#Harringrove Bake Off

[fizzigigsimmer]

Bake Off: A Harringrove Sim Story

Chapter 2

The small coastal town of Copperdale. Early Morning.

Morning News Anchor Nancy Wheeler stands outside the Harringrove Cafe - located in the old refurbished bed & breakfast on Shrike Hill.

Assistant: We're rolling!

Nancy: Hello, I'm Nancy Wheeler and this is 'Good Morning with Nancy'. We've got all of your local news, current events, and hot topics!

Nancy: Today's special topic is near and dear to my heart. Copperdale is known for its scenic beach, quaint railroad town, and most recently for the tragic accident at the local library involving a sink hole...

Nancy: But, it also the home of the Harringrove Cafe: which has boomed since its initial launch and brought many tourists to our shores, eager to try their delicious treats. Today, we'll be meeting the owners and getting a rare peek inside the operations at the cafe - along with some exciting news! In fact, here comes one of them now.

Steve joins Nancy at the door, in swim trunks and nothing else.

Nancy: Cut!

Steve: Hi Nancy. Thanks for coming! Are we -

Nancy: Steve! Did you forget the interview was today?

Steve: What? Of course not. Let's do this! I've been looking forward to it all week. Billy too.

Nancy: Steve, we can't do the interview! You're half naked.

Steve: Oh yeah, I woke up late and had to squeeze in my laps this morning. Didn't have time to change. Billy said it would be fine. Add a little sex appeal.

The door opens behind them.

Nancy: *groaning* This is a morning show Steve, a family friendly hour. We don't need sex appeal.

Billy leans in the door.

Billy: Speak for yourself Wheeler. All those grandmas who watch your show need something to wake them up.

Nancy: *sarcastic* Ha ha! You're not funny Billy.

Billy: You're right. I'm hilarious.

Jonathan: ... So are we shooting today or not?

Steve: Definitely shooting! Just give me a chance to go change.

Steve runs inside to get dressed and Nancy sighs.

Nancy: I should have known something like this would happen. He's always in that silly pool. Why does a bakery need a pool anyway?

Billy: I'd explain fun to you Wheeler, but I'm too busy running a business.

Nancy: This isn't a laughing matter Billy! This event is really important to Steve, but more importantly the town. The library helped so many people and bringing it back will do a lot of good. Don't you care what happens to this town?

Billy glowers. He doesn't appreciate being told off. But thankfully, before he can answer Steve's voice interrupts from inside as he rushes back.

Steve: I'm here! I'm ready! It's okay now.

Billy: Is that my shirt!

It most definitely is Billy's shirt. Nancy peers inside the door to see that Steve has grabbed Billy's old lifeguard top, from when he worked at the community pool. She sighs.

Nancy: Come on Jonathan. Let's get some more shots with me while these two figure themselves out.

Jonathan: Yeah let's get some B-roll. I can piece it together with Steve & Billy later.

The Segment:

Harringrove Cafe. This thriving business sits on a picturesque hill overlooking the beach. Once an abandoned Bed & Breakfast, co-owners Steve Harrington and partner Billy Hargrove have turned this local eyesore into a meca for the taste buds.

There's no end to the creativity of their rotating menu, which offers handcrafted treats and a personal delivery service to local residents along with cheerful hospitality!

But this summer, Billy and Steve are leaving the kitchen to undertake their biggest risk yet: A local backing competition! If you've been up on the hill lately you've probably seen the construction of the big tent.

This summer, Harringrove Cafe invites YOU and the whole family to join them in 'The Harringrove Bakeoff' where three teams will go head to head, in the battle of the baked goods! Proceeds from the ticket sales will go toward the Copperdale Library restoration project.

This competition is a big undertaking for the cafe, but it's certainly not the first of its kind. Billy & Steve are known for their creative collaborations with friends, and local artists in the community - many whose artworks can be found on sale in the cafe shop.

I'm Nancy Wheeler, and this has been Good Morning with Nancy. Join us next time: In the coming weeks I'll be revealing more about the competition, the competitors, and how you can help pick Copperdale's very first Best Amateur Baker!

This broadcast is in thanks to and collaboration with @harringrove-cafe

Community members and visitors may visit the cafe, or reach out to Steve & Billy directly with questions about the competition and upcoming menu changes. They ask that you please hold all questions regarding the strange noises heard coming from the cafe last night for their next Ask Harringrove session.

[robthegoodfellow]

3DPC4EVA

@harringrovezine submission! Billy and Steve take a backseat while their cars get busy. Crack taken seriously. Brace for puns.

Summary: When the Camaro rumbles into the Hawkins High parking lot, she catches the attention of a certain luxury vehicle.

Harringrove, Camaro/Beamer (or Bimmer/Beemer whatever you prefer)

Rated G | ~2.2k (slightly expanded version) | Alternating Car POV

thank you @adelacreations and the rest of the zine team for all your hard work!

~🛞~

A car never forgot the moment it came to—became aware. For PC, it was rounding a bend of the Pacific Coast Highway, to the left a sprawling sea, baked cliffs sloping opposite. And inside… was a boy, death-grip on the wheel relaxing, his stiff back gone slack on a long exhale.

He was gazing at the water, mesmerized. Revved the engine, a vicarious roar—but not of rage.

Exultation.

They meandered north for miles, blue horizon painted pink and red, glittering in the sinking sun. Veering onto a rocky shoulder, he hopped on the hood. Reclined, sighing smoke, until the sky had bruised purple. 

The boy’s mind wandered on the drive back, and PC got a sense of him then—name, where he lived. Enough to nudge reminders before he missed a turn. 

PC learned its own names, too—knew the boy thought of it as a she. Called her Baby. Or sometimes he’d smush the first part of her plate together, PCE, and think peace.

~🛞~

3D didn’t belong here, wasting away parked outside a school. A BMW E23 7-Series? Far more befitting the head of the Harrington family, not his spoiled Lothario of a son.

But no—downgraded months after purchase when the wife gifted her darling husband a Rolls-Royce.

Who could compete? So here it was, surrounded by malformed AMC experiments, rusted-out Oldsmobile barges, decrepit Pintos liable to explode if you looked at them wrong. Oh, and tractors—let’s not forget the occasional farming equipment caked in mud and manure ridden to school for a laugh. 

3D could have borne the shocks without blowing a gasket—it was a high-performance vehicle—but then… then the boy made it his mission to bed every girl in town. And 3D had spacious seats. Spacious and luxurious: black leather, gleaming wood trim—not that the paramours would notice, too busy humping while 3D stared out its headlamps at the lake or the trees or wherever it could fix its attention that wasn’t the pair of humans copulating all over its pristine interior.

Finally, the boy hitched himself to a girl with standards, one who preferred privacy. Granted, that relationship coincided with some rather strange occurrences—early on, the boy sped off to a remote property with faulty wiring, lights berserk, and ran inside to much screaming and cacophonous violence. 3D was certain that menace would emerge grievously wounded if he emerged at all, and do you know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of leather?

Well, 3D didn’t, either, but it was bound to be impossible.

Anyway—despite that bizarre hiccup, the boy seemed happy, and so too was 3D.

Happy its rear bench was a Motel 6 no longer.

~🛞~

The blistering hurt he'd stoked from San Diego to Indiana—this despairing, gnashing fury—had simmered to a low-grade pang when PC rumbled into the Hawkins High parking lot, blazing past milling students.

Billy slammed the door—pat the handle, apologetic, before striding off. Max wheeled away on her skateboard.

Though PC was facing the school, she wasn’t limited to staring dully at the brick. Sky through her windshield, a side-view out her windows, the lot behind via the tail lights. In no time, she’d taken stock: not too different from back home. Less pervasive rust from salty air, fewer finishes sun-bleached pale pastel… and the crusty tractor was new… but a parking lot was a parking lot.

That’s what she repeated, again jerking her focus from a gleam in the next row. A BMW—PC had a weakness for German makes. Her first crush was a cute Volkswagen bug that belonged to one of Billy's surfer buddies, but the Beetle couldn’t hold a candle to this burgundy beauty—shining in the sun, the lines of its hood so proud, so pert and compact compared to PC. The appealing rounds of its double headlamps, spider eyes on either side of those distinctive kidney grilles. Like bared teeth.

The plate read 3Ds46T2.

Its wipers twitched, annoyance loud and clear. What?

PC barely reined in the startled beep, hot underhood. But then—well… what else to do when caught so blatantly staring?

She flashed a taillight, a quick, cheeky wink, and the headlamps across the way flared—a bright flush, though brief, firmly repressed.

Didn’t want to push it—the blush perhaps more embarrassment than pleasure—but when she risked a glance, 3D was looking back, intrigued. 

At final bell, PC blared both taillights, a last gambit—and her fan belt fluttered when 3D’s wipers swept a wide arc. A farewell.

Half-expected to overheat on the way back to the new house. Like all the coolant in the world couldn’t help her.

~🛞~

A showy, brutish Camaro Z/28 wouldn’t typically warrant more than an irritated huff of exhaust, but a car like that had never been bold enough to… flirt? Just brazenly wink for the whole lot to see, gazing like you were the most riveting object in existence.

It was… well, flattering, obviously—a Camaro was a handsome make, whatever its faults—but more than that, it had thrilled in a way 3D couldn’t shake. So next time the boy pulled into the lot, it gently nudged the wheel, willing them to the front where PCE 235 was sitting pretty.

Maneuvering to park next to the muscle-bound stunner took more of a push—enough to trigger a frown—but the boy rarely fired on all cylinders. He shrugged it off.

3D never dreamed it could be so forward, but the Camaro didn’t mind. Quite the contrary: as the school doors closed on the last straggler, 3D spied its neighbor’s window cracking open. A loaded quiet—then the soft static of the radio searching for a station. Odd squeals, a cut-off twang, belt, chorus, then—

—too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you. Pardon the way that I stare—there's nothing else to compare.

An earnest crooning Oldie, and—it was like its undercarriage had bottomed out on nothing. 3D flushed hot as a busted radiator. 

If you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.

Seeming to sense its struggle for composure, the volume lowered until the song clicked off. The window rolled up, parted lips closing, and the wheel spun, nervous. Crunch of gravel as the front tires turned its way: Your move.

3D choked, butterfly valve sealing shut. The boy’s tastes weren’t exactly varied. Hardly strayed from the local channels piping nonstop Hot 100. But the silence would soon ring of rejection, so it powered the radio, scrambling, poised to blindly crank the dial and hope for the best—

Miracle of miracles. Rushing to open a window, it lowered all four, silently thanking Hump Day Hits of the 60s.

—thought love was only true in fairytales—meant for someone else but not for me. Love was out to get me—that's the way it seemed. 

Spontaneity sparking, it left the windows down. Let the whole lot hear! What did it care what they thought?

Then I saw her face! Now I'm a believer. Not a trace of doubt in my mind…

Last bell, after hours of trading silly ditties, their batteries were dead, and 3D was in love—felt drunk on diesel, sappy sentiment gumming up its engine.

PC. How wonderful, those two letters. And a she. Fascinating.

Their drivers were baffled at both needing a jump—a much remarked upon coincidence. Waiting for their cars to revive, the boy made awkward small talk with PC’s human—a blond ruffian who smoked like a chimney.

The boy asked the ruffian—Billy—if he was going to the Halloween party later.

Billy was.

“See ya there, man,” he said, tapping 3D’s roof. It would have cringed at the fingerprints left behind, if not for a more pressing thought.

It would see PC that night.

Perhaps all night.

~🛞~

Billy was nervous—PC could tell by his fidgeting grip, Metallica blasting. Odd outfit, too: leather jacket, shirtless, with fingerless gloves.

He parked behind 3D, no encouragement necessary. Before he’d even disappeared inside the pulsing house, PC waved her wiper, overeager but suddenly—shy.

They seemed to mutually agree not to drain their batteries again. Instead, at the risk of coming on too strong, PC reached out with the nebulous consciousness linking her to her body, linking her to Billy… until she felt a psychic bump. Not enough to dent. Just… alert.

She’d never done this—gone beyond basic flirtation—but something about 3D made her bold… and maybe Billy’s loneliness, the aimless despair bubbling under his skin since the move… maybe that had bled over more than she’d realized.

A bump, and she almost ignited her own engine, so intense was the bolt of excitement. 3D was reaching back, willing to open to her—

She had no idea how much time had passed, so submerged in their mingled selves, when Billy stumbled against her with a grunt, a slurred curse. The icy jolt must have transferred before she cut off to focus on the problem sagging at her door—a problem she knew too well.

Billy unlocked her after a couple tries, more falling than sitting in the driver’s seat. Shoved the key in the ignition—groaned when the engine wouldn’t start.

“Not tonight, baby—I’m fucking fine.”

She remained unmoved, even as he slumped, forehead knocking on the wheel.

“Just start! We’re three streets away, for fuck’s sake.”

An insistent bump—so unrelenting that she reconnected, conveyed through images, flashes of memory, that this was just something they did: Billy would drink too much, and she wouldn’t start until he was sober. But that only triggered a renewed wave of concern, a series of impressions in return: pulling over to assist a family broken down, the kids shivering in the chill evening air of autumn; 3D’s human, breath misting, joking with a pretty brunette about drinking until they were warm, the girl informing him that booze made you more vulnerable to frostbite.

But… it wasn’t nearly cold enough for that, right? Although what did she know? It had taken ages to warm up this morning. How cold was too cold?

Maybe Billy would just… go back inside the house. Or she could—start the engine but jam the accelerator? Or—

Billy jumped when 3D’s horn blared, obnoxious in the still night, its headlights flashing with each trumpeting blast. 

Not a minute later, PC understood in a burst of gratitude: 3D’s human trotted from the house. He would help. Flinging open the door, she spun her wheel, sharp.

A grunt, and Billy spilled onto the pavement. “Bitch.”

The alarm died with a chirp. “Hargrove?” 

Billy sighed, flopping backward. “Fuck off, Harrington.”

Harrington did not—kept coming until he towered, hands on hips. Prodded Billy with a curious foot.

“You wanna be roadkill, or what?”

Bratty snort. “Or what.”

“Well, in the interest of not scraping you up tomorrow, how about I drive you home?”

Billy propped himself on elbows. A hum, considering. “Pass.”

PC resisted whacking him with the door. From his expression, Harrington felt much the same.

“Take you to mine, then.” Stooping, he stuck his hand out, waiting while Billy curled his lip, rolled his eyes—finally took the hand.

3D’s lights beamed worry as Harrington started the engine, Billy safe in passenger. PC twitched a wiper—shoo—and settled in by the curb. Small price for peace of mind.

~🛞~

At some point between disappearing into the Harrington house and emerging in the early dawn, something had happened—3D couldn’t begin to guess. The surly quiet of last night now buzzed like coins in a cupholder. Glances darted, never meeting.

3D resisted cranking the radio to drown out the awkward. Or redirecting the beads of condensation cutting through the misted windows so their dewy paths spelled HELP.

It rumbled with relief to see PC, glistening in the gloom, right where they’d left her.

“Last night,” Billy said, as they rolled to a stop. “We—it can’t happen—”

“You scared?” The arched brow was bluster, his frame rigid with nerves.

“You dumb?” Sneered it, scathing.

He was dumb, 3D would vouch for that, but the boy only glared. Billy huffed, paired an eye roll with a shake of his head, reaching for the door. 

A lesser vehicle would’ve missed the other hand pounce across the console, but 3D fogged the windows just in time.

No one saw the driver yanked sideways by the shirt, arrested by snarling lips pressed to his own—or the hands that grappled in reply, cupping cheek and chin, fingers sinking into hair.

No one saw, but PC knew—was practically dancing, wipers waving, front wheels pivoting left and right. And usually 3D would sigh, resign itself to rounds of necking and worse, but it couldn’t muster the fumes.

Because it would put up with anything—happily, no matter the wear and tear—for more time right here, sharing PC’s air. 

Since keeping one meant keeping the other, this would be no fling. Not if 3D could help it. 

What was it humans liked to say? 

My way or the highway.

~🛞~

Read on Ao3

[chrisbitchtree]

The One Where the Small Things are the Big Things and the Best Boyfriend is the One That Tries

For Harringrove Week day 1

Prompt - Pigs in a Blanket

1.4k - T

***

Steve sat up in bed, propped up by pillows and the headboard, sipping from a mug of hot, black coffee, watching Billy sleep on his stomach, his shoulders rising and falling as he snored lightly. Steve fought the urge to run his hands down the expanse of golden skin, instead opting to let Billy sleep a little bit longer before his shift at the campus library. He’d been up late the night before, studying for midterms, and Steve knew he needed every minute of rest that he could get.

Instead, he used the quiet time to fret about his plans for Billy’s birthday. It was their first year celebrating it in California, far from the bounty of friends and family that they’d left in Hawkins when they’d made the move the summer before.

They’d arrived here, in San Diego, just before Steve’s birthday late last July, and the kids had sent along a whole slew of gifts and cards for him to open when he woke up on his birthday morning, plus Robin, Dustin, and Max had gotten together to call him and sing happy birthday, almost bringing a tear to his eye as their voices piped tinnily through the phone line.

Max had assured Steve multiple times that Billy’s box of cards and gifts would be on it’s way soon, finally confirming that she’d delivered the package to the post office the day before, so he would have that, but Steve had wanted to do more.

Thankfully, with a little help from his friend Betty Crocker, Steve would be able to make Billy’s favourite chocolate fudge cake easily enough, and he’d requested a simple dinner of tacos from the taco truck they frequented, for dinner, but Steve was still worried that he wouldn’t be able to make Billy’s customary birthday breakfast, pigs in a blanket.

The first time they’d celebrated Billy’s birthday as a couple, the blonde had stayed tight lipped on any preferences that he had for his big day, shrugging and telling Steve that whatever he came up with would be fine with Billy. Steve had tried and tried to get more to go on, but even grilling Max hadn’t revealed much.

Billy had seemed pleased enough with the white cake with chocolate icing that Steve had made him, but Steve didn’t want to settle for pleased. He wanted Billy to feel joyful and have a sense of childlike happiness that he probably hadn’t experienced in a long time, so one night, while he and Billy were drunk at the quarry, he’d gotten Billy to open up.

At first, he’d shared simple details. How his mom had always covered the top of his cake in rainbow sprinkles and had baked coins inside for him to find, once he was old enough to not try to chomp down on them or choke, or how her voice sounded like an angel’s when she’d sing him Happy Birthday.

Then he’d shared a bit more. How one year, he’d wanted a Barbie so badly he’d told his mom she never needed to buy him another birthday present ever again. At first, she’d told him it might be better to pick something else, but after weeks and weeks of begging, she’d relented, and it had become their little secret, something Billy only played with after school, in the small window of time between his afternoon snack and Neil arriving home from the office.

Another secret that he and his mother kept between the two of them was that she would let Billy stay home from school on his birthday. They would spend the whole day together, just the two of them, going on an adventure of Billy’s choosing. But not before he ate his special birthday breakfast of pigs in a blanket.

The meal had been his choice. His mother had said that he could have anything that he wanted for breakfast on his birthday, anything at all. He’d seen her serve pigs in a blanket at a dinner party a month prior, and thought they were the height of luxury, so the request was made and gladly fulfilled. They saw Neil off to work, then curled up in Billy’s bed together, eating a whole tray of the little puff pastry wrapped cocktail wieners, using toothpicks to dip them in a mix of ketchup and mustard. It was a little thing that meant so much.

He'd shared that memory with Steve as tears fell from the corners of his eyes, glistening like jewels on his cheeks in the moonlight. Steve had filed that bit of information away, vowing to use it to give Billy a little bit of birthday magic the next year.

It had been easy enough to convince Claudia Henderson to make them the next year. All he had to do was bat his eyelashes a couple times and tell her that it would mean a lot to both Billy and him, and she was practically insisting that she whip him up a batch.

As predicted, Billy had loved them. He and Steve had laid in bed together, devouring the whole large tray while Billy regaled Steve with all sorts of stories from his childhood. Trips to the beach, warm chocolate chip cookies baked with his mom, karate lessons and hiking in the woods. They’d then spent the rest of the day watching movies on the couch before making their way back to bed for sex and birthday cake.

The next year had been much the same, with Claudia again providing the pigs in a blanket, but Steve had also thrown Billy a small party, with the kids and Robin and Heather in attendance, and Billy had cried in bed that night while thanking Steve for a perfect day.

Steve was on his own for the pigs in a blanket though. He’d practiced a couple times while Billy was at work, following Claudia’s instructions to a T, but he just couldn’t get it to turn out properly. The first time, the pastry was greasy and flat, and the second time, the pastry was burnt on the outside and undercooked and goopy on the inside. He just had to hope that it would turn out on Billy’s birthday.

***

Despite all of Steve’s hopes and wishes and crossed fingers, it didn’t turn out. Steve had hoped that by the time Billy woke up, he would be back in the room with a tray of piping hot pigs in a blanket, but instead, Billy found him giving a ball of buttery mush a death glare. He tried to get in front of the mess so Billy wouldn’t see, but he was too late.

“What ’cha got there, pretty boy?” Billy asked, a soft smile on his face, as he pressed his bare chest up against Steve’s back and peered over his shoulder. He pressed a kiss just below Steve’s ear, and Steve could instantly feel some of the tension in his body melt away.

“It was supposed to be your birthday breakfast,” Steve grumbled, punching the dough. “But I ruined it. I just wanted to do this one special thing for you and I can’t get the pastry right and it’s a mess. You deserve perfection.”

Billy spun Steve around and lifted his chin when he tried to duck his head. He looked right into Steve’s eyes. “You know the fact that you tried means more than any perfect breakfast could, right? Every single day you put in so much effort to make sure I have a good life. My life is amazing all because of you. Pigs in a blanket or no pigs in a blanket, this is going to be my best birthday yet, because I’m spending it with you. Got that?”

Steve nodded, and Billy kissed him, cupping his hands at the back of Steve’s head.

“I do have an idea though,” Billy said, a smile spreading over his face. “Do you have any wieners left?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, confused. “But we don’t have any pastry, and we don’t even have hot dog buns. What are you going to do?”

Billy turned to the fridge, rooting around for a minute before reappearing with a tube of Pillsbury crescent rolls in his hand. “We are going to make pigs in a blanket. Together. Then we’re going to get back in bed and feed them to each other, then you’re going to fuck me good and deep, and then we’re going to eat cake and tacos. Lots of cake and tacos. Best. Birthday. Ever.”

Steve found that he couldn’t disagree.

[biillys]

🔥ask game🔥 for Stranger Things

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

hello ily thanku 🥺🥺

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

well every time something's happening it's always the bylers or the steddies making noise. the harringrove gang can def be annoying too but something about the way the others think theyre like. morally correct for their ship etc is just like. give me a fucking break. ur litereally on tumblr dot com. wait actually not a ship technically but the people that are obsessed with the fruity four. literally shut uppppppp

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about?

feel like most of my opinons aren't common enough to weigh in here so idk? billy would never settle for steve fucking harrington? HEATHER would never settle for robin!!!!!! billy and max's relationship is COMPLICATED and the duffers did not get to/try to examine and show that in their limited screentime. so all the idiots that are obsessed with saying max hated billy/was happy he died, read the fucking room!!!!

11. number of fandom related words you have blocked?

lol

usually i don't blacklist things cos usually i'm chill but my dash had so much of them and i found myself like. getting actively annoyed everytime they were on my screen. so i started with blocking steve and was like wow. it's so nice here now that he's gone. lets see if i can make it even better.

unfortunate side effect of this is that i barely see any billy content now cos he's unfortunately linked hand in hand with the others. i miss him so much. it's okay tho cos i can cry into ur inbox about him and send my friend 25 minute audios about him and i made another billy sideblog thats locked that i can post headcanons and fic-ish things on so!!! it's fun still!!!! i may post on this blog like once in a blue moon but he's literally on my mind 24 hours a day. has been for almost five years now.

18. it's absolutely criminal that this fandom has been sleeping on...

six feet under crew. billy, heather, chrissy, and eddie all died. max i'm pretty sure technically died so she's an honourary member. yeah i know others died too but anyway. ANYWAY i think they deserve to have fun and start shit together yknow!!!! i think they'd all fuck each others lives up but also be there to help pick up the pieces!!!! stopping myself here becos otherwise i will not shut up. wait also just max, chrissy, and heather...... el too if we're feeling giving. i just think they'd have fun together!!!!!

WAIT ALSO tommy and carol. BRING 'EM BACK. the trio of billy, eddie, and tommy? but also ALSO the nightmare that would be max, heather, chrissy, and carol.

the idea of billy and max living at the trailer park and neil and susan fucking off? maybe susan stays? idk but just the idea of everyone coming to chill at their trailer or going between theirs and eddies, even though their trailers can absolutely not fit that many people??? friday nights getting fucked up and faded. making terrible life decisions. making permanent life decisions. no i need to shut up now....... fuck.... spending the hours between 11pm and 2am trying to nail down a tattoo design before struggling through work for the weekend, complaining about their bosses, making fucking disasters in the kitchen, carol and tommy surprisingly being the only decent cooks, max having a knack for baking. trying to plan concert trips, talking about how differnt their lives would be if they had went to go to college instead. bingewatching terrrible television. semi decent box-dye jobs. terrible at-home haircut jobs. high school spitting them out and them trying to find their feet in the real world, them all getting full time jobs and trying to like. fucking survive. find a reason to get through the fucking weeks. SHUTTING UP NOW i swear.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

idk if i would say i'm ashamed or horrified or anything?? but idk i like dark fic/dead dove fic so like. that one w billy and the demodog? a fav. also i fucking love age gap so i would easily read billy/karen if it was out there. it is not. i've checked. wait forgot max/billy is usually frowned upon. read that easily too.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped?

i dont know a single person hyping up stranger things or it's plot lines/story arc's? fruity four i guess cos after season four that amount of ppl that made that a Thing? crazy.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing?

'how does billy have fans he literally deserved to die becos [usual list of reasons here]' banging my head against a wall. move on with ur life. everyone else has.

'[insert harringrove hate here]' when ppl post rancid takes on them and then i have to defend it even when i don't care for it like. please. did u not see the shower scene? the basketball scene? the fight scene??? open ur eyes. i may be a hater but i'm not stupid. they fucked for real i'll admit that. the worse the take is the more i'm like damn maybe i do ship them maybe they ARE gay as shit for each other and married right now.

[stranger-rants]

You are right about people sabotaging their own characters and ships. I honestly don't understand ship wars, to me is just a bunch of people bullying each other online over what they like/dislike and that is idiotic because we commonly use these spaces to have fun and find people who like the same things we do and maybe become friends with those people. I don't get why people love ruining other people's fun to the point they make others so angry to start fighting back or leave the fandom entirely. When it comes to Steve Harrington, my favorite character, I love almost all ships people have for him: Harringrove (my favorite ship), Stancy (yeah, I'm okay, dw about me), Stonathan (which now holds a dear place in my heart) , Stommy... And I'm capable of understanding the "illegal" ones such as Steve and Max (when they are both in their 20's and it is mostly AU) and Stobin (AU's) and many more. I have tried liking Steddie, I really have and I really want to meet the cool people you say are fed-up of the bullying extreme Steddie and Eddie fans cause... But god it is difficult to like something that has caused too much harm and it sucks these people cannot see what they are doing. Lmao, I feel like that girl from the Mean Girls movie who want to bake cookies and cakes and have peace all around haha

I understand ship wars to an extent. I just don’t love the dishonesty of it nowadays. When I was a teenager, ship wars were primarily a war over preferences that was usually hyped up by the creators of a series to increase interest and revenue. We knew this. While people took it seriously, there was always this underlying understanding that this is all just a part of fandom. This isn’t to say people didn’t take it too far or that there was no bullying involved. This isn’t a ��those were the good old days” response. It was just more honest about its absurdity.

Now, you have people writing shipping meta as to why one ship is not only morally superior to another but trying to convince people that shipping is a form of activism. I am not talking about ships that are controversial because they inherently contain disturbing elements. It could be as simple as two relatively “normal” ships being pit against each other with one side arguing that a singular moment of conflict between characters in one ship deems the whole thing too toxic and unhealthy for audiences to support them.

*cough**cough*The Steddie vs. Harringrove ship war that boils down to differences in respectability*cough**cough*

Just be honest is all I ask. Like, you shouldn’t be out here inventing reasons why supporting one ship over another is a matter of social justice. It’s not. You preference something very strongly. You hate the competition. You whine about it. You find shallow reasons to hate the competition. You put up the get off my lawn signs. Then you think for some reason that you need a deeper reason to justify your hate so you Google queer theory and use all the Right Words to convince people shippers of x, y, or z are destroying the fabric of society.

(Not you personally, anon. This is the proverbial “you.”)

LMAO okay. Please be serious…

[hellcheercaine]

Tagged by @this-iz-music

First ship:

Rogue and Gambit from X-Men. I was elated to see them married after years of stopping and going in their relationship.

3 ships:

Hellcheer—these pair help me to get into shipping and fan culture again. The chemistry between Eddie and Chrissy is off the charts, and if you haven't watched that iconic bench scene, I suggest you do it.

Harringrove—since Billy and Steve are the bi-kings

Eds and the Kanker sisters (especially Edd and Marie)—my recent obsession. I wish we get to see more of May, Marie, and Lee's better side after the Ed, Edd n Eddy Picture show since they have shown a glimpse of their redemption. To me, Ed and May are the best examples of two peas in a pod. IMO, the Kanker sisters deserve a good life and relationship with the cul-de-sac kids, especially with the Eds.

Last song: So In Love - Orchestral Manoeuvres in The Dark

Last Movie: The Banshees of Inishiren

Currently Reading: The Legend of Ed: Majora’s Mask https://archiveofourown.org/works/999741/chapters/1979470

Currently watching:

Stranger Things (Season 2)

It’s my second time watching it and it’s refreshing to watch it in a different setting, now I have a much more nuanced understanding of the characters.

Currently craving: A sirloin steak, baked potato with bacon, and kombucha.

Tagging: @corrodedcoffinx @chrissythefreakmunson @lucysinatizzy

[ser-house-of-stone]

I don’t even have a plot but I’m riding the high of watching like 6 seasons of Bake Off

and i really need a harringrove baking competition 😩😩😩😩

i want them to play flirt/play fight and tease each other with baking puns

i need them to eat each others cakes and be“annoyed”at how good they are!

I want Steve to DEMOLISH bread week and pastry week but HATES pudding week with a passion.

Billy has a massive sweet tooth and gets handshakes for his sweets but the savory weeks almost kick him out of the competition for making his dishes too spicy.

[mediocre--writing]

If you would like a harringrove prompt - maybe billy having a hard time on Mother’s Day? He’s probably try and cover it up but truthfully seeing all the cards in the store and dinner discounts etc in the lead up would make him feel sad :(

I’m sure steve would either try to cheer him up or listen to billy and tell him it’s ok he feels like that c:

awww i love this

i fully hc that neil forced susan on billy. made him call her mom when they’d first gotten married, but billy couldn’t.

he felt like it would be betraying his mom. his real mom.

and he can’t hate susan. he really can’t. she didn’t know that his father was an evil child abuser when she married him, but she also didn’t do anything to stop it. ever.

she tried harder to ignore and escape the room then she tried to help billy.

and susan is a good mother. she’s got the backbone of a chocolate eclair, but she cares about max. she even cares about billy to a certain extent.

on his birthday, one of the few days a year his dad decided to give a shit about him and spend (a still small) amount of money on him, susan would make his favorite dinner and bake him a cake.

she’d show some concern if he looked to sad. she had those caring mother eyes but had no real actions to back them up.

billy hated mother’s day with a burning passion. he didn’t want to celebrate it with susan. he wanted to celebrate with his momma.

it’s been close to a year since billy and steve have been dating and they’ve yet to experience a mother’s day together. not that it’s a very important holiday for couples.

but steve’s parents were down for the weekend, and steve was able to spend mother’s day with his own mom.

billy, however, was stuck in his house watching his dad love up on susan while max gave her flowers (that billy paid for).

billy hated mother’s day.

later in the day, when he was able to get out of his house, he headed towards a diner close to the edge of town.

he sat down at one of the stools and waited for someone to come take his order. he looked around the restaurant, at the nice blues and whites and pinks littered around.

the sandwich board by the door caught his eye, it had nice, fancy lettering advertising a discount on your meal if you came with your mom.

billy wanted to leave right then, but a kind lady came up and got his order right then, so he felt it would be rude to leave now.

that was something that reminded him of his mom. how kind she was and how she always sternly, but lovingly, instilled good morals into billy’s head.

she would’ve been so disappointed in him a year ago, but he thinks if she saw him now, she would be somewhat proud of who he is. he was living life by his rules, not someone else’s.

as he drove back home after sitting in the diner for an hour and a half, re-reading part of a jane austen novel (pride and prejudice: it was his moms favorite).

he drove around backstreets for another hour listening to two of her old cassettes. they weren’t really hers, just the same albums, but they brought nostalgia anyway.

he drove past steve’s house, purely out of habit, before going home. he noticed that the nice, shiny, expensive car that belonged to steve’s dad wasn’t there anymore. just steve’s beemer.

he pulled into the driveway.

steve opened the door before billy turned his car off.

“how did i know you were coming?” steve smiled warmly as billy came to the front door.

“lover’s intuition,” billy teased as they shared a quick peck after shutting the door.

“somethings wrong with you today,” steve said after looking at billy for a moment.

billy’s face contorted into one of disgust and shock, “how—“

“you aren’t really smiling. you’re doing that thing you used to do, when you over smile to make people think you’re happy,”

billy loved steve, he really did, but damn the boy was intuitive.

“it’s mother’s day,”

“yeah, i know. why do you think my parents left at 7pm rather than noon?”

“yeah but, i don’t know,” billy rubbed a hand over his face as he fell into the couch, “i just, i don’t know i miss—“

billy takes a pause as he tries to force the tears back into his eyes with sheer willpower.

“i miss my mom. well, i miss my mom all the time, but mother’s day we would always hang out together. we go to the beach and this diner she loved. my dad always had to work sundays, so it would just be us. he would always bring her a bouquet, though. always yellow tulips. they were her favorite,”

before steve could say anything else, billy was crashing down into his chest, almost knocking steve off his feet.

they moved to sit on the couch, steve against the arm rest with his legs on the cushions, billy laying with his head on steve’s chest and body between his legs.

billy was crying. it was quiet, but billy cried often enough that steve knew what to look for. he wouldn’t look up from steve’s chest and his body was extra still as if that wouldn’t draw attention.

steve let him wallow. rubbed his back and ordered delivery from their favorite place. made sure to be comforting but not to the point of pity, billy hated that.

and every mother’s day after, from now until forever, billy couldn’t go the whole day without crying, but it got less and less extreme so long as steve was there to show him affection and hold him though it.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Harringrove April Day 15- Sun

Before he settled on ice cream slinging, Steve had attempted being a lifeguard too.

Because, even though he isn’t the best at swimming, or paying attention, or dealing with kids or sitting out in the heat all day long, Billy was also going to be a lifeguard, and any job where he got to stare at his crush, wearing nothing but tiny red shorts all day long was obviously the one he wanted.

Except, he’s so focused on the chance to fawn over Billy Hargrove, he forgets (ignores) one very important detail; Steve and the sun are not friends.

His skin is much too sensitive for all the chemicals that are in sunscreen, but so fair that it burns super easy, so he’s got stay covered in the sun. But he’s also supposed to dress light because he gets hot easier with his blood sugar, so then it’s just a never ending cycle of rashes and burns and sweating his ass off. It’s for a very good reason that he thrives in the winter.

So Steve’s first day on the job, he’s out there in the chair getting baked. His face is burnt after like, an hour, and he has to wear his pool hoodie, but it’s much too hot for that and he’s starting to feel a little woozy, out of it. But somehow that’s not even the worst part, because he finds out too that he and Billy were put on opposite schedules, his shifts always coming right after Steve’s, so all this suffering would be for nothing.

Slowly his thoughts melt into mush out there under the harsh sun beating down on him, and one pool check turns into two, then three, and finally, even though he doesn’t really do much of anything beyond staring and sweating and being thirsty, his shift is over.

Steve’s body is on autopilot going back to the locker room after the final break, and honestly, his legs probably would’ve gone out from under him otherwise. He’s so busy trying to just get his things and get out of there before he can’t that he doesn’t even notice Billy by his own locker, and he bumps right into him.

“Woah, watch it Harrington. No scratching the paint.” He jokes, but then he gets a good look at Steve, and he must look as bad as he feels because then Billy’s asking him, “Are you okay?”

Steve shakes his head, which makes him feel even dizzier, and Billy tells him, one hand on his back and steering him to one of the benches, “Here sit down.”

Billy disappears for a second, or least just out of the blurry line that is Steve’s sight, then tosses him a water bottle and his glucometer out of his locker, “Got you a water. You need to check your sugar too.”

The glucometer beeps, and says he’s at 262, which is way high for him especially, and Billy must know it, because he asks, “Jesus Steve, how long were you out there?”

“Just my shift.”

“Six hours did that to you?” Steve shrugs and focuses on downing the water bottle while Billy talks, “You’ve got to find a different job, man. This one’s going to kill you.”

“It’s nothing.” He waves him off, but Billy doesn’t let up, “It’s heat stroke is what it is, and your body’s going to fall apart if your sugar does that every time.” Billy crosses his arms, and says very matter-of-factly, “You can’t be a lifeguard, Steve.”

“I only wanted to be one for you. I thought that we could like, hang out more if we worked together.”

“Yeah, well we could also hang out even more if you survive this summer. M’not gonna let you kill yourself so you can be my friend, idiot.”

Steve rolls his eyes, and remarks, at least enough of his strength coming back to be sarcastic, “Wow. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I try my best.” Billy says and sits down next to him on the bench, “So what’s your fallback?”

“Scoops Ahoy.”

“That’s an ice cream parlor right?” Billy asks, and Steve nods in response, to which Billy remarks, “S’not a very good job for a diabetic either, but it’s better than cooking yourself alive. And you know, you in that little sailor suit might be quite the sight.”

“Might be? I’m going to be the hottest sailor in town.”

Billy laughs at him, shoving him gently, “But for real, if it’s me you wanted Stevie, it’s me you got. I’ll come visit you every day at Scoops.”

Steve asks, stupefied, “Why?”

“Somebody’s got to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream and get sick.” The disappointment he feels in his heart must be apparent, because then Billy leans forward, one hand finding its place on Steve’s check, and says, close enough Steve can feel each syllable against his lips, “And you know, for this.”

Billy kisses him softly, and with a surprised intake of air through his nose, Steve kisses him back, his eyelids fluttering closed, but of course the moment he’d been waiting for, got this stupid job for in the first place, would be interrupted. Heather throws open the door and calls inside, making them both jump, “Billy, your turn in the chair starts in like, two minutes, get your butt out here now.”

“Comin’ Hetty.” Billy calls back to her, standing up, then says to Steve, “You better quit your damn job.”

“I will, I will.”

“And tell me your new schedule at Scoops.”

“I will Billy. Go to work.”

“Okay.” He turns to walk away, then comes right back, “One more kiss?”

Steve kisses his cheek, and shoves him gently, “Now go.”

He watches fondly as Billy basically skips out of the locker room, a goofy smile on his face that gets wiped off the instant he’s in view of the pool’s crowd. He’s so caught up in Billy he almost forgets how awful he feels.

Almost, but the itchy warmth in his face is coming back, and the heaviness in his limbs and the greasy feeling from being out in the sun too long. Steves more than glad his mom drove him to work that morning, because otherwise he doesn’t know how he would’ve gotten home.

His mother isn’t even half as enthusiastic when he breaks the news about quitting his job after one single day of work as he is, but Steve really couldn’t care less, because he’d gotten everything he wanted, and then some.

[fizzigigsimmer]

Bake Off: A Harringrove Sim Story

Chapter 3

Copperdale Studios, early morning.

The studio is full as Nancy hosts her morning show for channel 4. Her guests are Steve & Billy. As the commercial break dies down, Jonathan gives the signal they are going live.

Nancy: Hello! Welcome back! I'm Nancy Wheeler and you're watching 'Good Morning With Nancy'. Joining me on the couch today are Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, the co-owners of Copperdale's very own Harringrove Cafe, and this summer the judges of Copperdale's very first Armature Bake Off!

She pauses to allow her guests to wave to the audience. They give an enthusiastic cheer.

Nancy: Steve, Billy, thank you for coming on.

Steve: We're glad to be here!

Nancy: since the announcement we've been flooded with calls and messages from folks who want to know more about the competition: where can they watch, how can they apply. But my sources tell me that you've already narrowed down the teams?

Steve: Yep that's right. We personally invited six of Copperdale's most talented amateur bakers to compete - who also happen to be really good friends of the cafe!

Nancy: Do you think that's fair though? It sounds like there's a lot of talented folks in the area who would love to be considered.

Billy shrugs.

Billy: Our business our rules. We don't work with just anybody.

Steve: For good reason! We've collaborated on menus in the past with many talented individuals and we've always been careful to maintain a high standard. So for this endeavor it just made sense to reach out to those folks.

Nancy: Well, viewers are excited to hear more about the teams. So lets get into it!

Cut away to montage

Team 1. El & Max

Most people can't tell that Billy & Max are siblings just by looking at them but five minutes in each other's company usually does the trick. Max and her best friend Eleven are local college students and when they aren't focused on school, or helping out at the cafe, they can be found hanging out in the game room at Argyle's Pizza Palace. Max loves to whip up tasty treats in her dorm room, and her additions to the menu have always been a hit. When she heard that the winner of the competition would get their own personalized menu....

Cut back to Studio

Billy: Wait a minute! What did you tell her?!

Steve: Lets talk about team #2! You guys are gonna love the next team.

The camera cuts away again

Team 2. Argyle & Eddie

Steve and Billy's friend Argyle is known for the best pizza in Copperdale. Argyle got his start as a delivery boy and inherited the business after his uncle retired. The Pizza Palace has flourished under his leadership and has become Copperdale's go to spot for game night and greasy eats to satisfy anybody's munchies! The other half of this dream team duo is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of 2nd Grave. The band started right here in Copperdale! They can often be heard practicing in the backroom of the record shop where Eddie works. But now that the band is taking off, Eddie probably won't be seen behind the counter too much longer. A lesser known fact about him is his secret passion for baking soft fudgy brownies that will take you out of this world!

Cut back to studio.

Nancy: Yes. Viewers will be happy to know that one of those members includes local rock legend, Eddie Munson of 2nd Grave. Is it true?

Billy: Unfortunately.

Nancy: After their single 'squeeze' reached the billboard top ten this summer, 2nd Grave has seen a great deal of sudden success. How did you convince Mr. Munson to take time out for this endeavor?

Steve: It was all Billy.

Billy: Yeah he pimps me out.

Nancy laughs nervously and tries to steer the conversation back to something more suitable for her younger viewers.

Nancy: I'm sure you're kidding.

Steve: No, really! Truthfully Billy is very good with people. He can be very persuasive...

A few weeks earlier....

Eddie and his band have regular gigs on Saturday night at Copperdale's only nightclub. It's a good opportunity to ambush him, Steve thinks.

But things don't go exactly as planned. Heather gets a little too drunk, and Steve leaves to make sure Robin and her girlfriend get home safely.

But Billy's got this covered. All he has to do is remind Eddie of how important this project is to Steve. Munson is a total marshmallow under all that leather.

Back in the studio...

Nancy: Aww, it sounds like you guys have some really great friends. It's nice knowing that you can always count on them to be there.

Steve smiles and Billy shrugs, looking a little embarrassed with the sentimental turn of the conversation. Nancy turns towards the camera.

Nancy: Coming up, we'll reveal the final team and meet the amateur bakers in person. After this commercial break!

To be continued in part 4

[prettyboyporter]

for @flippyspoon , who’s having a tough day and wanted autumn!harringrove 

The confidence Steve had felt when he asked Billy to the orchard shifted into nervous energy as they drove out to Merrill’s farm. It was quiet for a while until Billy broke the silence.

“Didn’t give this place enough credit, when I first came here,” he said as he looked out the window, looking up at the trees lining the road. “I called it a shithole. Bitched every time I opened my mouth. But, ya know,” he gestured toward the window, up where the leaves flamed gold and orange and red in the late afternoon sun. “It’s not really made of cowshit and ugly girls after all.” 

Steve laughed pulled into the orchard over the dirt road. 

They filled their bushel quickly, jamming it full with Gala and Braeburn and Granny Smith. “I’ll make you an apple pie,” Steve claimed.

“No fuckin way you can make an apple pie.” 

“Of course I can.” 

“Not a chance you’ve made dough in your entire life. I bet Mama Harrington still slices them for you.” 

“I’ll make an apple pie that’ll knock your socks off, Hargrove. From scratch.” 

Billy stopped in his tracks and looked over at Steve, eyes bright blue and filled with amusement. “You told me you burned mac n cheese, pretty boy. Like, fucking, Kraft mac n cheese. And you expect me to believe that you can make a crust -- from scratch -- and fill it and not burn the kitchen down? You had to throw that pot away. No way you can make a pie.” 

Steve took a bite from his apple and handed it to Billy. It was true, Steve thought, as he watched Billy take a few bites of the Granny Smith -- Steve had burnt the mac n cheese so badly that it’d crusted to the bottom of the pan in a hard lump of brown-black rock. But what Billy didn’t know was that Steve had spent weeks at Claudia Henderson’s house, who spent patient hours teaching Steve to cook and bake on Steve’s days off. 

Steve nearly had enough money saved to put down the first and last month’s rent on the tiny shoebox apartment above the vet’s office. Claudia was helping him learn to live on his own. 

Last week, after five attempts, Steve made a pie that made Claudia stand up and dance. 

But Steve didn’t tell Billy any of that. Instead, he plucked the apple from Billy’s fingers and tossed it to the ground with a soft thud. The crisp, cool air kissed his cheeks as he reached out to touch Billy’s jaw -- stubble rough under his fingers. Billy looked up at Steve from under impossibly long eyelashes and licked his lips, his eyes dropping to Steve’s mouth. 

A quick glance around -- no families, no kids. It was getting later in the day, so they had practically the entire orchard to themselves. 

Steve kissed Billy’s lips. 

His mouth tasted sugary sweet from the apples, his tongue eager to meet Steve’s as he bunched up Steve’s sweater in his fist, tugging him closer. Steve went willingly and pulled Billy flush against him.

He committed every memory to detail: how Billy’s curls were just starting to grow down to almost his shoulders again. How Billy clutched Steve like Steve would bolt if Billy let him go. How the dry leaves rustled in the breeze that picked up and cooled his overheated face. The sound of the apple press running in the distance, and the faint aroma of Billy’s cologne. All of this felt significant -- the beginning of the end.

Billy broke the kiss first and pressed his forehead to Steve’s. “I’ve wanted that forever, pretty boy.” 

“Sweetheart,” Steve said, and embraced Billy tightly, rocked back and forth. “My  lips are yours whenever you want them.” 

Billy didn’t wait -- he leaned forward and kissed Steve again deeply, hands moving up into Steve’s hair as the autumn day began to fall into night. 

[chrisbitchtree]

Can't Touch This

For Harringrove Flip It Reverse It - Day 4

Prompt - Angst turned into fluff - "Don't touch me!"

***

If you’d first asked Steve when he met Billy what he thought the blonde would pursue as a career, kindergarten teacher would have been way at the bottom of the list, under mechanic and carpenter, below bartender or surf shop owner, even down below stripper.

But to Steve’s shock, it’s what Billy had chosen, finding that he had a passion for it, and he was thriving. He came home every day covered in stickers and finger paints, glitter and confetti in his hair, his curls up in a bun and one of his signature pastel button-ups on.

He’d regale Steve with stories about what a beautiful tree Lily drew or how Eddie had finally corrected his habit of drawing half the letters in the alphabet backwards on his worksheets. He glowed with pride over every single one of his student’s accomplishments, and it was the highlight of Steve’s day every single day to hear about it.

Billy always got home earlier than Steve, so he would make dinner. Steve would sit at their little wooden table for two, watching Billy with a dreaming look in his eyes while Billy would whip up spaghetti, sauce bubbling away at his side while he boiled noodles, or flip baked chicken breast and fluff up Rice-aroni, they favourite side, talking a mile a minute about the fact that Timmy was no longer scared of the toilet or that Rachel hadn’t tried to eat paste in three days.

It helped Steve unwind after a long day as a high school math teacher and all the drama that went along with educating dramatic, hormonal teenagers who would flip on a dime, going from polite model student one minute, to raging asshole the next. It took a lot out of Steve, but he got a lot out of it in return. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t envy the cozy little world Billy had created for his own students.

***

When Steve arrived home late one sunny April afternoon, he could tell something was wrong the second he saw Billy. His face was pulled into a tight grimace, his shirt was untucked, and he was trying with all of his might to scratch the middle of his back. From the way he was hopping around, his arm fully extended, it didn’t seem like it was going to well for him.

“What’s up?” Steve asked, trying not to laugh at the image in front of him, difficult as it was. He really wished he had a camera right now.

Billy kept hopping around, seemingly unable to find relief. “Don’t know. I’m so itchy, and it won’t stop. It’s been like this all day.”

Let me have a look, Steve said.

Billy stopped moving for a minute and Steve lifted the hem of his shirt. Billy’s back was covered in small, red spots.

“Ummmm, Billy? Have you ever had chicken pox before?” Steve asked, lowering the shirt and walking down the hall to the bathroom.

“No?” Billy said, although it came out more like a question. “I don’t think so? Why? Do I have it? Don’t touch me!”

“Well, I guess it was bound to happen at some point, working with little kids. I’m honestly surprised that you lasted this long. And it’s fine. I’ll put on gloves.” He returned to the kitchen a minute later, calamine lotion in one hand and a pair of rubber gloves in the other. “Take off your shirt and lay down on the couch. I’ll put some on your back and it’ll help with the itch.”

Billy did as he was told, laying on his front on the plush, floral couch that was the centrepiece of their living room. Steve straddled his hips, flipping the top on the bottle. He poured some into his palm before closing the bottle and dropping it onto the carpet. With the pointer finger of his other hand, he painted the dots, trying to make sure he caught every one.

He gave the lotion a minute to dry before having Billy stand and take off his pants, so Steve could check for spots below his belt. Thankfully, except for a couple on his thighs, he seemed safe so far.

“Stupid kids,” Billy grumbled. “Stupid parents letting their kids go to school sick. Now I’m going to have to take time off. We were supposed to vote on who won the art contest tomorrow. They even promised they wouldn’t just all vote for themselves. Now stupid Sandra is going to get to do it.”

Steve watched him with amusement as he ranted, the lotion drying an adorable pink colour that stood out in stark contrast from Billy’s golden tan. He’d come a long way from when they were foulmouthed teenagers, when every second word was fuck or shit or goddammit. Now it was all stupid and silly and gosh. It was cute that he was getting so worked up over this.

“It’s ok, baby,” Steve chuckled. “I know this means a lot to you, but there will be other art contests. It’s important that you stay home and get better, so you don’t make any of the kids sick.”

Billy sighed. “I know, it just sucks.” He raised his arm to scratch his back and Steve swatted it away.

“No scratching, that’s how it spreads.”

Billy stuck out his lower lip, pouting. “But it’s itchy! I can’t take it!”

As Steve’s mother had done for him when he’d had chicken pox years ago, Steve grabbed oven mitts for Billy to slip on his hands. “Here you go, this’ll help keep you from scratching. Sit down, put a movie on, and try not to think about the itch. I’ll order a pizza and then come sit with you. Ok?”

Billy nodded in agreement, making his way to the couch.

Steve watched him fondly, forever grateful for this sweet, kind, silly, wonderful man.

[neonponders]

So he went home.

And…a car he’d never seen sat in his driveway. Perhaps the outdated, blue Camaro was what encouraged him to park on his curb. That couldn’t be a vamp’s car…could it? A shithead with enough money to buy people would have a chauffeured luxury car. Right? Right.

Steve strode over the grass, fragrant from baking in the sun all day and finally cooling off with the orange evening. He peeked inside the car on his way past. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing distinguishing it from a regular human’s car.

No bodyguards of any kind met him inside his house. He called out, “Mom?”

He shrugged out of his vest as he heard familiar footsteps arriving to the foyer. His mom rounded the corner and—hugged him. They…weren’t much of a hugging household. Feeling her soft yet bony body was foreign and familiar at the same time.

“Come to the dining room.”

Steve sighed, now wishing he’d taken Robin up on her offer. He hung his vest on the coat hooks and left his keys in his jeans pocket. When he turned past the living room and kitchen, he tried to keep his curious frown to a minimum when he saw the figure sitting at their table. A black blazer hung off the back of his chair but his expensive, powder blue shirt hung loosely buttoned around his broad shoulders, allowing Steve to see the juncture of his throat and chest when he stood up. The small glint of gold hanging there, matching the dark blond hair...like browned butter or caramel. Brown at the roots, and shining bronze where the light dripped through it.

Steve couldn’t decide if he liked this guy’s mullet or not. Granted, Steve had worn something similar for a time, but he’d gotten the back trimmed up for the summer. The video store’s AC broke too often to have hair on his nape. Either way, the dark brows and lashes made Steve wonder how real that hair was—

“Steve, this is William Hargrove.”

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

The Plan

I am late to the party for the Harringrove April Challenge, so I combined the prompts for days 1-4 (first kiss, April showers, spring break, and roller skates) and got this bad boy. Plz enjoy. 

Read it on AO3 here!

Steve leaned on the kitchen table, chin on his folded arms, and watched the raindrops sliding down the outside of the apartment window. The fact that it was raining, on today of all days, felt deeply unfair. Wasn’t the whole point of California that it never rained here? All Steve had wanted was to do something nice for Billy, something to make up for…well. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was making up for, but he vividly recalled the expression on Billy’s face during the argument, and he was smart enough to know he had caused it somehow. So he had made a plan. A plan to ensure that spring break started out as successfully as possible, in the hopes that it would continue successfully from there. And now it was raining. Sometimes Steve wondered if the universe just genuinely enjoyed fucking with him.   

He heard the door to Billy’s room open behind him and tried to school his expression into something more neutral than bitter disappointment. He and Billy had been at least sort of friends for a while now, and had been living together since they moved out here last summer. It was more than enough time for Billy to be able to read Steve like a book, and the last thing Steve needed was to have to explain his disappointment about the plan. He wasn’t entirely sure he could explain the reasoning behind the plan to himself, so he really didn’t want to have to try to explain it to Billy. He wasn’t sure he could take the mockery that would almost certainly ensue. Billy was different in a lot of ways, after everything, but he was still kind of a dick. Steve was pretty sure that was at least partly baked into Billy’s DNA. 

It had been a little surprising to everyone when Steve had announced he was moving to California with Billy Hargrove to attend community college. Steve had even surprised himself a little bit with that decision, honestly. Robin had left for college in New York a few weeks prior and had invited Steve to come with her, but she had always been a very perceptive friend with an inconvenient habit of noticing when Steve was drowning. She had done a lot for him over the year after Starcourt, and he had wanted to give her a fresh start in New York without a roommate she had to worry about all the time. Billy, on the other hand, had offered up his passenger seat and would be the kind of roommate, Steve had assumed, who would ask precisely zero questions when Steve sometimes wanted to stay in his bedroom with the lights off for days at a time. So he had accepted the offer of the passenger seat, and he and Billy Hargrove had picked out an apartment.  

As it turned out, though, Steve had assumed incorrectly. Billy might not have an actual reason to give a fuck about Steve Harrington, but he was somehow even more persistent than Robin had been when it came to things like making Steve get out of bed and shower regularly, or asking if Steve had eaten anything recently, or even occasionally sitting down and talking Steve through the extremely basic process of breathing. It was super fucking annoying, and it made Steve feel more cared for than he maybe ever had, and he tried not to think about that too much because it wasn’t Billy’s fault that Steve responded to a basic amount of care by developing a massive crush, and actually none of that was the point right now. Right now, he had to fix his face before Billy saw it, or he was going to have to explain why he was upset, and that meant talking about the plan. Steve took a breath and tried to look fine.   

Billy sat down at the table and looked at Steve, who was still staring out the window. 

“What’s got you all mopey?” Billy asked, so Steve had definitely nailed the whole expression thing. 

“I’m fine,” Steve said, and it was a lot less convincing than he had been hoping for. Billy just stared at him, and Steve kept his eyes on the rain. It was coming down harder now, as if the universe was really trying to drive home how stupid the plan had been in the first place. Steve felt Billy’s eyes on him for a moment longer, and then Billy stood up. Steve heard the sounds of him making a smoothie and poked listlessly at the soggy remains of his cereal. He tried not to think about how today was supposed to be perfect, and now it wasn’t.  

Billy was back just a few moments later, a dark purple smoothie in hand. He handed Steve a smaller cup with the extra in it, like he always did. Billy made the best smoothies. 

“So,” he said as he slid back into his chair across the table from Steve, “what are you so upset about? We’re staring down two weeks of no classes, you passed all your midterms, and the nerds and Robin are all coming out to visit for summer in, like, two months.” Billy narrowed his eyes. “Are you upset that you’re not going back to Hawkins for break?” The question was a little cautious, and Steve shook his head immediately. He had no desire to restart the argument, and he wasn’t actually upset about not going back ho—back to Hawkins. 

He thought briefly about just…confessing. Admitting that he cared, probably a little too much, about making Billy happy, and then probably finding out once and for all that this thing was entirely one-sided. But then he was probably going to have to move, and he really didn’t want to do that. So he didn’t say it. 

“I made plans for today,” he admitted instead. Billy’s eyebrows went up.

“Plans aside from hanging out on the couch, watching movies, and smoking these?” Billy placed a baggie of perfectly rolled joints on the table. 

“Yes,” Steve said, although that sounded like a pretty great rainy day. 

“Ambitious,” Billy said drily, and Steve huffed. He was pretty sure this was just the tip of the mockery iceberg, but still. 

“So what were you going to do?” Billy asked after a silence. Steve wrestled with it for a moment, and then rolled his eyes. Billy wasn’t going to stop until he pried at least some answers out of Steve, so he might as well confess to this much. He unlocked his phone and pulled up the confirmation email. He slid it across the table toward Billy.

“We,” Steve said, “were going to go roller skating along the marina.” Billy’s eyes widened. He looked at the phone and back at Steve. 

“Roller skating,” he said, and Steve couldn’t get a handle on his tone. Steve smiled despite himself, though, because he was confident about this part of the plan. He had thought about it a lot. 

“Oh come on,” he said with a little smile, “like you wouldn’t Instagram the shit out of roller skating at the waterfront.” Billy looked at him, and Steve continued, “It’s retro enough to fit your whole throwback aesthetic, and you can take enough pictures of boats and the water to really rub it in that you live on the ‘best coast.’” He did finger quotes on ‘best coast’ because he was absolutely quoting Billy. Billy opened his mouth to say something—probably a joke about how he didn’t know that Steve even knew the word aesthetic—but he took a closer look at Steve’s face and evidently thought better of it. Instead, he looked at the fat raindrops splattering the windowpane, and then back at Steve. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Well then what are we waiting for?” Billy asked with a grin. Steve looked from him to the window and back. 

“It’s raining,” he said flatly. Billy’s smile went wider. 

“So you’re telling me that you made this reservation—“ he glanced back down at Steve’s phone—“three weeks ago, and you’re going to let a few April showers stand in the way of a great plan?” Steve flushed bright red. The date on that reservation was something he hadn’t actually intended to share. He hoped Billy wouldn’t ask about it. It took a minute for Billy calling it a great plan to land, but when it did, Steve smiled. 

“I knew you’d love it,” he said a little smugly. 

“No you didn’t, or you wouldn’t be so happy that I just called it a great plan,” Billy shot back, and Steve wasn’t sure why Billy had to be so mean, and also so right all the time. It was deeply unfair. He tried to come up with a snarky response, but Billy was already standing up from the table. 

“Get your raincoat,” Billy said as he put his smoothie glass in the sink and walked off toward his room. “I’m getting dressed and then we’re going roller skating.”

The rental shop was open, though the guy behind the counter was clearly not expecting anyone to actually show up. He kept shooting worried glances out the door, to where the pavement was wet and covered in puddles. He asked them repeatedly, as they signed the paperwork, if they understood that the company renting them the skates was not responsible for any injury they might  sustain. While being idiots in the rain went unspoken, but was clearly implied. 

Once they had their skates on, it went better than Steve had anticipated. The rain, after the first half hour, was barely even noticeable, since they were both basically soaked through. Steve hadn’t roller skated in years, but he was steadier on his feet than he had any right to be. Billy spent the first ten minutes filming Steve, no doubt in the hopes of catching him eating it on the sidewalk. Steve had several wobbly moments where he was sure he looked ridiculous, but he took pride in the fact that he managed not to fall. Eventually Billy put away his phone and started actually trying to skate himself.  He was shakier than Steve had been to start, but he adapted quickly, as usual. Soon they were gliding along the concrete path pretty successfully, stopping often to look at the rain coming down over the marina and the bay. Billy skated straight into every puddle he could find, and was happiest when he could manage to splash Steve. 

They made their way out to the end of the waterfront and sat down to rest on a rocky jetty. Steve raised his face to the sky. The rain had slackened a bit, but was still falling steadily. He closed his eyes and let it cool his flushed face. He felt Billy’s shoulder warm against his own, even through his raincoat. Billy hadn’t bothered with a jacket. 

“So why roller skating?” Billy asked. He sounded curious rather than mocking, which was promising. Steve kept his eyes closed and shrugged. 

“Like I said before, I thought you’d like it,” he said, hoping Billy would leave it alone and knowing he wouldn’t.

“Okay,” Billy said slowly. “But why make the plan at all?” Steve tried one more time to avoid this conversation. 

“We’re always either working or doing school stuff. I thought we could use the break.” Billy just sighed. 

“You made the reservation the same day we had that argument,” Billy said quietly, and it was Steve’s turn to sigh. He didn’t want to talk about this, and now he was going to have to. He tilted his head further back, but didn’t open his eyes. He focused on the sensation of raindrops on his face for a long moment before he spoke. He kept his voice quiet even though they were alone on the jetty, and he chose his words carefully.

“A few days before the argument, you asked me if I was going home for spring break. I said that I hadn’t decided, and then I asked you the same question. You eventually just said no, but I could tell that something about it bothered you. So I started thinking about it, and you almost never use that word. I’m pretty sure I’ve only heard you say it one time, and it was when you were being an absolute dick about carpooling to that stupid festival. You asked me how I was planning to get home, and I said I could find another ride back to the apartment, and you were mad at me for a week. At the time, I didn’t understand why it pissed you off so much. I probably still don’t fully get it, but I think I’m starting to understand a little better.” Steve paused, thinking about empty houses and unsafe houses and how he wanted to say the rest of it. 

“And?” Billy eventually prompted when Steve didn’t continue fast enough. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered under his breath. “Give me a second. Or, you know, you could try just…letting something go for once.”

“Doesn’t sound like me,” Billy murmured, but he bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own encouragingly. Steve finally opened his eyes and looked over. Billy’s eyes were wide and blue and had some emotion Steve couldn’t identify in them. Steve tried not to think about what it could be. He looked back out at the water in front of him. 

“And then we had that stupid argument, and I said a lot of shit I didn’t feel good about and didn’t mean about you and Hawkins and your terrible mood, but for some reason it was worse than usual. You never want to go back, and I totally get it, and I’m sorry I kept asking about it, but something I said or did this time made it way worse.” Steve paused again, not sure where to go from here. 

“That’s why you decided not to go back to Hawkins,” Billy said eventually. “Because of that fight.”

“I mean, I mostly decided not to go back because I kind of hate it there sometimes, and they’re all coming here in a couple of months anyway,” Steve said, “but that was also part of it, yeah.” He shot Billy a small smile, but Billy was staring straight ahead. “I knew if I left you here by yourself, it would probably be bad. It took long enough to pull you out of it after Christmas. I couldn’t ask you to come with me, so I just decided to stay.” Steve tried to keep his voice light, but it still felt like admitting a lot. Just how closely he paid attention to Billy and his moods was a thing he would rather have kept to himself. But it was out there now, and there was nothing to do but wait and see how Billy was going to react. Steve shot him a sidelong glance to see if it seemed like he was angry, but he was still staring out at the water, expression unreadable. 

“So I was a total dick to you, and your response was to make plans to go roller skating because you thought I would like it,” Billy said flatly. 

“No?” Steve said because that’s not what happened. “I planned roller skating because something about spring break has had you in a shitty mood for a while now, and I thought maybe if we did something fun on the first day, it would, you know, get things off on the right foot. I also planned it because I said or did something during that argument that actually really upset you, and I still don’t know what it was, but I feel like a dick about it anyway.” 

“Steve,” Billy said, and it sounded a little like he was pleading. “It isn’t…it wasn’t…” He took a deep breath and paused for a long moment. “I really fucking hate this time of year,” he finally said slowly. “My parents sent me to a week of camp over spring break one year when I was about twelve.” His voice had taken on that flat, toneless quality that it often got whenever Billy got anywhere close to the topic of his mom. Steve pressed his shoulder a little harder into Billy’s, and felt relieved when Billy didn’t pull away. “It was some sports camp, I think. I don’t really remember much about it. When I got home on Friday afternoon, my mom was gone.” Steve’s head snapped up so he could look at Billy’s face, but he was still staring resolutely out at the water. His shoulders were tight and his jaw was set. “Most of her stuff was gone and my dad wouldn’t tell me where she was. The only thing he ever told me about it was that she was gone now, and we were just going to have to ‘soldier through.’ I found out later that he had her involuntarily committed. She had been struggling for a while, but he never wanted her to actually talk to someone about it. He just waited until I left and then dumped her in some facility. She spent the next few years in and out of mental hospitals, and then the years after that going in and out of rehab. I didn’t see her again before she died. I found her sister right before we moved to Hawkins, and she told me about it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Billy,” Steve whispered, slowly reaching out to lay his hand over Billy’s. Billy didn’t pull away, so Steve left his hand there. 

“No one’s ever asked before,” Billy said slowly. “About spring. I’ve hated the entire concept of spring break since I was twelve, and no one’s ever said anything about it before.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, feeling even worse than before. “Oh my God, during that fight I said that you had two weeks of vacation coming up and you were acting like somebody died.” Steve put his hands over his face. “I’m such a fucking asshole.” He dropped his hands and looked over at Billy, hoping he could find some way to say it so that Billy would understand— 

 —but then Billy was leaning toward him, and then Billy’s lips were on his and all of Steve’s thoughts left his head at the same time. Kissing, though. Kissing he was good at. It took him just a moment to get his bearings, and then Steve was turning his head to get a better angle and deepen the kiss. He had wanted to do this for a long time, so he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. When they finally pulled apart to breathe, Billy spoke before Steve could. 

“What I was trying to say,” he said seriously, “is that no one has ever asked me why I’m upset, much less gone out of their way to plan an activity to make me feel better.” He looked up at the rain for a long moment and took a breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, “and I only waited because I thought you’d get over it eventually.” He glanced at Steve and then looked away. “We don’t have the best history, and I figured you’d start attending classes and meeting people, and you’d realize that there are a lot of people out there who have a lot less baggage than I do, and you’d eventually stop looking at me like that—” Billy ran a thumb over Steve’s cheekbone and Steve couldn’t help himself from leaning into the contact a little bit— “and that would probably be better for you in the long run. But you didn’t stop. And you just keep doing shit like this,” Billy said. 

“Making overly-complicated plans so I never actually have to have a conversation to resolve an argument?” Steve asked with a rueful smile. 

“Caring about how I feel, dumbass,” Billy replied with a shove to Steve’s shoulder. “Continuing to do thoughtful shit for me even though I sometimes actively make it difficult for you to be nice to me,” Billy said. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly, with a shrug that did nothing to conceal how emotional he was, “it’s not like I’m baggage-free. I’m pretty sure you could find someone to be nice to you who doesn’t just…entirely forget how to breathe sometimes.” Billy looked at him for a long moment and then smiled. 

“Nah,” he said. Then he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “You said ‘overly-complicated plans.’” Steve closed his eyes and winced. “You had more stuff planned for today,” Billy said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Nothing major,” Steve said. “After we were done skating, I thought we could go to that taco place you like down by the water. And then I may have signed us up for—“ Billy cut him off with another kiss. Then he pulled back to get to his feet and held a hand out to help Steve up. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “We’re going to go pick up tacos because I fucking love those tacos, and then we’re going to take them back to the apartment—“ Steve was already shaking his head. “What?” Billy demanded. 

“I think what you meant to say,” Steve said, pulling Billy toward him on his skates, “was that we’re going to take them home, and—“ 

Once again, Billy cut him off before he could finish his sentence. 

[psychdelia]

domestic!harringrove hcs?

every time i try to list hcs my brain goes Blank i’m so sorry BUT i’ll try my best

- steve does almost all of the cooking and will force feed spoons into billys mouth to taste test his food

- billy always wakes up before steve and takes the time to Very Gently play with his hair and run his fingers over his cheeks because he’s so relaxed and pretty

- they take showers/baths together

- if one of them has work and the other is off, the one staying home will lay on the other’s side of the bed while they’re at work bc it’s still warm and smells like them

- they have a cat :’)

- billy does most of the baking and only uses his moms recipes from the book she left him

- steve sleeps on the right side, billy on the left

- billy is little spoon

- post s3 billy naps a lot more than before and steve naps with him. if he’s not tired/can’t sleep he’ll just lay with billy and run his fingers through his hair until he falls asleep

- steve holds mugs and shit above billys head when he reaches for them, calls him “short stuff” even though he’s only an inch shorter

- whenever billy wants to feel tall he’ll sit on the kitchen counter and hug steve, wrapping his legs around his waist and trapping him in his embrace to kiss steve’s head

[passivenovember]

I posted 7,001 times in 2021

256 posts created (4%)

6745 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 26.3 posts.

I added 332 tags in 2021

#harringrove - 140 posts

#jaz speaks - 72 posts

#billy hargrove - 33 posts

#steve harrington - 25 posts

#harringrove april - 21 posts

#like - 14 posts

#listen - 8 posts

#idk man - 7 posts

#mwah - 6 posts

#ask game - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and there was a little girl would cried every time she didn’t get it because she worked so hard to behave better after having some problems

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

On this episode of High HCs with Jaz:

I feel like there’s nothing hotter to Billy than a man who shows that he can be a good father.

Billy doesn’t realize he has a type until Max goes through a Full House obsession sometime during her freshman year, burning through weekly re-runs on Nick at Night while she slaves over calculus homework. The walls are thin, so. Billy learns more than he ever cared to know about the Tanner family.

And it’s a cute show, alright? The kids can act and the moral lessons leave him feeling like someone baked an apple pie and left it cooling on the window sill of his heart, but. He doesn’t really get it, the obsession, until he sees the dad. The guys. Danny Tanner and the two dorks who help raise his kids in that colossal house in San Francisco.

Leather and soft sweaters and stupid brown khakis.

It’s ridiculous.

So Billy gets it, after that. Danny, Joey, and Jesse are perfect. Funny and kind. Handsome dorks with soft, feathery hair and sweet sloping arm muscles that were made for carrying sleepy kids to bed after they pass out in front of the TV.

It has Billy feeling some type of way. “Breedable and Submissive,” Max supplies, when Billy starts taping pictures of Jesse to his ceiling.

Billy knows what to look for in a man. Someone who can provide stability and humor and gentle hands that craft love in the face of life. In the face of darkness. It’s the type of man Billy wants to be and it’s the type of man he wants, so.

It’s really no surprise that Billy feels like he got pushed down a flight of stairs when Steve Harrington walks into his life. Clad in a soft sweater, bright pink lips doling out advice and free rides to a gaggle of idiot kids.

They have AP history together. Steve smells like fresh coffee and he has to wear glasses when he reads and Billy falls in love so fast. Pushed down a new flight of stairs every day.

Steve Harrington is Danny Tanner through and through. Billy wants to devour him, one episode at a time.

118 notes • Posted 2021-09-28 04:29:11 GMT

#4

mama said to smile while I still have teeth.

(or) Post Starcourt, a very different Billy Hargrove gets his wisdom teeth removed.

--

In a moment of weakness and textbook junior year assholery, Steve gets his stomach ripped out and fed to him for suggesting that Billy could take the bus.

And it’s not without reason.

Hopper and Joyce have work. And Robin would ask too many questions--why the shaved head, why the ratty black hoodie and sweatpants, why the perpetual vow of silence--and the only one of the kids that has their permit is Dustin.

But Max behaves as if none of that matters. Looks at Steve as if he set the house on fire himself.

“Or you could take him.” She sneers. Like that’s somehow a good idea. “You have a car.”

“Billy wouldn’t get in a car with me even if you paid him.” 

Steve doesn’t say he’d rather face a barrel of Demodogs one handed than be left alone with Billy. Would rather lick black slime off his own dick than feel those silent, cool blue eyes pouring like ice water down the ridges of his skin.

Steve wants to say it. Doesn’t. When Max starts crying. “His legs don’t work as good anymore.”

“Billy gave me a concussion.”

“He’s got gas money.” She says, voice winding tight with desperation. 

And Steve despises the painful, weeping grip of her fingers when they close around his forearm. Hates that she cares so much for someone who could never care for her.

“I know it’s not much.” Max swallows thickly. “I know he used to be a piece of shit, but he’s--”

“Different.” Steve says heavily, scrubbing at his forehead. “I know.”

--

Billy slides into the passenger seat with a thermos in one hand and a cranberry muffin in the other and Steve isn’t used to it, the way his body seems to have deflated. Limbs cut from marianette strings, hanging limp as if gravity hasn’t quite learned what to do with them. 

Billy places the muffin and the thermos on the dashboard between them, and.

Steve expects something.

A thank you, which could come later. A hello, which should come now.

Billy nods at the dashboard.

Steve jots into action. “Oh. These aren’t for you?”

Billy grunts, reaching to pass the goodies over as if Steve were incapable of doing it himself. The thermos is warm in Steve’s hand. Sturdy. 

“Coffee?” He asks, jerking with surprise when Billy mutters; “Hazelnut.” In a voice as soft as feather down. 

Steve waits for Billy to say something else, but. 

Billy doesn’t. He just turns and peers out the passenger side window, into the gentle swell of rain that’s started to fall.

“Thanks. Thank you.” Steve says. He starts the car. Lets it warm, and. 

Tries not to feel like this is the first time their bodies have had to reacquaint themselves with one another. 

Tries not to marvel at how beautiful silvery thin lines can be. Running from the shell of an ear and disappearing, quick, into the hood nestled around broad shoulders. 

Steve rubs his hands together, tearing his eyes away. “First time at the dentist?”

And Billy doesn’t say anything. 

Never says anything, anymore, but. That doesn’t stop the conversation from feeling communal. Shared.

“I got my wisdom teeth out when I was fourteen.” Steve peers through the windshield. It’s raining harder now. “Don’t remember much about the whole thing. Mom says I tried to stop the aquarium fish from drowning. And that I had to be double belted on the way home--”

“Will it hurt?” Billy turns to look at him, and. His eyes are welling up. Cheeks and nose red, as if stung by October winds. 

Billy whispers, “I wanted Max to come but she had school.” 

His hand is covered by the sleeve of his hoodie, fabric scrubbing rough at the stubble along his jaw. “Did they hurt you?” Billy asks, and.

Steve doesn’t like the way he says it. 

Like there really is something to be afraid of, at the core of it all. Like no one has ever considered the possibility.

“It’s not so bad.” Steve’s heart gives a painful, gripping thud. “You get a free ice pack out of the deal and decent high from the silly gas, if you’re lucky.”

Billy nods. “We’re gonna be late.”

Which. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s alright.”

“We’ll get you there lickety-split.” Steve pulls out of the driveway, fingers gripping the wheel when Billy places the still-warm muffin in his lap.

--

He sticks around for the procedure just to stop Billy from looking like he’s being dropped at his first day of kindergarten. The waiting room is bright. Warm and colorful, plush couches stocked full of overstuffed pillows. All within throwing distance of machine labeled free coffee :)

Not a bad dig, all things considered, but.

Billy says Steve doesn’t have to wait around. Doesn’t even have to come back at all. The nurse calls his name and Billy stands, shoulders lined with tension, before turning to whisper, “I’ll take the bus back to Neil’s.”

And Steve knows. Gets it. 

The universe running a test. An experiment that will prove whether Steve’s really got a heart under all that chest hair. 

Steve lifts his Highlights magazine. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Dude, It’s pouring outside,” Steve says, shaking his hair out for good measure. “I’ll just wait. In case you’re too high to function.”

Billy looks like he wants to say something else, so. Steve gives his full attention. Plans on the preverbal thank you that’ll probably never come, but. The nurse calls that name again. 

Billy Hargrove.

And Billy turns to go, hands tangled in the sleeves of his hoodie. 

--

His cheeks are swollen, like. 

A chipmunk. 

Stuffed full of little cotton pads that could be acorns. That are acorns, Billy insists, when the nurse brings Steve back to the operation room. He’s parked on the dentist bench. Curled into a ball with a thumb in his mouth when Steve rounds the corner. 

“Steve,” Billy says thickly. “They took my teeth out but I have acorns.” He reaches across the space between them, fingers grasping Steve’s wrist tightly.

Too tight, but. 

Steve can’t bring himself to care when the nurse says, “Billy, take your thumb out of you mouth.”

And Billy says. “I need to suck on something cold.” He pulls Steve right up to the edge of the bench, sitting with a serious glint in his eye. “Our acorns will be good for winter, right?”

He sways, nearly falling off the leather table, so.

Steve grasps his shoulder. Puts him back in place. “Probably? I don’t think acorns go bad.”

“We gotta make sure, ‘cause I don’t want you to starve.” Billy slurs, dropping to dead weigh when the nurse gets an arm underneath him and asks Steve to get the kid on his feet. 

Billy lands somewhere against Steve’s ribs, swaying dramatically as bright red drool slides over his chin. 

The nurse swears under her breath, going at it with a towel. 

Billy swats her hand away. He staggers as Steve thanks the nurse and leads them into the waiting room. 

“You’re so pretty, Stever.” Billy reaches out again, fingertips poking Steve’s eyelid. “Can’t starve for the winter. Gotta get pretty boys their acorns--”

“Stop poking me--”

“Acorn soup.” Billy sings. “Acorn pie and casserole and lollipops covered in sugar.”

Steve manages to get the doors open with zero help from Billy, chuckling as warm, soft palms circle around his shoulder blades. 

They’re hugging. 

In the rain. 

At the dentist’s office.

Steve hugs back, squawking when Billy’s nose brushes against his heartbeat. “C’mon, dude, we gotta--”

“Will you carry me, Stever?”

“No.” Steve says, manhandling Billy from his chest to his ribcage, determined to make it across the lot in one piece. “You’re solid muscle, there’s no way I could carry you.”

Billy makes a noise, pretty pink lips forming a pout when Steve looks over at him. 

“I got all the acorns ready for winter and you can’t carry me to the car?” Billy grumbles, leaning against the side of the Beamer while Steve gets his key into the lock. 

Steve untangles himself from the arms that fold around his waist. “Billy--”

“You smell like grass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like sweet grass.” Billy cackles, doubling over at his own joke, and. Pulling Steve down with him. “Sweet ass, right?”

“You’re insane.” Steve whispers, somehow out of breath from. The hands on his neck. He let’s Billy pet through his hair and then Steve yanks on the door handle, opening it, like, “Alright. Get in.”

Billy has more blood on his face. “Wanna sit with you.”

“We will.”

“Can I lay on your chest?”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling. “You won’t fit.”

“I could!” Billy whimpers, jerking away from Steve as he tries to get the blood off his chin. “I could be like a kitty cat--”

“Would you just--” Steve gets his hands on him, wiping at Billy’s mouth with his thumb. “Hold still, alright?”

“Alright.” Billy kisses Steve’s finger. Chaste and quick, gone before either really know what’s happening. Those blue eyes pull Steve in, drink him down. “How come you’re so pretty?” Billy asks. 

And. “Dunno,” Steve says, sounding just as out of breath as he feels. Like they’ve been running laps, and. 

Steve thinks maybe they have.

All around Hawkins. Through the years. Past each other. 

Billy holds still under the weight of ten fingers before frowning. Sticking his little swollen lip out. “Can we go home now?”

Steve backs away, gripping the edge of the door. “Sure.”

“Not to Neil’s,” Billy mutters to himself, leaning into the leather seat when Steve gets his limbs folded into the car. He cranes his head, eyes huge and watery. “Can I hang out with you?”

Steve moves to close the door. “Sure.”

Billy stops him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Billy.”

“Then why are you trying to close the door?” Billy demands, peering through narrowed eyes. 

Steve chuckles at that, squeezing the fingers that curl into the palm of his hand. “We gotta close the door so we can drive the car back to my house.”

Billy yanks his hand away. “Your house.” He says, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

Steve nods. “Do you want to go to my house?”

“Do you have macaroni and cheese?”

“Yeah, I can.” Steve wills himself to stop smiling. “I can make some after you take a nap.”

Billy stops the door from closing again. “I’ll be cold if I try to sleep.” 

And he says it like.

No one’s ever believed him. Billy speaks with an anchor in his voice, the weight of it pulling Steve in. Forward, until he understands. 

Steve grips the edge of the door. 

Nods. Let’s Billy know that there are ways around it. 

Billy’s crying, and. Steve doesn’t want to see him cry anymore. Every again. They’ve been through too much. He takes Billy’s hand and squeezes tight, smiling softly when cool blue eyes peer up at him. 

“Then we can eat macaroni and watch T.V.--”

“We can?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “And when you’re ready to go home I’ll take you. Keep you safe.”

He moves to close the door, chucking when a firm, sure hand holds it in place. 

Billy stares at him. “What if I never wanna go home again?”

Steve thinks about it, tapping his knuckles on the hood of the car. He shrugs. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Billy says.

This time, when the door is closed, Steve runs to the other side. Not wanting to miss a single moment.

120 notes • Posted 2021-05-05 02:30:12 GMT

#3

You can’t tell me billy isn’t in love with this man.

125 notes • Posted 2021-09-30 21:16:49 GMT

#2

Maybe it happens the first time on accident. When punches and shoves have gone soft and plaint in each other’s company, like fresh bread pulled straight from the oven, when they’ve been friends for a while. 

And maybe Steve doesn’t notice the changes. Doesn’t pick up on himself staring for longer than he should, trying to memorize the exact recipe for shades of blue that must’ve been part of God’s secret stash. Saved only for Billy when he was made from clay and sent down from silvery clouds, but.

It happens.

Naturally. They’re eating dinner together, sat side by side in the formal dining room Steve’s mother saves for guests, eating mac and cheese off her finest China and pretending not to steal secret glances at each other. 

Billy laughs at something. At nothing, his button nose crinkling through a snort before smoothing out once more, like ripe honeydew leaves, and.

Steve grabs the leg of his chair and pulls him closer, without thinking about it. Across the hardwood floor, yanking in one hard swoop until Billy’s pink cheeked and frozen on his little padded throne. 

“What was that for?” 

Steve shrugs. "Wanted you closer to me.”  

Billy is centimeters away, now. So close that Steve sees the truth. He’s got gray in his eyes, too. Like little storm clouds. Billy’s own personal missing ingredient.

136 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 03:45:47 GMT

#1

The top / bottom discourse. Everyone should be getting railed, end of story.

153 notes • Posted 2021-04-19 18:59:18 GMT

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