#my harringrove fic

[stervrucht]

A little piece of art drawn to accompany the fics @runraerun and I wrote for a 'fight club' prompt. Rae's fic 'Put up your Dukes' and mine 'There's a gap where we meet', both rated E.

[cuepickle]

Here’s my piece to go along with @discodeviant’s fic for this year’s @bigbangharringrove

The fic is beautiful and angsty and absolutely captured my heart. If you’d like to read the fic (which I implore you to do right now‼️) head over to ao3:

⭐️ Highway star ⭐️

[princenotsocharming]

😴

[ihni]

The sound of the doorbell is what wakes him. The morning sun is shining in through the window, hitting the messy curls on the pillow next to him and making them shine like gold. The sight makes him smile, and his first instinct is to reach over and brush the curls away from his boyfriend’s face. There’s nothing better than getting to watch him wake up, after all; watch those blue eyes flutter open and squint against the light.

The doorbell rings again before he can act on his urge, though. It is followed by loud knocking, which rouses the body next to Steve; unfortunately in a less peaceful way than Steve had imagined. Billy’s eyes shoot open and he tenses as he immediately takes in where he is, and with who. Wide, blue eyes meet Steve’s.

“Shit!” he says and is halfway out of bed before Steve can even react, pulling a shirt – Steve’s, not that it matters – over his head. “It’s Neil!”

Steve has just opened his mouth to protest, say that it’s not – it can’t be, Neil doesn’t know about them – when there’s a knock again, and an angry man’s voice drifts up from outside.

And it is indeed Neil’s voice.

Shit.

Steve jumps out of bed too and nabs for the other shirt that’s been discarded on the floor – but no, no, he can’t show up at the door wearing Billy’s shirt, he can’t, so he drops it again before hurrying to his closet. He pulls on an old T-shirt, and then whirls around and grabs Billy’s face between his hands. Billy’s face, which has gone ashen with fear.

“Stay here,” Steve says. “I’ll get rid of him. It’ll be okay.”

He turns and walks out of the room, squaring his shoulders as he goes. In his periphery, he sees Heather’s head peek out of the guest room that she and Robin stumbled into late last night while blushing and giggling, but he ignores her as he makes his way to the stairs.

The knocking and shouting continues, sending equal measures of anger and fear down Steve’s spine. How did the man know to come here? Billy said he’d told him that he was going to a party last night; said that he wasn’t even given a curfew. The man would have had no reason to suspect that the party was in fact a very private affair at Steve’s place, with just him and Billy and Robin and Heather – a safe place, as all of them knew about each other’s preferences by now – and definitely would have had no reason to show up on Steve’s doorstep this early in the morning. As far as Steve knows, Billy’s dad doesn’t even know Steve by name, and shouldn’t know where he lives.

He’s halfway down the stairs when a hand grasps his arm.

“Don’t,” Billy says, voice shaking. Steve turns – he’s standing a step below Billy, so he has to look up to face him – and sees that Billy’s shaking his head. “Don’t open the door.”

He’s scared, Steve realizes. Really scared.

From outside the door, they can now make out Neil’s angry words between the bouts of knocking. “I know he’s in there! Open the door. William!”

Billy is just standing there, still holding on to Steve’s arm. His eyes are big and pleading. He’s obviously terrified, and it feels so wrong. No one who has fought monsters with the same fervor as Billy should ever have to be scared of a mere human.

A calm settles over Steve, followed by resolve. He gently extricates himself from Billy’s grip – ignoring the way Billy trembles – and says, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He continues down the stairs, but Billy shoulders past him and blocks his way. Puts both hands on Steve’s chest and pushes. “I don’t care if he hurts me,” he hisses. “But he’s dangerous.” The man yells some threats from the other side of the door and knocks again. Rattles the door handle for emphasis, this time. Billy flinches and looks over his shoulder before continuing, “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Steve says. He doesn’t know that for sure, but he can’t imagine it. This is his house, or, well, his parents’. Neil is the one who’s trespassing. And Steve knows the Chief of Police.

He walks past his boyfriend and crosses the hall. A hand lands on his shoulder again. Not forcing him to stop or trying to hold him back; just there. Imploring.

“Please,” Billy begs, and it pierces Steve’s heart like a knife because Billy doesn’t beg.

Billy, acting like this, is not right. The man on the other side of the door has brought Billy too much pain already. This has to end. And that end starts now. By getting rid of the immediate threat.

They’ll figure out the rest later.

Steve walks on. Stops in front of the door and only then realizes that Billy’s standing there with him, still with a hand on his shoulder. He’s watching Steve with big, wet eyes and shaking his head silently. Don’t do this, he doesn’t say out loud. Please, just ignore him.

But Steve can’t. Not this time. Not when the man is ranting on his doorstep on a Saturday morning, threatening to break in. Not when Billy’s standing here next to Steve, shaking with terror.

Billy is not getting hurt by that man in Steve’s house. If Neil tries to set one foot inside, Steve will kill him.

Steve reaches for the door, and with his other hand, he pushes Billy up against the wall just inside the door. Close enough to touch, but out of sight of his irate father. He can feel Billy’s heart beat frantically under his hand, and silently vows that this is the last time. This is the last time Billy is afraid.

He breathes in deeply and takes a second to slip into spoiled rich-boy mode. Then he opens the door.

“What?” he drawls, unimpressed. He gives the man outside a contemptuous look. The man draws himself up to say something, but Steve doesn’t let him speak. “Do you know what time it is? It’s Saturday, man. Some people are trying to sleep.”

Neil Hargrove is proper; not a hair out of place. It’s the first thing Steve thinks as he sees him up close – he has seen the man from a distance at times and listened in on the occasional phone call between him and Billy, but Billy has never let Steve even get close to the house on Cherry Lane when he knows that his dad is home.

The man is of average build and doesn’t look particularly dangerous from an outsider’s point of view, but there’s something cold in his eyes that sends shivers of fear down Steve’s spine when he’s pinned under Neil’s gaze. He doesn’t let his discomfort show, though; just lets the man take in Steve’s appearance fully – his messy hair, the way he’s just wearing a shirt and underwear, and how he’s obviously just got out of bed – and waits for him to speak.

“I know he’s here,” Neil growls – actually growls, like an animal. Steve sees movement out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t dare glance to where Billy’s huddling up against the wall. Instead he leans against the side of the door, placing himself more firmly between Billy and his dad.

He has seen the bruises on Billy’s skin and he has hated that he has to let Billy go back to that house time and again, but this is the first time he truly sees what Billy faces at home. He thinks, idly, that he won’t be able to let Billy go back there again.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and tries to make it sound as if he thinks the man isn’t all there in the head. By the way Neil’s face turns darker, he succeeds.

“My son, William. I know he’s here.”

“William,” Steve deadpans, as if it’s a word he has never uttered before. He raises one eyebrow. “Look, there’s no William here, man. You’ve got the wrong address. Go yell at someone else’s door. Or don’t, I don’t care. Just go away.”

He starts to close the door, but Neil’s hand shoots out and stops him. He doesn’t move to go inside, but he’s holding the door without letting it close, and staring at Steve with narrowed eyes. A challenge. A threat.

“I’m not leaving without my son.”

So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?

Steve draws himself up and narrows his own eyes as he stares back. He manages to dial back on the disgust, but some of it must shine through because he can feel himself sneering. “Who are you again?” he asks. Flippantly.

“My name is Neil Hargrove,” Neil says, pronouncing every syllable with obvious annoyance. Good. “And my son, William –“

“You mean Billy?” Steve says, letting surprise color his voice. “You’re Billy’s dad?” He doesn’t let the man answer, instead he lets out an incredulous laugh. “You think Billy is here?”

“His car is parked down the road,” Neil seethes, and oh. “You’re on the basketball team with him. And I know what he’s like. He’s a dirty little faggot who –“

Steve lets his face shut down. Slips on the mask that he has seen on his parent’s faces on many occasions during boring parties and work functions. The ‘do you know who I am’ persona. His voice is ice cold when he speaks.

“I’m not sure what you are insinuating, Mr. Hargrove, but if I were you, I’d stop talking.” Something like uncertainty flickers in Neil’s eyes. Steve drinks it in. “I don’t know if you know my parents –“ He nods to the brass plaque next to the door with ‘Harrington’ etched into it “– but I’m sure they won’t be too impressed when they hear that some lunatic showed up at their door on a Saturday morning, accusing their only son of being …” He holds Neil’s eye. Can’t – won’t – say the word the man used, not with Billy behind the door. “… a deviant.”

Disgust is dripping from his voice – disgust over this sorry excuse for a human, disgust over the fact that he has to deal with this at all – but that lends him credibility in this particular instance. He sounds just like an offended rich boy. An offended rich boy with influence.

As if on cue – which it most likely is, since Steve suspects that the girls have been listening in for some time now – there are soft steps behind him on the stairs, and Robin’s voice drifts out from behind him, “Steve? What’s going on?”

He lets the door open just a little bit wider under the guise of turning around, allowing Neil Hargrove to see Robin. Robin, whose hair is also sleep-mussed, and who is wearing an oversized button-up shirt. It’s not Steve’s – she must have taken it from his dad’s closet – but Neil doesn’t know that. She paints a perfect picture of a confused girlfriend who just woke up to the sounds of yelling, and Steve is so grateful that he’s friends with her.

“Nothing, baby,” he says, softening his voice. “Go back to bed.”

Robin hesitates with one more look at Neil. Licks her lips, as if she’s worried. “Should I … call someone? The police, or …?”

Perfect. Thank you for the assist, Robin.

“No, there’s no need to bother Jim this early in the morning,” Steve says, making sure to use Hopper’s first name, and turns back to face Neil. Neil, whose face has paled. Who has possibly started to realize that he may have messed up. Steve gives him a stiff smile and lets his voice go cold again as he continues, “Mr. Hargrove here was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hargrove?”

Too proud or too angry to say it out loud, the man just gives a jerky nod and steps back. Steve will take it, as long as he leaves.

Starting to close the door again, Steve sneaks one glance at Billy’s pale face an arms-length away, and adds, in a sudden bout of inspiration.

“Oh, and if you’re looking for Billy in Loch Nora –“ He gives Neil, who’s half-turned to leave, a slow once-over, showing just enough disdain to make it clear that someone like Neil Hargrove doesn’t belong in this part of town, “– then I suggest you try the Holloways next. I think I saw him with their daughter Heather at the party last night.” He gives a sardonic little smile at the way Neil Hargrove’s face shutters. Everyone’s heard of the Holloways, just as everyone’s heard of the Harringtons. “I’m sure Tom and Janet will appreciate being disturbed on a Saturday morning just as much as I have. Who knows, it might get you a mention in the Post.”

With that, he shuts the door in Neil Hargrove’s face and locks it, and turns to his wide-eyed boyfriend. Who hasn’t moved from his space behind the door.

He ignores both Robin running out into the kitchen on silent feet – probably to make sure that Neil Hargrove actually leaves – and Heather coming downstairs, in favor of putting his hands on the sides of Billy’s face and lean in so their foreheads are touching. Billy is shivering and his breaths are uneven, but he reaches up and grabs at Steve’s wrist and the back of his head with something akin to desperation.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispers. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” Steve says, and is rewarded with a shaky little laugh.

“Shit,” Billy breathes. “I was so scared, Steve. I thought he was gonna –”

“But he didn’t.”

They stand there for a little while, just looking at each other. Holding each other and breathing each other’s air. Gradually, Billy’s tremors subside. His heart rate slows.

Eventually, Robin comes back into the hall and announces, “He’s gone. Got in his car and left.” She adds, pointedly, “Didn’t look like he was heading for the Holloways’, either.”

Steve looks at her and then drifts his eyes over to Heather, who’s sitting on the second to last step on the stairs, looking at them with one eyebrow raised. He winces. “Yeah … uh, sorry about that, I guess. I should have asked first.”

“You should,” Heather agrees. “But you didn’t, which means that you owe me one.” She looks between Steve and Billy and says, “I would have agreed if you’d asked, but you know. You still owe me.”

Steve laughs. Heather turns to Billy and points one well-manicured finger at him. “So I guess we’re dating now, you and I. I hope you know that I expect to be wooed.”

After Billy gives her a little salute, she nods and turns to Robin. Smiles lewdly as she takes in her appearance in the oversized shirt. “You look good in that,” she says, biting her lip. “Let’s see what other fun clothes we can find in that closet.”

The girls disappear up the stairs, giggling. Steve has a suspicion that his parents’ closet are going to be in complete disarray soon, but can’t bring himself to care. It’s a small price to pay.

“Do you want to go back to bed, too?” Steve asks, and belatedly realizes what it sounds like. “To sleep some more, I mean!” he adds. Because a Neil Hargrove scare first thing in the morning is probably not exactly a turn-on. “Or do you want breakfast? I can make breakfast. We have –“

“I want to go back to bed,” Billy says, thankfully cutting off the rambling.

“Okay,” Steve says and reaches out for his hand. When Billy’s hand slots into his, is it perfectly steady. No more tremors. “Okay, let’s do that.”

But Billy shakes his head. “I don’t wanna sleep, though.”

“… no?”

Billy’s looking at him through his lashes – his ridiculously long lashes, which he knows is Steve’s Kryptonite – and gives a small smile.

“Not gonna lie, babe. That was a terrifying experience. But …” He takes a step closer, brushes the lightest of kisses against Steve’s lip before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “… the way you shut him down like that, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Then he abruptly turns and sashays away, but not before giving Steve’s butt a quick squeeze as he passes.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs with one hand on the bannister, and looks over his shoulder all seductively. “You coming?”

Oh, Steve is coming, all right.

He chases Billy up the stairs. (And this time, when he catches him, he’ll hold onto him and never let him go back to that house again.)

[theladycarpathia]

Billy’s not expecting the call from his dad.

“Billy?” Hop sounds distant, the faint sound of an idling engine in the background. Billy blinks, because his dad is at work and as far as Billy knows that usually means sitting behind a desk at the station and arguing with Flo.

“Don’t you have paperwork to be doing?” Billy says and Hopper snorts. There’s the sound of background traffic that’s then shut out by the clang of a car door.

“Don’t give me cheek, I am still the chief,” Hopper says as though that means anything in a small town where the most crime that they get is some drunk idiot attempting to rob the gas station.

“Yes, sir,” Billy quips and changes the channel. No one else is home and he’s bored. Jon and Joyce are still at work, and El and Will are doing weird nerd activities. The diner didn’t have a shift for him today and he doesn’t have a date, so he came home. He’d half expected someone to be here, instead of getting stuck with a protein bar and old reruns.

“That’s more like it,” Hopper says and then clears his throat awkwardly. “I was just wondering…are you definitely single?”

“Dad,” Billy says, attention now fully away from the TV set. Hop’s called him before, to ask him shit like do they need milk and to take the trash out. He doesn't call to talk about Billy's love life. They never talk about that, not after that time Hopper came in his room without knocking. “What is your next question, because this could make the next family dinner a little uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Hopper gripes. There’s the sudden cackle of laughter in the background and Billy sits up.

“Are you with someone?” he asks and then sucks in a breath at the implications. “Did you put me on speaker?”

“I may have done,” Hopper says, sounding sheepish. “I just picked up a young man outside the movie theatre and he’s about your age…”

“I’m nineteen!” the mystery guy hollers from the backseat. Hopper keeps talking like the guy hadn’t spoken.

“I don’t know, I just thought he was your type.”

Billy presses a hand to his temple, unable to believe that his dad has just said those words. “What’s my type?” he asks, wondering if he’s going to combust right here and now. Hopper makes that little awkward throat clearing again, like he can’t believe the situation either.

“You know,” he says stiffly. “Sort of…pretty.”

Oh God. Billy can never look Hopper in the eye again.

“You think I’m pretty?” the guy asks curiously, and Billy can’t blame him for sounding a bit weirded out.

“I think you look like a lot of the doe-eyed pretty-boys my son brings home,” Hopper snaps. Despite his obvious discomfort, Billy can’t help the rush of affection at Hopper trying to be supportive. Neil would have beat the shit out of him. Hopper tries to hook him up with appropriately aged delinquents in the back of the police car.

“A lot?” the guy asks and Billy flushes. He then regrets it because he has no idea if he even wants to impress whatever guy Hopper has picked up.

“It’s not a lot,” he says defensively because Hawkins isn’t exactly big on the gay scene. His last boyfriend he met at Tina’s Halloween party and to be fair, if you wear a kilt and not a lot else to a party in October, Billy’s absolutely going to beg you to rail him in the downstairs cloakroom. The relationship hadn't exactly worked out.

“Look, I get the feeling I’m never going to hear the end of this so here’s the situation,” Hopper says, sounding tired. “This is my son, Billy. He’s about to finish high school, he likes cars and burgers and loud music. He has shit taste in men even though he’s attractive, clever and a smart mouth. Billy, this is Steve. I was on my way back from the mayor’s office when I caught him peeing in an alley. Judging by his big brown eyes and the fact that public nudity doesn’t seem to be a problem for him, I thought of you.”

“Aww,” Billy drawls, sitting back on the couch. There are lights in the drive so someone has just arrived home. Which is good because he needs to tell everyone this story so they can give Hopper shit about it over dinner. “Pops, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” Hopper says, like he hasn’t already done everything for Billy by getting him out, giving him a home. “I’ll take an extra polaroid when I process him.”

“I had to take a leak!” Steve protests and Hopper sucks in air through his teeth.

“There are public bathrooms, kid, I’ve heard those work pretty well. Billy, help your mom with dinner when she gets home.” Sucks for Hopper, it’s Jon heading up the path, keys dangling from his fingers. Billy can’t wait to tell him this story.

“Or what, you won’t bring me any more dates?” Billy asks, but he’s only half-joking. Hopper means well and kind of fucks it up a lot but this time he might have hit it right on the money. He thinks he might like Steve.

“Do I get a picture?” Steve asks. “Or does the Hawkins Police just pimp out young innocent men with full bladders?”

Oh yeah. He’s definitely going to like Steve.

“I have a picture on my desk,” Hopper admits grumpily. There’s the jangle of keys in the door as Jonathan lets himself in. “You can look at it if you’re good.”

“And what if I’m not?” Steve asks and Jonathan walks in just in time to raise his eyebrows at Billy.

“I can help punish him, if he’s not,” Billy suggests, and Hopper hangs up the phone just as Steve begins to laugh.

This has probably been done before because it's based on that famous tumblr post but it's so dull during school holidays I have nothing to do but write. And I have no in progress Harringrove fics which is probably a problem I should fix.

[dreaminginpencil]

Billy is treating the little boy in the water very delicately. The boy can’t be older than three, and he clings to Billy, whimpering, scared of the water. Billy soothes him by speaking in low tones; he holds him under the arms and allows the boy the time to kick and squirm, long enough to realize that the water isn’t hurting him, and Billy won’t drop him. Steve sees in real time as the boy calms down, and the two of them glide through the water until he’s comfortable.

Made for the Harringrove BB for @billysblueeyes’ fic squeeze your hands (around my bleeding heart)

[bigdumbbambieyes]

"Do you ever think of me?"

The question is mumbled into the skin of his neck, where Steve's mouth is pressed.

Billy had thought Steve had fallen asleep, but. Surprise, surprise.

And it's honestly such a stupid question that he considers not answering it at all.

But, he knows better.

"Always," he murmurs, turning his head to press a sweet little kiss to Steve's forehead.

"You promise?" Steve whispers, his voice quiet and small, insecure. He gets like that, sometimes. Not as much as Billy, though.

"Cross my heart," he replies just as quietly, pressing another kiss to the bridge of Steve's nose, soothing him.

It works, if the soft little happy noise his boyfriend makes speaks for anything.

"Love doing this with you," Steve murmurs as he lifts his head, his face finally peering out from its hiding place and Billy can see that pretty face in the dark of their room.

He would know Steve's soul in the dark, just like this.

"You love doing nothing?" Billy smirks.

Steve nods, "With you."

It's so disgustingly sweet, it could almost make Billy sick.

What makes him feel worse is that he's been thinking the same thing for a while now.

Just laying here, in their bed, cuddled up and breathing has Billy beyond happy. It's peace. It's love. It's his.

It's theirs.

"Yeah," Billy whispers, turning onto his side to cup Steve's face in the dark, his lips finding that wide Cupid's bow far too easily, their noses gently bumping as he murmurs into his boyfriend's mouth, "Love doing nothing with you, too."

[harringroveera]

Billy: Buckley, what are you doing?

Robin: I’m about to go out and see how Steve’s date goes

Billy: Harrington got a date? Which unfortunate girl got set up with him now?

Robin: Someone in class. I’m just there in case he needs rescue, if it’s a horrible date

Billy: Alright, you want a ride?

Robin: …you want to give me a ride to go see Steve?

Billy: Sure

Billy: And then maybe I can stay to watch Harrington with you too. Clearly, just in case his date is too persistent and I gotta work my charms on her to save Harrington’s ass

Robin: …

Robin: Okay, sure, whatever

Billy: Anyway, you think my hair’s okay?

Robin: Yeah?

Billy: Okay, cool, let’s go

[runraerun]

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Steve is normally pretty good at bouncing back from things. Minor inconveniences and catastrophic disasters alike, and then some.

Today is the fourth day in a row that Billy has come home to find him tucked into bed before five o’clock has even come to pass, when the sun is still a while off from setting and the crickets have yet to chirp.

It’s safe to say that whatever he’s hit must be sticky, because the bounce back isn’t coming anytime soon either.

Billy goes about his routine as usual. Unlaces and kicks his boots off by the door, empties his pockets on the entryway table, and makes for the bedroom.

The first tell-tale sign that something’s wrong is the darkness in the kitchen — nothing heating on the stove or in the oven, no spices lingering in the air or onion skins piled on the counter. Steve will open the windows and busy his hands washing vegetables in the sink, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood as he pours through one of several cookbooks, trying to make something new and interesting.

It’s part of his evening routine. Helps him decompress, in a way, because he can focus on the words on the page and using his hands without having to talk or listen to anything but the calm sounds around him.

Then once Billy gets home, he blabs on and on about whatever comes to mind, and Billy listens as he eats whatever’s been made.

It makes for a good night when Steve cooks.

When he hasn’t, like tonight, a significant ripple disrupts Billy’s routine. Only he couldn’t give two shits about the food being ready when he gets home.

He gently knocks on the doorframe before he pushes the door open, letting a rectangle of light spill into the room. A sliver of it touches the bed, enough to highlight a partial figure under the covers, and Billy’s brows crease together as he slowly approaches.

“Hey, Stevie,” he coos. Sits on the edge of the bed and reaches a hand out to feel over the blanket, palm resting against Steve’s bicep. “Long day again?”

“Mm,” Steve hums.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t beg for a kiss like he usually does, and Billy frowns.

“You okay?”

“Mm.”

“Did I do something? Feel like I haven’t seen you all week…”

For a few beats, Steve just lays there. Then, he sighs.

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong? I’m walkin’ on eggshells here because I’ve felt like you’re pissed at me.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Steve grumbles.

Billy furrows his brows.

“Well, shit, Harrington, I’m glad we cleared that up. Next time I feel like caring about my boyfriend, I’ll just go fuck myself instead.”

He stands up and steps toward the door, stopping before he’s crossed the threshold. Behind him, he hears a sniffle, and sighs as he rubs a hand over his face. Turns back around and makes his way to the bed again.

“‘Kay, I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry,” he says. Sits back down and fiddles with his ring on his middle finger. “I’m worried about you, baby, but I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

It’s quiet between them for a moment. Steve sniffles again, and there’s movement under the covers — presumably him lifting his hand to smudge the tears away from his eyes.

Billy scoots closer and sets his hand on Steve’s arm again for reassurance, rubbing softly up and down.

“I’m just— I feel useless, I guess. I don’t know,” Steve says.

His voice is low and raw. Vulnerable. Billy wonders if he’d been crying before he came home.

“Feel useless how?”

“I don’t… I don’t have anything. I’m nothing.” Steve lets out a shaky sigh and curls closer to himself. Billy’s expression drops. “I’m not smart enough to go to school and make a future for us, and, like, I know working minimum wage isn’t bad, but I want to… I want to have more for us than this, y’know? I’m a failure at everything I fucking try, and I’m scared this is it.”

The brunet chokes out a hushed sob. Turns his head to bury his face in the pillow to muffle the sounds of his strangled breaths.

Billy leans over his partner in a half-hug, laying his head on his shoulder and pressing him down into the mattress. It has Steve taking a somewhat slower, somewhat calmer breath. The first of more to come.

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

Steve swallows thickly, and his throat clicks.

“A while,” he manages. “I try not to think about it.”

“Sweetheart, not thinking about it isn’t gonna help you. Trust me, been there.”

Below him, Steve huffs.

For the first time in a while, Billy’s mind wanders to places he thought were forgotten. Closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheek against Steve’s shoulder as he rubs over his back.

“Y’know, I never told you this before, but I used to think I was unlovable. Wasn’t anyone’s first choice for my whole life ‘til I met you,” he murmurs. Steve’s breathing slows, and Billy spreads a little smile. “If you don’t have anything, Steve, you have me. I’d choose you and our shitty apartment over some sugar daddy with money and a mansion any day of the week.”

Steve sniffles.

“Yeah?” he rasps.

“Mhmm, and you’re not a failure, and you aren’t stupid. Just ‘cause you have hobbies that you don’t make money off of doesn’t mean you aren’t talented either — your customer service skills are honestly scary and I think I’d gain five hundred pounds if you got any better at cooking.”

Billy cracks a grin when Steve snorts. Turns his face downward and kisses his shoulder.

“Five hundred pounds, huh?”

The blond quirks a playful brow.

“How many servings do you have to make when you cook for us, Bambi?”

“I dunno, like, four?”

“And how much do we usually have leftover?”

There’s a short pause, and then Steve chuckles.

“None.”

“Uh-huh, exactly.” Billy props himself up on his hands and gently pushes Steve’s shoulder until he rolls onto his back. “You’re smart, you’re passionate, you’re somebody, okay? If anyone ever tells you otherwise, I’ll buy a gun.”

Steve laughs, and Billy leans down to kiss just below his jaw.

“You’re a dork.”

“No, I just love you.”

Arms slide out from beneath the covers and drape around Billy’s neck, guiding him closer.

“I love you too.”

Steve tilts up into a kiss when Billy lifts his head. The blond hums against him, chewing his lip when they part.

“Wanna come heat something up and cuddle on the couch?”

Steve shrugs, his eyes lingering on Billy’s lips in the short distance.

“How about we order out and take a shower? You smell like motor oil.”

“You like it when I smell like motor oil.”

Fingers card into Billy’s hair, and he exhales a small sigh when they tug lightly.

“I like scrubbing it off of you even more, though,” Steve lilts.

Billy snickers and brushes their lips together again, melting down into his partner like sugar in a sun-warmed glass of tea. When they part, he lingers close, mere millimeters away from sharing another kiss.

“Lead the way, pretty boy.”

[ickypuppi3]

only child steve who never learnt to share, being so extra and possessive when it comes to things that are his. steve getting real weird about billy hopping off his case all of a sudden and hanging around with other people. steve pushing back, getting on billy’s case ‘cause- that’s his, that attention is his, billy is his

[stervrucht]

There's a gap where we meet - Chapter 3 is out now!

[cuepickle]

A bonus drawing of Steve that I drew for act III of Highway Star by @discodeviant for the harringrove big bang!

If you haven’t read the fic already, you can start here: Highway Star ⭐️

[chrisbitchtree]

But I Realized That I Need You

It may be my birthday today, but per my now annual tradition, I'm gifting you guys with Harringrove fic!

2.2k - T

***

Steve knew that he should just feel lucky that he’d had the amazing summer that he’d had. It was a million years away from what he’d imagined as he waited to be called to accept his diploma at graduation, which was scooping ice cream for bratty kids at the mall by day and sitting alone in his room counting down the weeks, days, hours until his dad forced him to grow up and join his company, put on a suit, tie around his neck like a noose, and get a real job.

Finally, his name was called, and the principal gave him a firm handshake and a rolled-up piece of paper, which he’d managed to earn only by the skin of his teeth, and with a lot of late nights spent studying with the reluctant help of Billy Hargrove, who’d turned out to be just as good an English tutor as Steve’s teacher had promised he would be.

He’d helped Steve understand the book he had to read for his exam, and in exchange Steve had handed him a hefty cheque from his father, which Billy had pocketed with a sneer, and Steve thought that would be the last time they’d have to interact, if he was lucky. It’s not like they’d be running in the same circles once Steve fled Hawkins High for good.

But of course, Steve hadn’t accounted for the possibility that his new coworker, Robin, would have secretly landed one of the hottest girls in school, Heather Holloway, or that when Steve got back from the fancy steakhouse graduation dinner that his parents had insisted on dragging him to, Robin would call him and ask him to hang out with her and Heather, or that when he’d get to Robin’s house, Billy, Heather’s new coworker at the pool, would be there too, changing the course of his entire summer.

Things hadn’t gone well that first night, both Steve and Billy trying to leave before Heather had told them to stop acting like children, sit their asses down, and watch the movie. They’d bickered through the first half of it, at which point Heather paused the movie and tried to force them to both leave, but Steve was stubborn and so was Billy, so they’d shut their mouths and sat in silence until it ended.

Neither had stayed very long after, but the ice started to thaw between them the more they all hung out, as Steve realized that if he wanted to hang out with Robin, which he did, he’d have to deal with Billy being there too, so he might as well try to make the best of it.

He’d say that it was Billy’s turn to pick the movie when it wasn’t or let him pick the third topping on their shared pizza, and he’d compliment Billy’s rings or his hair. Slowly, Billy started to reciprocate. He’d grab Steve a beer when he was getting another for himself, or he’d offer him the last hit off the joint, and when he’d come into Scoops with Heather, he’d not only pay for his ice cream, but he’d also leave Steve a tip.

Then, one night, while they were hanging out at Steve’s house, Robin and Heather went off to find a room for some alone time, leaving Billy and Steve out at the pool. One minute, they were engaging in their ongoing debate about whether Steve should be able to play Madonna on his own stereo system while he had guests over, and the next, Billy was kissing him.

It wasn’t a particularly nice kiss, given that Steve was blindsided by it and didn’t even have time to react before Billy was pushing away and running for the gate from the backyard to the front. Steve sat stunned for a minute before he realized that if Billy was headed for the driveway, he was most likely going to drive drunk, so he hopped up and followed him.

He finally caught up to him just as Billy was opening the door to his car. “Billy, wait,” Steve said, placing a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “You don’t need to go, it’s ok. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Won’t tell anyone what?,” Billy replied. “That you tried to kiss me?”

Steve sighed. Oh great, so that’s how this was going to go. Whatever, he’d agree to almost anything if it meant that Billy wasn’t going to drive right after having six beers. “Sure, yeah, if you just come back with me and sober up, I won’t tell anyone that I tried to kiss you.”

Billy nodded. “Ok then, yeah.” He closed the car door and followed Steve back into the backyard. Steve went into the house and grabbed a tall glass of water and a bag of chips, and they sat in silence while Billy drank and ate.

Neither of them mentioned what had happened, but just three days later, they kissed again, this time in Heather’s basement while Heather was out picking up Robin from work. Neither of them had really initiated it that time, both just meeting in the middle. They didn’t even notice that they had company, as wrapped up in each other as they were, making out like their lives depended on it on the loveseat until Robin flashed the lights, telling them to get a room, and Heather congratulated them on finally getting their shit together.

Their faces flushed, hair a mess, and their lips kiss swollen, they reluctantly pulled apart, and Steve willed his dick to go down, thinking of his elderly math teacher, Ms. Cotes, and the smelly garbage he had to take out when he got home. Finally decent, they sat up, a pizza was ordered, and a movie put on the tv, and the night went on like usual. The only difference was how close Billy sat to Steve, practically in his lap.

It wasn’t something that was really discussed amongst the four of them, but now that Robin and Heather could trust that Billy and Steve could be left alone together for over an hour without trying to kill each other, the nights they all hung out were clearly divided into two parts.

Either they’d swim or watch a movie and have dinner or snacks, and then separate into pairs to find empty rooms, or they’d do the opposite, none of them willing to wait to be alone with their significant other.

Over the next couple months, Steve got to know Billy in ways that he never thought he would. He mapped every inch of his body with his hands and lips and tongue and got to experience the incredible pleasure of being inside Billy and having Billy inside him.

He also told Billy about his broken relationship with his parents, and about his fear for his directionless future, how he was scared that he’d die never having amounted to anything, and he listened as Billy told him about the pain of losing his mother, and the horrific abuse from his father, and how it felt like no one in this world truly loved him. Steve wasn’t brave enough to say it, but he knew that couldn’t be true because he loved Billy so much it hurt.

Late one night, in the heat of the moment, they’d made the decision to become an official couple. Steve had a boyfriend, and his boyfriend was Billy Hargrove. He still couldn’t believe it, and he couldn’t be happier.

Which was why it was so painful to think that he’d now have to break things off with Billy, but Steve knew it was the right thing to do. Billy was about to start his senior year of high school, he was almost certainly going to be the captain of the basketball team, and he was going to be applying to colleges, and he’d need to keep his grades up so that he could get scholarships to help pay for school. Plus, he’d probably want to spend his weekends at parties and was picking up a part time job at a garage now that the pool would be closing for the year. He didn’t need a hopeless loser like Steve hanging around and fucking things up for him, dragging him down.

Steve had tried to delay the inevitable as long as possible, but the evenings were getting chillier, the sun setting earlier, so Steve knew it was time. Not wanting to cause a scene in front of Robin and Heather, Steve had asked Billy to come over to his house so they could hang out just the two of them. Hearing the doorbell ring, Steve took a deep breath and stood to rip off the band aid.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Billy greeted Steve, a smile as bright as the sun on his face. Fuck, of course he had to look so happy. That was only going to make things harder.

“Hey,” Steve replied, closing the door behind Billy as he stepped inside. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Billy said, a frown replacing his smile as he took in Steve’s tone.

They sat down in the living room and Steve decided to just spit it out. “I’m sorry Billy, but I think we need to break up.” He continued on with his list of reasons for ending things and finished by saying he’d always be happy for the summer that they shared. He couldn’t keep the tears from his eyes by the end.

He braced himself for Billy to yell or storm out, but to Steve’s surprise, the other boy started laughing. He squinted through his tears, failing to understand what could possibly be funny about this. “Did you hear me, Billy?” he asked. Billy just laughed harder. Yeah, maybe that was it. Maybe Billy had misunderstood what Steve was telling him. Oh god, he was going to have to go through it all again.

“Billy, I’m breaking up with you.” He said it slower this time, hoping Billy would catch on.

“I know, princess, I heard you the first time,” Billy smiled, taking Steve’s shaking hands in his own. “I’m not accepting the breakup though. You say that this is what’s best for us, but did you ever ask me what I wanted? If I thought this was the best thing for me?”

Steve shook his head, more tears falling.

“Exactly,” Billy continued. “You never once asked me, and if you had, I would have told you that that’s definitely not what’s best. I hate that you’re making me get all emotional, but did you know that since dating you, it’s the first time I’ve felt a real sense of hope about things since my mom died? I can’t help smiling every time I think about you. It’s disgusting.

I can’t imagine a future without you, Steve. I was going to ask you to move to California with me next year. Well, I’m still going to ask, actually. Since you know, you’re still my boyfriend. And if you’re my boyfriend, I think it stands to reason that I’m still yours. You’re gonna look pretty fucking stupid when you’re out at the bar trying to pick up chicks with your boyfriend hanging off your arm, don’t you think? And imagine moving in with some girl, getting married, starting a family, and there’s your boyfriend in the room down the hall. Are you gonna tell her goodnight, then come cuddle with me? I don’t think that’s going to fly with anyone, so I think it might just be best to stick with me, ok?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, I know what you’re saying, but trust me, it’s better this way. Just go.”

Billy stood, walked to the door, and slipped on his shoes. “Alright then, if you’re really sure, I’ll go.”

“I’m sure,” Steve said. “Just go.”

Without another word, Billy left.

Steve stood in the silence, his weeping echoing in the cavernous room. For a minute, he was able to tell himself that he’d done the right thing. He’d done Billy a favour. Then he realized what a fucking idiot he was and went sprinting for the door, hoping he could catch Billy before he was gone. He ran out to the driveway only to find Billy sitting in his car, watching the door, a small smile on his face.

He stepped back out when he saw Steve and walked back up to the house.

“Thought I told you to go,” Steve grumbled, even though he couldn’t be happier to see Billy right now.

“I know, but I figured I should wait around for a bit. I had a funny feeling you might make your way out here eventually, and I wanted to be here when you did. Like I said before, whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me. I’m not breaking up with you.”

Steve nodded, too shocked to say anything as he let Billy wrap him in a hug.

After a minute, he steered Steve back into the house, where he got him a tissue then they sat on the couch as he rubbed soothing circles on Steve’s back. “Next time you decide to make a decision for both of us, consult me, ok, pretty boy?”

“Yeah,” Steve choked out, laughing through what were now tears of joy as he held Billy closer, tighter, vowing to never try to let him go again. “Yeah, ok, I’ll ask my boyfriend next time. I promise.”

[ihni]

Author spotlight: @robthegoodfellow

Thought I'd go ahead and rec some favorite fics of mine by the same author, because a) why not? and also b) they're awesome. So!

Sideways (Harringrove) Such a good read! This was the kind of fic that I couldn't even read just whenever, oh no, this one deserved focus, so I had to treat myself to a comfortable space and time to spare when I read this, because I didn't want to just speed through it. This fic deserves to be indulged in. They boys are written so very well and so are their growing relationship. (Not-really-spoiler: Chapter 4 is my favorite chapter <3)

Drummer Boy (Billy-centric, also Harringrove) This is such a lovely piece of writing, following Billy from his childhood and up until Hawkins, told in his memories of ... beats. Different kinds of beats, that he has always been able to hear. It's a darnright joy to read, and leaves you hopeful in a way that feels so much it's almost heavy.

Love and Hate and Love Her So (Billy-centric) Billy and Billy's mom. Heartbreakingly beautiful, and also just heartbreaking. Howcome it's always the people we love the most who can hurt us the most? This is such a good fic, and it leaves me aching.

Näcken in Loch Nora (Harringrove-ish) A different first meeting between Billy and Steve. A very different first meeting. This one is a mixture between outrageous and unexpected and just plain, uncomplicated fun. With a backstory! All wrapped up in a bite-sized fic that is as delicious as a three-course meal.

Billy Hargrove's Extensive Knife Collection (Harringrove) How can I not rec this? It was for me! And it's a short one and it doesn't really have a plot, but it focuses on one specific thing (I won't tell you what, you'll have to read for yourselves) and it does it well. It makes my face smile and my fingers itch to pick up a knife. (You'll understand when you read it, don't worry.)

¿Por qué no los dos? (Harringroveson) And finally, this one. Maaaan, this one. Listen listen listen. You think you can't write an aromantic character and have it be shippy? Think again! There are so many layers to being an aromantic, and there can still be so many wonderful and meaningful relationships with people, which this fic shows. This fic is SO dear to me, because a) representation and also b) it gives me hope. And it makes me yearn. And it makes me fucking HAPPY okay? It contains a lot of sex between three people but they work so WELL together even though one is not like the others, and they have their happy ending and I just. I just love this one. Please, if you're gonna read a fic today and don't know which one, go for this one.

[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.