#harringrove au fic

[runraerun]

Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Steve Harrington who turns into a complete nutcase of a scientist and devotes all of his life to the invention of a time machine.

He succeeds.

It is a car. A blue Chevrolet 1979 Z/28 Camaro.

He goes back in time to save his boyfriend from dying a terrible death on July the 4th, 1985.

A harringrove au based on my beloved "Back to the future", released July 3, 1985

[ghostlynimbus]

POV: You're Steve Harrington and the sea monster you're letting chill in your pool is kinda hot though. 😏

(Mer Billy Art for my fic Son of the Sea, available on AO3)

[makeadealwithdean]

modern au where billy is a dancer at a gay club and he does his routine to "one of your girls" by troye sivan, cause who doesn't love a blond twunk?

and he's in the middle of his routine when he notices steve fucking harrington in the second row (or maybe he watches steve walk in and sit down in front of his stage idk) and he's fucking shook out of his mind to see his old high school rival here of all places. partly because it's been like 5-7 years since they've seen each other last (graduation basically), and partly because up until two fucking seconds ago, billy thought steve was like 100% straight.

and billy is so goddamn shook to see steve again that he accidentally, subconsciously directs his whole routine towards him, and steve, for his part, is equally shook to see anyone he knows here, much less billy hargrove, but of course, he can't look away.

and then when it's time for the part of the routine where billy picks a random audience member to give a preview lap dance to,,, take a wild guess who he picks 😈

-a concept of a fic that i might write soon, who knows?

[harringroveera]

Principal Higgins: You don’t mean that—

Jim: She does

[robthegoodfellow]

I've wanted to commission art for @fizzigigsimmer's fic He Who Holds the Devil (Harringrove Hannibal AU of my dreams) for ages and ages and ran the idea by @ihni a couple weeks ago who proceeded to create this masterpiece as a gift to gift to Fizzi 😭 Just a whole sequence of sneaky gifting.

But just LOOK at this!!! I'm still in slack-jawed awe. STEVE SWIMMING IN BILLY-SHARK INFESTED WATERS 🤩 Thank you thank you @ihni you're amazing 💛

Read the scene below:

Hargrove holds his stare and repeats slowly, “You do process it. Things the rest of us can barely even get a sense of, right?” 

Across the table, Hargrove has started to change yet again. The light of admiration washes over him in colors of pale yellow and sweet cream, until he shimmers—like Steve is viewing him from behind the glass at the aquarium. It’s stunning.

Steve swallows hard, and it takes him a deliberate moment to blink his eyes slowly and push the vision away. An uncomfortable heat prickles in his chest, discomforted with the evidence of the other man’s admiration of something he himself can only see as flawed. He doesn’t know what to do with it. [...]

The pink tip of Hargrove’s tongue appears in the corner of his mouth as he considers Steve with that probing gaze. He swaths a slick trail over his bottom lip, dark pupils dilating. Steve looks him in the eye, just for a moment, just for a taste, and sees blue lightning crackle within their depths.  

He inhales quick and soft as swirls of blue fill the room, transforming into waves. They push at the walls, breaking the diner around him like it’s made of matchsticks, obliterating it from existence. A wave crashes over his head, and Steve barely has time to gulp in a breath before he’s thrust down into the water. 

His heart pounds heavy and fast in his chest as he fights to swim toward the surface, but his movements slow when he senses that he is not alone in the depths. Turning slowly, he sees a dark shape in the water, growing larger as it swims towards him—recognizes the graceful sway of its body before it comes fully into view. Steve goes still, the surface forgotten. 

It’s a sandbar shark, colossal in size—king of its kind. It glides towards him, turning its long powerful body as it makes a wide arc and begins to circle. The meaning is clear: somewhere in the depths of Billy Hargrove a predator lurks, and Steve is in its sights. 

He’s gone too deep. He should be fighting to get back to the surface, back to himself, but that’s not the job. Steve doesn’t fight the pull of Hargrove’s mind. He forces his muscles to relax. His heart begins to slow. He kicks his feet and delves deeper.  

As he swims down into the deep blue the shark is never far, sometimes gliding just below or above in a lazy orbit. Despite Steve’s initial fear, it seems in no hurry to harm him, and he takes advantage of their silent truce to admire the impressive length of its body and smooth bronzy skin.  

What a beauty you are. 

[shieldofiron]

Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977

Part 1/3 Also on Ao3 here

For @harringrove-relay-race. Very happy with how part 1 turned out, and there will be more to come. Thanks to @foxxtastic for the intro and next up will be something stunning from our fearless Relay Race leader @half-oz-eddie

Rated M / 5k words / Part 1/3

Part 1: Into Hades

Rolling Stone Magazine - May 2002

Billy Hargrove arrived after I did, in his lovingly maintained blue Camaro, the subject of his song, “Lady Blue.” “Lady Blue” was recently named #93 on Rolling Stone’s Top Love Songs of the Century.

“I wrote, ‘She’s the wind in my hair, the rumble in my soul.’ I thought it was so obvious,” He laughed, his blue eyes still boyish. “My niece made it her wedding song, I said ‘Really? It’s about a fuckin’ car!’”

He showed me several pictures of his niece, the supermodel Tyler Sinclair. It seems good looks run in the family. He suggested the diner and he ordered waffles, winking when I mentioned that we’ll be here a long time.

The decades have been kind to him, maybe a few more lines. It’s not hard to imagine him stepping right back onto the stage, as if no time has passed at all.

“A little extra glitter on the eyes,” He said with a smile, “to hide my crows feet. That’s all I need.”

I ask what he’s going to wear to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Kaleidoscope's induction and his smile dims only for a moment.

“I think I should pull out some old costumes. You know, the butterfly still fits.”

He was referring, of course, to the sheer butterfly cape costume that nearly had him thrown off the stage in Houston Texas in December 1976. He caved to putting on a pair of silvery shorts rather than the nude underwear it was designed with. He later wore it with the nude underwear on the inside cover of Kaleidoscope, the album that will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in just a few short weeks. Kaleidoscope was his last album with the iconic Glam Rock band Pretty Boy, which famously broke up at the height of their career while touring for the album, onstage.

It’s not often that a band is inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and there’s a question if all of them will even show up.

“I’ll be there,” Hargrove said, fiddling with the silver band on his middle finger. “I have no problem with seeing him.”

The him is, of course, the lead guitarist and other lead singer of Pretty Boy, Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington invites me to his oceanfront house in Malibu later that afternoon.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to go,” He said thoughtfully, his brown eyes darting around the room.

When I mention that Billy is going to go, he seems surprised.

“He didn’t say he was going to punch me, did he?” Harrington smiled, but it doesn’t seem like much of a joke.

For one of the most famous rock stars of the 70s, Harrington is shockingly low key. He wears a t-shirt and slouchy linen pants, and he jokes that he ought to have shaved when I take out my camera. The house is stunning but empty, with miles of blank white walls and overstuffed white furniture.

“I’m looking for a little peace,” He shrugs, “I used to have all these pictures up, all this furniture… It was too much.”

It was hard not to see him as an artist without a muse. He drifted listlessly, picking things up and putting them down as we talked. So it was a surprise to me to hear that he’s been recording.

“I may never release it but… Yeah,” He laughed, “Music. After all this time. Bet you didn’t know.”

He picks up a rare photo from the piano. It’s from the early days of Pretty Boy, before Billy Hargrove. Harrington has his arm around his bandmate, Eddie Munson. Their drummer Chrissy Cunningham is balanced precariously across their shoulders, laughing and cringing at the same time. Bassist Robin Buckley smirks from the corner of the frame, messy bangs in her eyes.

“Who knew, right?” He asked no one, shaking the frame a little.

There are no pictures of Billy Hargrove.

“That’s a… a long story,” He said, when I asked.

But I have time. I tell him Rolling Stone will pay for it. At least that makes him laugh.

It was just by chance that Pretty Boy’s last concert was filmed.

“We were meant to just film in Vegas,” The director, Argyle Molina-Zapata, sat down with me after a private screening of Pretty Boy Live in Santa Fe, 1977, “But there was a freak rainstorm, and I couldn’t get my camera’s out of the back. The crowd was digging it, refused to leave. I remember when Billy hit the high note for ‘Mother Make Me,’ there was this lightning crack… brilliant.”

Molina-Zapata shook his head, “But the footage, what I got of it, was awful. Awful! So I begged Murray to let me come with them to Santa Fe.”

Murray was Murray Bauman, famed tour manager, who handled the Boys, later Pretty Boy from their first album Starfire, all the way to Kaleidoscope.

“And I was lucky,” Argyle nodded, “They had that extra tour bus.”

The tour busses are featured in the first few minutes of the film. They roll around the corner, one reading Billy Blue (Billy’s original stage name was  Billy Blue before he dropped the Blue), and the other, Steve’s Six (Named after Steve’s best friends from his hometown.)

“They were nightmares,” Murray Bauman’s voice crackled over the phone, “Nightmares on tour. Separate buses. Separate hotels. Fuck me, I swear to god at one point they wanted separate stages. And the label caved on almost all of it. Fucking nightmare.”

It’s almost impossible to imagine it when you see them on stage together. There’s something electric that passed between Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington, something that drove crowds wild. They gravitate towards each other on the stage, orbiting like planets until they can share the same mic. They can’t seem to stay apart.

It’s hard to see exactly what happened that night.

“I’ve watched it a million times,” Argyle laughed, “But the only two people who can really say what happened are Billy and Steve.”

What you can see is this: Steve tearing into “Pride & Prejudice��, the lead off Kaleidoscope and the last song of the night.

Billy was trembling, visibly shaking as he sang and Steve harmonized along.

What can I say, if you ask me to walk away?

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Billy danced closer, joining Steve, his handheld mic loose at his side.

Can you ever put away your pride?

Is it worth it to not have me at your side?

I guess it must be, because I’m yours,

Regretfully,

Baby.

Billy leans in, sharing Steve’s mic for the bridge.

Is it really a mystery?

What I mean to you, and you mean to me?

Is it really, baby?

Billy shook his head, curls bouncing. He looked into Steve's eyes. He smiled. Steve looks at Billy, and Billy looks at him. It almost looks like Billy mouths something, but bootleg footage also has appeared where it looks like Billy just nodded. Steve goes a little shell shocked, hand freezing on his guitar, falling out of sync.

And then Steve turned away and left the stage, handing his guitar to a stagehand. Billy turned to the crowd, his expression strangely triumphant. He was always magnetic on stage, but this moment transcends that. It somehow feels like he’s getting everything he wants.

So I guess I’m losing you,

You promised me you would and it’s true.

Baby, there’s no words for you.

Baby. I don’t know what to do.

Steve Harrington hasn’t performed in public since 1977.

“None of us knew what was going to happen that night,” Chrissy Cunningham curled up next to her husband, Eddie Munson, on the large white couch of their Seattle home.

They’re a handsome couple still, draped in rock and roll finery. He toyed with the edge of her scarf, and she curled his long hair around her long fingers.

“We had some of our own shit going on at the time so…” Munson shrugged, “Maybe we were distracted.”

Their living room was crowded and verdant, every spare flat surface covered in plants. Their partner, former record executive Jason Carver, puttered in the kitchen in an apron that read Plant Papa.

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiled, “We had some stuff going on at the same time. But still… It seemed like they were getting better. Didn’t it seem like they were getting better?”

Munson shrugged, “The thing about Billy and Steve… they were soulmates. You don’t write music like that and not… it was like they had a second language, just for them. They were soulmates, I really believe that. Everything they did, everything that happened… they could only hurt each other that badly if… yeah.”

When I ask what they did to each other, Eddie and Chrissy just scooted closer together, like teenagers in a slasher, hiding from the killer. She laid a hand over his leg, her two stone diamond ring catching the sunlight.

“Steve never wanted Billy to be in the band,” Eddie shook his head, “but Jim had a soft spot for Billy. And Steve had… I mean Jim was…”

“Jim was like a father. To all of us.” Chrissy’s knee jiggled.

“We were this little tiny band from Nowhere, Indiana,” Eddie nodded, “And Jim believed in us.”

“I was just a junior exec at the time. I was put on the Kaleidoscope tour in case of catastrophic failure, which by the way it was,” Jason Carver is making risotto while we speak, the steam curling the lock of hair that falls over his face. “But it wasn’t my fault although I was high as hell on coke half the time. I guess I deserved to get fired. But Jim was the real deal. Gold records out the ass, best wife in the world, and his daughter, I mean… she was something else.”

They’re referring, of course, to Jim Hopper, producer on Kaleidoscope as well as Billy Blue and The Boys’ records, and the father of pop superstar Eleven aka Jane Hopper.

“Jim was…” Steve Harrington’s eyes always got a little misty talking about Jim, staring out over the ocean. “Yeah, I guess he was a little like my dad. My own parents were always gone. Which is like… I grew up so privileged so like I’m not saying… I just mean I grew up mostly by myself. And we were just so lucky he even agreed to listen to us when we got to LA.”

“I remember that night,” Joyce Hopper’s voice was raspy, cigarette-y in the way only old movie stars are. She’s a gorgeous woman in jeans and a gardening hat, speaking to me while she tends to her garden at her home in Castellammare. “He came home and said, ‘I have the next ones, the next big ones. Fuck, Joyce, they’re brilliant. Unpolished, but brilliant.’”

When I ask about when Jim discovered Billy Hargrove she just laughed.

“If Steve and the rest of The Boys were unpolished, Billy Hargrove was a fucking ten carat diamond,” She said. “But Steve’s band was Jim’s, and he could polish them up how he wanted. And then when he thought they were just right for it… he set the diamond.”

Jim Hopper was a big man, larger than life both in appearance and in personality. His fingerprints are all over some of the best hits of the decade.

Watching him on old interviews, there’s an immediacy to his presence that leaps off the screen.

“My daughter is the one who really found him. She snuck out with her sister and wandered God knows where. And she just… found him. Called me the next morning, saying ‘Dad, you have to hear this guy.’ He was playing in this… terrible club,” Jim said, tapping his cigar on the table of Merv Griffin’s set. “Absolute shithole, pardon my french. And he’s got a great voice, you’ve heard his voice, right?”

“I have,” Merv said.

“I had to get him out of there. He was a star.”

Billy Hargrove was a teenage runaway from San Diego when he came to LA in 1971.

“I had a girl’s backpack from my stepsister, eight dollars, and an extra pair of underwear. By the end of the next week? I had two more dollars,” Billy laughed. “But I got lucky. I met Heather.”

Heather Holloway was a showgirl at Wildwoods, a nightly revue. She found Billy at the backdoor, and took him to her apartment.

“She saved me,” He frowned. “Whenever I needed her most.”

Heather Holloway, Billy Hargrove’s first and only wife, died in 1979. 

“I got a job singing at Sugar, this great gay club downtown. It was in the late afternoons, so I had a crowd of about… two. But those two brought two more,” Billy smiled, “Heather would talk me up to all the promoters. He’s a singer, he’s great, you’ll love him, he’s so cute.”

“He was an instant hit,” Sugar’s manager, Bob Newby, tells me by phone as well. “I did have to keep a couple of creeps off him, when he just started he was only nineteen. But even if you closed your eyes… he was a hit.”

“Guys used to think that because I was a part of the entertainment, I was fair game. And let me tell you, the novelty of that wears off mighty quick,” Billy shakes his head.

He shares a diary entry from his late wife of a night in April 1972. He came to her home with blood all over his face.

“Some guy thought because I was a fag…” Billy’s mouth twisted, but he went on, cradling the little marble notebook in his hand. “He could do whatever he wanted to me. When I fought back… he cracked a bottle over my head.”

He’s not just a piece of meat. He’s a person. I don’t understand these people. I just don’t understand, Heather Holloway wrote. I cleaned him up and he’s sleeping now.

The next diary entry is from a day later. April 12. Billy and I drove to Vegas and got married. When we spoke in the morning he said he was afraid for me too, even though I’m careful with the girls. He’s afraid of the cops trying to bust up the Wildwoods and picking me up. At least this way, he says. He and I can come home to each other. Look out for each other. Always. The groom wore band aids and his great velvet pants. The bride wore lavender. It was perfect.

“And lucky too. Because within a month… I met Jim,” Billy smiled. “And my whole life changed.”

Upside Down Records signed Billy Blue, unagented, in1972 and he spent the next year working on his debut album with Jim Hopper.

“I didn’t even realize, when it happened,” Billy shook his head. “A couple of girls came by after a show, wanting to talk to me, wanting to meet me. That wasn’t that unusual. But they were young, far too young to get into the club. And the little one, she was asking all these weird questions. Did I have an agent? Did I know if I had enough songs for an album? Weird fuckin’ questions. And then she said I have to meet someone. To be honest, I thought she was coked out of her mind when she said, ‘You have to meet my dad.’”

“I was not,” Eleven promised me, “coked out of my mind. But that’s just Billy.”

Eleven aka Jane Hopper, meets me backstage at one of her shows. She’s dressed in slouchy leather pants, to match her sister and drummer Kali Hopper.

“I knew he was something special. My dad was always talking about the IT factor. That thing that made a person something special. But I didn’t get it until I saw Billy Blue singing on that tiny stage,” She smiled. “He didn’t just have the IT factor. He was IT.”

It’s odd then, that Billy Blue’s first album had a surprisingly tepid response. His first single, in 1973, “Let Alone,” came in at only 26th for the month of April on the pop charts.

“People liked it,” Billy shrugs, “But I don’t think they knew what to do with it. You have my songs, these like… little pop love songs and ballads. I wasn’t that strong of a writer at the time. It was like half my songs, half covers. And so they’d book me, expecting fucking… Peter Frampton. And here comes this big queer with glitter on his nipples.”

But the lyrics of “Let Alone” would hint at his later songs, a hallmark simplicity that shone off his raw voice and poetry that hinted at a troubled past.

And if you were meant to care for me

You would, and that’s how it has to be

You said I couldn’t go on without you

Ha, look at me, looking brand new

At the same time, The Boys’ song “Paper Girl,” penned by Harrington, was number one.

She’s my paper girl

She’s my paper girl

Wakes me up every morning, right on time

She got me smiling, got my head in a whirl

Picture perfect, paper girl

“Billy didn’t have much commercial appeal. Sex appeal, yes,” Jason laughed, toying with Chrissy’s hair. “But for sales? That’s where The Boys came in.”

“I hated that name,” Eddie said, “To start with we were half girls.”

The Boys had already had a somewhat successful tour under their belt by the time Jim suggested a collaboration with Billy Hargrove.

“It was a nice, short tour,” Steve Harrington glances away when I ask about the first tour.

“It was a nightmare. Balls to the wall nightmare,” Robin Buckley’s voice is a warm crackle over the phone. “Steve went on like thirty overlapping benders at once.”

Her partner, soap actress Vickie Carmichael cackles behind her, at their home in Salt Lake City.

“The thing about Steve is… well… he’s never found a good way of coping with himself,” Robin huffs. “Music was about as close as he ever got. But in those early days, he just kept looking for more and more.”

“You don’t think it was about-” Vickie asked, just barely into the phone.

“No.”

“It was about Nancy,” Eddie said confidently when I mentioned their first tour. “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.”

The Boys got their start in the late sixties, beginning with Eddie and Steve. Eddie gave Steve guitar lessons, which turned into some talent show performances. They used to practice at Eddie’s Uncle’s trailer.

“That’s where we got the name,” Eddie nodded, “My uncle used to just call us that, and it stuck.”

“I don’t even remember,” Chrissy said.

“That’s not how we got the name,” Steve shook his head, when I mention Eddie. “It was our first gig, after we got Chrissy and Robin. Robin put it down after the headliner kept asking when ‘you boys’ would go on, and kept addressing it to Chrissy’s chest. She blew him out of the fucking water.”

Nancy Wheeler was there that night, writing about local bands for a tiny column in the school paper.

“She was beautiful. Smart. So smart. Could hear her talk forever,” Steve said, eyes falling.

Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were married in 1972 after they graduated high school.

“Steve made his own choices,” Chrissy shook her head.

That summer, the Boys plus one drove to LA and Nancy Wheeler took a job at Women’s Day Magazine and later, Rolling Stone. Steve Harrington and The Boys got a “steady gig” at La Bonita Rosa on the strip, playing for drunks every night from seven to eight.

“I really liked playing at La Bonita,” Steve said. “The audience, right there. You could smell the sweat. You could see on their faces if you were bombing. And we used to bomb. A lot. But it was a great place to try things. Experiment. We played there for about a year but… it felt too short.”

Within the year they had met Jim Hopper, who got them into the recording studio and sold their demo nearly on the spot to Upside Down Records.

“They had a great sound. They had got this way of playing. Smooth like a polished stone. Everything sounds good sitting in a frame like that,” Jim said in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1981. “Their songs were… catchy, but basic. But they had the sound.”

Upside Down records set the Boys on a US tour after “Paper Girl,” and “Joy to Love You,” both charted.

“It was like… overnight. One day we’re in a studio, messing around. Kid stuff. I was nineteen,” Steve Harrington shookhis head. “But…”

“That tour,” Chrissy trails off, playing with her ring again.

“I…” Steve Harrington scratched his nose. “I was losing it. Majorly losing it. It felt like we had just moved to LA and we were already neck deep. I mean, I had a number one fucking song. And for some reason I got it in my head to call my mom. She told the maid she wasn’t home. And I could hear her over the phone. My mom. So yeah. I lost it. Lost about half my damn mind on that tour. And people will say it was because of Nancy, because we got married just out of high school, and she wasn’t supportive… but that wasn’t true. Nancy saved me.”

“Nancy never wanted him to be in the band. But… she also didn’t seem to care that much either,” Eddie shook his head, “It’s… complicated. Love is supposed to be. Simple. Like the chords of a song. 1-3-5.”

Jason Carver rolled his eyes at that, “Then what are we?”

Eddie grinned, “We’re a band.”

Nancy Wheeler met me on a Thursday in New York City, slim sunglasses dominating her small porcelain face. We get lunch at her favorite deli shop, and she perches at the counter, loafers dangling. She’s an editor at The New Yorker now, but she still has a soft spot for rock and roll, as evidenced by the Grateful Dead t-shirt under her blazer.

“That tour. I didn’t even know anything was wrong. He just came home with a funny look on his face, saying, ‘We’re headlining.’ So I said, ‘That’s great, Steve.’ He just kept… saying it. It was starting to piss me off, if I’m being honest,” She shook her head. “I should have known something was wrong.”

“I wish she had stopped me. But how could you know right? Hindsight is always 2020,” Steve Harrington said. “I mean, she was my wife. How could she not want me home? But that’s just… sorry. That’s not fair to put on her. I chose to go.”

“I flew out to meet them when they were in Indianapolis, visited my family, and I came a day early to see him,” She smiled warmly, and then it fell. “He was… Well, first, Eddie Munson tried to intercept me at the hotel, so I wouldn’t see him. I told him, ‘I’m here to see my fucking husband.’”

Steve Harrington didn’t add any more details about the tour, just shrugged when I asked.

“He was coked up like you wouldn’t believe,” Robin scoffed. “She walked in on him with two girls and coke all over his… well.”

“I just asked him. Do you want to come home? Do you want to get help? Or not?” She purses her lips. “And so he came home and we found a rehab place near Hawkins.”

“The tour kind of… fell apart. Obviously. We had lost our lead singer and guitarist to fucking… Hawkins, Indiana,” 

Everything stopped for the Boys. Upside Down offered to let them out of their two album contract, but Steve couldn’t afford to pay it down.

“Rehab,” He shrugged. “Is expensive.”

Right as it seemed that everything would be over for the Boys, things were looking up for Billy Blue.

“Jim was always saying, ‘the record is selling alright, the songs are getting there but he needs a… push,’” Joyce said. “‘He’s so close. So close. He’s a star.’”

“He always believed in me,” Billy smiled, toying with his ring again. “Always. Even when I threw a jug of milk at his head.”

Joyce laughed when I asked about that moment, “He came home saying, ‘He milked me, Joyce. But he’ll fix the song tonight.’”

“And I did,” Billy said. “And the album was going alright. I did a little tour, socal and the southwest. And then one night, Jim brings me this song. He said, ‘I want you to tell me what’s missing from this.’”

The song was, of course, the Boys’ biggest hit, “Hades.” Steve Harrington’s first version was called, “To Orpheus” and the chorus goes:

Don’t turn back don’t look behind you baby

I’m close, I’m right behind

The future's so bright, and I want you to take me

Wanna be holding your hand when I make it across the line.

“It was fine, but just kind of… nothing. It was supposed to be about Eurydice, but it was so… nothing. She just loved Orpheus and that was it. There were no insides to her. She was going to follow him to her doom,” Billy shook his head. “That’s not right.”

This was not the version that made it to the recording booth, of course. The Boys’ single, “Hades featuring Billy Blue,” came out in 1975. The actual chorus goes: 

Turn back on me and I won’t forgive you baby

Don’t want you to see me like this

Up ahead is bright, and I want you to take me

If you’re strong enough to cross that finish line

“‘Hades,’ was a real step forward for the Boys. Gone were the teenybopper tunes,” Steve Harrington’s biographer and personal friend Dustin Henderson wrote in his book The Pretty Boy. “Their first album got the kids dancing. But the second proved that they actually had something to say.”

“Still hate it,” Steve Harrington said. “I wrote that song in rehab. It was deeply, deeply personal to me.”

“He came out, all ready. He wanted to start recording right away,” Robin sighed. “Like I mean the next day. All these songs, just pouring out of him. But the label had lost faith in us. And they certainly weren’t going to let us start recording with a guy who had only just earned his thirty day sober chip.”

“The song wasn’t ready,” Billy shook his head. “But I guess he was. Jim said he needed this. So Jim asked if I would come and like… pitch some stuff as a personal favor. Songwriting credit, that’s all it was supposed to be. Get the songs moving, get them going.”

Steve Harrington takes a long time to continue speaking about it. 

“I felt it, writing for that album. I felt proud of those songs. They didn’t belong to anyone else but me,” He toyed with some piano keys while we talked, and then finally sat down and began to play something tuneless and half formed.

“That album was all about Nancy,” Chrissy said. “I mean. I know it. You know it. Nancy knew it. And she kind of hated it. But-”

“You can’t leave your husband right as he gets out of rehab,” Nancy said to me, toying with her wedding ring. “When he writes all these songs about how you’re the only thing… Steve was always like that. Heart wide open. That’s why when he met Billy. I almost thought… it would all be okay. That sounds fucked up but. I thought they could save each other. That the music could save him.”

“It was just a songwriting credit,” Billy raised his hands. “Jim swore up and down. I was just gonna come in there and sit down with this guy Steve. But when I walk into the studio, there’s two mics set up.”

“I was the Boys’ only singer,” Steve Harrington shook his head. “And to be absolutely honest, I was kind of a jackass about it. So to have some guy come in and say he’s gonna sing me my song… well…”

“Steve was the only one who would ever argue with Jim, And he let him have it that day,” Eddie laughed. “He called him the most low down, dirty, rat bitten bastard in California, and that he would die rather than give up his band to someone else.”

“I did not want his band. I did not know his band. And I did not care. And his song sucked. And I told him so. And then I sang it. Better.” Billy smiled.

“Billy was…” Chrissy shook her head. “Incredible.”

I ask Steve what Billy was like that first day in the studio.

“He was,” Something passed over his face. “Alright. He has a great voice, alright.”

“I was good. Better. Best.” Billy smiled.

“But he didn’t understand the song. He wanted Eurydice to… doubt. To think she wasn’t going to get out,” Steve slammed his hands on the keys. “It’s been… almost twenty years. I still don’t understand it.”

I asked why he let Billy stay. But Steve doesn’t have an answer.

“They were like oil and water, right away,” Chrissy said.

“Yeah, but oil on the water can catch fire,” Eddie shrugged.

“Jim asked me to stay,” Billy looked away from me, down at his waffles. “It was a favor to the label.”

“If Billy said louder, Steve said mute,” Robin snickered. “It was kind of great, actually. Finally someone called King Steve on his shit. One day I came in and they were arguing over how close the microphone should be to your throat. Almost got in a physical fight over a fucking microphone. I mean, I love Steve. But he always thinks he’s like… the babysitter. It’s his job to do everything for everybody.”

“Like who was this guy? Really? He came into my studio with no shirt on, most of the time still half smashed from the night before, and he thinks he can make all these changes. But Jim keeps telling me it’s just business, the label thinks it’s good business.” Steve frowned, and then smiled, and then frowned again.

“Yeah, I never wore shirts back then. Or underwear,” Billy said with a grin. “I was a rockstar!”

“Steve fought for every song on that album,” Nancy Wheeler patted her lips primly with a napkin. “He only lost on one.”

“Billy Hargove has songwriting credit and lead vocals on “Hades.” Dustin Henderson wrote.

“Billy was all over that album. He’d make some minor suggestion, maybe this chord instead of that, this word is better. And Steve would flip out, yell at him, yell at Jim, threaten to storm out… and then two days later quietly tell me to change the chord, he’d start singing the new words. Billy was there with us about every single day,” Eddie said.

“Of course, it was our biggest hit,” Chrissy laughed. “Everything but that song, Steve did what he wanted. Oh we had Billy in the studio, making suggestions. But Steve did what he wanted except for ‘Hades.’ Jim said that song is the album, and he wouldn’t cut it.”

“Jim was always right,” Steve closed the piano. “The bastard.”

Hades exploded onto the radio in late 1975. They didn’t have the same distribution as their first record, but the Boys had another hit.

“Billy had this way of singing it. Still does. He broke four mics when we recorded it. Singing so loud I had to keep an eye on the cymbals to stop them from shaking. You can feel him, right in your chest.” Chrissy giggled. “Like he was trying to wake all the dead from Hades. If anyone could, he could.”

“It’s a really, really great song,” Robin said.

This song belongs to Billy Blue, Rolling Stone wrote in 1976. The only question now is, what will The Boys do next?

“I remember that article. Fucking… Harrington said that he basically wrote the whole song. But he said, ‘the label thought bringing Billy in was a good idea,’” Billy gets tense for the first time. “I’m not saying I was like… I just mean. It would have been nice. To treat me like an equal. I’m more than just a singer. I’m not just… a piece of meat.”

“Billy was really pissed about that article. I remember, the day after the article came out, we were getting breakfast at this tiny place off La Cienega. Steve had this car back then, a big maroon BMW, and Eddie had got him a vanity plate when he bought it. Stupid thing it said, ‘BIGBOY.’ Anyway, We’re having breakfast, and we hear this screech outside, like an accident,” Robin Buckley gets uncharacteristically quiet as she goes on through this story. “Billy’s car is parked halfway out of the parking lot, and he comes in like a bull in a charge. Billy… he wasn’t some wimpy guy. He was small, but he was strong as hell… He came right over and grabbed Steve by his collar and lifted him right off the counter. And he said, I’ll never forget it because Steve used to recite it from memory, yell it at me, ‘Tell me I’m not dreaming. Is that Steve fucking Harrington? The lead singer of the Boys. Hey man, I love your song ‘Hades.’ How’d you get your voice to sound halfway decent for once?’”

“I don’t remember that,” Steve Harrington said flatly when I asked.

“And Steve used to be a fucking dick in high school. So he starts getting real bitchy, shoving Billy off him, asking what his problem is, why he’s such a dick all the fucking time, when it’s not even his band. And Billy said something like, ‘No one wants your shit band. Not with you in it,’” Robin paused for a moment. “And they just. Stare at each other. Like… daring each other to do something.”

Billy just shrugs when I ask, “I was pissed. I gave this guy a number one hit, and he still wanted to treat me like some… airhead singer the label brought in as a stunt. I’m not just a singer. I’m not a piece of meat. I’m a person.”

When I ask Steve about that day he’s pretty quiet, deflated at his piano. He only wants to talk about the song. The music. Can’t seem to talk about Billy any other way.

“He sang it like he not only knows Orpheus can’t save him, but that he won’t. It was supposed to be hopeful. A happy ending.” Steve said.

“So you still hate the song?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s brilliant. And that’s the whole problem.”

To be continued...

Next up is Half-Oz-Eddie's piece at 7:00 pm. GET HYPE!

[allthingssteddie]

Steve Harrington stepped out of his car and onto the driveway of the Hargrove ranch. He stretched his arms over his head, feeling the weight of the long drive from Hawkins settling into his muscles.

As he looked around, he took in the fields. It was a big property. This would be the first time Steve would have to work on a ranch. This wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do but with his dad refused to help pay for the repair to his car even though he had wrecked it in a drunken bender.

He grabbed his duffel bag from the small car and slung it over his shoulder, making his way towards the ranch house. As he approached, a figure emerged from the shade of the porch.

"Can I help you?" the figure asked gruffly, eyeing Steve's car and his yellow sweater.

Steve smiled, extending a hand. "Hey, I'm Steve Harrington. I'm here to work on the ranch."

The figure's gaze narrowed, and Steve caught sight of a nasty looking bruise spreading across the bridge of his nose.

"Billy," the figure muttered, ignoring Steve's outstretched hand. "My old man hired you."

Steve's smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Nice to meet you, Billy."

Billy's eyes flicked towards Steve's car again before he turned and walked back into the house, leaving Steve to follow.

As Steve trailed after Billy, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the man's nose.

Following billy into the house, his eyes adjusting to the warm, cozy atmosphere within. As they walked into the kitchen, the aroma of cooking food filled his senses. A woman stood at the stove, stirring a pot of stew. She turned, a look of distress.

"Is that you, Billy?" she asked, her eyes flicking to Steve.

"Yeah, it's me," Billy replied, his tone curt. "And I brought the guy my dad hired. Do you know where he is?"

Before she could answer, a man stormed into the kitchen, his face red with annoyance.

"God damn it, Billy, I told you to take out the trash, and you made Maxine do it!"

The man's gaze shifted to Steve, and his expression changed to one of curiosity.

"Ah, Evan, right?" he said, extending a hand.

"Steve," Steve corrected, shaking the man's hand.

The man's face creased into a smile. "Yeah, well, Steve. My son here will be joining you out there."

Steve's eyes widened in surprise. "I thought I'd be doing this job myself."

The man chuckled. "Yeah, well, Billy here needs to learn some responsibility and be a man. Maybe you can teach him.

Billy's lip twitched at that, and Steve sensed a surge of resentment emanating from him.

Neil Hargrove nodded curtly. "You'll start at dawn tomorrow. Billy, show Steve to the guest house. He can stay there while you both working on the ranch."

Billy's scowl deepened, but he jerked his head towards the door. "Follow me."

Steve grabbed his duffel bag and trailed after Billy, feeling a sense of unease as they walked towards the guest house in silence.

As they reached the small cabin, Billy pushed open the door and gestured for Steve to enter. "You can drop off your stuff. We'll head back to the main house for dinner."

Steve nodded, stepping inside the cozy cabin. As he looked around, he noticed that the cabin was surprisingly tidy, with a single bed made up with fresh sheets.

Billy lingered in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Steve's face. For a moment, they just stared at each other, both seeming uncomfortable.

Then Billy turned and walked away, leaving Steve to wonder what he had just gotten himself into.

Kind of a brokeback mountain au. Just a idea I had

[spaceofentropy]

It's November 1st! Which means that

is here! It's here! Chapter 1 of my Billy Big Bang fic is HEREEEEE!

As You Wish Rated M; 28000 words; no archive warnings Relationship: Billy/Steve; Billy & Chrissy; Eleven & Eddie Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Eleven, Maxine Mayfield, Martin Brenner, Henry Creel, Jason Carver, Murray Bauman The big tags: Princess Bride AU; pirates; swordfights; temporary character death; magic; torture; murder; canonical animal death (for The Princess Bride) Synopsis:

Everybody thinks they know what happened, that time that three unsavory people kidnapped the Princess Bride in order to start a war. Everybody is wrong. Her name was Chrissy, not Buttercup, and the Dread Pirate Roberts was not in love with her, not in the romantic way everybody thinks, anyway. And he wasn't alone, but accompanied by his second, Mr. Harrington! And the swordman wasn't Spanish, nor was there a Turkish strongman. But it was, indeed, a story about true love, adventure, treachery, duels, and revenge. Care to know the truth?

As soon as the official collection is open, I'll add the fic to it, in the meanwhile I have to thank the mods of @billybigbang2024 for their hard work; my partner in crime @cuepickle for the beautiful art that will grace the later chapters and for the banner you see up top; my bestie @dragonflylady77 who beta red the story, chatted with me, commiserated with me, and also made a second banner which you'll see soon; and @medusapelagia, who helps keep me sane through the technical mishaps, which are many!

[fizzigigsimmer]

That spring, Steve’s mom finally gets tired of getting cheated on and files for divorce. His dad is a dick about it and hires a bunch of lawyers to ensure that she basically leaves with nothing. Worse, he fights her for custody of Steve and taunts her with the fact she’ll never see him again - because why would any teenager want to give up everything, just to rough it out with their train-wreck of a mother? But jokes on him cause the judge basically leaves it up to Steve, and Steve would rather stomp on his own balls than get stuck with that asshole. Even if it means having to leave the big house and his car and starting over in a new place where nobody knows him.

Steve never met his mother’s side of the family in California. All he really knows is that the family disapproved of her marriage. There’s a story about his aunt coming to visit once on his birthday when he was like five, but she got in a fight with mom and she’s never been back. So Steve doesn’t even think about them when he tries to imagine what he and his mom are going to do on their own. He imagines her selling her car and the other gifts dad put in her name over the years to rent a decent apartment somewhere, maybe in Indianapolis or Chicago.

He’s really shocked one night when she announces that she’s been in touch with her family, and she she asks him about how he feels about moving to California to some sleepy little town called Moonwood. She tries to enthuse him about it by going on about how beautiful it is there, right at the edge of the national forest, but Steve’s more concerned with the fact that they’ll be living with people who hate them - and in the sticks too! Its two hours to the nearest mall! How’s he gonna find a job in this place? And what about school?

But Steve looks around at the hotel they’ve been staying in and the paper thin smile she fixes on her face to try and hide her broken heart from him and how fucked everything is, and he just wants her to be okay.

They move to California, and the one bright side is the relatives turn out to be not all that hateful. There’s awkward tension and a shit load of history there for sure, but from the minute they pull up to his grandparents house the door is thrown open and they’re welcomed with open arms. His grandpa seems a little stiff at first, but Steve gets the impression its because he doesn’t know what to do with himself as Steve’s mom and his grandma hug each other and cry. The weirdest part is when they start speaking in a language Steve’s never heard his mother use before.

Later his aunt tells him it’s lythan, but she just laughs when Steve asks if that means they’re from Lithuania. Apparently lythan is a very old language that started in romania and is only spoken today in two places. Here, and some village in romania that an ancestor immigrated from.

None of this is making sense to him but he’s just happy his mother seems happier and that he has help taking care of her, since she’s still pretty broken up about the divorce. She’s always been a passionate woman his mom. The kind of person who believes in soulmates and love at first sight. She’s always told him that when he meets the one for him he’ll know it in an instant and that he should hang on to that person with his whole heart. Which sounded great and all when he was a kid, but honestly just makes him sad now when he looks at how things turned out with her and his dad.

The first week after they get there, Steve cant sleep and catches his mother, his grandmother and his aunt talking in the kitchen late one night. He overhears her say that she knew it was a risk being with his dad, but that she’d have regretted it more if she didn’t follow her heart. Even if she wasn’t the one for Steve’s dad the way he was for her, she’d always be grateful because she has Steve. But she doesn’t want him to grow up feeling like he has to change who he is and like he always has to be the one giving to someone else just to be loved.

For the first time since the divorce Steve is almost mad at her - wants to shout it’s too late mom! - but the feeling passes as quickly as it comes. He’s just sad, for them both. But he hopes things will be okay here and that this can be a new start. It could be worse right? At least he gets a room to himself. Yeah it’s kinda weird that his aunt still lives at home and nobody seems to have a problem with that, or is talking about what his moms plans are like they expect that she’ll just be there forever now. But he figures they’re all just focused on making up for lost time right now.

And his grandma says that people in Moonwood stay close to home anway, and that most of them spend their whole lives there without leaving. It shocks him to learn that she’s never been further outside of town than to the edge of the national forest.

His second worry, about finding a job, gets resolved by his his grandfather - who runs a soda shop on the beach. There’s not much traffic durring the off season, but in summertime the redwoods draw a fair number of tourists. Steve’s kept very busy scooping up ice cream and making root beer floats while he flirts with the gap year girls who come through in groups, to backpack through the forest. He’s just turned eighteen and he’s never had much of a problem picking up girls so he has a few flings. He gets invited to parties on the beach and ends up doing a lot of hiking that summer in his downtime. But then fall rolls around and with fewer and fewer groups of tourists passing through Steve finds himself at loose ends.

School starts up again and he realizes that maybe it was a mistake not to put more of an effort into meeting local kids and making a few connections beforehand. Schiller High is over in the next district, and Moonwood is so far out the kids have to be bussed in. Steve’s a little nervous about starting a new school in his senior year but he tells himself it’s just one year. One year and then he has no idea what to do with himself after that, but at least he won’t be forced to attend school anymore. Still, he begs his mom to let him take their car to school the first day so that he doesn’t have to be the oldest kid on the bus. He’s pretty sure that’s a social constant even out here in the middle of nowhere.

Schiller seems pretty normal at first. It’s about the same size as his school back in Hawkins was. The school receptionist calls in some guy named Tim to show him around his first day and make sure he gets to all his classes. Tim’s alright, but Steve can see the neon nerd sign blinking above his head and plays it cool. He’s not an asshole or anything, he just doesn’t want to close any doors before getting the lay of the land. Steve just wants an easy year and he’s not gonna get that if he’s hanging out with a bully magnet - sorry Tim. Plus, Steve’s not exactly thrilled about the way Tim talks about ‘moonies’ - which is apparently what other people call people from Moonwood, instead of hicks or whatever. Steve doesn’t bother telling Tim that he’s technically a moonie now too.

His aspirations to plant himself firmly in the middle of the student social hierarchy and go unnoticed for the next ten months involve finding a group - or a pack as his grandfather weirdly put it when he assured Steve he’d find his in no time and start to feel more at home once school started. He asks Tim about the school’s athletic teams because being on a team with a bunch of other guys will basically do the work for him. There’s a swim team that Steve is definitely going to try out for. He’s not sure about basketball. He only got started back in Hawkins because his dad thought it was manlier than ‘playing’ in the pool. But he likes it okay, and Tim says the Schiller team has actually won a few regional titles.

Even though it’s his last year Steve figures it can’t hurt his college applications to be on a winning team for once. He probably won’t to start or anything but he thinks he has a good shot of seeing some playing time.

“I would stick with swimming if I were you. There’s no way you’re getting on the team.” Tim laughs. “The head coach is a moonie and he only ever picks guys from Moonwood.”

That doesn’t seem very legal, but that’s not Steve’s problem. He figures Tim is probably exaggerating anyway, just salty that the coach is giving a little extra focus to the guys from the less privileged side of the tracks.

Until Steve actually sees Billy and some of the other guys from the team.

It’s just before lunch when Steve and Tim have stopped by Steve’s locker. A blond kid in a red and white letterman jacket appears at the mouth of the hall, flanked by two other guys. It’s like something out of a movie the way the hallway clears for them and the other students gaze at them with awe filled expressions as if they’re watching a parade of olympians pass through.

“That’s Billy Hargrove. He’s captain of the basketball team.” Tim answers the unspoken question in Steve’s glance. “Don’t get on his bad side. He’s pretty much the top dog around here.”

Steve doesn’t need Tim to tell him Billy runs things around here. The guy is built like the terminator. Like someone who has ascended above mere mortals and wouldn’t be out of place among the gods. He’s built like a man, Steve finally settles on with an prickle of embarrassment hot in his chest. Steve’s a guy and he doesn’t go out of his way to look at other guys a lot, but he appreciates the things about them that are enviable.

Only envy is the furthest thing from Steve’s mind when he first sees Billy. It’s like time slows for Steve. His mouth gets dry, and he thinks to himself that Billy Hargrove is beautiful, and he wonders what that’s like. Steve knows he’s good looking. This isn’t some self depreciation bullshit, it’s just inexplicably different somehow the way he looks at Billy and thinks he finally understands what real beauty is. The way he instantly wants to get closer to him, reach out and touch. Billy has none of the unfinished awkwardness of a teenager. He’s a poster child for physical perfection that Steve is convinced walked off of a poster taped up on somebody’s wall, and has no business walking down the halls of an American high school. Seriously. How is this guy real?

He spares a quick glance for the other two guys with Billy - Dave & Chet - just long enough to confirm that he’s fucked. If these are the kinds of guys they’ve got on the team, Steve has no chance of seeing anything but a bench all year.

Billy and the other two stop at a locker not far from Steve’s on the other side of the hall, but not before Billy’s gaze does a casual sweep around the hall - very much a king surveying his kingdom. Steve fully expects that gaze to pass right over him just as unimpressed as it does everyone else, but to his surprise Billy’s gaze locks with his and sticks.

A little tingle dances up Steve’s spine and he sucks in a breath. He can’t tell what color Billy’s eyes are from this distance - at first he thinks they are something light, like a blue or grey, but then the corner of Billy’s mouth tilts up in a smirk and the light hits them a certain way and they look almost gold as he runs his tongue over some very white fangy teeth. Jesus the guy has some chompers on him.

Steve’s not afraid of a fight but it’s profoundly unsettling to have some dude literally licking his chops at him like he can’t wait to take a bite of the fresh meat. He’s pretty sure he just landed himself on Billy Hargrove’s shit list and he has no idea why. Fuck his life.

But he figures there’s nothing he can do about it but ignore it and hope that Billy decides he’s not worth the trouble. Steve turns to shut his locker, sending the message with his back that he doesn’t care about the dude giving him the crazy eyes and that Billy doesn’t intimidate him. His sweaty palms tell a different story, but that’s for Steve and only Steve to know.

As he leaves, he can feel Billy’s eyes burning into his back like lasers.

So much for going unnoticed for the year.

Now with Part 2

[bigdumbbambieyes]

the date for posting is getting closer and closer!! AHH!! my regency au ‘moonflower, mine’ for @bigbangharringrove is well underway and i’ve decided to share another snippet w y’all! enjoy!!

Only two short days later, Billy finds himself roaming an art gallery with his sister and Mr. Harrington — the two of them walking side by side in front of him, feigning to keep a watchful eye. He only pretends to be a good chaperone because of the art strung up on the walls; they’ve captured his attention better than whatever conversation is going on between the others.

They stop at an oil painting and Billy keeps his eyes trained on it, admiring the brush strokes and colours carefully chosen, as Mr. Harrington takes a step over to him.

It’s something that’s been happening. Mr. Harrington will attend to Max, ask her questions and make conversation to get to know her, and the two laugh together so it must be going well — except, Mr. Harrington has a bad habit of wandering over to him and leaving Max alone.

Not far, of course, but…noticeable.

Max hasn’t brought it up as an issue so he assumes she doesn’t mind.

“–your earring,” Mr. Harrington says, breaking through Billy’s distracted thoughts.

He blinks and looks over at the other man, “Excuse me?”

Mr. Harrington has that gentle smile on his face again, his eyes shining with curiosity as he repeats, “I was just inquiring about your earring, Mr. Hargrove.”

Billy’s hand immediately goes up to his ear, where his pearl earring dangles, holding it between his fingers protectively as he eyes the man next to him. Quietly, he asks, “What about it?”

The way Mr. Harrington’s expression goes from curious to frantically apologetic is sweet, his voice dipping a little lower to match Billy’s as he’s quick to breathe, “N-Nothing! I’m simply curious – it’s quite beautiful, and I have not seen a man wear an earring in quite some time, so…” He gives Billy a sorry smile, “My apologies, if I’ve offended you in any way, Mr. H–”

“–No apology needed, Mr. Harrington,” Billy shakes his head ‘no’ and lowers his hand, interrupting the other because he hates being called Mr. Hargrove like his father. He clears his throat and says, “It’s just…something I’d prefer to discuss in private.”

[writer-in-theory]

nothing can be certain except (death) and taxes

Summary: When the words on a person's skin are the last words their soulmate will say before death separates them, Steve has never hated being loved so much. Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: Temporary Character Death (EMPHASIS ON THE TEMPORARY), Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptions of Injuries Read On AO3: Coming soon (to a theatre near you) A/N: This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! Thank you so much for letting me participate again, this was so much fun to work on. @harringrove-relay-race

Steve always hated the idea of soulmates. 

The idea of a perfect match out there for him could have been a comfort, if it weren’t for the words carried on his arm his entire life. How cruel was it, for the universe to have perfect matches but only confirm them at the end of their time together? The words could’ve been a comfort, if they weren’t the confirmation of the last words he’d ever hear from his soulmate before they left the world permanently. 

I love you.

How cruel of his soulmate, to leave him with those words. 

Steve didn’t know Billy was his soulmate—there was no way of knowing, really—but he knew. It was obvious in the way that Steve’s entire world changed the moment Billy moved to town, and in the way that even hearing his voice was enough to bring a smile to Steve’s face. 

The other man hadn’t made it easy, especially in the early days when he was more a feral cat who struck out at any signs of affection made toward him. He could be rude, and often picked fights first rather than try to talk things out, but he was also fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and the more people who cared in return the more Billy seemed incapable of going without a gentle touch, even if it meant most of the time he and Steve ended up tangled together in a pretzled mess when they spent time with one another.

And the thing was, Steve was happy. Totally, painfully so. He looked upon Billy and wondered how anyone could ever make him feel so much all at once. Then he’d look down at his own arm and wonder how much it would hurt to go back to how it had been before, without Billy.

The Upside Down had taken so much from too many people, but Steve knew, standing on the second floor of Starcourt Mall, that he would be the one to ensure its downfall, no matter what.

Time moved both too slow and too fast, leaving Steve helpless to watch as Billy stood between El and the Mind Flayer, arms stretched out wide as if to accept his fate without fear.

He heard screaming, likely some of it was his own. He wasn’t sure how he made it to Billy’s side so quickly, just that he blinked and suddenly his knees were stained red from all of the blood spilling from Billy now. 

“Why’d you have to do that, you asshole?” Steve felt like he was choking on every breath, the air stinging against his chest as he watched Billy’s chest stutter and falter painfully. Please, take the air from my lungs. I don’t want it if you’re not here. 

“‘m sorry.” Billy’s eyes were on Max’s then, but the hand Steve was holding squeezed, as if to let him in on the secret too. 

He knew Billy had a complicated relationship with his step-sister, one that he’d admitted could have been better once they got out from under his dad’s roof. If they had more time.

It was like Steve was watching all of the time they were supposed to have melt away around them. It seeped out onto the floor like the blood that was supposed to be keeping Billy’s heart beating. 

“You’re supposed to stay,” Steve said the moment Billy’s attention turned to him. There was a glassiness to the man’s eyes, as though he wasn’t really seeing Steve. He’d take it anyway, because there wasn’t enough time to wait for Billy’s attention to refocus. He wasn’t sure it ever would. “What happened to graduating and getting the hell outta here? Getting in your car and just taking off?”

He’d balked at the idea of driving off without any plan, with minimal bags packed. Now, Steve would do anything if it meant they could have that future. They could slowly make their way to California, stopping at all of the cheesy tourist sites along the way. Steve would wrestle Billy into a dorky hat at the largest ball of yarn in the country and would make a solid attempt at getting arrested for trying to pet a bear at Yellowstone. He’d share sketchy motel rooms with him and complain about how uncomfortable the mattresses were, and even accept the teasing about him being a rich kid through and through.

He’d take all of it, for just a little bit of time.

Billy was coughing now, and the dark blood staining his lips and chin were only another sign of the inevitable. Even through all of that, he managed to say something. 

“I lo—”

“No,” Steve snapped out, hand still holding Billy’s squeezing tightly. No, it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to lose him, not when they were just finding out that they’d been right this whole time. “No, don’t say it.”

If he didn’t say it, they could have more time. They could have more, as long as those three words on Steve’s arm were never spoken aloud.

Except the light in Billy’s eyes faded all the same, and the words he’d never actually said felt like a mockery on Steve’s arm.

“Steve, you have to go to the funeral. You’ll be upset with yourself later if you don’t.”

Robin still came by, sometimes. He wasn’t good company, hadn’t been since Starcourt, but she sat with him anyway.

“He’s not dead,” Steve said, arms curling tighter around his pillow like if he just held on it might feel like Billy eventually.

“Steve.” The words were sad, wobbly with tears he knew she was trying to bravely fight off. 

“He’s not. He didn’t say it, so he’s not gone.”

They’ve had this conversation before. Once, three days after Starcourt when she was still required to watch over him in case his head injury from the Russian interrogation turned for the worst. It had been in the late hours of the night, both of them laid in his bed awake and staring at the ceiling. She’d turned to face him, hand coming out to hold onto her friend when he admitted what he knew. 

Billy couldn’t be dead, because if he was then he would’ve said it.

“I know you lo—” The word cracked harshly on her tongue. “I know how important he was to you. But he’s, there’s no way he made it. You know that, right? He’d want you to move on.”

The thought alone had a dull laugh building in Steve’s chest. The longer it sounded the more hysterical it came, until he was laughing and letting out hoarse sobs in between. Robin’s eyes were wide and her lips were parted in both shock and horror at the outburst, clearly not knowing how to handle him now.

“He wouldn’t,” Steve said once the laughter died down, leaving behind only the tears. “The bastard would’ve told me not to move on. He’d expect a mourning widow for at least a decade, maybe two. But I won’t do that because he didn’t say the words so he’s not dead. He can’t be, he’s too stubborn to die in this fucking town.”

“Have you…you didn’t say the words on his arm either.” Max, the little traitor. “You’re allowed to love someone even if they’re not the one, you know? Maybe there’s someone else out there, and that’s not to say you have to stop loving him, just that you can love this person too.”

It was the more reasonable answer, but the mere thought of accepting that Billy was truly gone sent his heart threatening to burst straight out of his chest. There had to be another explanation, because there was no way that the guy who snuck out near every night despite the threat of discovery simply so Steve wouldn’t be lonely in his big, empty home wasn’t his soulmate.

“I can’t mourn someone who’s not dead, Robin. Tell Max and Susan I’m sorry.”

When the Upside Down inevitably came back, Steve didn’t feel his usual amounts of fear.

He was determined—completely focused and ready to take down the thing that had taken too much from him already. 

When Max admitted that the visions being sent to her by the fucking thing were of Billy, Steve thought he’d only ever see in shades of red. 

Because how dare that monster try to twist and mutilate any of Max’s affection for her brother into something like guilt? How dare he try to ruin the shaky truce that they’d come to just before Billy died?

How dare that monster wear Billy’s face, and use his voice?

Even if it took the rest of him, Steve would make sure that nothing from the Upside Down to crawl its way into Hawkins ever again.

“Steve! What the hell happened?” That was Robin’s voice, though it sounded further away than he thought she actually was. 

He was still seeing in tunnel vision, vision slightly blurry and blood pounding in his ears as he surveilled the scene, ensuring no more of those demobats had appeared.

He didn’t even feel the bites taken out of him until the others got near, Nancy’s worried gaze focused on the exposed skin just above his hips. 

“Hey guys, I think I found the gate,” Steve forced out on his next heaving breath.

That was a lot of blood, wasn’t it? It seemed the Upside Down took his promise seriously and would try to take literal pieces of him with it. 

That was fine, so long as this ended with Vecna’s plan stopped short in its tracks.

“Something’s coming,” Eddie called out, eyes watching the treeline ahead of them as Nancy and Robin looked over Steve’s wounds. They wouldn’t be fatal, at least not for awhile yet. He still had enough time to avenge his soulmate’s not-death.

Steve didn’t have his trusty nail bat, or much else in the way of a weapon. But he’d taken down a pack of demobats with nothing but his hands (and teeth), so whatever had the nerve to attack them now would come to regret it, of that he was sure.

It had to be another trick. Maybe this was Vecna trying to take hold of Steve’s guilt now, forcing him to see the one thing that repeated in his head every night in his dreams. Because walking out of the trees now was Billy fucking Hargrove, still in a bloodstained white tank though having also acquired a jacket that looked suspiciously like one Steve used to wear constantly in his earlier high school years. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the fake Billy called out, “you’re doing what the fucker wants.”

Robin was nudging Steve’s arm, threatening to send him toppling into the dirt with how unsteady his injuries had already made him. She looked more hopeful than he felt, watching him with confusion as if she expected Steve to take off running into fake-Billy’s arms without question.

He knew Billy couldn’t be dead, but why the fuck would he be here?

The fake-Billy was upon them now, stood in front of Steve and looking at him with one eyebrow raised. It was this look that made Steve’s knees crumple in on his own weight, because God that was such a Billy move to challenge him even while announcing his not-death.

“You’re not dead,” Steve gasped out, stumbling back a step in an attempt to stay upright. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“Then why d’you still look like you’re seeing a ghost, Harrington?”

The smile on Billy’s face was small, a little tug of the corner of his lips like he was still insistent on hiding it around other people. It said enough, though. 

This was Billy, back from the dead. He hadn’t said the words and he hadn’t died, and all of that time Steve thought they’d lost was never really gone after all. 

The kiss was pretty bad, by Steve Harrington standards. He rushed forward too roughly and their teeth clicked together awkwardly as Steve grabbed both sides of Billy’s face and pressed their mouths together. They had a better kiss right after, when Steve pulled back and watched Billy with a wild gaze until the blonde pressed their lips together again, hands holding onto Steve so tightly he was sure there’d be bruises left behind later. He didn’t care, not when it was another sign that Billy hadn’t truly been gone.

There was something desperate and wild in Billy’s eyes too, like he hadn’t quite believed this moment would ever happen either. Steve didn’t know what he had to go through to survive this long in the Upside Down, and while he’s sure he’ll find out eventually he can’t bring himself to care in the moment because all he could think was Billy isn’t dead.

“I lo—”

“I know, me too,” Steve cut him off, never wanting to hear those words in Billy’s voice. He knew, too, that eventually he would just as he’d known that their end did not come in the main walkway of Starcourt Mall. But for now, he could find peace in delaying the inevitable, in letting their hold on each other say everything those words could have and more.

There was still so much to do, too many important parts of their lives to fight for and protect. It felt a little more possible, though, with Billy by his side.

After all, who else could say they cheated the universe? They’d confirmed for themselves what everyone else could only guess at: Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were meant for each other, and it was as simple as that.

I am so pleased to hand it off to the amazing and lovely @greyghoulclub ✨

[lovebillyhargrove]

A harringrove Greek Myths au

Where Steve has to go the world of the deceased to bargain with Charon - the ferryman who brings the souls of the dead across the river Styx to Hades -

For the soul of Billy Hargrove, Steve's lover.

Billy is not on the other side, yet. He's still in the ferry. It means, there is a wild chance.

Will Steve seal the deal? What will he offer?

[ghostlynimbus]

So I've been thinking about that Western! Hellcheer AU idea i had some more. And I have vague plot ideas planned for hellcheer and harringrove. And those plans involve Eddie and Steve being part of a gang of outlaws.

But who else should be part of their gang?

[enchanted-day-dreams]

Thinking about a Harringrove soulmate au where people with soulmate markings could potentially have multiple markings, with each soulmate fulfilling a different need in their other half's life. Most people wind up with a mix of platonic and sexual/romantic soulmates, and not every story ends happily.

Billy's case is particularly unique in that after Billy's mother left, his father - who was one of her soulmates - burned off the majority of Billy's soulmate markings, insisting he wanted to spare him the pain of having a soulmate who decided they didn't want him anymore. Only the edges of the markings remained, branding Billy as a freak like other unmarked souls. For years he tried to pretend it didn't matter to him, knowing any connection to his potential soulmates would be harder to maintain without their matching markings, but it still hurt to think about.

When the eventual move to Hawkins comes, Billy isn't expecting to do anything but survive until graduation, so he's caught off guard when he meets one of his soulmates, Steve Harrington, who wants nothing to do with the angry California transplant with seemingly no markings of his own.

[harringroveera]

Where Jim & Joyce adopt Billy, and it’s the first time he calls Joyce mom