Smiling, you realized that likely spoke to how safe you felt around him.

Settling back into his arms, you closed your eyes for one second before remembering. Your curfew.

As if by another force, your body shot up, and you tried to stand but tripped over Billy's legs, waking him up too. He sat upright and rubbed his eyes. "Mornin', sunshine."

"What time is it?" you asked hurriedly, looking at the horizon. The sun hadn't risen yet, thank goodness.

Billy pulled you back toward him, so you were sitting against his side, and reached into the pocket of his jacket that was still around your shoulders. With one arm wrapped around you and resting on your thigh, he pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open, squinting at the numbers. "Almost five, baby. Why?"

Your eyes were like saucers. "I should have been home hours ago." As it sunk in, your heart pounded, and you felt like you were going to cry.

"It's okay," Billy put a hand on your back, rubbing it lightly. "'S real early darlin'. Doubt anyone's awake."

Still, you shook your head, knowing your family would have noticed you didn't come home in time. Your breaths became rapid, and you felt tears spring to your eyes. When you looked down at your hands they were shaking. If your parents knew, then Henry was bound to find out and-

"Hey, hey," Billy frowned, following your eyes to your hands. He reached over and clasped one, the warmth lessening your shaking. "We'll getcha home, sweetheart. It's okay, no need to fret."

He stood, gripping your hand to help you get to your feet as well. You handed him back his jacket, and he pulled it on. Billy's hands came to bracket your face, and he kissed your forehead, then your nose and both your cheeks. You recognized the soothing motion by the time he captured your lips in a calming kiss.

"You're gonna be okay," he promised, and you nodded. It was easy to believe him. Billy pulled you into his arms for just a moment, kissing your hair. "We had a really good night, yeah?"

As you thought about it you smiled a little, and he pulled back to look. "There she is." Billy guided you over to where your horses were tied, unknotting the reins and offering a hand to help you get on. He gave the reins to you, giving your fingers a final squeeze. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"I'll see you later," you confirmed, giving him a real smile before you rode off.

It turned out you needn't have been so worried. Both your parents had been at a party until late and had assumed you were in bed when you got home. At least, that was what a member of the staff had told you. Still, from then on you were more careful about what time you got home.

Henry was becoming increasingly impatient with you, complaining that you didn't spend enough time with him. There were a few more parties he tried to drag you to, but you made excuse after excuse, doing your absolute best to keep your distance. Though you couldn't hold him off forever.

There was to be a dinner. And not just with your family, although it was being hosted at their house. There were two more guests invited; a man your father and Henry were working closely with and one of his associates. You didn't pay much attention to who they were, truthfully. All you heard was that there was going to be another night of sitting still all trussed up like a doll, and with the same purpose too. Smile and look pretty. Mere ornamentation for your husband-to-be.

You spent the day with Billy beforehand, trying to get as much happy in your head as possible. He obviously could tell something was irking at you, but didn't push you, just held you extra tight. You could have cried over the sweetness of his gesture, or lack of it.

Now, laced into an itchy dress with your hair pulled up, you did your best to be positive. Since it was unlikely you'd be talking for most of the night you dwelt on a bank of memories from the last few weeks, all involving Billy, as you descended the stairs.

Henry kissed your cheek and told you that you looked beautiful. You accepted the compliment; grateful it was that.

Pulling you aside, your mother made like she was straightening your dress before you went into the front room to greet the guests with her. "Remember... best behavior. It's your job to keep Mr. Merritt happy."

She meant well, but the words still stung. Your mother had a habit of giving advice she found helpful but ended up leaving you down. It wasn't her fault, you knew. She'd been raised in the same sort of mouse trap you had, but she never knew it.

Entering the room, you went to Henry when he held out a hand, standing at his side like you were supposed to.

"This is my fiancée," he introduced you to an older man with a mustache called Eaton, who eyed you appreciatively. You gave him a shy smile, trying to subtly cover your cleavage. Yet another thing you disliked about this dress.

"The pleasure is mine." Mr. Eaton lifted your hand to kiss it.

Entirely, you thought, but you smiled.

"And this," Henry turned you to the other man and you nearly gasped. "Is Mr. William H. Bonney."

"Billy." Your response was automatic, and you panicked, looking back at Henry.

He didn't suspect anything. "Ah, you've heard of him my dear? Folks call him 'the Kid'."

Billy was dressed in more formal wear than you were used to, but he still looked like him. That was more than you could say for yourself. He'd removed his hat, so you could fully see the look of shock in his eyes.

Henry was oblivious. "Mr. Bonney, allow me to introduce my bride-to-be." He beamed at you. "Isn't she a sight for sore eyes?"

"Beautiful," Billy agreed, his gaze not leaving you. It wasn't like you could tear your eyes away from him either. Now he knows. The betrayal he must be feeling...you felt awful for it.

Billy lifted your hand just as Mr. Eaton had done, pressing his lips briefly to it. "Ma'am." You were reminded of the night you'd met, and it made you feel even worse. For a moment you wondered if Billy would say something to Henry, but that thought was dismissed as soon as it arrived. Billy was a gentleman-more so than those who wore suits and mingled in high society. He wouldn't even think of it.

During dinner you could hardly eat a bite, so riddled with guilt and apprehension. What would he say to you once he got you alone? Would he be angry? Sad? Glad to have a reason to be rid of you?

He got up to find the washroom, and after a few minutes, you stood up too. Hardly anybody noticed, and Henry just waved a hand when you whispered your excuse to him.

You caught Billy just as he was exiting to come back to dinner, pulling him into a nearby room. With wide eyes, he whispered, knowing they'd be able to hear if you were too loud. "You're engaged?"

"Yes," you managed, looking up into his eyes. "I am. I'm sorry, I should have told you-"

"I've gotten in the way of another man," Billy's hands found your shoulders, the roughness of his hands not relieving like they usually were. "Pretty...that ain't right. You shoulda said somethin'."

"I'm so sorry," you breathed, feeling like you were going to cry. "I just...being with you felt so good. I didn't want it to end." It sounded selfish, you knew it, and you saw how it manifested on Billy's face.

He pursed his lips, looking away. "I'm sorry too." You stared at the ground as his boots clomped away, trying desperately not to cry. The whole situation had gotten out of hand, and now you'd lost the one bright spot in your life.

Somehow you managed to compose yourself enough to go back in and sit down, not remembering to smile until your mother whispered a harsh reminder.

Henry put his arm around your shoulders, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek, and it took all you had not to grimace. Stiffly, you let him touch you, his hand wandering down to your hip, to your bottom. He squeezed and you gasped, causing him to laugh.

He was humiliating you. In front of a stranger, in front of your parents, in front of... you could feel Billy watching you, but you didn't look at him.

Unfortunately Henry's hands did not stop there, and they slid up close to your breast-

That living room kiss, the way he'd told you there were no other options.

You stood suddenly, causing everyone to stare, but effectively removing his hand from where you didn't want it. Your chest was heaving with the sudden recollection, as well as everyone's eyes on you. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, and you hadn't thought about the consequences because there was no time to think.

"Pardon me," you said, your voice breathy. "I just..." as your eyes wandered you caught sight of your mother glaring at you. Your father wore a similar expression. You thought of all they'd done for you, how much they wanted this to work.

Sinking back into your chair, you softly said, "Headache."

Mr. Eaton gave you an odd look, but nothing was said. You still couldn't bring yourself to look at Billy.

The night concluded shortly thereafter. You pulled yourself together and said goodbye to Mr. Eaton, hardly noticing his wandering eyes this time. Then you moved to Billy, and the tears you'd held back so well for the whole night threatened to make an appearance again when you saw the way he was looking at you.

His blue eyes didn't hold anger like you thought they would. You only could make out a protective edge, and care, concern.

Leaning in, he kissed your hand once more. You politely bid him farewell, and he nodded, his expression unchanging.

After the door shut, Henry took your arm before you could flee, and your mother wandered into the other room. Your father had long since disappeared, leaving you defenseless. At least with a crowd your fiancé couldn't do too much damage.

"You're lucky you remembered your manners." Henry's grip on your arm was already too tight.

"I had a headache, I'm sorry," you said quietly, not feeling like fighting back. "It will not happen again."

"I wish I could believe it." When you looked up at him, his expression was dangerous. Henry leaned in, a piece of hair falling into his eyes. It only served to make him look madder. In both mind and demeanor. He laughed when he saw how afraid you looked. "Look at you. One word and you're shaking."

Clenching your jaw, you lifted your chin. Now that things were over with Billy, you were forced to accept that this would be your life. Catering to the whims of a man who did not love you the way anyone wanted to be loved. There was nobody to rescue you. "You touched me like that in front of strangers. In front of my parents." Although your voice was soft, your words were clear, and you were proud of yourself. "We're not even married yet-"

In a single motion, Henry pushed you, sending you smashing against the wall and crumpling to the floor. You let out a cry, but of course nobody came to your aid. And you were reminded painfully again of how alone you were.

You couldn't help it. The tears escaped your eyes. Your head was bowed, a strand of hair escaping your updo and falling into your line of vision. Your whole body ached, not just from his shove, but from all the emotion coursing through your veins. It had been inside for so long.

His shoes appeared before you, and a finger tilted your chin up. You knew you looked pathetic, and you knew he thought so too.

"The law may not dictate it," he said in a sharp whisper, his eyes nuclear. "But you are my wife in practice until the wedding. That means you respect and obey. Is that clear?"

"Yes." You met his eyes because you knew he wanted you to.

He released your chin, and your head bowed again, staring at the two little dark marks on your skirt from your teardrops. The sound of his shoes nearly made you flinch as he walked away. You didn't look up until you heard the front door open and shut.

Burying your face in your hands, you resisted a scream. Your nails dug into the skin around your eyes. You wanted to claw them out. But then you wouldn't be able to see him coming.

You didn't even want to see the marks that were surely forming from this incident. But you knew your knees would be bruised from falling, and probably your back and forearms from hitting the wall. At least you wouldn't have to cover them up for Billy.

Billy.

The thought sending you over the edge, you drew your knees to your chest, sunk your face into them and cried.

In the morning, you got up and saddled your horse out of instinct, only hesitating slightly when you remembered Billy wouldn't be joining you. Still, you pressed forward, figuring the ride would clear your head even if you didn't get to see him. You knew you would probably never see him again for anything like this.

As you readied your horse, however, you heard the unmistakable sound of hooves in the distance. Looking up, you immediately recognized that silhouette.

Billy stopped a little distance away, and he lifted his hand in a wave, motioning for you to come over.

You didn't want to, sure that this would only lead to more guilt now that the two of you weren't being watched. But it was Billy. And you wanted a chance to explain. So, you left your horse in the stables and ran over, holding the skirts of your simple dress out of your way. At least now you felt back to normal, in your clothing of choice with your hair loose.

He didn't dismount when you came up to him, much to your surprise. Instead, he held out a hand. "C'mon sunshine. Wanna show ya somethin'."

"Should I get my horse?" you asked, looking back at the stables.

"No need, I'll have ya back in no time," he flexed the fingers of his hand. "Hop on up."

You mounted, sitting in front of him with your back snug against his warm chest. The morning air was slightly chilly, so it was welcome.

Billy got the horse moving, keeping one arm secured around you as he guided it wherever he was taking you. The trees surrounding were familiar, but it felt too good to be back up close to him to really pay attention. Only when he stopped the horse at a recognizable little cabin smack in the middle of a clearing did you realize.

Trying to look around at him, you said, "Billy-?"

He dismounted and set his hands on your waist, lifting you off the horse and setting you on your feet. Then without a word he took your hand and led you up the porch steps holding the door open so you could go inside. He followed in behind you.

It was clear someone had spent time here, done some work to clean it up. The floor was no longer dusty, and the cobwebs in the corners had vanished. You saw a stove against the wall and a few blankets folded on the opposite side. Turning to Billy, you looked at him in astonishment.

He settled against the wall by the blankets and spread his legs out in front of him, patting his thigh. "C'mere, angel."

Was this a trap? A build up to horrible news? You paused before you moved toward him, your mind weighed with those very thoughts. But he didn't look upset, so you went to him, sitting on his legs. He adjusted you, pulling one knee so it was on his other side, effectively making you straddle him.

Putting his hands on your waist, he rubbed his fingers up and down. "Relax. Everything's okay." At his words you visibly calmed down. When he deemed it the right time, he picked up your hands, holding them between you and reminding you of the first time you came here.

"Look at me, yeah?" he only continued when your eyes lifted to his. "Last night was surprising. Ya realize that, right?"

You nodded, immediately going into apology mode. "I'm so sorry Billy. I thought about telling you so many times, but I didn't know how and-"

"It's okay," he soothed, squeezing your hand. "I understand." Then, his face fell slightly, and he lowered your hands to rest on your thighs. "Do ya love him?"

"No." The answer was immediate. You didn't even think about it. "I've never loved him. Not even for a second."

Billy looked relieved, but then he frowned, his hands going back to your waist with the same slow motions. Up and down. It was like he was trying to keep you calm. "Why're ya marryin' him then, sweetheart?"

Taking a deep breath in, you told him the story of what had happened in your family's drawing room in Atlanta. He listened intently with a serious expression on his face, and when you were done, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. You could see him putting the pieces together, practically hear him remembering the day he'd touched you in the same place and you'd recoiled. "I'm so sorry that happened to ya, honey."

"I've learned to live with it." You leaned into his hand, nuzzling your cheek slightly against it. Even after everything you were still touch-starved, still hanging onto every second your skin was against his. "I didn't have a choice."

He seemed to understand through the way he thumbed up and down your cheek, and the way he looked at you. Then, nodding a little, he raised his other hand to hold the opposite cheek. "I love you."

The words caused an explosion of warmth in your chest. You searched his eyes, not really needing to make sure he was serious, but doing it out of habit. Lifting your hand to his, you whispered, "I love you too."

Billy leaned forward and kissed you, soft and gentle and sweet. He leaned his forehead against yours when your lips parted and used both his hands to smooth your hair behind your shoulders. A little smile came to his face.

"I didn't know if it was the right time to say before. But last night when I saw ya with him...saw the way he treated you..." Billy's eyes darkened. Then he stroked your cheek again. "Those bruises from the first time we came here-" his other hand came to that wrist, and he looked at it as if expecting to find them still there. "Did he do that to you?"

You nodded and his jaw clenched. "Did he do anything last night?"

Another nod. Billy exhaled softly. "Where?"

Not wanting to hide anything from him ever again, you pulled your long sleeves up so he could see the darkening bruises on your forearms. He touched them gingerly. "This the only place?"

Taking his hand in yours, you guided it to your back, sliding it up and down the affected area once. Billy looked horrified. "That whole spot?"

It seemed all you could do right now was nod. At that, he gently wrapped his arms around you, hugging you close to him, but not too tight, likely for fear of disturbing your injuries. He kissed your cheek, then your shoulder, one of his hands holding the back of your head to him. "Oh, baby."

He just held you to him for a long while, and you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders. You weren't the only one who knew. You weren't the only one who cared. Whatever love you'd had before expanded until you didn't think it could fill your body anymore.

Billy kept his arms loosely wound around your waist as he looked at you, nodding his head at the space the two of you were in. "Ya see this? 'S all for us, angel. I came in and fixed it up so we could have a place...away from everythin'...and everyone."

You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly and he chuckled a little but returned it. Even though he had laughed at you it didn't feel like it did when Henry did. With Billy, you knew it was pure delight.

Pulling back from him, you realized something, and your face fell again. "But Billy...I only have ten months until I have to marry him."

He looked at you determinedly. "That means we have ten months to figure how we're gonna getcha outta there."

Previous Part|Next Part

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Sinclair

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 3.7k || cw: check the tags

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper ao3

Can be read as a standalone

~~~

Evil monsters from a hell dimension are easy to spot, like a dog with a face that blooms open to eat your cat, or a monster clawing it’s way out from the ceiling. Everything about them feels wrong on base-level instinct. But all you have to do is just get it in your sights, plant your feet, and swing for the fences. Dodging helps too, Steve supposes. 

Monsters like Billy Hargrove, however, are harder to spot. They look and sound like everyone else if you’re not paying close enough attention. The guy radiated violence, and all Steve could hope for was to stay out of his way. To stand off to the side and hope Billy would pass him by, sight unseen.

After what happened to Lucas, Steve can’t afford to stand by anymore. There’s more kids out there like Billy. Fucking christ he used to be friends with those kinds of people. He thought it was all just meaningless jokes and empty words– Steve and all his friends and his family and their neighbors in the Loch, it was all just jokes.

But then he’d called Jonathan Byers queer, laced with venom and meant to sting. As Jonathan’s fist hit its mark, Steve finally realized that maybe the people in his life weren’t just joking. He’d started to understand what they actually meant, how to look past the casual tone and see it for what it truly meant. 

Since then, Steve’s worked to separate himself from people like Tommy and Billy, like his parents. That still doesn’t mean everyone believes he’s trying to change, or that he’ll be forgiven. But that doesn’t matter, he’ll spend the rest of his life making amends regardless. Steve will do whatever it takes to be the best person he can be for the kids.

Anxiety churns through his gut as he knocks on the front door. The cold November breeze ruffles his hair. It sends a shiver down his spine and he finds himself bouncing on the balls of his feet to shake out both the chill and his nerves.

After a few moments, a woman with a delicate heart-shaped face and stylishly short black hair opens the door with a warm smile. He never saw Mrs. Sinclair in the moments after it was all over, everyone congregated in the Byers’ living room exhausted, sharing information, and tending each other's wounds. Steve had slipped out the back just as Claudia had arrived for Dustin. 

Her smile falters, only for a moment, before she overcomes the surprise at her unexpected guest. She smoothes her hands down the front of her blue jeans then crosses them over her chest, wrapping the crochet shawl on her back tight around her shoulders. It’s cute, patterned with little yellow and green flowers with dark brown in between.

He smiles awkwardly, bringing his hand up in a wave only to abort the movement halfway through because she opened the door and she’s waiting, just say something.

“Hello, dear,” she prompts, saving him from his spiral by following a simple script. The things you’re supposed to say when some random boy knocks on your door late into the evening but doesn’t say anything.

“Hello, Mrs. Sinclair,” his voice cracks, and he winces. “Umm, my name’s–”

“Steve Harrington,” she says, not unkindly. “Yes, I know.”

He swallows, desperately maintaining an appropriate amount of eye contact. On top of everything else, that sentence alone could mean so much.

Even though Steve’s never met Mrs. Sinclair, he knew of her from his mother. He remembers listening to her rehash the events of whatever social event they’d both attended over dinner, notable only because it was one of few occasions his father would actually listen while his mother talked.

She was a little outspoken during book club.

Richard, you should’ve seen her new hairstyle.

Sue wore a very interesting outfit today.

His parents have nothing in common, but they both love tearing down others to feel better about themselves. Sue Sinclair eventually quit attending the same clubs, and his mother adjusted her sights to new targets. Steve can only hope that Mrs. Sinclair is referring to things Lucas might have mentioned about him, and not because of Beth Harrington and her luncheon book clubs.

“Right, yeah,” he says. “I was hoping I could talk to you and Mr. Sinclair about Lucas. About what happened that night at the Byers’ house.”

His gaze has drifted back down to the pavement, and he can’t help running a hand through his hair only for it to pull at the stitches on his forehead. They would’ve been healed by now if he didn’t keep pulling them out. If he could keep his hands in his pockets like Dustin keeps telling him.

It’s dark, and it’s quiet. It’s silent for so long he expects to be turned away, until he hears a soft sigh.

“Come in then,” she says, stepping to the side to open the door fully. “I’m sure we’ll all want to sit down for this.”

Even on a dark, cold winter night, the sunshine yellow walls help the home feel warm and bright– to match the family inside, he thinks fondly. Steve spots multiple science fair plaques hung up in the living room and a fridge covered in what look like pages of meticulously colored pink and purple horses. A stark contrast to his own home, lifeless and lackluster.

A small cough breaks him of his reverie, and he turns to find her carefully watching him. She’s eyeing him like he’s a code she can crack, making him even more nervous. Her lips quirk up at the corner of her mouth and she gestures for him to sit at the table.

“Would you like anything to drink, Steven? There’s lemonade, tea, and milk, and there’s pop out in the garage.” She moves into the kitchen, the hanging cabinets obscure her face. Her voice is pleasant and genuine.

“Just water, thank you, Mrs. Sinclair.” She sets the water glass next to him and leaves the room only to return a moment later with Mr. Sinclair. He’s sporting a wide smile, but his eyes are strained. 

“Steve Harrington, isn’t that right,” he asks. He gently guides his wife to a chair at the opposite corner of the table, pulling it out for her and softly kissing her cheek. She smiles at Steve and rolls her eyes. The normalcy of the domestic gesture causes Steve’s cheeks to burn and he averts his eyes. He’s been here all of five minutes and has seen more love within the Sinclair home than he’s ever seen within his own. 

“Uh, yes sir,” Steve responds as Mr. Sinclair takes the seat opposite of him, like this is an interview for a high class job. Which, he figures, it kind of is. Except the man’s wearing blue flannel pajama pants and an oversized grey hooded sweatshirt with a Pacers logo on the chest. It helps Steve relax slightly, the perceived casualness hopefully setting the tone for the situation.

“So what brings you by? Sue mentioned something about what happened at the Byers’ house.”

“Yeah, I just umm–” he swallows around a lump clogging his throat– “I’ve already talked with Ms. Henderson and Mrs. Hargrove about being Dustin and Max’s official babysitter, and I’m really hoping I can do the same for Lucas.” In through his nose, out through his mouth. In, and out.

“I’m not sure what all Lucas told you, but the kids got into a lot of trouble that night. Dustin came looking for Mike to help find his lost cat, but he found me instead. I wasn’t even supposed to be there.” He pauses, replaying the cover story in his head. “Lucas and Max found us just before the pack of feral dogs did. We ended up ok, hitched a ride with Nancy and Jonathan back to the Byers’ house. Then that’s when Will got sick and they all left to go to the hospital.

“I didn’t know Billy was Max’s brother. She kept telling me, over and over, that she had to get home or her brother would kill her. I was too busy trying to keep the boys distracted– I should’ve listened to her. We heard the car pull in the driveway, and I knew straight away who it was.

“I told the kids to hide and I tried to convince him to leave, but he saw them. He pushed past me to get into the house, but by the time I got back inside he had Lucas pinned to the wall and– I’ve never seen someone look like that before. The way Billy looked at Lucas– I know I was a bully, but I’ve never– Billy hated him.”

He’s prepared for this, even done it twice already like he said. He’d hoped it’d be easier this time around, yet he’s still just as tense. But the Sincair’s sit patiently across from him, waiting for him to continue. So he musters his courage, takes deep breaths, and pushes on.

“If it wasn’t for Max,” he plows forward, “I’m not sure what would’ve happened. She knocked Billy out while he was on top of me. We managed to take his car and get out. When we came back later, he was gone.”

Steve’s eyes fall to his lap and he wrings his hands together, rubs them harshly against the tops of his thighs to feel the rough denim scratch against his palms– to keep himself from hyperventilating, to calm down, to breathe. Anything to show these nice and normal people that he’s stable enough to care for their son. That he’s not the kind of person to panic when nothing’s wrong. 

“What about the parents?” Mrs. Sinclair asks. When he looks up, there’s a comforting smile on her face that doesn’t meet her eyes, still filled with a hesitancy Steve can’t pinpoint.

He knew the question was coming, yet he still finds it difficult to answer. “I feel like everyone in town knows The Harrington’s,” he says, voice laced with distaste for his own last name.

Mr. Sinclair’s lips form a fine, thin line across his carefully restrained face, disappearing under his  trimmed mustache. Mrs. Sinclair reaches out to hold her husband’s hand again, rubbing her fingers across his knuckles. She still holds Steve’s gaze, unwavering, as he tries to explain himself.

“I can’t ever make up for what my parents have said or done. All I can promise is that I’m trying not to be like them. And those kids,” he stops, digging deep for the right words to explain emotions he’s never had to articulate before. “I feel more like myself around the kids than I ever have with anyone else. It’s like they give me a purpose. They matter to me, and I’m not really used to that. I’d do anything to keep them safe.”

They’re quiet for what feels like ages, leaving him waiting for them to pass their judgements, weighing his heart. “I’m glad you’ve told us this,” Mrs. Sinclair replies, “but that’s not what I was asking, hun.”

Steve racks his brain, sorting through his words to find what he’s missed. The confusion must show on his face.

“The girl, Max,” Mr. Sinclair fills in, “what about her parents?”

Steve’s confusion only worsens as he tries to reason out why they’re asking about Max’s family and not his own. The Harrington’s have terrorized this town for decades, and the Hargrove’s moved in less than six months ago.

“Max?” Steve asks. “Why– I don’t understand.”

“Steven,” she starts again, “we know all about the kind of people Beth and Richard Harrigton are, and we know the kind of boy you used to be,” he smile softens, finally reaching her eyes as they shine at him with a sad affection. He feels bare, and moves his gaze to just over her right shoulder instead. “Just because your parents are bad people, doesn’t mean you are. And just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t make you a bad person. Especially when it’s so obvious how hard you’re trying to fix them.”

“But this young girl, Max, that Lucas has been spending time with. She’s new to town, from California, right?” Mrs. Sinclair asks. Steve nods.

“We don’t know them,” she says, her smile melted into a frown. “Lucas and the boys talk about her well enough, and she sounds like a sweet kid.” She blinks, hard, and Steve realizes she’s trying not to cry.

“If her parents are like her brother, Billy,” Mr. Sinclair picks up her train of thought, “Lucas could be in danger just by being her friend, Steve. If her parents are anything like that, I can’t have our son spending time with her. It won’t matter whether you’re there to protect them or not. There are some things in this world you can’t save them from.”

There’s nothing he can say that’ll meet the gravity of their questions, except sit in their beautiful, warm, yellow kitchen and process the small fraction of their world they’ve laid plain. He’s imagining Billy catching them at the movies, sharing a popcorn bucket and a soda with two straws. He can’t help but morbidly wonder what would happen if Neil passed them on the street with Max riding on the back of Lucas’s bike. 

Even if Steve were there with them, they’d still be seen. He can’t be around all the time, won’t always be there to help. Shoving down the panic at that thought, he leans back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair and yanks at the strands. The stitches rip from his scalp, and the sting of it keeps him present.

“Her stepdad, Neil, is the problem,” Steve starts. “I haven’t met him, but he seems– I think he’s the reason Billy is the way that he is. I’ve heard him yelling from the driveway when I pick Max up sometimes.” 

His thoughts stray to last week, standing in the driveway, half out of the car trying to decide if he should go knock or stay and wait. The shouts were hard to ignore. As Steve finally decided knocking would be worth the risk of confrontation, Max burst out the front door, red-faced with bloodshot eyes, and her jaw clenched tight. Words like ‘spoiled’ and ‘ungrateful brat’ floated between the snowflakes after her, carried along by the frigid evening.

“Max’s mom seems alright,” Steve says. Beth Harrington’s years of training kicks in and Steve falls back on typical midwest niceties. “Susan loves Max, and she’s the one who agreed to let me watch her instead of Billy. I think she knows that their house isn't– great. She lets Max stay with me a lot. Hell, half the time she practically lives with me.”

He knows Dustin’s happy when Steve’s around, and he hopes eventually the rest of the kids would eventually feel the same way. Max likes having him around too, but Steve thinks she might need him more than the others do. Because unlike The Party– but very much like himself– she doesn’t have anyone or anywhere safe to escape. 

He never had a person waiting in the driveway with the car running, ready to take him away. With Max, Steve gets to be the person he needed when he was her age. 

Steve sighs, resistant to the decision he’s come to, but hopefully the Sinclairs will understand. He meets their gazes, a solemn look from both of them tells him maybe he’s easier to read than he thought.

“I want them all to be together, but when it comes down to it, the boys all have their families to fall back on. Max– she doesn’t have that. So I can’t leave her behind– I won’t.” Steve hesitates, closing his mouth before he oversteps.

“But?” Mr. Sinclair prompts, eyeing him across the table.

Steve considers his words carefully before saying, “I think keeping them apart would be a mistake. You know Lucas won’t stop trying to see Max. He really cares about her, and the way she looks at him–I don’t think you could keep them apart no matter how hard you try.” He sighs, anxious he’s undoing all the trust he’s gained tonight. “And it’s like you said, right? Just because someone’s family is all bad, doesn’t mean you’re like them. We– I mean, Max– can be different. Better.”

They glance at each other, but when Mr. Sinclair opens his mouth to respond, a blur of red and blue crashes into Steve’s side, almost toppling him out of the kitchen chair. All he can see are fingers entwined together across his chest and small arms covered in red and blue rocket ships. Of course Lucas would wear nerdy pajamas, it’s so goddamn adorable. Just another reminder that Steve is so utterly screwed for these kids.

“Lucky,” Mrs. Sinclair admonishes, “what are you doing out of bed?” She stands and moves over to her son, who clutches Steve’s chest like it’ll keep him from being pried away and dragged back to his room.

“You can’t keep me from hanging out with Max,” he shouts, muffled by his face pressed into Steve’s shoulder. “She belongs to The Party now, just like Steve. And we don’t leave anyone behind. Ever.”

Something he might think is fondness balloons in his ribs at Lucas’s admission. Steve hadn’t really considered himself included in The Party, as Dustin explained it. He always assumed it was mostly just the kids, plus Nancy and Jonathan because of Mike and Will. He’s more like an accessory, if anything at all. A guy on the fringes, brought in by random chance. 

“I want Steve to be my babysitter, and I want Max to be my friend,” he answers.

“Son,” his dad says, who stands up to place his hand on his son’s shoulder, “we’re talking to Steve about this.”

“No,” Lucas interrupts. He pops his head up to look at them, but doesn’t loosen his grip around Steve’s shoulders. “You don’t get it. Steve’s not like Billy and neither is Max. Max is the coolest. She’s nice and funny and laughs at my jokes. And Steve gives rides in his super fancy car. He lets them hang out at his house after school. Sometimes he even buys us candy and gives us extra quarters for the arcade.”

Mrs. Sinclair clears her throat, a very motherly excuse me, you did what? Steve realizes she’s teasing Lucas, the slight smirk on her face giving the game away. He gives Lucas a gentle nudge, and chuckles when Lucas tries his best to back pedal. 

“I mean,” the poor boy stammers, “he never buys us candy. Only, like, apples and stuff.”

His mom laughs and his dad gives his shoulder a slight shake, bringing a smile to Lucas’s face. He knows the world will be tough for Lucas, but Steve can’t help but think how lucky the kid is to have a family like this. Safe and loving, comfortable enough to tease each other, and carefree enough for affection in front of company.

“Ok, Lucky, we’ll think about it, alright? Now let’s get to bed,” Mrs. Sinclair says, gently leaning Lucas into her arms and guiding him away from the table. He groans, burying his face into his mother’s stomach as she laughs. “You’ve got to get up early for school tomorrow, you know that.”

“Mom,” Lucas draws out the word, whining obnoxiously, “don’t call me that when people are here.”

Steve listens to Lucas’s lamentations as the two disappear down the hallway. Mr. Sinclair gives Steve’s shoulder a hard pat and firm shake, just like he had to his own son. Steve’s throat clogs slightly, and the gesture makes him think of Hopper.

Mr. Sinclair says on the back of an exasperated sigh, “Lucas is a good kid. When he likes something– or someone– it’s fierce. He gets consumed with whatever he sets his sights on, almost like it’s all he can think about sometimes.”

“Oh honey,” Mrs. Sinclair chuckles at her husband, stepping back into the room. “Remember when Mike first showed him Dungeons and Dragons? Stayed up all night for weeks working on his character even after we grounded him for it. It’s been years and it’s still all he talks about.”

Mr. Sinclair laughs, shaking his head, but when he looks back to Steve there’s resolve scrunched between his brows. He turns to his wife who nods, a soft smile spreads across her face. “Unfortunately for us, I think you might be right, Steve. If Lucas and the boys have already decided Max is their friend– and if what you’re implying about the two of them is true– I don’t think we could keep him from seeing her. No matter how dangerous it might be. That boy will always do what he thinks is right, consequences be damned.”

“You can watch him this week, and we’ll see how it goes,” Mrs. Sinclair says, her smile now wide and loving, bright enough to match the home her family has built.  “All we ask is that you keep us in the loop, and he stays away from the Hargrove’s.”

“The kids talk about you constantly,” Mr. Sinclair continues, “and Claudia only has good things to say about you– Max too. We only got to meet her when we drove her home that night, but it’d be nice if we got another chance. Maybe sometime next week we can have the both of you over for dinner to get to know each other.” 

Butterflies erupt in Steve’s stomach at the giddy realization that they’re willing to take a chance on him. To trust him with something as important as their son’s safety is a blessing Steve thought he’d never be worthy of.

They work out the scheduling details, and Steve leaves feeling higher than he has in months. He’ll do everything he can to prove to the Sinclair’s that he deserves the chance they’re giving him, that neither he nor Max are their parents, and that Lucas will be happier for it. He can’t imagine how Lucas would’ve felt if kept away from Max, but now it doesn’t matter. Steve can keep his kids under one roof.

Three down, three more to go.

[maxybabyy]

loosely inspired by that dropout prompt of having sex at abstinence-camp.

His face prickles under the hot sun.

It’s been like this since he arrived at camp. Daniel itchy from the heat, face flushed like he hasn’t been using SPF 50 twice daily. Waking up feeling raw, tender in a way he hasn’t before. His temper is fucked too, he reckons, feels probably like a live wire would – jittery, shaky.

“Daniel,” Max says, voice soft as he tugs on his arm. “What is this? I thought – always Wednesday we are in the kayaks. I have even my vest here already. What will we do indoors?”

Daniel looks at him, at the bright pink vest stretched across his chest. His shoulders are burnt, skin flaky where Daniel had rubbed in the aloe vera. His sheets smell of it now, and he thinks, maybe, that’s part of it too – why he feels like this, sensitive. Allergic to that too, probably.

“No worries, Maxy. I will take lead on this, just. Watch,” Daniel tells him, shakes him off as he walks to the front.

Behind him, Max purses his lips but he falls into step quickly.

“Alright, everyone! Listen up and gather round,” Daniel calls out. He hauls the box of pamphlets up from the floor and shoves a handful into Max’s hands, makes him pass them out. “Find a seat and fill your glass with water.”

They like for them to keep it fresh, trying out new ways to show it so the kids won’t become bored. Last year they had done tape on the arm, the year before that, paper balls. But Daniel thinks this will work too.

“Daniel, what does this mean, danger zone?” Max asks, a frown etched deep in his brows. He hasn’t handed out the pamphlets yet, eyes skimming across the front of one. “HIV – Daniel, if you are worried about this, you should of course give them condoms and tell them to be safe. This will not help them.”

“Today, we are going to be talking about your flower,” Daniel says, pulling the pamphlets from Max’s hands and placing them in the middle, ready for them to be taken, shared. “As you can see, you should all have a glass of water in front of you –“

He knows it’s the first year Max is with them, that he had come without any experience, a recommendation from his youth group even. But he had fit in well, stuck to Daniel like they had been mates for years.

There had been a flood the first week in, tore down the cabin that Max had been in charge of. So they had squeezed together in Daniel’s bed instead. Obviously like, Daniel had offered to sleep in reverse, with his head in the foot end, so they wouldn’t touch dicks. But Max had told him, “I will sleep like this, then you of course can be behind me,” and so that’s what they had done.

Only once had it been like, weird.

Daniel had been dreaming about this hot-ass, blonde beach babe, with like, short hair and her nipples out, the swell of her tits barely there as they fooled around on the shore. She had been reaching into his shorts with nice, warm hands – built for tennis, maybe. Or like, paddle, probably – when Daniel had woken up and come in his pants.

Max had watched him sneak back into bed, blue eyes sharp in the dark, and the shame Daniel had felt – hot, persistent, raw – still hasn’t washed away.

“And when you tip it over – go ahead, tip it over! Careful not to smash the glass,” instructs Daniel now, ignoring the way Max hovers behind him. Water flows from the cups, soaking the tables. Only one pair manages to break the glass, but Max is there like a hawk, nudging them away before cleaning it up.

“Now take your cup – Billy, Jody, join up with someone else – and try to put the water back into it.”

The room blooms with frustration, water sloshed onto the floor, and another glass shatters. And even then, the glasses stay empty. Forever changed by one small misstep.

“See how it won’t go back in? That’s what losing your virginity is like,” Daniel says before stepping back. He knows the in-group conversation is more important than anything he can tell them, the quiet reflection. To put it into perspective.

“Daniel, this is of course so silly,” Max says, almost directly into his ear. Daniel shivers from the shock, pulls his shoulders to his ears. “Always you can just put more water in, and no one will know,” he says, pouring water from the bottle into Daniel’s cup.

“See? It looks full again.”

Daniel frowns, looks at the cup that does, remarkedly, look like it did before. “Obviously that’s not the point, Max. It’s not the same. You can never put the water back into the –“

“What is virginity, Daniel? The cup or the water?”

“Obviously it is –“ Daniel says, scoffs at him. He feels the flush of frustration tear through him, how it makes the tips of his fingers buzz, his knees weak with defeat. His chest feels – weird. Like his heart is beating from somewhere else, his throat maybe, or his head, loud in his ears even.

“What does it matter? If it’s the cup or the water. It’s an analogy, Max!”

The worst part is, Max doesn’t even look upset. Confused, maybe, but there’s no part of him that looks the way Daniel feels right now. Hot and bothered, angry at the world, at Max.

“Well, it’s a shit analogy then,” Max says and smirks, and for a second, Daniel hates him.

“How the fuck would you know?”

They’re supposed to be partners, is the thing. Daniel had asked, told the boss to switch the pairs around, to make Max his mate. And the summer had become all the better for it.

Max likes all the same shit as him: racing karts and skinny dipping at night when the kids are asleep. He touches Daniel like they’re best friends, wrestles him to the ground and doesn’t get up until he says uncle. Even the shit he doesn’t care about, he pretends to like for Daniel’s sake.

Once, Daniel had like, sprained his wrist falling from one of the trees. It had been right around his birthday too, and Daniel had felt like shit, side-lined from all the activities. Max had found him in the cabin, eyes wet with tears, homesick. And he had just – laid down next to him, held his hand and told him about home until Daniel’s heart had felt light and free.

Now he sucks in a breath to calm himself. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter, because Max tugs on his arm as soon as Daniel looks at him, curls his hand around his elbow and says, “Daniel, I am of course not a virgin.”

[toobusybeingdelulu]

No because if the duffers had really cared about Max and especially Billy, at the end of season 2 we would have gotten a scene between them in the car before the snow ball, paralleling the one between Dustin and Steve.

or maybe we would have not seen it until s4 in one of Max's memories, instead of the one at the skatepark which had literally no value whatsoever, and it could have been something like this:

—

Eleven recognizes the building in front of her almost immediately. How could she not? when those same walls held the memories of so many kids, including hers: they had witnessed her first ball, aka one of the few times she had managed to feel like a normal kid, surrounded by friends and other people her age who did not spare a glance for her. Because, for once in her life, none of them could have said there was anything remarkable and different about her except for a pretty dress and some light make up.

And apparently that same building holds some kind of significance for Max too considering that, among all her other memories' locations, Hawkins Middle School was the one to greet her. Except that she finds herself not inside of it, but out, right in the parking lot.

Eleven spins on herself, trying to have a look around; she recognizes Dustin with his absurd hairstyle walking confidently towards the school. She doesn't recognize the car he came out of, though.

The Camaro parked just a little bit further away, on the other hand…

The girl holds her breath, walking slowly towards it; while reducing the distance between them she can already make out a flash of red hair, with a flower pin on top of it. honestly, that's another thing she could recognize everywhere. Sitting on the passenger's seat is Max, with her mouth set in a tight line and, right beside her, Billy. Eleven has to stop for a second while trying to shake off the memory of the last time she saw him: dead, with his chest spared open. So different from the one version now in front of her; His hair is shorter, his clothes cleaner, and yet the vulnerable gaze she had seen in his eyes that fatal night is almost the same as this one.

The only difference is that, in this memory, there is no one to witness it. Billy is looking straight ahead, and so is Max.

And none of them is speaking.

Furrowing her brow, Eleven gets closer. Once reaching the car's window on Max's side she gets on her knees, determined to have a better look at what's happening inside.

The redhead is sitting with her arms crossed, tapping her foot on the pavement. To say she looks impatient would be an understatement.

"So? Can I go?" To further confirm that fact, her tone is anything but friendly. Billy, who only now seems to remember that she is here, turns towards her with a raised brow.

"No one is holding you back. why are you still here?”

Max looks at him like he is a child, before trying to open the door. Which doesn't, in fact, open. "You have the child security on, genius." she stays silent for a second, then adds: "like I would voluntarily sit in this stupid car with you for longer than necessary."

Eleven holds her breath, shifting her gaze to Billy, who does nothing more than hold the wheel tighter and release a deep sigh, like those words had physically hurt him. And yet it only lasts for a second, because his shoulders relax right after. "this stupid car, as you called it, is the one thing that took you to this loser party in the first place. what's so exciting about it anyway?"

While watching Max's expression, Eleven thinks that if her eyes had a superpower, it would've been be that of throwing daggers. "first of all, it gets me away from your stupid face. It seems like a good reason enough to me."

"yeah, and it gets you closer to the ugly ones of your hick friends. Speaking of looks-“

“I told you to leave them alone. And you still have this fucking security thing on. Let me out, or l'm gonna be late!"

"late for what? Your first kissy-kiss dance under the mistletoe? Jesus, Max, I never took you for a romantic pussy."

"What's your problem?!" she explodes, finally turning towards him with her fists clenched. "Is this your sick idea of revenge? keeping me locked here with you for the rest of the night while leaving me wondering if they are having fun without me or-“

“You look pretty.”

Eleven and Max almost gasp at the exact same time.

Billy, on the other hand, looks like he just swallowed a frog, while still looking straight ahead and his grip on the wheel tight enough to make his fingers white. Eleven can't remember the last time she saw Max at a loss for words. From her position, the only thing she sees is her hair, and yet she can imagine the expression of total bewilderment she must have in that moment.

"I mean... less ugly than usual. Or whatever." Adds Billy, probably in order to escape that suffocating silence.

Max, on her part, doesn't say anything, but El doesn't miss the way she relaxes her shoulder after resuming her previous position, pushed against the seat with her arms tight around herself.

In the end, just as she is about to open her mouth to reply, a distinct click! is heard inside the car. "you can go. Let me find you here not later than half past eleven, got that?"

Max closes her mouth and nods, before throwing a quick, timid glance at Billy. Then she opens the door and Eleven rises to her feet, watching her best friend look at her brother like she doesn't understand him in the slightest. Like she wants to say something but can't manage herself to.

So she doesn't.

Right after Max disappears behind the school's doors, a loud rumble is heard. Eleven has just a moment to process what she just saw before turning and finding herself right in front of the same nebulous cloud that she once saw in Billy’s mind.

The source.

She doesn't have much time. So she can't do nothing more than leave the school, Billy, Max and their complicated relationship behind. At least for now.

[tnt-tourney]

welcome one and all to the 2023 t+t tournament!! despite the long wait for the final bracket, the day has finally arrived. due to the size of the text, the list of contestants will be under the cut. due to how many contestants there are, i wont be able to tag everything, but i will tag as much as i can.

now, since it's been a while, a quick rehashing of the relevant rules!

1. be polite to others participating in the vote

2. do not Rig the vote -- propaganda is more than welcome and the askbox is always open for it! i just dont have the energy to deal with botting

3. dont be rude if the contestants youre rooting for are voted out!! sometimes thats just the way things go. theres always next time!

4. have fun !

the polls will start rolling out sometime next week. thank you!!

left:

Hexsquad (The Owl House) VS. Vault Hunters (Borderlands 1+2)

The Bad Kids (D20: Fantasy High) VS. FloweringPassionFruit (Ride the Cyclone)

Barbie + Ken (Barbie) VS. Dwarves (Deep Rock Galactic)

Mabel Pines + Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls) VS. The Fantastic 4 (Marvel)

Klaus Hargreeves + Viktor Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) VS. Spiderband (Spider-Man: Into/Across the Spiderverse)

Lup + Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone) VS. Cleo de Nile + Deuce Gorgon (Monster High)

Spideypool (Marvel) VS. Gomez Addams + Morticia Addams (The Addams Family)

Team Rocket (Pokémon) VS. Rashmi Jamil + Amelie Macon + Loam Arnault (Entropic Float)

Link + Zelda (The Legend of Zelda) VS. Peter Parker + Harry Osborn (Marvel)

Huey Duck + B.O.Y.D. (Ducktales 2017) VS. Golf Ball + Tennis Ball (Battle for Dream Island)

Lewis + Vivi + Arthur (Mystery Skulls Animate) VS. Horokeu Usui + Pirica Usui (Shaman King)

Paulkins (Hatchetfield) VS. Magnus Chase + Alex Fierro (Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard)

Bill Preston + Ted Logan (Bill and Ted) VS. Leonard Church + Agent Texas (Red vs. Blue)

Ariel + Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid) VS. Polypirates (JRWI: Riptide)

Cody Goodwin + May Goodwin (It Takes Two) VS. Frank-N-Furter + Magenta + Columbia + Riff Raff (The Rocky Horror Show)

SpaceDolls (Ride the Cyclone) VS. Kim Possible + Ron Stoppable (Kim Possible)

---

right:

The Guardians of the Galaxy (Marvel) VS. Julian Bashir + Miles O'Brien + Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space 9)

The Murder Crew (Clue) VS. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Vash the Stampede + Nicolas D. Wolfwood + Meryl Stryfe + Milly Thompson (Trigun) VS. Team Chaotix (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Steve + Alex (Minecraft) VS. Gyro Gearloose + Lil Bulb (Ducktales 2017)

Phantom Thieves (Persona 5) VS. Wright Anything Agency + Apollo Justice + Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Westley + Buttercup (The Princess Bride) VS. Shin + Noi (Dorohedoro)

Kermit + Miss Piggy (The Muppets) VS. The Mechanisms

Jeremy Heere + Michael Mell + Christine Canigula (Be More Chill) VS. The Solve It Squad (The Solve It Squad Returns)

Harleyberts + Crockenglishes (Homestuck) VS. Sonic & co. (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Mulder + Scully (The X-Files) VS. Steph Lauter + Pete Spankoffski (Hatchetfield)

Main Cast (Omori) VS. Ben Tennyson + Gwen Tennyson + Kevin Levin (Ben 10)

Ashe Ubert + Claude Von Riegan + Sylvain Jose Gautier (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) VS. Birdetta + Yoshi (Mario)

Prime Defenders (JRWI: Prime Defenders) VS. Strilondes (Homestuck)

The Mystery Gang (Scooby Doo) VS. Billie Logan + Thea Preston (Bill and Ted)

Splatoon Idols VS. Lexthan (Hatchetfield)

Sex Bob-omb + Ramona Flowers (Scott Pilgrim vs. the World) VS. Jonathan Sims + Martin K. Blackwood (The Magnus Archives)

[alyana-luvs-u]

ocean eyes

!AUsteverogers x reader

Summary: y/n has to find a suitor by the end of the night or her aunt will arrange her marriage

🥂⋆⟡˚｡⋆🦢

word count: 1262

song: ocean eyes by billie eilish

🥂⋆⟡˚｡⋆🦢

Skirts swept the dance floor as adoring couples swept past you briskly, the soft melodies of the orchestra doing little to soothe your worries. The year was 1945, and the grand ballroom was filled with the sound of music and laughter as the guests twirled and swayed to the elegant symphonies of the orchestra. You stand tense at the edge of the dance floor, your heart fluttering with a mix of dread and trepidation for you were a maiden of marriageable age, and your aunt, with whom you had lived since your parent’s death, had made it clear that this ball was your last chance to find a suitor before she would arrange a marriage for you. Hours seemed to pass mesmerisingly as you excuse herself from yet another conversation you had unwillingly participated in. Grasping a champagne glass, you sip from it, before jumping as a mysterious hand taps your shoulder. The translucent chalice slips from your grasp as the bubbly liquid spilt upon your favourite dress dress. Turning around, you were met with startling blue eyes gazing at you apologetically. Viscount Steve Rogers meet your eyes, grimacing subtly at the mess upon the fabric.

“I-I apologise, Miss, I did not mean to scare you. Please, let me help you clean up.” He smiled charmingly, offering a napkin. You gape like a fish, trying to find the words to respond that somebody of such nobility and handsome had talked to you. Grinning easily, Steve took it upon himself to crouch down and wipe the mess, leaving only a faded brown stain upon the white.

“Please Miss-”

“y/n. Miss y/n l/n.” you manage to stutter out, still in awe of the man standing in front of you.

“Please Miss y/n, let me make it up to you with a dance.” Wordlessly, you accepted the outstretched hand, your own fitting in seamlessly with his own warm and calloused. You unsuccessfully attempted to conceal the wide smile that crossed your face as they glided upon the glossed wooden floor effortlessly, as whispers erupted about the two of you. It was well-known in court that the Viscount was single and looking for a wife to wed, and mothers had eagerly shoved their daughters in front of his dismissing eyes. You found your own gazing into his now, as he took in all the small details of your face, from your mesmerising y/e/c down to the beauty mark just above her lip. The dance was over all too soon, and the night swept on. Men came and offered dances just as well, but you declined them politely, deciding to step into the gardens for some fresh air. As you study the night sky, biting your lip, Steve steps out behind you, startling you once more.

“Pardon me Miss y/n, but you look troubled. Is there anything I could do to assist?” y/n placed a hand against her heart once more, before her eyes settled into a more comfortable warmth, as she shuffled upon the garden bench.

“You manage to scare me every time,” Steve flashes you an easy grin, settling next to you, so close that you could shuffle over an inch and your knees would touch.

“It must be my talent.” He clears his throat, his tone softening to a more serious one.

“Is there anthing I could do?” Smiling softly, you duck your head and look in his ocean eyes, finding nothing more than earnest truth.

“I…” You start, taking a breath as you scan the garden beds, flowers full in bloom, pink and red dripping from the leafage.

“My aunt. If I not find a suitor this evening I will be wed off not my own will.” Steve’s eyes widen, placing a caring hand on her shoulder. You feel butterflies caress your ribcage as he does so, electricity seeming to tickle the spot he touched.

“I…am sorry.” You sigh, already coming to terms with it.

“Thank you sir, that is most kind.”

“I…have an idea if you are interested?” His voice ends with a question as you tilt your head curiously.

“I am listening.” Steve takes a moment to look over you, as you blush self-consciously.

“I request us to have a fake courtship. My own mother, is pressuring me to wed, and I believe the next step is one your aunty has taken. We will assume interest in each other, and you will attend events, balls and dinner on my arm.” Your lips part in surprise at the offer, before you purse them in thought.

“that…might work.” You say slowly, taking the proposition in. It would be difficult, but with a believable story and good acting you just might be able to pull it off.

“I’ll do it.”

Being Steve’s escort was surprisingly easy. You just had to sit there, nod along and answer questions when asked. You had constructed together a believable alibi, that you had captured his interest at the recent ball, which was easily believable due to the big crowd that witnessed your dance. Steve bought you endless gowns and jewellery, gifts and piles upon piles of roses, which your aunt always teasingly mentioned whenever a new bouquet was dropped off. As you were getting ready for a dinner with Steve, your eyes fall upon the most stunning gown. It was perfect, and bound to blow away Steve, (not that you were caring anyhow) As you carefully step into it, shimmying into the silky material and stare at your reflection, you can’t believe it. You look…so you but not you.  The dress fit like a glove, exhibiting your features in the best way. It was a deep royal red, flowing off you smoothly like a blood waterfall in intricate patterns of lace and jewels. You quickly pin your y/h/c curls in a simple yet elegant hairstyle, clipping it in place with a barrette, before slipping on your red heels and starting down the stairs. You send Steve a nervous smile as he turns around. His lips part, as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

“What do you think?” You say unsurely, when he doesn’t say anything, his eyes fixated on you.

“Y-you, I-I, You look…stunning” you smile, twirling so the skirts flair out, before grasping your purse and standing upright slowly.

“Shall we?” He managed to splutter out, offering an arm to you, to which you accept and smile gracefully.

“We shall.” You whisper, starting towards the carriage, as Steve opened the door for you, gesturing for you to go ahead. You murmur a thanks as you step up, staring out the window as Steve stepped up himself and the ride started towards the Romanoff manor.

“I-You look amazing in that dress.” You grin, poking his chest playfully,

“and you look charmingly handsome as usual.” You sat in silence for a bit, admiring the view of the countryside as you rode into the hills, before a specific bump in the road sent you hurtling straight into Steve’s lap with a squeak.

“y/n.”

“steve.”

“I would like to propose an idea.” you feel the familiar spark of curiosity simmer as you nod, narrowing your eyes ever so briefly.

“go on,”

“I would like…to change this.” He gestures to you and then to himself.

“how so?”

“I would,” He took a breath. “I would like to make it so it is not pretense. So it is…real.” Your breath hitches in your throat, as you stared once more into his ocean-blue eyes fondly, butterflies erupting in her stomach as her heart rate sped up once more.

“I would love to.”

[supercap2319]

Y/N finished putting on his father's leather jacket as Sam came into the room and smiled at her younger brother. "All set for your date with Ethan tonight?" He turned to look at her and smiled shyly. Yeah, just about. We're going to go see that new Stab movie that just came out and then for a burger."

Sam smirks. "Fair warning. Dad and Tara are downstairs with a camera and a lecture."

Y/N groaned. "Why a lecture? Dad acts like he never had dates before. From what Sidney Prescott told me, dad was a real fuckboy in high school."

"Thank you for that unflattering picture of our dad. I'll be downstairs." Sam left the room as Y/N looked at his phone. Ethan would be here in ten minutes. Better get this over with. He walked downstairs as Tara was taking pictures of him with her phone as she and Sam giggled. His father, Billy Loomis, gave him half a smile. "I was wondering where that jacket went. Here let me fix it." Y/N walked towards his father and he fixed the coat.

"First date with that Landry boy, eh? His brother's a real pussy." Billy said.

"Dad." Y/N warned.

"Kidding. Mostly. Anyways, tonight he'll try to put the moves on you and get into your pants. That's when you deck him in the balls like I taught your sister."

"Dad, I appreciate the advice, but Ethan's not like that. He's a nice guy." Y/N said.

"Nice guys finish last, Y/N." Billy told him.

"I know. Sidney Prescott told me that you did finish rather quickly." Y/N chuckles as his dad glares. "Wise ass."

"Besides, Ethan's a virgin just like me, so anything we do will be at our own pace and not rushed." The front doorbell rang as Tarah went to get it and found Ethan on the other side with flowers in his hands. "Hey, Tarah is Y/N–Wow."

When Ethan saw Y/N, he gasped a little at the leather jacket and nice looking jeans. He entered the house as he handed over the flowers. "Wow, you look amazing." Y/N blushed as he sniffed the flowers and smiled. "Thank you. A gentleman as always."

Billy cleared his throat. They turned to look at him. "Hello, Mr. Loomis. Sam."

"Hi, Ethan."

"Hello, son. Just so we're clear... There will be no funny business tonight. No sex or blowjobs or anything like that. Understand?"

Ethan nods. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy. Now, get both of you." He pushed them out the door.

[corey-cumminghams-malewife]

🌻how slashers calm down your anxiety🌼

slashers x gn reader

this is how i imagine certain slashers would calm their s/o down while experiencing minor anxiety and negative thoughts

🌲 jason voorhees 🌿

would make you tea from the stash the both of you kept from disposed-of campers

would awkwardly pat your thigh if you're sitting together or your head if you're standing

he tries so hard to be gentle but after so much time of being brutish and heavy handed its still difficult for him

gives you small bones and skulls of dead animals that he has polished to display in your shared cabin so that you can touch and feel to keep your mind off of the panic within you

has you sit in his lap and lets you focus on and touch his mask

takes you for a walk to the lake or to your secret meadow where the two of you can breathe in the crisp air and make flower crowns with all the pretty wildflowers

🎃 michael myers 🔪

stares at you from the doorway while you're curled up in a ball on your bed

wants to do something but doesn't know the first thing about giving comfort

tries real hard though

brings you anxiety medication he finds in his victims' medicine cabinets

you won't use other people's medication of course, but its the thought that counts

lies next to you on his back as stiff as a board for you to cuddle into

hates it but if it will help calm you down he'll grit through his touch aversion

will sit next to you and let you explore his mask

otherwise he will just hover close by, hoping his presence will calm you some in letting you know you're not alone and he's here for you. in his own way

👻 billy loomis 🔪

will put on your favorite horror film or comedy and lie with his head in your lap so that you can play with his hair

will have the two of you make choccy milkshakes in the kitchen together, to keep you busy with something you enjoy

will smother you with gentle attention to keep your mind away from its panicked self. soft kisses on your forehead, cheeks, lips, nose, chin. everywhere

will take you to your special spot: the outlook overlooking the valley. will then hold your hand and chat away about movies and music

otherwise he will simply be the big spoon on your bed and hold you close while whispering soothing words to you

🚜 thomas hewitt 👔

once you show signs of your negative emotions and anxiety he will quickly lift you up and take you to the porch swing where he'll sit both of you down and bask in the warm sunshine while he holds you close to him and nuzzles into the crook of your neck

will keep you busy with tending the farm animals and let you pet the friendly ones noting how you seem to calm down feeling the warm fur beneath your fingers

if the house has the ingredients for it he will bring you to the kitchen where you and him can bake pie or cookies

if you experience some anxiety at night in the bedroom he'll have you sit on his lap by the rocking chair next to his open window to feel the crisp night breeze waft over you and cool your flushed skin down

🔧 bo sinclair 🧢

doesn't know how to comfort you and gets angry

will start cussing at himself and pace back and forth in a panic

will ask you what you want a hundred times over

"you want a soda pop?" "you want a snack?" "maybe a burger from the diner. i can quickly go and get you one?" "can i put a dvd on for you?" and on and on he'll go

will eventually break down himself and hold onto you so tightly you cannot breathe anymore

will then whisper words of affirmation and praise to you, begging you to stop feeling so bad

if that fails he'll guide you to his truck to take a drive on the highway knowing you enjoy short roadtrips and the feeling of the wind whipping against your face from the open window

will stop at the next town's convenience store and buy you lots of candy and chips

if you struggle with anxiety or anything else that impacts on your life in a negative way please know you are not alone and are loved and that help is not hard to find.

[passivenovember]

When Billy Falls in Love

--

Max's hair is twisted into a rough pink towel when she answers the door. She’s got a berry sorbet sunburn peeking through the angry red flush on her cheeks, freckles looking like they could peel off at any moment. It’s the same way Billy gets in the summertime, but he turns gold in seconds.

Max stays angry red. 

She wasn’t at the pool today. Steve knows because he was at the pool fifteen minutes ago, and Billy wasn’t there. And if Billy’s gone so is Max, and if Max is here-- 

“He’s not here. What’s with the flowers?” Max wonders, with her teeth pulling at the wrapper of a Scoops brand popsicle as she eyes the poorly picked and assembled bouquet of daisies and weeds Steve managed to convince the gardener to let him snag. 

Steve can tell she doesn’t really want to know what the deal is. Maybe she already knows. 

Max is fourteen and a perpetually bored pain in the ass, already moving to shut Steve out of the house when he jams his foot so the door won’t close. 

Max tugs on it. Groans. “Steve,” Max says, sounding tired.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know because we don’t keep tabs on each other, you psycho.”

“Bullshit,” Steve says. Neil’s car isn’t in the driveway, he almost points out.

Doesn’t.

Max almost cracks a smile, seeming to hear him anyway. If Neil’s gone that leaves Billy to play guard dog. “If you care so much about my stupid brother all of a sudden--”

“--All of a--”

“Get in your stupid shitty car and go drive around until you find him,” Max says, like. Get lost.

They’re so similar it burns. Chars licking over Steve’s skin in the shape of how they sneer and heckle the same, and they’re both so smart that Steve has to do math and study chemistry, and perform mental gymnastics just to keep up.

There’s a lot to latch on to, Steve’s hands slip over it like a gymnast missing the high bar. 

The way she’s looking at him, the way Max said all of a sudden like Steve’s done something wrong--

“He used to drive you around,” Steve says, like. Aha. “Don’t you give a shit?”

About him? 

About his bones and blood. 

Max shrugs. “Why should I?”

And. Steve’s an idiot but he remembers how it was before, back when this whole thing started. His lips, red and tender from sucking on any piece of Billy he could find. His fingers, tugging on worn belt loops and begging for a night on Loch Nora and that dull, exhausted phrase gotta watch my sister sinking a hole in Steve’s hope.

“It’s summer,” Max says after a minute, irritated, “We have an arrangement in the summer. June to Labor Day I do what I want, Billy fucks off for a bit, and we always show up here right when--”

“His car's gone,” Steve says. Because she owes it to him and his months and months of blue balls at her lack of self-preservation. She owes it to Billy.

“His car’s gone because he’s not here, Steve, we just went over this--” 

Max moves to slam the door and Steve holds it open, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through his stomach. “Why are you acting weird?” Steve demands.

“I’m not acting weird, you’re the one who’s trying to break into my house because Billy stepped out for five minutes,” Max tugs on the door, groaning dramatically, “C’mon Steve--”

Steve clutches the bouquet of flowers close to his chest. “We’re supposed to go see a movie.”

Max stops pulling on the door, all the attitude cut from her with something dull. 

Steve swallows. His nails dig into the palm of his free hand. Steve feels blood swell, but it’s probably just sweat. “Billy. He’s not on a date--”

“Look, Steve,” Max says suddenly, sounding. Much older and wiser than she did five seconds ago. “I like you. You’re cute and dumb but you’re annoyingly sweet and thoughtful. You’re tall, too. You’ve probably failed freshman biology a couple of times.--”

“--I--”

“Shut up,” Max tells him, and Steve swears there’s a bit of green swirling in all that red, embarrassment mixing like watercolor. “Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve nods. He takes his foot from the door jam and rubs his hand on his jeans. Shudders as the feeling in his stomach ebbs and swirls and gets so much worse.

“You’re not his fucking boyfriend,” Max says, and slams the door in his face.

--

“Well. To be fair, she’s not wrong.”

Steve grips the steering wheel. The leather crackles and squeals with the skin of his palms, giving way to the rumble of the engine when he turns the car onto Park Avenue. 

“Jesus,” Eddie snaps, his free hand scrambling to brace against the passenger door while the bouquet teeters dangerously on his lap, “You don’t have to take the turns so fast, Harrington--”

“I can’t believe she said that.”

“--Fucking Evel Kenevil--”

“I mean. I’m practically his boyfriend, right?”

“Sure, and you’ll still be ‘practically his boyfriend,’ even if you drive at the speed limit.”

“Thought you said Max wasn’t talking out of her ass, Munson?”

“Look, I’m allowed to take things minute by minute. I’m just saying,” Eddie tightens the seatbelt against his chest, “You haven’t exactly popped the question.”

“You think Billy’s the kind of guy who--”

“Yeah,” Eddie says casually. “He’s exactly the kind of guy who wants to be asked out. I’ve seen the way he picks flowers and puts them in his own hair when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Steve snorts. “When has he ever done that?”

“We hang out, you know,” Eddie tells him, in lieu of an answer. “When you’re not around, we hang out loads--”

“Maybe you’re Billy’s mystery man,” Steve says only half serious. Mostly joking. 

Eddie flushes deep red, “Anyway. This bag of weeds is a good start,” He mumbles, twisting the fat head of a dandelion gently between two fingers.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to unpack any of what that might mean.

They’ve been driving for what feels like hours. The sky has turned hazy, floating in that honey-dipped place between dayglow and starlight. The world will be gold, soon, and then dark. Midnight black. 

Hawkins is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. A shithole. Billy only has a handful of places to hide.

Steve presses a little harder on the gas, knowing in the very pit of himself that this is crazy. This is insane, driving around like a bat out of hell with Eddie Munson, but Billy likes Eddie Munson. Steve tolerates him. And Robin’s at camp, so.

Eddie clutches the door again with another sharp, sudden turn. “Harrington--”

“I’m not dropping you off until I find him.”

“Alright,” Munson grumbles. He lights a cigarette and stares out the window for half a neighborhood block and then says, “How do you know he’s not at home, already?”

Steve grips the steering wheel, convinced Eddie wasn’t listening the first time. “Maxine said--”

“That was an hour ago.”

“Neil doesn’t get off until seven, if Billy’s gone he wont be back until six-thirty at the earliest.”

Eddie checks the dash. “It’s six-thirty now.”

“Do you wanna die today, freak?”

“God, you’re so unpleasant,” Eddie says, handing his cigarette over, anyway, “You’re the worst, actually. Worse than I ever imagined and I’ve imagined it a lot when Billy and Dustin yap their fucking gums about how great you are.”

Steve takes a harsh pull from the cigarette. Coughs and hands it back. 

Eddie takes it from him. Ash gathers on the cherry but he’s got no self-awareness. 

“If you get ash in my flowers, Munson--”

“Jesus Christ, would you give it a rest? He’s gonna love them. He’ll probably cry, once he’s done beating the shit out of you.”

Silence falls, lurid and uncomfortable, and Steve realizes Munson is watching him. Staring at him, 

“This is insane boyfriend behavior, Harrington,” Eddie says.

“So, you admit I’m his boyfriend?” Steve tries weakly, in lieu of what he means. Why Should I Take Advice from You?

“I’m saying this is boyfriend behavior but you won’t be a boyfriend for long, once he finds out what we’re doing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve grits his teeth. “What are we doing that’s so wrong, Munson?”

“Hunting him. Like a couple of crazy fucking bloodhounds.”

“We had a date,” Steve tells Eddie again. For the eightieth time. “Billy’s never missed a date so he’s either dead or dying or riding some other guy’s--”

Eddie bangs his head against the window.

Steve rolls the window down for him if only to protect the integrity of the Beemer. “Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but I know Billy. And he wouldn’t just disappear without--”

“You’re not his dad,” Eddie tells him, and Steve.

Steve doesn’t have time to get into all the reasons that’s spot -fucking-on. He’s not Billy’s dad, because Steve loves Billy. To his bones and beyond, a little knob of heartache swirling around each nucleus of every atom in the very core of him.

Steve loves Billy so much it gets him into trouble.

Eddie sucks down his smoke again, like, “You’re really doing all this for a missed date?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie shrugs, “I heard stories about you and the Wheeler chick. Seems like she missed a lot of dates at the end and you never did anything like this for her.”

“Billy’s not Nancy. Billy’s not like anyone, he’s--”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, coughing. “You. You’re not just blowing smoke up my ass, you’re serious about him.”

And.

Munson says it like it’s a shock. 

Like Steve Harrington’s not capable of loving anything but himself. His hair and his house on the hill and this stupid fucking car and maybe that’s what the losers at Hawkins High think, but they’re wrong. 

Way wrong. Stuck four years in the past.

Steve has to bite down against every harsh word on the tip of his tongue, tear the sentences apart and swallow them down because of course he’s worried.

Steve’s worried all the time about a lot of things when it comes to this crush he’s been nursing for a year and a half. Steve worries if Billy sleeps enough, for one. If Neil was in a good mood today. How many new bruises Steve will have to cover with hickies the next time they see each other, paint all that hurt over with something good.

It makes him crazy.

Steve worries all the time if Billy loves him. If actually saying it makes a difference.

Steve wonders most of all how much money and begging it’ll take to get Billy out of that house on Cherry Lane. Steve’s spent many restless nights doing the math in his head, staring at the popcorn ceiling as he imagines taking Billy away from here. And if Steve’s taking Billy home, to the coast, then he’s taking Max, too.

So whatever number, whatever dollar amount Steve’s gotta hoard to make it happen--he’d better take it and multiply it by seven, because. Steve’s going to lasso the moon and give it to Billy in a bouquet of yellow daisies. 

If it kills him. 

He’s going to find Billy tonight and tell him the truth if it kills him--

“We’ve gone down this street, already,” Eddie says.

“You’re not helping.”

“I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“And I’m just pointing out--”

“Look, if you care about Billy so much, why don’t you respect his privacy?” Eddie demands. Somewhere, along the way, he ashed his cigarette on the dashboard.

Steve wants to check the flowers. 

Can’t find it within himself to be angry about that. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. If something happened to him and I wasn’t there to make it better and figure out how to stop it from happening again--”

“God, you’re such a brownie,” Eddie snaps, turning from the window. “What if he ditched you because he’s not into you anymore, Harrington?  What if Billy got tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and stop obsessing over him where no one else can see it? What if he’s sick of being the plaything you fuck in the dark?”

Steve swallows. Feeling so, so small.

“Everyone says you’re a changed man,” Eddie gets closer, somehow. Looms. “What if Billy thinks you’re bullshit?”

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road. In front of them, hazy with the dregs of the afternoon, a coal brown sign announces that Hawkins will soon be a spot on a map left somewhere far, far away. 

Everything in that shitty little town hangs over him. Feels so huge. Max and Neil and his parents and graduation and the last month of summer, sitting bigger than the sky. 

The engine thrums underneath them and Steve swallows, turning against his seatbelt. “If Billy doesn’t love me,” Steve says, easy and slow, “He can say it to my face.”

Eddie blinks. 

Steve can sense the cogs turning, underneath all that hair. Brown like his, curly like Billy’s. “It won’t change how you feel about him?” Eddie asks. 

And Steve realizes, like a punch to the gut, that Eddie Munson cares about this.

About Billy.

He’s worried, too, in his own twisted, guard-dog best friend kinda way. It reminds Steve of Robin. Dustin, too, always baring their teeth at Billy because they’re not fully convinced that this thing between them will survive the summer.

That Steve would survive losing this. 

He wishes, a deep ache thrumming in his chest, that everyone would either get it or fuck off.

“I love him,” Steve says easily, “Love isn’t something that stops just because the other person’s come to their fucking senses about how much of a loser you are. It isn’t something you say because you want to hear it back. I’ve loved him for a year and a half and I’ll love him even when he realizes I’m not half good enough.”

Eddie smirks. It’s slow and terrible.

“Alright, Harrington,” He leans back in his seat and nods, satisfied. “I think I know where our boy is hiding.”

--

Duane county used to house to the only mall within a hundred miles until Starcourt. 

It’s a small and bustling and annoyingly progressive city, compared to Hawkins, and Steve isn’t the least bit surprised that Billy would run to a place like this to hide for a while.

What surprises him is that Billy knows how to skateboard. 

He’s riding the half pipe, so focused on the concrete that laps like waves under the wheels of his long, colorful board that Billy doesn’t notice when the Beemer’s engine cuts and Steve opens the driver’s side door. 

Eddie doesn’t move. 

“You coming?” Steve asks, frowning when Eddie sparks something too pale and skinny to be a cigarette.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You don’t wanna give me your blessing?” Steve wonders, suddenly terrified that Billy won’t go steady with him if he doesn’t see the irritatingly awful face of his best friend giving the thumbs up. 

Eddie hands Steve the bouquet. It’s crushed and it smells like dope.

“Billy’s gonna take one look at these sorry fucking flowers and break up with me,” Steve grumbles, his nose scrunching, and.

Eddie smiles at him. 

It’s soft and real, and kind of beautiful, and Steve gets why Chrissy Cunningham is apparently head over heels for the guy. 

“He loves you, too,” Eddie says, like, “Go on. Quit stalling. Don’t think your big love confession will feel the same if I have told your hand through it.”

Steve slams the door, and Billy floats to the top of the half-pipe with the echo of it. He looks like an angel in the clouds, shirtless with his skin golden in the setting sun, jeans slung low on his hips. The curly, bronze tendrils of hair Steve will always remember the feel of are swooped back in a scrunchie.

Max’s scrunchie.

Billy squints across the parking lot and recognizes Steve, his expression clouding over immediately. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He demands.

Steve waddles across the parking lot, “Eddie’s here,” He calls, like an idiot.

“So?” You fucking him now?”

“No, I--”

“What are you doing here, Harrington?”

Steve almost trips over himself, knees with with nerves. Billy does that to him, always. Forever.

The half-pipe is huge up close, looming like the mast of some ancient, terrible ship and Billy is the pirate waiting to throw him overboard. “We had a date,” Steve says.

Out of breath.

Weak.

“I had to get out of that house,” Billy shades his eyes with one hand, holding the long board aloft with his bare foot. He doesn’t say anything for a long, terrible moment and then he says, “Whatcha got there, pretty boy?” 

“Flowers,” Steve tells him.

“Flowers,” Billy mocks softly. There’s no bite.

He considers the moment. The Scene. Steve Harrington, with flowers clutched to his chest and the dingy little park beyond that and Eddie Munson, probably, hanging from a cloud of marijuana smoke as the afternoon crashes into nightfall.

As Steve crashes and burns.

Steve holds his breath. Billy glides down the half pipe, seeming to ride on the wind until he comes to a delicate, perfect stop in front of him. 

He smells like peaches. 

He’s been eating peaches. Billy’s hands are sticky when he grabs the bouquet, and Steve’s skin lights on fire from his touch. 

It’s so usual. It’s brand new every time.

“You bought me flowers?” Billy asks, pinning Steve with a clear, vibrant stare. 

His eyes are so blue. So beautiful--

“I didn’t buy them, I. I picked them,” Steve says dumbly, “The gardener was going to clear them away, but. I wanted to pick some for our date. I always pick you up on the way but I never bring anything, and I thought. Maybe Neil wouldn’t notice who they were for if it seemed like someone just picked them from a garden. Or the side of the road,” Billy snorts, and Steve nearly breaks an ankle trying to recover, “But I’ve thought about it, and they’re almost out of season, so the gardener--”

“--Right--”

“And. I see them every morning, from my bedroom window, and they remind me of you. Pretty and. Golden, so. I caught the gardener just in time, and i had to pay him $5 to let me pick ‘em before he cleared them away. They’re pretty. Right? I wanted--”

Billy sniffs the daisies first. His eyes close, lashes casting long, noir shadows over the cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and Steve aches to live forever in this moment. To scrape the image into his mind so it can live there, in a house made in Billy’s image. 

“Some of these are weeds,” Billy tells him.

“I--”

“Are you in love with me, Harrington?” Billy rubs the petals of one flower with his thumb, watching as the stems knock together. He’s holding the bouquet like it’s made of glass. Like it might shatter and crumble away if he’s not careful, and Steve.

Feels that way about Billy.

“I,” Steve tries again,

“Thanks for the flowers,” Billy says, and he turns to go.

“Wait,” Steve says. Begs. He almost reaches to stop Billy but he doesn’t want to hurt him. 

Billy stops. Waits. 

Something sharp and fragile sits there, just under the layer of indifference Steve was always too stupide to notice before, but.

“I love you,” Steve says. He sounds strangled. Drowning. 

It hurts.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Billy flushes red. “I love you, too.”

And. 

Steve’s going to catch on fire at any moment. “You love me,” He repeats, testing the words. He doesn’t trust them to hold his hope. Doesn’t think Billy means it how Steve aches and dreams he does. “You love me, like. How you love Max? Or Eddie? Like a friend who you want to suck off sometimes--”

“Eddie and I are just friends,” Billy says, quickly. His gaze is steady on Steve’s face. “I don’t need anyone else for that, I have. You.”

He does. 

He really does.

Billy’s watching Steve like he’s expecting him to say something else, and maybe he is. Has been, for as long as they’ve been sliding inside of each other. Steve was just too dumb to get it before now. 

So he straightens his spine. Clears his throat. Says, “Well. I love you like I want to take you on dates. And introduce you to my parents. I want you to go steady with me and wear my letter--”

“We can’t do that sort of stuff, Harrington.”

“I know.”

“Well, then, why’d you say it?”

“Because it’s what I want,” Steve snaps. Like, “You’re so annoying.”

“It was your idea,” Billy smirks. It’s beautiful. It’s Steve’s second favorite thing, second only to his laugh. And the soft curve of his lips. Billy fiddles with one of the weeds and says, “You don’t even have a letter to give me.”

“Neither do you, asshole,”

“So now what?” Billy demands, his arms flaring wide, “You’re gonna say you want to go steady with me and we’re not gonna do it? Tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes to the heavens, grumbling as they plop wetly on the sun-warmed earth. Billy’s still barefoot and Steve wonders how his toes aren’t burning. “How are your toes not burning?” He demands.

“They are,” Billy tells him, annoyed.

And then. 

Steve gets an idea.

He sits on the ground and pulls both shoes off.

“What are you doing?” Billy snaps, but Steve can hear a smile in his voice, curling tendrils through the teasing annoyance that has made him so different from anyone Steve has ever loved before. “Steve--”

“Here,” Steve says, standing to hold the shoes out in front of him. He hops from one foot to the other as his heels start to burn.

Billy stares at the Nike’s as if they’re coiled snakes. Like if he takes them, they’ll burrow under his toenails and poison him from the inside out. “I don’t get it--”

“I don’t have a letter, but. People might see you in them and get it, right? When has anyone ever seen Billy Hargrove in a pair of Nike’s?”

Billy blinks, confused.

“You’re mine,” Steve says. “So they’re yours. Take them,”

Billy considers him for a long moment and then sets the bouquet on the ground. “Wait here,” He says, and skates off around the bend in the half pipe.

Steve’s feet are on fire.

He’s hopping dramatically, and in the distance he can hear Eddie laughing, and Steve’s going to kill him, but then.

Billy’s back and he’s holding his boots in his hands. “Here,” He says, “Eye for an eye, right?”

And Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips into the worn leather, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable they are. His feet thank him, the raging fire finally simmering.

Steve watches Billy. 

The careful way his fingers lace the Nike’s onto his feet. How his hips shift his weight when he stands. Billy walks in a slow, timid circle, “Shit, Harrington,” He says thickly, “I’ve never been someone’s boyfriend before.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, before.”

“Think we’ll be any good at it?” Billy asks. He squats deeply, popping back up with a wide, beautiful smile planted pretty as a forest on his face.

It beams itself, magically, onto Steve’s. Startles a bright, hysterical laugh from somewhere deep inside of him. 

“You’re perfect,” Steve says. Nothing has ever felt more true.

[thatbanditqueen]

No One Walks Out Ch 6

My boy my boy... it's been a long time, Becky. This is a response to the writing game prompt "You will love it." "I will hate it." "Nah, you won't."

Thanks to @whositmcwhatsit and @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny and @ellie-24 and @missmaywemeetagain and @from-memphis-with-love and @arrolyn1114 and for playing this game and supporting me as I write, thanks too to @ab4eva for just being an all around mensch....

Summary: Elvis calls Becky, or rather, watches as Charlie calls and asks her to come on tour. She doesn't realize this tour is not going well. But once she is there, she decides to just roll up her sleeves and jump right in. Because Elvis.

WC: 7.3K

Warnings: Swearing, implied drug use, oral sex. This could have been very angsty but it is actually a big ball of unpolished, fantastical, indulgent fluff. I wrote this today and didn't have anyone read it. So beyond typos, expect historical inaccuracies and probably mischaracterization of everyone, including my OC.....

If you need to catch up.... Chapter 5: Salty Lips

Chapter 6: Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

6 pm Sunday, July 20, 1975

Geiler’s Hardware Store, Jackson, MS

Harriet’s key clicked into the back lock of her parent’s hardware store, and she pulled the handle to double-check that the door was, indeed, locked, before turning to look at her cousin. Becky’s mind was elsewhere and she stared down at her Chuck Taylor sneakers, raising her head only after Harriet coughed, and the two women made their way to Harriet’s small, yellow AMC Pacer. Becky looked out the window, playing with her hair, purposefully avoiding Harriet’s curious stare.

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“Earth to Becky, where are you? You haven’t said anything about the date Ida set you up on Thursday.”

Becky pulled on the ring she wore on her right hand, a band of platinum with a diamond flower at the center. It was the ring Elvis had given her, and she could still almost feel the caress of his hand as he slid it on her and told her how beautiful she was, how she deserved beautiful things. That had been a month ago, but it could have been yesterday when Charlie, Billy and Jo had all been rounded up to drive her home to Jackson after a whirlwind week at Graceland.

Becky tilted the ring back and forth, then looked up to watch the businesses in the Fondren go by as Harriet drove her home. Why did it feel like cheating on Elvis to go one blind date. An innocent blind date. An innocent blind date that had fizzled out and ended with a very platonic hug.

“Ugh, he was nice enough. I don’t know.”

Harriet looked over, then back at road.  “It’s Elvis. Ida says he calls you every few days.”

“Yeah, he does. He asked me to come with him for his show in New York. Then well, when I said no I guess he went down the list.”

Becky sighed, thinking of the photos in the newspaper of Elvis with a very thin, very blonde woman who definitely was not Linda. The thought made her frown, and Harriet looked at Becky with sympathy as she turned the car on to her parent’s street.

“I thought you said that you left things on good terms, and that he wanted you to move up there? I can’t believe you would rather be here in Jackson than in Memphis.”

“Yeah. I mean no. I like, him, I mean, I cannot help it. I used to day dream of dating this man. But look at me, Harriet.”

Becky grabbed her purse and got out of the car,  sweeping her hand over her body to showcase her tee shirt and jeans as she stood.

“I’m not groupie material. And I can’t up root my kid and move to a new city just so I can join Elvis’ harem for a few months. We left things on good terms, but I don’t even know if I am cut out to be a harem member.”

“You are a knock out, Becky. You are totally groupie material. No, wait. You're better than groupie. You are at least favorite girlfriend number two or three material. I cannot believe you aren’t on your way to Memphis. Or New York. You only live once!”

Harriet grinned as Becky shook her head and sent her off with a bang to the yellow hood, before turning to walk into the house.

She was a greeted with a yell from Ruth, who was coloring with Ida at the dining room table. Becky could smell Saul’s pot roast wafting from the kitchen as she crossed the room and kissed Ruth on head, checking out her drawing of what looked like a dressed up mushroom in a pile of rocks standing next to Father Christmas.

“What do you think?”

She looked at Ida, whispering as she tried to decipher the words her aunt was mouthing.

“The mob-bit? The Hobbit! Yes, of course, it's The Hobbit. There’s Bilbo. Wow, Ruth, you really captured what I thought he looks like.”

“I’ve been practicing my hobbit form. And see, he’s talking to Gandalf.”

“Ah, yes, I can tell from the beard.” She had to stop herself from giggling at Ida’s wink. “SO amazing, you have become a very talented artiste!”

“Well, she learned from the best.”

Becky smiled at her aunt as she went to grab a beer. “I think the student has surpassed the teacher, I can’t wait to hang this one the fridge.”

 The phone rang while Becky was at the fridge, and she watched Ruth run to get it as she slumped into the chair next to Ida, who reached over to rub her forearm.

“Oy, Rebecca, was the restocking that bad today? You should have stopped Saulie from leaving. He is only 60, he could have helped finish -”

“Oh, no, Ida. Unless Saul has an in-depth knowledge of waterbed installation, his presence wouldn’t have made a difference.”

 “Why do people want to sleep in those things? What if they leak. Or break? I get sea sick just thinking about it.”

“I’ve heard they can be really relaxing. I don’t know, but there is a new waterbed store two doors down. The owner spent an hour trying to figure out what materials he needs us to order, so I guess business is keeping him pretty busy.”

“Can you imagine getting busy in a water bed?”

“Ida!”

Ida grinned, fluffing up her short, silver bob. ”I’m just saying, I couldn’t make whoopee on top of a big bag of water, oy vey, I’d be so nervous, what with the sound of the sloshing - “

“Wait, hold that thought, although you know I love hearing about your sex life.” Becky held up her finger for her aunt to stop talking, pausing to hear what Ruth was saying on the phone.

“How do I know you are really a friend of Elvis’? Well can you ask him to come over again? The  kids next door don’t believe he is my mom’s boy friend. And he promised to take me for ice cream again.”

Becky strode over to the phone. “Ruthie, who is it?”

Ruth covered the receiver with her hand, a mischievous look crept up her little face. “He says his name is Charlie, and when I asked how he knew you, he said -”

Becky held out her hand, taking the phone from her daughter. “Uh huh, ok, that’s enough from you , chatty Kathy, go help Ida clear up the art studio and set the table for dinner.” She paused, smoothing her hair, as if Charlie could see her from the other side of the phone.

“Hi Charlie. What’s up?”

She heard a single nervous “ha” on the other side of the phone, and took a deep breath. “Well, a, heya there Becky.”

It seemed to Becky like there was a more anxious desperation behind Charlie’s perfunctory niceties.

“Hiiiii? What’s up?”

“Look, um, Elvis asked me to call and see if you might reconsider coming out on tour? You know he misses ya somethin’ awful, ain’t stopped talking bout that cute chick back in Jackson.”

Becky took a deep breath, thinking of the photos in the paper of Elvis and that model.

“Hmmm. I’m sure. You know I want to, but I have a kid, Charlie - and it’s her  last little bit of summer, I don’t wanna leave her  twiddling her thumbs while I go traipsing around the country-”

“So bring her. Priscilla brings Lisa all the time, you know, they make it work,  Elvis is a family man, hon- I mean Becky, tour is not some wild orgy. You’ve been there. The guys, the band, were all like a big happy family.”

“One big happy family, huh? I don’t know.”

“I can hear it in your voice, Becky girl, I can tell ya wanna come.”

Becky sighed, looking as Ruth paused her place setting to look up and grin at her mother. Ida was behind her, eye brow arched up as Becky motioned her over, whispering with her hand over the mouth piece if it would be ok to take off for a few days. It was disconcerting how much Ida nodded and how quickly an excited gleam grew in her eyes. Becky shoed her off and carried the phone to wonder down the hallway so no one could hear her.

“Maybe. You really think I could bring Ruthie? How long would it be for ?”

She heard Charlie breathe a sigh of relief, and then there was a kerfuffle and the bang of the phone handle dropping on the floor.

“Hey Becky Butt.” Elvis’ deep voice filled Becky’s ears and she realized he must have been sitting there watching Charlie ask her. “Honey, I ain’t stopped thinkin' bout you since you left me. I need you, need you bad."

Becky started to blush, just at the needy, low tenor of his voice. "I have been thinking about you to."

"That's good baby, real good. Let's get you out here, see if I'm still the same as you remember. Can’t wait to see you, baby. Tonight ain’t soon enough.”

“Tonight? Uh - Elvis, I - Charlie said I should bring Ruth? Is that really ok? Is it safe?”

“Honey, I’m a black belt with a gun. Ain’t no safer place on earth. Hell, probably the safest place for your baby. You know how crime is getting in our cities. Bring her along. Charlie can babysit too, he’s basically a child himself. Got the brains a one, any how.”

Becky stood there, tapping her toe as her mind raced. Every bit of sense screamed at her not to meet Elvis on tour. She had just told Ida last week she was ready for her aunt fix her up with any nice single guys her age, in a conscious effort to try and get Elvis out of her system. Be a normal, responsible adult. Having, normal, responsible relationships. But now, talking to Elvis, all she wanted to do was give in and rush to be near him.

“Ok.” She whispered out.

“Good, good girl. I’m having Charlie run get Joe, fly ya out tonight. Go get ya self packed up.”

********************************

The Norfolk airport was pitch black when they landed, and if it weren’t for the lights along the landing strip, Becky may not have been able to make out Jerry’s scowl from across the tarmac.

“You shouldn’t have come.” His voice was clipped and terse as he grabbed her traveling bag, looking her up and down as she wobbled behind him in the high heel suede boots Elvis had bought her.

“Hello to you, too.”

“He said you were bringing your daughter, so at least you have some sense.”

Becky gulped as Jerry opened her door, and she flipped the sun visor down to fix her make up.

“Yeah, I guess… I um, changed my mind. I thought she would have a good time, but then, I don’t know,  I thought the schedule would throw her off. And I guess I don’t want her to get too attached to him. Or the idea of me and him. This is all just a little fun.”

Jerry looked over at her, his shoulders seemed to clench with his jaw as he drove

 “Fun. Ha. Well get ready, I think you’re in for more fun than you bargained for.”

Then Jerry pulled over, and his voice went from sarcastic to earnest as he turned off the car. “Or you can just say the word right now, and I’ll turn around, take you back, and you can catch a flight home. I’ll tell him you never showed.”

Jerry’s hopeful expression gave Becky a strange sense of foreboding and all the excited, giddy anticipation drained from her body.

“But Jerry - there are no direct flights to Jackson, and it’s midnight.” Her lip quivered as she pushed her lipstick back into its case.

“And I - I can’t afford to pay for a hotel and then all the connections I would have to make to get back home. Why are you acting like this? What happened?”

The drove under a streetlight, and Becky saw the bags under Jerry’s eyes more fully as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Elvis has been getting into it with the band all week. Kathy and two of the Sweet Inspirations stormed off the stage mid-show tonight cuz he was talking shit at them sideways.” Jerry looked over at Becky. “The big man can dish it out, but he cain’t take it. No sireee.”

He drew out his “sireeee” as he pulled the white Lincoln into a parking spot at the back of a hotel. Becky shifted back and forth during the elevator ride up, arms crossed in front of the white floral dress she had excitedly wiggled into with glee three hours ago, as Ida kissed her good luck, and Ruth had glowered,  asking again why she couldn’t come. Now she felt ridiculous. Ugh, why couldn’t she ever listen to the voice of reason in her head that told her something was a bad idea. Leaning against the cool metal of the elevator, Becky kicked Jerry’s shin and tried to keep her voice light, positive.

“Ok, so level with me. Why is he fighting with the band, he seemed fine when he called me earlier.”

Jerry stepped away, grimacing at her familiarity. “That is because he is the master manipulator, and he wants you to come keep him company. But the last few days he has been stoned out of his gourd. More than usual. Cuz he’s in pain from all the performances, cuz he’s tired, cuz he’s bored. And he does not want to be on tour.”

“Then why is he?”

Jerry sucked in his breath and held up his hand, and a look of sharp contempt framed his smile as he rubbed his thumb and his forefinger together.

“Money money money, Becky! Linda needs a bigger apartment in LA! Dr. Nick needs a new house! Joe’s swindled him into starting a racquetball club! And of course he needs a different, gold plated plane.”

Becky swiveled in front of Jerry, looking him square in the eye as they hit the twenty first floor and she stepped backwards into the hallway.

“And what about you, Jerry, are your needs being taken care of?”

Jerry shook his head, and a sharp chuckle escaped his lips while he hung back and threw Becky’s blue travel case at her feet.

“Hmmm. I reckon you gotta from here, Becky. He’s in the Presidential Suite. Just down the hall.” He looked away, stating in a matter of fact tone. “Have fun.”

Becky’s mouth dropped as she watched Jerry tilt his head to the side through the closing doors, his eyebrows arched in a challenge. The elevator clanged shut, and Becky steadied herself, then opened her purse, as if all of life's problems could be solved with a tissue or some lipstick. There was the paperback copy of The Hobbit at the bottom, the one she’d been reading to Ruth. The one Ruth had shoved in her hands at the last minute, demanding that she call home and read to her while she was away. Becky smiled, thinking of Ruth’s big brown eyes as her small, stubborn mouth announced that she would be telling the neighbor kids all about how her mom was going to meet Elvis at his concert, even as Becky begged her not to.

“I guess if one good thing comes out of this, it should be Ruthie one upping those Ledbetter brats.”

Becky dug around in her purse, and decided to pop a tic tac in her mouth, the mint was refreshing, it washed away the bad taste her conversation with Jerry had left in her mouth. Then Becky took a moment to look herself over in the mirror. Ida had helped her pin her hair half up in the front, and her floral, cotton dress hung down in a flattering way from the embroidered empire chest to hang loosely over her hips before stopping at her knees. The suede boots gave her some height, and she liked the fringe along the side, she liked the way she could feel it dangle as she walked. She just had to keep her balance and everything would be fine. Looking at herself in the mirror, she blew herself a kiss and took a deep breath. In a moment of inspiration, she broken off one of the yellow roses from the vase on the table, and pinned it into the side of her hair, then strode down the hall.

She pulled on the ring Elvis had given her, once more finding reassurance from rubbing the metal over her finger again and again. But her confidence faltered for a moment outside the suite when she heard the smash of something being flung and breaking against the wall, followed by stomping and shouting. Elvis-like shouting.

“Fired, they’re all FUCKING fired. ‘Cept Myrna, she’s the only one with any sense a loyalty or professionalism. I don’ care if them other bitches come back here, begging, BEGGING, on their knees for their jobs back. They revealed their true colors here tonight. It’ll be a cold day in HELL before I take ‘em back.”

The shouting paused, and Becky leaned into the door to try and hear what the chorus of male voices muttering indecipherably were saying, before a loud voice, deeper than the Mississippi delta, bellowed back.

“Nah. Nope. I ain’t apologizing for shit. They need to ‘apologize to me, Felton, for not bein’ able to take a  GODDAMN joke. There’s a hundred back up singers out there  starving fo’ work. Who’d slit their momma’s throats for a chance to sing with us. Why don’t you do YA job and go find me some a them? What the hell I pay ya for? ‘Sposed to be producin’ this show, go produce some back up singers.”

Becky’s excitement at seeing Elvis again had now been replaced by a tense ball of nerves shifting in her stomach. Suddenly the sound of footsteps came towards her, and she jumped back from the door just in time before three or four men pushed by where she stood back, sucking in her stomach and gripping the wall as she watched them trudge down the hallway. Then she turned to find Charlie at the door, looking at her as his face scrunched from unease into a wide grin.

“Why if it isn’t Becky from Birmingham. Whatcha doin’ hugging  the wall out here, Becky? Git in here, girl.”

Charlie stood back, and Becky braced herself as she entered the hotel room.

It was a mess, plates of half eaten food lined the table and bar, several of which had been flung against the wall, where mashed potatoes and gravy now dripped down the wallpaper onto pieces of broken porcelain on the carpet. Becky shivered, and then tried to compose herself as she looked around. There was Joe, smoking and pacing on the other side of the room, he turned when he saw her, unable to hide the disdain that grew on his face. She recognized Red and Lamar on the couch, Sonny hunched against the wall, but didn’t know the younger, skinnier guy with long brown hair.

Becky suddenly felt very awkward and out of place and brought her blue, vinyl travel bag up to her stomach where she could hug it for comfort. She smiled at Lamar as Charlie patted her back.

“You know the fellas, aintcha Becky?” She nodded, her walk stilted as she came further into the pent house. “The big guy just went to his room, but man are you a sight for sore eyes, he sure is gonna be glad to see you.”

Sonny let out a laugh, then stood up and walked towards her.

“I thought Jerry was picking you up?”

“He was, I mean he did, but I guess he - um - had other stuff to go do.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. By now I bet he’s kissed Myrna’s ass so hard his lips are glued to it.” Sonny rubbed his hands together, looking Becky up and down, and she hugged her bag harder at the resentment in his eyes as he went to pour himself a drink.

“Don’t pay him no mind, Becky, he woked up on the wrong side of the bed is all. For the last ten years.” Charlie laughed loudly at his own joke, as he guided Becky through the tense, silence of the living room towards the master bed room, where he knocked on the door to the old “Shave and a hair cut, two bits” pattern.

“I said to FUCK OFF.” Was the response, and Becky looked at Charlie imploringly.

“He seems - out of sorts. Maybe I shouldn't be here.”

Red snorted behind them, muttering under his breath that was one way to put it.  But Charlie shook his head, whispering.

“Nah, it’s jus been a rough night with some a the personnel.” This elicited another snort from Red, but Charlie continued, undeterred. “He wanted to know the second you got here, trust me.” Then Charlie cleared his throat, calling out.

“Hey boss, guess who is here? It’s lil ol Becky! Just in from Miss’ppi.”

“Well why the didn’t ya say that in the first place.”

The door flung open with a bang to reveal Elvis, still wearing the blue jumpsuit with the silver zebra pattern rising on either side of his chest. A matching zebra patterned belt was at his waist and his hands held an old fashioned looking quilt in patriotic red, white and blue around his shoulders, like the comfort blanky Ruth still slept with sometimes.

 Becky immediately dropped her bag and went to him, cupping his face with her hands as she looked up into his eyes. In spite of all the shouting, the gruff stance, he looked like a wounded puppy. She would whatever she could to take all the pain out of his eyes and hold him until he knew that everything was alright.

The side of her pinky crested against a taut choker, as she shook her head at the dark make-up smudged around his eyes. His lips pursed together at the center as he looked down sheepishly, like a little boy, biting his lip as his hands let the quilt drop to the floor and found her waist.

“Are you cold, Elvis?” She asked, looking at the quilt.

“What, oh that? Nah honey, someone gave it to me at the show and I like." He exhaled slowly through his nose. "Aww Becky, is it good to see you.”

Elvis picked her up and swung her around, bouncing her against his slight belly. His face lit up, and Becky could almost swear he wiped a tear from his eye as he placed her down and drew her into his side, walking her out to the living room.

“Now, this is what a good gal looks like, a loyal gal. Drop ev’ry thin when her man needs her. Man ‘o man, baby. You look like an angel, sent from heaven. How’d I get so lucky, have an angel come visit me, huh?” He grinned, looked at the others before kissing the top of her hair with gusto, so much so that his chin knocked the rose out of it, and then he accidentally stepped on it when he moved to pick it up. Elvis bent at his knees, wobbling as he tried to gathered up all the petals, his voice was high and babyish.

“Aw, no no no no. I’m sorry baby, I trampled all ova ya pretty flower.”

Then he dropped it an octave yelling forcefully.

“Charlie - boy, where’d that dumb ass go.” Before he had even finished uttering the words dumb ass, Charlie was there, chuckling as if Elvis and he were two frat boys yanking each other’s chain. Instead of master and trained dog, Becky mused, then pushed the thought from her mind.

“Charlie, run out and get Becky some fresh roses -”

Becky bent down next to Elvis on the carpet and stilled his hand to pull him back up, notching herself under Elvis shoulder as she turned to Charlie.

“Don’t you dare, Charlie. I just stole it on my way in, I can always go get another one.” Then she leaned up on her tippy toes and kissed Elvis’ cheek. “It’s a sweet thought, though. You’re sweet a sweet boy. Thanks for inviting me to join you, wished I hadn’t missed the show.”

Then she ran her fingers through the sweaty matted hair at his temple, stroked out the sticky hairspray that had kept his coiffed, high pompadour in place. Elvis’ blue eyes locked with hers and his whole body softened.

“S’ok, honey, probably all for the best. Was a sorry ass excuse for a show anyway.”

Becky trailed her fingers lower, over his chin and down along his chest hair.

“Impossible.” She whispered into the crease at his armpit, nuzzling her nose against the edge of his shoulder.

He didn’t even break eye contact as she looked back into his face as he lifted his right hand out and waved the guys off.

“Alright, boys, dismissed.”

Becky smooshed her face back into his armpit, rather than watch the parade of angry, middle aged men depart. Just before he left, she heard Charlie start to say good night and how nice it was to see her, when Elvis yelled for him to stop making eyes at Becky and go find his own gal.

Then they were alone. In a sea of dirty dishes, broken plates, rose petals and one coffee table that looked like it had been turned upside down. Unless it was some sort of new modern design, where you placed your coffee on the marble slab face down on ground.

Looking back up at Elvis, Becky didn’t know what  to say.  The screaming she had heard through the door had terrified her., yet looking at him now it seemed so clear how tired and how much pressure he felt. Jerry’s words rang in her ears, and they summoned all of Becky’s stupid, nurturing instincts. She began to pull off his scarf, peppering his chest with a few soft kisses to sooth the heart beat she heard, running as fast as a loose rail car thundering down a mountain.

Looking back up at his face, she licked her thumb, without consciously realizing what she was doing, and started to clean up his eye make-up, and he started to babble about the whole world going to hell. But he quieted as she shook her head, and gripped her hand tightly, shakily. Feeling him tremble, she remembered how exhausted he must be. So she paused and led him through the master suite and into bathroom, when she sat him on the toilet, stopped him again from protesting that he was fine, with a finger to his lips. Then she took a wet washcloth, and straddled his lap to clean his face.

Elvis grinned up at her, and when was done, he clasped both her hands in his and brought them forward to kiss her knuckles, his eyes level with her breasts. She let out a gasp at the way he sucked at her knuckles, before she shook herself free so she could reclaim her hand and undo his choker.

“What’s the matter, baby boy, hmmm? What’s all the fuss bout tonight, huh?”

She soothed his forehead with her fingers, cracking her neck as she steadied herself on his lap. The texture of his blue, gaberdine suit was soft underneath her bare thighs.

“Ah, nothing honey, jus the doggone back up singers can’t take a joke. Walked off in the middle of the set, make me look like a damn clown.”

Becky steadied herself.

“I find that hard to believe. Don’t look like a clown to me. If anything,” she begun to unzip his jumpsuit, her hands smoothing over the cool sweaty, hair she found there as she pushed against his belly. “If anything, they’re the ones who look foolish. Walking off like that.”

Elvis' lip hung down, just the slight hint of a double chin grew there, before they widened into a smile, pushing the apples of his cheeks up towards her.

“Ya sweet honey, ya know that? Wait, whatcha doin’ woman?”

Becky giggled as she pulled off his belt, and leaned into smell his chest.

“I am undressing you, Elvis Presley. Shower time.”

He tried to dismiss this idea with a wave of his hand.

“Honey, I don’t need a shower.”

“Oh yes you do.” Becky rubbed her hands under Elvis’ jumpsuit, trying to push it off his shoulders. “When was the last time you took a shower, you stinky boy.”

He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “Uh, uh, uh -”

“Ha, if it is taking that long to answer, it has been tooo long.” She jumped up, and went to start the water. Elvis stood, bringing her back against the bathroom wall.

“Think you can come in here, and order me around, huh?” He smirked. “I like how I smell. Smell like a man. S'natural, s'way God made me.”

“Good little boys.” Becky worked her hands back under his suit. “Who take good little showers.” She got the fabric off the side of his shoulders. “Get good little rewards.”

He stilled her hands, enveloping her with his scent, a staunch mix of sweaty musk doused with a bottle or two of brut. Becky wrinkled her nose.

“And what about bad little boys who do what they want, huh?”

She threw her arms around his neck. “They get loved on until they learn to behave.” And she began to kiss his chest and neck with a swift barrage of pecks.

“Alright, alright crazy woman. What’s my reward, then, huh?”

Becky pulled her dress off with a speed that made Elvis' head spin, but before he could make a snarky remark, she bent over to take off her boots, and all he could do was stare at her bottom as she motioned for him to unclasp her bra.

“Your reward is me. In the shower. Washing you.”

Becky giggled self consciously as she took Elvis’ hands and drew him into the shower. She didn’t know where her chutzpah had come from, all she knew was that when she was with him, she was a woman transformed. Her walls came down, and she wanted to be as close as possible to him, do whatever she could to put him at ease. Being around Elvis had warped her entire way of thinking.

The way his smirk rippled across his cheeks as he watched her lather up a wash cloth and start scrubbing over his hair chest made her tummy feel funny. Like she was about to jump off a diving board. She watched the soap drizzled down over his waist and down his happy trail. Becky swallowed hard, unable to stop herself from rubbing over it with her hand and wiping the soap into different shapes around his belly button. A triangle, a circle, a heart.

Elvis chuckled as he squeezed his eyes shut under the water, letting it rinse everything off as he muttered that she was a weirdo. Then he took the wash cloth from her hands and spread the lather over the top of her breasts. Back and forth, as if mesmerized. His attentive gaze made her vibrate, and Becky’s nipples became hard nubs. She pushed his hand aside, stepping close to rub the soap from her bosom against him, playfully.

“I think they’re clean.”

“Never can be too sure.” He pulled her closer, nudging his nose over hers as he took the washcloth back and began to caress her butt. “Just bein’ thorough. Wanna a get all my reward.”

“Your reward was me washing you, not the other way around.”

Elvis winked. “I’m renegotiatin’.” And he carefully turned Becky around so that she was leaning into the shower wall, while he slowly moved the washcloth over her shoulder blades, the small of her back, her bottom cheeks and the backs of her legs. His movements were so soft and tender, that they made all the thoughts drain from Becky’s head with the water. Her knees turned into jelly.  And all she knew was the warm sensation vibrating up her spine and tingling between her legs.

It was 3:45 am when they finally collapsed into the master suite’s large, king bed in matching pajamas. Becky could rest assured that every part of her body was clean, and while she hadn’t scrubbed him behind his ears, she had done her best with Elvis.

He had taken the cute, sexy pink fluffy negligee she had brought to sleep in from her hands, and thrown it in the trash, reiterating that just because they were on the road, they were never safe from commie drug dealers. Arsonists. Assassins. Any number of dangerous threats that could result in an instant need to evacuate the hotel.

“Trust me, Becky, you’ll be greatful ya wearing something decent if that happens.”

Becky rolled her eyes, saying to herself that Elvis was worse than her grandmother. But she obliged and reasoned that Elvis’ pajamas were probably more comfortable than the gauzy peignoir she had brought. The she settled back, watching him take his medication from the black, doctor’s bag, before folding her arms around him when he snuggled up and lay his head on her breasts,  murmuring to her in a low, babying tone.

“Aw Becky, don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t come.”

She stroked his soft, dyed hair, shhhing him as she smiled to her self at the hint of grey she saw at the peak of his right side burn.

“You’d be fine, you always are.”

“Nah, honey, none a these fools love me for who I really am. None of them would be here if it weren’t for the money.”

“That’s not true, your friends love you. They’ve known you all your life.”

“Nah uh, they don’t, baby. No one loves me. You might be the only one in the whole world who doesn’t want anything from me. Won’t take my goddamn money, even when I mean it as a gift. Because I do love givin’ gifts.”

Becky trailed her fingers across Elvis’ forehead, enjoying the way his warm skin felt under her knuckles. “I know you do. You really do.”

“But no one appreciates it, they just want more. Won’t be happy til they suck me dry. Ugh, I don’t know if I can even sleep, so keyed up about the band.”

Becky kissed his forehead, as an idea percolated, and she rose from the bed to grab The Hobbit from her purse.

“Here, why don’t I read to you, take your mind off things?”

Elvis’ took the book ins hand. “This the book Spock was singing about?”

Becky giggled, thinking of Leonard Nimoy’s record few years back. “I believe the song you are referring to is ‘The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.’ And yes, it was inspired by this book. But I know you've heard of The Hobbit, Elvis. Have you ever read it?”

Elvis shook his head, but before he could protest that he didn’t read children's books, she brought his head back to her bosom and began reading it, doing the voices the same way she did with Ruth. They passed out at some point in the “Roast Mutton” chapter,  after pausing from time to time debating what their hobbit names would be.

“I think you are probably too tall to be a hobbit, Elvis, probably more an elf. Your name is practically the same as their language.”

“Well, that don’t make sense, no one names their kid after a language. English. Spanish. This is ma son, German. So then, what do you ’spose my elf name would be?”

Becky yawned. “I guess that will be our proooooject over the next few days, figure out what our hobbit and elf names are.”

“Guesss sooooooo.” Elvis yawned back.

**********************************************************

Becky found her paperback copy of The Hobbit open and smashed between them where Elvis had fallen asleep with his head on top of her chest. Several pages were bent back, and she tried to get them straight by bending them the other way, before deciding to put the lamp on top of it with the hope it would weigh them back into place. The room was still so dark, it surprised her to see that the clock read one p.m. It had been five or six when they passed out, and Becky could hardly believe how quickly she adapted back to Elvis’ schedule.

Looking down at him, she returned to cuddle into him, thinking how sweet he looked with his mouth wide open, asleep, completely unperturbed about the weight of the world that he carried on his shoulders. Then, as she shimmied her legs next to his, she felt the distinct, outline of an erect penis. I guess he slept well, she thought, and suddenly felt an aching tingle light up between her legs and a naughty thought enter her mind. Becky bit her lip, wondering how to wake him up without making it obvious. She began to nestle her knee into his cock, then blow air over his eyelids, faintly at first as she watched his long eyelashes flutter and waited to see if it woke him. When he remained asleep, she blew harder, emptying her lungs, until she saw his eyelids move and he opened one eye, with a blank, confused, slightly drugged out stare. This prompted her to plop back, not so stealthily, and pretend to be asleep herself. She also stopped moving her knee over his penis. Sleeping people don’t do that.

“Ha, now watcha think ya doin, Becky Butt?”

Elvis narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. A chuckled escaped Becky’s mouth, and her hand replaced her knee to slowly sweep over the outline of Elvis’ length, teasing his tip with the swirl of her thumb. Elvis seemed to instinctively move back up against the pillows, while also trying half-heartedly to swat away her hands from his pajama bottoms as she moved her head to his crotch.

“Now, honey, you’re a good girl, good girls don’t do that.”

Becky pulled at his waist, leaning down to nuzzle against the silk over his thigh, looking up and batting her lashes.

“Baby, you’ve been so stressed out, this tour got you all worked up. I���m just trying to help you relax and clear your head, so you can figure out what you want to do about your band.”

Elvis released her hands from where he had stopped them at his pants, and flopped back against the head board, resigned and moaning as her hand feathered over him. He closed his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling and muttered, “Lord have mercy. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Becky did a wiggly, little triumphant dance as Elvis shook his head, grinning as she pulled his pants down and very slowly and reverently bent down to kiss the tip, savoring the way his breath became heavier as she did. He bit his lip watching her look at him as she swirled her tongue around his foreskin where it now crested back above the head. In a leisurely, affectionate way, she moved her tongue hesitantly around him, using one hand to loosely palm up and down his shaft as she sucked the tip once more. Kissing it delicately, relishing how sensitive he was, how even just moving her mouth down an inch made his leg jolt. She laughed onto his cock when his knee knocked her head, and she looked up to see a warm, boyish smile beaming back down at her.

“Hey now, be gentle with him. He's, uh, he's, ughhhh, he's shy.”

Becky smiled as best she could up at him with a penis in her mouth, and worked to just move along the end of the foreskin to the top of the head, waiting as he moved her hair to guide her forward. His gasps sent a sharp ping to her core and Becky realized that the sound of Elvis’ hushed pleasure was like an aphrodisiac that she wanted to chase. And chase it she did, hollowing her cheeks to bob further down, seeing how far she could go with out gagging, seeing what happened when his tip hit the back of her throat, savoring the feeling of how it almost choked her.

His mouth now hung open, and he let out a loud moan as she delved deeper with the next thrust. Looking, she saw that his eyes were squeezed shut  and his mouth hung open, the bottom lip shaking tremulously as she began to speed up her tempo, following her mouth with her hand and breathing through her nose as she tried not to gag when she plunged downward. Then she felt Elvis grip her hair with a tight fist.

“Ah honey, oh Becky, oh honey, Imma about to burst!”

She watched his face contort as she nodded her acquiescence and continued to move her mouth over him, possessing him and at the same time giving herself to him as he arched his back up into her and came with a loud, breathy, high pitched cry. He was tangy, and salty, and she looked at him with a seductive wink as she flipped her hair and tried to swallow it all, before gagging and coughing most of it out of the side of her mouth and onto the duvet. This performance was followed by loud belly laughs from both parties as Becky rolled over in a fit of giggles at her clumsy attempt to be sexy. She hid under the pillows and blushed when Elvis moved over, threw the pillow away, and pulled her onto him with a goofy smile.

“Ya sure are sumpthin', Becky Butt. Man ‘o’ man." He sighed, stroking her shoulder. "Haven’t done anything like that in a while. Prolly since last time I saw you.”

“Elvis, you don’t have to lie to me, I see the photos of you with your other girlfriends on tour.”

He sucked in a deep breath, taking her chin to look up at him.

“You mean that girl I invited on tour after you turned me down? Honey, she don’t mean a thing, just someone to keep the bed warm. Wasn’t getting busy with her, tell you that.”

Becky arched her eye. “Really?”

“Mmmmhmmm. She is pretty, but she don't turn me on, not like you, baby. You’re my little snake charmer, member? And man, honey, every time too. Something special bout you. Gonna need you to come on the rest of the tour with me." His arm dropped, and his eyebrows furrowed and Becky realized he must be thinking about the tour. "Fuck, man, gotta figure out what to do bout these singers, goddammit. I don really wanna train new gals to sing, with only a few nights left.”

Becky patted his arm. “So don’t. Just apologize.”

A nervous squeak escaped her throat when she saw his lips purse and his eyes narrow in disbelief at her suggestion.

“You don’t have to mean it! I believe you were right, they are being bitches. Baby, trust me, you know how singers can be, premadonnas. And they are women. You can’t win with us. But you can know in your heart that you were joking, and also do what needs to be done to keep the show going by mending fences. S’easier to catch more flies with honey, E.”

Becky felt like a traitor to her fellow womankind, as she felt fairly certain that whatever had happened, the back up singers probably had every right to be upset. But the end justified the means, right? Her reasoning seemed to have some effect, as Elvis' pinched lips released and he grunted.

She watched as he looked at her, and repeated "easier to catch more flies with honey" in a high, mocking voice, while he rolled over and picked up the phone, asking the operator for Joe’s room. “Get Lowell on a plane, tell him to bring everything in the store. I don’t care, jack, do you work for my daddy? No, that’s what I thought, huh. Yeah, Imma have Felton take it all over to the girls, to everyone, tell them I know things got outta hand this week, let’s leave it in the past. Oh, and I wanna get Myrna a new Caddy, so she knows what loyalty means to me.”

Elvis was patting Becky’s thigh as he did this, his fingers playing a rhythm only he knew. But it made Becky feel special, needed, close to him, and she found a strange contentment just being there, receiving the song his body was tapping out. After he hung up, he called room service and asked them to send two of everything from the breakfast menu, explaining he didn’t care if it was 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

“Ever been Asheville, ha, honey?”

“MMmhmmm. No, can't say I have. Guess we'll have a few days there to figure out what our hobbitses names are.”

“Already know what your’s is. Becky Bobbit.” He grinned wide at her quizzical face. “Cuz you bobbit so good on my nobbit.”

Becky hit him as he burst into a fit of giggles. “Dirty, nasty, mean man.”

“Awww, honey, s’compliment. Wanna keep you round with me always, my lil bobbit hobbit.”

“Ha.”

“Comin’ to Memphis after the tour?”

“Elvis - I -”

“I thought we were talkin’ bout getting you moved up there. You will love it."           

“I will hate it.”

“Nah, you won’t.”

“Hmmm, you might be sick of me after the next few days.”

Elvis squeezed his arm around her tighter, looking down at the stain on the duvet, and then back at her with a silly smile.

“Nah, I won’t.”

***************************************************

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