#so this is pre-harringrove

[1-800-whatwouldbillydo]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Platonic Nancy Wheeler & Billy Hargrove Characters: Nancy Wheeler, Billy Hargrove, Ted Wheeler (mentioned), Mike Wheeler (Mentioned) Additional Tags: billy hargrove deserves a friend, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, wingwoman nancy wheeler, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear, Mentions of Karen Wheeler, Billy Hargrove & Nancy Wheeler Friendship, Nancy Wheeler Is a Good Friend, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, billy hargrove - Freeform, Nancy Wheeler Deserves a Friend, whos alive, Bookworm Nancy Wheeler, Bookworm Billy Hargrove, honestly one of my favorite hcs, Nancy is harringrove's number 1 shipper actually, no one knows what teds job is Summary:

Nancy doesn't talk much to Billy, but she soon learns they've got a few things in common.

[thevillainsfangirl]

There are some ships that you just know would be 100% canon if they were an M/F ship, and that's mainly what pisses people off the most in these situations.

It isn't just about the ship; it's also very much about the homophobia (whether the creators know it or not) that is preventing the ship from being canon when they otherwise would be.

(Addition.)

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

When Eddie found out that today’s D&D session was relocated to Steve Harrington’s new place, his blood pressure spiked.

The kids were all excited to go scope things out, which he couldn’t even attempt to argue with, so he decided to just keep his cool and coast through the night as if it were anywhere else.

Because that was a better plan than making a scene over nothing.

He and Steve have been cool, for the most part, since everything happened. The guy, no matter how charismatic or friendly he is, gives Eddie the shakes in a lukewarm, neutral sort of way. Makes him feel like he’s about to crawl out of his skin or smile so hard his face explodes.

And then there’s his roommate.

From what Max has shared within their little circle, Steve went and shacked up with Billy Hargrove. Probably the only other guy in town that Eddie has a fearful crush on.

He sees less of Hargrove. Only hears about him, really. Smiles and nods when Steve mentions his workout equipment taking up the garage and how the guy goes through groceries like nothing else. Max swears up and down that they’re friends, or something. Heavy emphasis on something.

Just another reason for Eddie’s hands to sweat when he pulls into the cracked driveway and sees the garage door wide open.

Steve is standing there with his arms folded over his chest, right beside the bench press. Striped polo tucked into his jeans, looking like perfect boy next door material.

Then there’s Billy.

Everyone else files out of the van, but Eddie stays put behind the wheel. Fingers wrapped around it like a tether. He almost jumps when Steve looks over his shoulder and smiles.

When Eddie finally climbs out of the van, the kids have all filtered into the house, leaving just the three of them outside.

It shouldn’t feel like they’re on a different planet, with the door still wide open and voices so close by, but it does. Steve nods at him, and Eddie shoves his hands into his vest pockets.

“How goes it?” Steve greets.

Eddie nods. Then shrugs. Then chuckles nervously, eyes flitting briefly to the bench press behind the other brunet.

Billy breathes softly, counting under his breath, but all Eddie can manage to think about is his happy trail peaking out from under his shirt, and how his shorts are almost too little. He catches a glimpse of the edge of a puckered, pink scar before he tears his eyes away.

“It goes,” Eddie manages, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. “What about you?”

Steve gives a half shrug.

“We just finished unpacking the last few boxes this morning, so we’re pretty much settled.”

There’s the clink of the barbell setting on the rack, followed by a grunt as Billy sits up. Eddie feels a little perverse just looking at him.

When did he get so thick?

“I’ve been settled since the first day,” Billy muses. Grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it up to wipe his face. “It’s all your damn trinkets that took so long.”

“Trinkets like the toilet brush and silverware?”

Steve bumps Billy’s shoulder with his hip, and the blond chuckles. Reaches out and sets his hand on the brunet’s other hip from behind, snaking a couple of his fingers under the belt loop there.

“Exactly.”

Steve shakes his head amusedly. Turns back to Eddie and almost makes him jump out of his skin again.

“So, how’s tonight gonna work?” he asks.

Eddie’s brows shoot up.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, the game,” Steve clarifies. “We probably just have to watch, huh?”

With both sets of eyes trained on him, Eddie’s blood runs cold.

“Yeah,” he says. Fiddles with the inner fabric of his pocket. “We’re in the middle of a campaign, so it’d be too late to introduce new players. You could join the next game, though, if you want. I could show y—“

“Pass,” Billy interrupts.

Steve turns and flicks his temple, which earns a hiss.

“Don’t be bitchy,” he scolds.

“No offense,” Billy says with a chuckle. “But I’ll probably just hang back out here.”

Now, Steve pouts, and Eddie mirrors it internally.

“All by yourself?”

Steve reaches out to lightly comb his fingers through Billy’s curls, and the blond cracks a smile.

“Unless somebody wants to join me.”

“So my choices are watch the nerd game or watch you be sweaty in the garage? I’m having trouble deciding, they both sound so fun.”

“I’m done, that was my last set,” Billy muses. “We could go on a walk, or crack open a couple of beers or something. Stevie’s choice.”

The brunet considers his options for a moment. Eddie watches with bated breath, internally wishing that Steve chooses to stay — as anxious as he was to come over, the thought of either of them leaving makes him feel worse.

Steve presses his lips into a line and tilts his head to the side.

“I promised Dustin I’d sit in on this one,” he says. Eddie’s stomach fills with relieved butterflies. “C’mon, there’s snacks. We can hang out on the couch and share popcorn.”

Steve’s doe eyes must be a weakness of Billy’s, because he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“M’kay, but I’m gonna shower first.”

The simple agreement has Steve’s face lighting up.

“Good, I don’t wanna have your stinky sweat on me anyway.”

As if being issued a challenge, Billy grins mischievously and stands up. Opens his arms around Steve, grabbing his opposite wrist and locking him in against his chest.

Steve squirms and pushes, huffing from laughter as he struggles, and it’s painfully obvious how genuinely trapped he is, unless they take things to the floor.

All Eddie can think about is how hard Billy’s muscles look, bulging beneath his skin, still glistening with sweat. How he’d look good rubbed down with oil.

“Oh yeah, pretty boy? Scared I’m gonna dirty you up?”

Steve snickers, face mere inches from Billy’s. The blond’s eyes flit down to Steve’s lips.

“Stop it, or I’m gonna have to shower too!”

“I mean, there’s enough room…” Billy murmurs flirtatiously. Loosens his grip ever so slightly, just enough so that Steve stops struggling. “If you aren’t too chicken.”

For a moment, Steve just huffs softly with that grin still plastered on his face. Then he shuffles one of his arms loose and pats Billy’s chest.

“Go shower, freak.”

Billy tsks, but lets go. Reaches down to grab his towel and his previously discarded Walkman and headphones before he heads inside. Steve watches him until he’s gone, and chuckles when Billy passes by the couch. Shoves Dustin off of the arm where he sits and sends him straight into Mike and Lucas’ laps.

There’s bickering from inside. Eddie finds himself smiling a bit, too, especially when Steve turns around to face him again.

“So, what was the plan? Am I ordering pizza?” Steve asks.

Eddie stares for a second, registering that he’s being spoken to, and shrugs.

“If you want,” he says. Then chews his lip, looking away momentarily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Steve looks on with faint amusement, likely because Eddie’s ears are burning red at the tips.

“You and Hargrove…” Eddie begins.

“Yeah?”

The words are right on the tip of his tongue, but suddenly there’s a lump in his throat.

“Do you… how’d you guys…” Eddie trails off. Knows that his face is painting red because Steve’s smile widens. “How’d you guys become roommates?”

Steve reminisces as he hums thoughtfully, and shrugs.

“I dunno, it sorta just happened.” Steve’s expression dims ever so slightly, and he purses his lips. “We’d been acquaintances for a bit after all the, y’know, stuff happened. We only really clicked after his dad skipped town.”

Eddie nods. He’d heard about Billy’s dad before, mostly through Max.

And only really about the fact she’s glad he’s gone.

“Seems like you guys are pretty solid now.”

“People on the block think we’re dating, so, yeah,” Steve chuckles.

Eddie’s brows raise slightly.

“You’re not?” he blurts.

For a beat, there’s silence. Steve’s face changes to something unreadable. Something between almost offended and surprised, and something else. Contemplative.

Before Eddie can backpedal, his skin steaming with embarrassment, there’s a loud thud as Dustin swings into the open doorframe.

“Guys,” he says, and makes them both jump. “You coming or what?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs.

He looks lost in thought as he turns around, and Eddie wants nothing more than to haul ass down the street as fast as he can, but he falls in step behind Steve instead.

Because the sooner things get started, the sooner he can leave.

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…

[harringroveera]

“Are you listening to me, Heather?”

“Yes, I am,” Heather said, rolling her eyes as she pressed the handset to her ear. “I’m listening to how much you blabber about your pretty boy, Billy. He’s so gorgeous. He’s so adorable! Have you seen him in his sailor costume!”

Billy snickered, his voice echoing through the phone. “Do I talk about him that much?”

“Only during work, after work, and before work.” She shrugged, brushing the nail file against the freshly painted nails. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I did this to myself, honestly,” she said, sighing softly. “I got you two together, now I’m suffering the consequences.” 

“Heather!” her mom’s voice echoed from inside the kitchen, and Heather looked up.

“What, Mom?” 

“Heather!” 

“I gotta go,” Heather said. “My mom is playing the game where she’ll keep calling my name until I come in to see her.”

“Want to go to the mall with me and Chris later?” Billy asked. “You don’t have a shift today, right?” 

“No.” She pursed her lips, pushing up to her feet. “Okay, yeah, sure. Maybe we can catch a movie.” 

“Cool. I’m picking you up in an hour.” 

She let out an approving hum, hanging up the phone and dropping the nail file to the couch before she strutted into the kitchen, where her mom was busy pouring orange juice into a thermos while she hummed to a song.

“Heather—”

“I’m here! God, Mom,” she said, stopping short before the kitchen counter with a forced smile on her lips. “What do you need?” 

“Okay, I need you to bring this lunch box to your dad,” her mom said. “It’s late now, but if you drive there, it’ll be faster. Your dad doesn’t like it when I don’t bring it on time.” 

“Why can’t he bring his own lunch in the morning when he goes to work like any capable person would?” 

“Don’t speak that way, darling.” 

Heather rolled her eyes, gazing at the brown lunch box on the counter. “I thought you always brought it to him, Mom.” 

“Oh, yes, but I have a spa appointment with Dorothy, Terese, and Karen. I won’t be back until later.”

“Why do you need to go to a spa?” 

“I’m going to the pool tomorrow!” 

Of course. Heather’s lips curled downward, but she didn’t say anything. Billy had a shift tomorrow, and that explained it.

“Don’t hang around with Karen Wheeler and her friends too much, Mom,” she said, turning around to grab a brown bag from the cabinet.

Her mom seemed surprised, though, as her eyes slightly widened when Heather came to put the lunch box and the thermos in the bag.

“Why would you say such a thing, darling?” 

She shrugged. “It’s just a general observation thing,” she said, taking the bag into her hand. “I’m going. And I won’t be back for lunch.” 

“Why—”

“I’m going out with Chrissy.” 

She left the kitchen without saying another word, going through the back door to the garage. It wasn’t that far from their house to the Hawkins Post, and afterwards she could head to Billy’s house, picking him up instead. Just one conversation with her mom had ruined the mood. She needed to get her mind off it for a while.

The mixtape Billy had put in the other day was still in the stereo, and Heather let it blast loudly on the way there, finding herself tapping on the steering wheel before she came to a stop before the building. 

Heather walked through the door, putting on a smile at the lady at the front desk. “Hi, Doris.” 

“Oh, Miss Holloway! Hello!” the lady said. “Are you looking for your dad?” 

“There’s quite literally no one else I’d be looking for here, Doris,” she said, holding up the brown bag in her hand. “I brought my dad his lunch, because he’s a grown man who still makes his wife bring his own food to his mouth.” 

Doris swallowed, the smile on her face twitching for a second. “He’s in the meeting room, sweetheart. But he’s already asked his assistant to get him lunch.” 

“Of course he has.” She sighed. “He has an assistant?”

“Oh, I mean the intern girl here, darling.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she gave Doris another smile and walked to the meeting room, her good mood souring even more the second she saw the group of men in the meeting room. 

She pushed the door in, and her dad’s head jerked up in surprise. “Heather! What are you doing here?” 

“Brought you lunch, Dad,” she said, stepping into the room and scrunching up her nose at the smell of cigarettes. “Mom has something else to do.” 

“Such a sweet daughter you are, Heather,” the man sitting next to her dad said. 

“Thanks, honey, but I’ve already asked someone to get the food for all of us.” 

“Well, I already drove here to give you your lunch, so you’re eating it, Dad,” she said, dropping the bag to the table and standing next to him. “Mom cooked all of that, and you’re going to absolutely neglect the effort she did for you?” 

Her dad pressed his lips together, and Heather smiled, patting his shoulder. “I think she made your favorite, Dad.” 

“That may be better than hamburgers.”

“Of course it is,” she said.

“You’re growing to be a beautiful woman, Heather,” Phil said, taking a drag of his cigarette, his eyes roaming over her body blatantly even with her dad’s presence here.

“Thanks. How’s that receding hairline of yours? Is it still growing, or are you going to be bald soon?”

Phil’s smile dropped, and her dad clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Heather, don’t disrespect them.”

“Tell your employees to stop staring at my ass then. I’m not even eighteen yet, I can get them arrested, you know,” she said, and all their eyes darted away from her body, which was a relief.

“Oh, here’s Nancy Drew with the food,” another man said, a hand resting on his stomach. His name was Robert, maybe. She could never be bothered to remember the names of these men. 

Her eyes flitted up to the person walking in through the door, and she wouldn’t say she wasn’t surprised to see Nancy Wheeler entering the room. She didn’t know Wheeler was working here, but again, they weren’t friends. 

Heather didn’t have the fondest of feelings towards any member of the Wheeler family, but that might have been spurred up just because of Karen Wheeler. And, well, that was enough of a reason already. 

Nancy seemed surprised to see her too, halting in her steps for a mere second before she resumed handing out the packed hamburgers from the brown bag she held against her chest.

“Where were we?” her dad said, tapping the pen in his hand against the table. “Yeah, we still need something good. We’ve been slacking these days.”

“How about a piece on Iran?” a man on the other end of the table said.

“I want something local.”

“I hear there's a beauty pageant at the fair this year,” Bruce said. 

He was the worst one here, and everyone knew it. Even Nancy, as she shot the man a look before she walked past Heather with hurried steps.

“Excuse me,” she whispered softly, and Heather stepped aside, letting her go around the table and giving the men their food like she was feeding a bunch of pigs in the hogpen. 

“Yeah, I'm looking for above the fold here, Bruce.”

“Then clearly you haven’t seen Lucy Lebrock, because I’m not sure she’ll fit above the fold!” The man held his hands over his chest, barking out a loud and unrefined laugh as Heather’s lips twitched.

How annoying it would be if she had agreed to work for her dad in the summer. She would have quit on the first day.

“Fellas! In six hours, we go to print. I need something real,” her dad said, rubbing a hand over his temple.

“Oh, I think they’re real.”

The men laughed, because, of course, that was the kind of thing they would laugh at. Heather sighed, clutching her car keys in her hand and patting her dad’s shoulder. She had to leave before she decided to say more things that would ‘embarrass’ her dad in front of his colleagues.

“What about Starcourt?” Wheeler began, stopping abruptly in front of the door, blocking Heather’s path.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her, including Heather, and Wheeler's throat bobbed, her eyes darting around as the anxious look painted her face.

“I—I was just…thinking,” she continued, shaking her head. “I mean, I know everyone loves the mall, but how many small businesses have closed since it opened?”

Her voice turned firmer as she went on. Heather could see that Wheeler wanted to be a journalist from the passion that filled her every word. And at least she could come up with a better article to talk about than any of these men here.

“Like, five on Main, at least. It's changing the fabric of our town in a way—” 

“The Death of Small-Town America,” Bruce said, and Wheeler nodded eagerly, seeking validation, seemingly the only validation she had gotten since she worked here. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

“But I think I've got something even spicier,” he continued. “It’s about the missing mustard on my hamburger.” 

Heather rolled her eyes, watching as a hint of dejection flashed across Wheeler’s face while the rest of the men burst into laughter like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

“You think you can follow the clues and solve the case of the missing condiment, Nancy Drew?” Bruce said, and Wheeler nodded, coming forward to take the hamburger back from his hand.

“Sorry.”

“Look out, Phil, she might be after your job!”

Wheeler turned around, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open, and Heather heaved a sigh, shaking her head.

“Can’t you just eat it without the mustard?” Heather decided to speak up, hearing the laughter die out in the room as she folded her arms over her chest. “What’s gonna happen if you don’t eat mustard? Will you die?” 

“I just don’t like my food without mustard,” Bruce replied, while she felt Wheeler’s stare from the corner of her eyes.

“Shame, I was hoping for the latter to be true.” She gave him a smile, turning to Wheeler with her hand stretched out. “Give me that.” 

Wheeler looked at her, eyes wide with confusion, before she put the hamburger in her hand. Heather tossed it in the middle of the table, wiping her hands together.

“You either eat it, or starve.”

“Heather,” her dad said. “Watch your language.” 

“Are you gonna sit there and let these imbeciles insult her? Would you have wanted them to say the same things to me, Dad?” she said, looking back at the men. “She’s an employee here, she’s not your assistant or your unfortunate wife. If you want one, get one, and get them to fetch your food instead.” 

“That’s her job,” Bruce said.

“Her job is to work on articles, like the one she just talked about, which, by the way, is much better than what you just proposed,” she retorted. “So, eat your burger with no mustard, or don’t eat at all. You could lose a few pounds, you know, before your wife realizes how much of a halfwit man you are. The only thing you’re good for is money, and you don’t even make that much.” 

Heather inhaled softly as she finished, flashing them a smile one last time, and it was her dad who spoke up first.

“You can have mine. It got mustard. I’ll have the lunch my wife made me.”

“God, you men and your goddamn mustard. It’s such a big problem!” she exclaimed with a deadpan look. “People are losing jobs out there!” 

She gave her dad a final look and pulled the door open. “I’m leaving, Dad,” she said without looking back, and she stepped out of the meeting room.

The last time she was here was Take Your Child to Work Day, which was four years ago, and she left with the same amount of annoyance as she did back then. It was insufferable to stay in a closed space with those men without losing her mind.

She waved at the ladies outside, getting into her car as fast as she could to drive to Billy's house. He wouldn’t mind that she was early.

“Jesus—” Heather kicked at the brake as Wheeler stopped in front of her car. She rolled down her window, poking her head out. “Do you have a death wish? I mean, I get that working here makes you feel like it, but don’t jump in front of my car.” 

Wheeler marched to the opened window, glancing at the empty street before crouching down to meet her gaze. “Sorry.” 

“Okay,” she said. “Is there anything else?”

“Oh, uh,” Wheeler began, resting her hands on the window, and Heather looked at her confusedly. “I want to say something.”

“Are you going to say it any time soon? Because I have somewhere to go.” 

“Yeah, I—” She exhaled sharply, her throat working and her shoulder stiff with tension. “Thank you.” 

“Is that all?” Heather said. “That’s what got you looking like you’re about to tell me you have an undying love for me? A thank you?” 

Wheeler’s face fell, and she stammered, “Well, I mean, you helped me in there, so I thought—”

“I didn’t do it for you.” She tapped the steering wheel impatiently. “I did it because those men were irritating me.” 

“Oh.” 

“And I don’t need your thanks, Wheeler,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s useless.”

Wheeler seemed taken aback, her lips parting. She uttered, “Well, still. I still want to say that. Actually, you’re the first person to ever stand up for me, and I—”

“Not for you.”

“Right, yeah, not for me.” She nodded. “It got them to shut up for once, and I felt like I needed to tell you that.” 

“It wasn’t necessary.” 

“But could you just accept it?” 

“Why do I have to accept it? I didn’t stand up to those men for you, Wheeler.” 

“I still want to say thank you—”

“What’s your problem with insisting on making me accept this?”

“What’s your problem with refusing to accept this? It’s just a thank you, Holloway.”

“And I told you it wasn’t necessary. Words are useless. I don’t need your ‘sorry’ or your ‘thank you’,” Heather said. “Now, would you please let me leave? The longer I stay here, the sooner I feel like the stench from those men is going to get to me.”

Wheeler furrowed her eyebrows, and she said, “Words are useless to you.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you accept other than words?” 

“My god, Wheeler, what’s with you and this need to please everybody?” she groaned. “If I just take your words, will you let me go?” 

“No, because I know it’s not genuine.” 

Heather blew an exasperated breath, chewing on the inside of her cheek, before she nodded. “Okay. Scoops Ahoy. Ask Robin for my favorite flavors.” 

“What?”

“Two scoops of chocolate pudding, one scoop of U.S.S butterscotch. Extra cherries on top. I work tomorrow at one. So bring it to the pool half an hour before my shift.”

“You want me to bring ice cream to the pool for you?”

“That’s what you’re insisting on,” Heather said. “Now, can I leave?” 

Wheeler blinked, straightening her back and taking a step back. “Okay, um, I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” 

“Thank you, again,” she said. “And sorry. Again.”

Heather eyed her expression, her gaze roaming over Wheeler’s face, her wide brown eyes, and her rosy lips. She seemed grateful. Genuinely grateful.

She lifted her hand and wiped the smudge of lipstick against the line of Wheeler's lips, startling her. Her pupils dilated, but she didn’t recoil from her touch.

“You have a voice, use it. They’re men, not monsters, though it’s pretty close,” she said, cradling the side of her face. “Speak up, Nancy Drew. You usually have a much smarter mouth than this.”

“You’ve been looking at my mouth?” Wheeler asked, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

She smiled. “Don’t be late, Wheeler,” she said, patting Wheeler’s cheek before she withdrew her hand and drove away into the vacant street.

Wheeler was still standing frozen on the spot when Heather checked her side view mirror, seemingly taking the time to process everything.

The smile was plastered on her face even as she hung out with her friends, and they might have both guessed that she did, in fact, stand up for Nancy Wheeler. So maybe she did, and maybe she thought Wheeler wasn't bad like her mom, not to mention that she was much prettier than Karen, but Wheeler didn't have to know all that.

[ihni]

Where do we go from here

For @mungroveweek, day 2: "touch".

(Read on AO3)

~~~

Billy can’t sleep, after coming back from Darktown. It’s a problem.

It’s not surprising, that he can’t sleep. He’s being kept in a lab he doesn’t know the whereabouts of, having samples taken with or without his consent, and having to submit to various testing on the daily. All of those are perfectly good reasons for a person not to be able to sleep. But Billy has slept next to monsters. Next to certain death. The lab is not the reason why he can’t sleep.

No, the reason why he can’t sleep – and the reason why it’s a problem – is Eddie.

Over the course of the last couple of months, ever since he found the other boy in Darktown, he’s managed to get used to lying next to Eddie. It was a struggle, at first, to let someone that close – even someone who was barely conscious during that first time, and who was not in the state of being able to hurt a fly for a long while after. But Billy gritted his teeth and stayed close, even though the sound of someone else’s breaths so close to him and the feeling of someone else’s warmth leaking into his own skin made his skin crawl, because he had to be close in order to protect him. Had to stay close enough to be able to reach out and touch, to make sure he was still alive.

He’d been alone so long, by then, that he wouldn’t even let himself consider that this guy – the first other human he’d seen since he ended up in this place – could die.

Billy refused to let it happen. Not on his watch.

So he stayed close. And then he got used to it. And, when Eddie was coherent enough to start to talk to him, and started engaging Billy in conversation, he found that it was more than getting used to it; he craved it. Was starved for it.

He never initiated anything on his own, but that meant next to nothing when it came to Eddie. Because Eddie was the most tactile person Billy had ever known. Couldn’t spot a boundary until he tripped over it and fell flat on his face.

And that was another thing. Perhaps it was the fact that Billy had seen Eddie on the verge of death, or that he’d helped the guy back to health – but Eddie just didn’t register as a threat on Billy’s radar. Which most people did.

But not Eddie.

He never planned on letting his guard down around him. Never planned on letting Eddie get under his skin like that. But in his defense, he thought they were stuck in that dark place forever; never even considered the fact that they could get out, or that someone would come back for them. In the end, of course, no one did. They made their own way back, thank you – and by then, it was too late. Billy’s guard was down around one person, and one person only.

A clink in the armor is weakness, and weakness gets you killed. Billy knows that. But he’s also not willing to give if up, this new thing, the way that he can allow himself to relax a fraction when he’s with Eddie and know that both of them are okay for the moment.

They’ve saved each other’s lives several times, and up until now they’ve slept curled up next to each other in whatever semi-safe place they could find in the dark and dangerous world they’d both gotten lost in. Here, in the lab? In this strange new place that is too bright and clean, where Darktown was too dark and dirty? Everything feels just as wrong, and nowhere feels safe.

So he doesn’t sleep. It seems to bother the white coats, because eventually they insist on giving him an injection to help put him under, claiming his body needs rest to heal properly.

Billy’s been healing on his own for over a year even before Eddie showed up, with or without proper sleep. But Eddie stands right there in the background when they say this, looking worried at all the medical mumbo-jumbo they throw at him, so Billy lets them put the needle in the crook of his arm.

He shouldn’t have.

His dreams are full of monsters and death – other people’s deaths, never his own – and when he finally surfaces, he wakes up swinging. Breaks someone’s nose, pushes someone else away so hard that they fall over a cart, spreading metal items everywhere with a loud clatter he barely hears in his panic. He ends up pinned to the linoleum floor by several people, screaming hoarsely at the feeling of unwanted hands on his body. There’s a sharp prick in his ass cheek, and the world goes fuzzy. Just before he’s pulled under again, the hands – and with them, the feeling of wrongness – disappear. Someone’s shouting, and then there are hands rubbing circles into his back – familiar hands, Eddie’s hands – and soothing words that Billy can’t make sense of.

He goes under again.

This time, there are no dreams that he remembers.

When he wakes, it’s to a quiet room with the lights off and curtains drawn. He’s in a bed, without any beeping machines nearby, and Eddie is lying in the bed with him. The bed is not made for two people, but they’ve shared smaller spaces before, in Darktown.

Eddie’s asleep, snoring softly against Billy’s shoulder. Billy gives the room a cursory glance to make sure there are no threats, and when he’s satisfied that there aren’t any – and that no one else is there – he allows himself to relax. He doesn’t fall back asleep, but he … rests.

~~~

He’s a legal adult, so they don’t have to let anyone know he’s back. There’s no one to tell, anyway: his dad apparently fucked off a year ago, and Susan moved to New York to be closer to Max, who’s in a facility there, receiving specialist care on the government’s dime after what happened to her in the summer. Billy hasn’t let himself think too much about it. Tries really hard not to, actually, because he’s already got so many other things to worry about.

Like where he’ll go when he gets out of here. Which they assure him he will, eventually. The doctors who are monitoring both him and Eddie are running out of excuses to keep them here. They’ve already officially released Eddie, but he has opted to sticking around. The doctors let him, simply because Eddie is the only one who Billy trusts.

And isn’t that a novelty? Trust.

But what else can it be? He is tense at all times, except when he’s with Eddie. He’s always looking for danger, always on his guard – except when he’s with Eddie. He knows Eddie’s got his back, hasn’t ever doubted him. The guy proved himself over and over back in Darktown, and then again here, with the doctors.

They’re sitting in the bed in what he’s started to think of as his and Eddie’s room. Eddie’s reading a book, and Billy’s reading over his shoulder. It’s some random sci-fi book. The cheap kind sold in paperbacks at gas stations – someone probably grabbed it for them as an afterthought. These people have probably learned enough by now to not want either Billy or Eddie to be bored.

They’re pressed up close together, and Eddie’s rubbing idle circles over Billy’s knuckles with the thumb of the hand that’s not holding the book, only pausing when he has to use it to turn the page. It’s calming like nothing else is. Which is … unusual, for Billy.

Because he isn’t used to kind touches. Hasn’t really experienced them since he was a kid. Everyone who has touched him, after, has either wanted to hurt him somehow, or wanted to use him in some way. His dad was more likely to slap him in the face than give him a pat on the shoulder, his classmates only wanted to leech off his popularity and all their touches felt fake, and the only boy he ever got intimate with before the whole Darktown thing – the only one he willingly lowered his walls for – well … apparently that had only been a convoluted way to get revenge. Billy still gets choked up when he thinks about it, so he tries not to.

Anyway. All that adds up to not a whole lot of kind touching. And then of course he spent a year in another dimension where every living thing wanted to eat him, which didn’t exactly give him ample opportunity to get used to being touched. At least in a way that won’t get him killed.

And then he found Eddie, quite literally stumbled over him. Eddie, who barged through Billy’s defenses with his entire being. Who didn’t even seem to notice all the instances in which he touched Billy without even thinking of it; an approving hand on a shoulder, a friendly clap on the back, even the occasional pinched cheek when he’d made Billy the butt of a joke. And Billy got used to it; to Eddie’s touch, Eddie’s presence, Eddie.

What he can’t figure out, is –

“Why are you still here?”

He hasn’t meant to say it out loud. It’s just. Eddie can leave. His uncle knows that Eddie’s alive. They’ve spoken on the phone and Billy knows that Eddie’s expected to come and live with him in Pennsylvania, where he moved to get away from the shitstorm in Hawkins.

“Uh,” Eddie says, turning his head and glancing up at Billy. Face open, like always. “Because they haven’t given me my own room, and you haven’t told me to fuck off yet.”

“No,” Billy says, shaking his head. “I mean … here. In this place. Why haven’t you left yet?”

Eddie’s technically dead, and also technically still a wanted man, so there’s nothing for him left in Indiana. Yet here he is, in this undisclosed location in a state that has brought the both of them so much pain and sorrow. Why hasn’t Eddie left yet, to go live with his uncle?

Something in Eddie’s face softens at the question, and Billy hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of it. He’s seen it before, on Eddie’s face. It’s not pity, which Billy used to believe; it’s compassion, mixed with something else. Something that makes something like hope build in Billy’s chest without his permission.

“Because they haven’t released you yet.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You think I’m letting you out of my sight after everything we’ve been through? I saw you punch a monster dog in the face with your fist, Bills. You’d just get in trouble without me.”

There is warmth spreading from somewhere inside Billy. It feels like a leak of something corrosive, something that erodes the walls he’s put up from the inside.

Damn it. No walls he tries to build last long around Eddie Munson.

“Says the guy who tried to fight the bats with a tennis racket.”

“Hey, that worked! … once.”

Unbidden, Billy’s lips twitch into a smile. “If only there hadn’t been like fifty of them.”

Eddie grins at the familiar argument and puts the book down. Gets comfortable against Billy’s side. “One out of fifty, that’s still progress. The first step to success.”

Billy puts his arm around his shoulder, tentatively. He might be getting used to Eddie’s touch, but he’s still not used to taking those steps himself. Eddie rewards him with a brilliant smile, though, and pulls his arm down so they’re closer. Almost cuddling.

“Admit it, tough guy. You’d be lost without me.”

Opening his mouth to reply, Billy can’t get the words out. He can’t say yes, even though it would be the truth. But he can’t lie, either, even if Eddie is no doubt expecting a quip or for them to continue their banter like they usually do. He doesn’t want to lie to Eddie. So he just opens and closes his mouth, without any words coming out. Eddie watches him, and there is something knowing in his dark eyes. In the end, he takes pity on him.

“Anyway, I don’t know if you remember, but I’m a wanted man out there. Which is pretty badass, but like, I probably have a bounty on my head, still. So maybe I need a big strong man such as yourself to protect me, huh? Ever think of that?”

“I’m not –“ Strong. Capable of protecting anyone. Good for you.

A man.

Eddie waves it away. “You punched a monster dog. In its non-existent face. With your fist. I’m thinking, that’s exactly the kind of guy I want by my side.”

And Billy wants to. He will walk through fire for Eddie. Will get in between him and anything that wants to do him harm for the rest of his life, if Eddie lets him. That seems like somewhat of a heavy thing to say now, though. So instead he says, “I suppose I can stick around for a while.”

Beaming – and probably seeing right through him – Eddie pats Billy’s cheek. Like he’s proud, or happy. Billy’s skin burns where Eddie touched him, but he doesn’t mind it. Burning is better than freezing, and Billy’s been cold for so long.

“Good boy.”

Ignoring the way his whole face flushes at that, Billy clears his throat and voices the question he’s been mulling on for some time now. “Where will I– we go, then?”

The grin is still on Eddie’s face as he says, simply. “The very nice people from the government has promised to reimburse us for our troubles as thanks for all the samples we have so generously provided them with. And since we’re both, you know, technically dead, they said they were going to give us new names, as well.” He raises an eyebrow. “Now, we obviously can’t stick around in Indiana. And I really want to see Uncle Wayne for a bit, so I figure we’ll pop by Pennsylvania first. But after that?” He leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy is so warm it feels like his limbs are melting. “We can go anywhere we want.”

Billy closes his eyes and exhales. Feels all the tension he didn’t even know he still carried around seep out of him. And allows himself, for the first time in many years, to hope for a better future.

[robthegoodfellow]

So, whenever they played, while one part of Steve gloried in the rush, the searing filth and carnal compulsions, another part would sink into that detached, calculating mindset, his every move calibrated according to an obscure data collection—What Baby Liked, Didn’t Like, Could Do, Couldn’t Do.

The 13 Days of Harringrove Kinktober is only two weeks away!!

How exciting!! And Happy October, everyone - it's officially spooky season! I'm going to celebrate by baking some yummy treats and watching a couple scary movies with friends. 🖤

As a bit of fun and to get each other riled up for the event, I dare you to reblog this post or reply to it with one sentence from your Harringrove Kinktober WIP!!

I hope you all have a great weekend - chat soon!

[hunnystufff]

read from the beginning

< Pages 109-118 - 119-127 - Pages ?? >

First of all: Pre-order for Morning Starship VOL 1 is ending tomorrow! So if any of you want to grab a copy, you should do it now!

I do plan on opening a pre-order again probably in December? Or January 25!

And secondly: Guess who forgot to post pages again? Right, I did.

BUT! Here they are! And you guys are now on the same page-count as everyone over on Insta, but since I tend to upload more pages at a time over here, you might soon be the ones with a little head start!

I also started Chapter 9 on Patre0n, after ages it seems, and I also FINALLY finished the whole story-board of the Comic! Only around 65 more pages to draw :')

Also little self-Ad and how to support me and my art if you want to!:

I opened Pre-Orders for the second batch of "Morning Starship VOL 1" You'll be able to order it until tomorrow!

I also opened Pre-Orders for a Comic that Includes my Patreon-only Comic "Nachtklang" and my Halloween Comic "Too cute to kill!"

I also have a Patre0n where you can support me! (This includes the NSFW-Chapter of Morning Starship, Nachtklang (a 46 page long Harringrove Comic and a new Halloween Comic that is 23 Pages long!)

I aaaalso accept Commissions from time to time, so just ask me if you are interested and I'll give you all the information!

Uh yeah- enough of advertising myself :') I hope you all enjoy the new pages! ❤

[fizzigigsimmer]

so you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but I just love hearing all your headcanons and takes on harringrove situations soooo… how would you think a pre harringrove Steve and Billy accidentally stepping under mistletoe moment go down? 😏

Billy would point it out first, even if he wasn't the first one to notice it. Are you kidding? It's asking for trouble but he doesn't have it in him to just let the opportunity squeak by unnoticed, the potential to actually feel what Steve's lips feel like pressed against is just too big a thing for him to sidestep. He has to open that door. Push push push, and pull Steve up to that line. It would feel wild - like taking his hands off the wheel while speeding down the free way - but he'd expect Steve to be his safety net. Steve to roll his eyes, and make pithy remarks and suffer Billy's taunting attentions until one of his friends - probably Robin or Nancy - inevitably comes to his rescue with some encouragement to ignore Billy's drunk ass. They'll drag Steve off somewhere he can pretend Billy and his lips don't exist, and enjoy the rest of the party. So Billy has to wring every last drop of pleasure that he can out of the moment while it lasts. While the possibility of kissing Steve is still alive and humming in the air all around them.

Only it spins out of control. Robin is standing right there and she's saying very littler in response to Billy's dares and the drunk heckling from Munson and some guy in a kilt. She's not telling Steve that walking away from this idiotic moment won't make him a chicken, so he's just getting more and more wound up. More and more eager to let Billy just have it, and it's just as electrifying as it always is. Billy wouldn't feel any less vindicated if Steve socked him one in the kisser instead of actually kissing him. Steve Harrington wants to put hands on him, and that is a marvelous thing.

Terrifying thing. Because pretty soon something's gonna have to give, and if Steve actually kisses him Billy's not gonna be able to fucking handle his shit. He knows that with sudden clarity when he sees the switch flip in Steve's eyes. The decision to just - fuck it.

So Billy's the one to do the sudden 180. The "forget about it" and the deflection, as he practically runs away to find 'better booze, easier pussy, anything less lame than Harrington here'. It's such bulshit. So obvious that he's the one who is chicken shit, and yet as usual nobody sees through it.

Nobody except Steve. Who fumes about it the rest of the night. Rest of the week even. Because he was ready to show Billy just how scared he wasn't and to call Hargrove on his bulshit, just to watch him back out. But Billy beat him to the punch and has the nerve to call Steve lame. It irks the hell out of him that no one sees what an annoying poser California is. He can't be the only one who thinks Billy's whole schtick is so highschool it hurts? Steve's secure in his masculinity thank you very much. But obviously Billy isn't. He backed out when he did on purpose just to save face, the prick.

He rants about it pretty much non stop until Robin finally snaps on their way to the New Years Eve party. "Steeeeeeve. Let it go. Cause it's sounding like you wanted to kiss him. Which, ew, but if you're really that put out about it, it's New Years and there are ways to rectify the situation."

Steve changes the topic.

[lovebillyhargrove]

@akioukun remember the wonderful harringrove au you came up with? It still gives inspiration every damn day - if not to create, then to get on with life ☀️🍂

***

Summer is slipping away unnoticed, dissipating into smoky pre-dawn mist,

Caressing Steve's eyelids with gentle sun rays that cut through the thin white lace of clouds in the bluest sky,

Still setting the weightless dresses of orange-yellow leaves, that cover dark tree branches, on fire.

It's leaving quietly, retreating into the fading sounds of the forest.

Kissing autumn with tender touches of petals —

Last meadow flowers are the bravest, the sweetest.

In return, Steve swirls Billy in a lovely sudden swish-dance of falling leaves, wherever summer goes —

Autumn follows.

Billy doesn't go too far, not yet

Until the day when he finally has to.

..

Summer's waiting for Steve, at twilight, standing barefoot on the cold sand of the little river shore where they used to spend so much time together.

Steve's running late,

And summer is restless, slightly bitter.

It has to go, it doesn't have a say in it anymore.

When Billy steps into the calm chilly waters, there's a hand on his shoulder

"Did you really think I wouldn't come to say goodbye?"

A smile breaks on Billy's beautiful face, and the air itself starts singing

Oh, how it sings.

"I know you are busy, autumn."

"I am." The hand holds his shoulder firmer

"There are not enough raindrops to pour out my sadness at how much I will miss you."

Billy turns around, their eyes cross and

"I will be missing you as well." Comes as a whisper, as a sigh

Their hands touch and then part, and summer starts walking down the river, splashing its cold waters softly —

A lullaby,

As autumn watches it go, disappear around the curve, the current inevitably taking it away.

Like it does to all.

..

That night when Steve is only half asleep to the monotonous sounds of persistent drizzling rain, he sees Billy in his dreams, he dreams of those days they spent together, recalls their every meeting, every conversation.

He dreams of the way they leisurely strolled through vast fields and boundless pastures, holding hands.

The way they looked into each other's eyes, and there was no need for a single word. The way they greeted hazy dawns, casting spells on the eerie fogs, that slowly crawled out of damp, deep ravines,

And saw off colour-bursting sunsets, bringing coolness to the nights.

How they greeted the moon unhurriedly emerging from behind the outlines of the forest,

And watched the magically twinkling stars reflected in the dark depth of the quiet lake amidst the woods.

Utterly, bewitchedly lost

In love.

..

There's never enough of summer, and autumn knows it.

***

Do what you feel is right, and if nothing feels right, let go? .. You have a gift and the mere fact is amazing. You can't even imagine how many people you've made happy with your art, how far it goes. The gift might have gone silent for the time being, just like forces of nature do, only to be woken up again, when the time's right.

Thank you so much, always 💖

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Chapter 13: I'll do anything to take a ride with you...

Fandom: Stranger Things Ship: Harringrove-Billy x Steve Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Slow burn, Post Season 2/Pre Season 3, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Billy Hargrove, Truth or Dare, Gay chicken, 20 questions, Abusive Neil Hargrove, Scars & Bruises, Piercings, Crime/Mystery, Suspense, Superpowers, Tags added as story develops Preview:

“Baby…”

“NO,” Billy snaps through clenched teeth.

“What if you let me talk to them,” Steve starts, “It might be okay!” 

But Billy is quick to shut that shit down. 

“We CANNOT take that chance!”

Steve huffs impatiently. 

“Please, they know me and trust me. It could blow over-”

“”NO Steve! Fucking drop it!”

“Billy! We can't keep running forever!”

“WHY NOT!” Billy explodes. 

It's eerily quiet the moments after. Steve is first to start talking again. 

“Is this really how you want to live?” 

Billy exhales deeply out his nose. And then a moment later he's hitting the breaks and jerking the wheel into the shoulder. 

Its so jarring Steve grips the inside of the car for stability. 

“Jesus Christ Billy! What the fuck!”

“So this is goodbye?” Billy interrupts. 

Steve’s eyes go wide with surprise. 

“What? No! No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he tries to insist. But Billy is shaking his head.

“Yes it is Steve! Listen, I love you, okay? But they are never going to let us be happy! Even if all this bullshit with Neil goes away… if we stay in Hawkins, we can never be out!” 

And of all the things that could have come out of Billy’s mouth, those were the last one’s Steve ever thought he’d hear. A choked sound makes its way trateriously past Steve's lips.  because he hasn't heard those three words from Billy yet. Sure, Billy told him he wasn’t unloveable but that somehow is still not as impactful as a direct ‘I love you’ to Steve. Because he hasn’t let himself say it, think it, even feel it, since Nancy. But as soon as Billy says it, it's like the words grew arms, picked up a sledgehammer and tore down every inch of his heavily reinforced walls. 

“You-” love me? He wants to ask, but he can’t make his lips form the words. “want to be out?”

Billy’s face sours. 

“Is that a trick question?” 

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

setting crowns aside (1/1, 2090 words) Pairing: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Rating: General Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Post-Graduation, Hawkins High, Enemies to Friends, Pre-Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Getting to Know Each Other, Kings of Nowhere Zine, Harringrove Zine Summary: In which Steve and Billy meet at Hawkins High the day after graduation and set their differences aside. -- My little piece for the @harringrovezine !!!! So proud and grateful for the opportunity to be in this zine. It's gorgeous, filled with fantastic fics and gorgeous art. Everyone's work is so stellar ;3; Thank you so much for a fun ride!

[robthegoodfellow]

Step 9

pre-Harringrove, references to addiction/recovery, references to AIDS epidemic, 90s earworms

originally published in @strangerthingscharityzine | read on ao3

.

Steve didn’t know what he’d been expecting until the bells above the diner door let out a merry jingle—and there he was.

Apparently his subconscious had imagined someone gaunt, haggard. A shaky mess. Not that he’d sounded like that on the phone, despite the obvious nerves.

I’m looking for Steve Harrington? Dunno if he lives here anymore. The voice was gruff in a way that enticed, so he’d said this is Steve, and the ensuing silence was broken by a cough. Oh—uh, hi. This is… Billy Hargrove. From high school?

Sense memory knocked him flat—Hargrove taunting him at practice, pressed against him, tongue wagging; crouched above, pummeling; on his knees, clinging to consciousness, the Mind Flayer melted mush. 

Hargrove stumbled through a semi-rehearsed spiel. How he was in recovery, had reached the step of compiling the people he’d done wrong. How he wanted to make amends—could do it over the phone or in person or not at all, which he’d understand.

I’m back in Hawkins, but I can drive—and Steve had interrupted that he was in Hawkins, too. Did not say he’d been back a couple months, ever since Nance said they needed to talk.

It was a little pathetic, how eager Steve had been to meet up with a guy he hadn’t thought of in over a decade, because the only friends nearby were his and Nancy’s friends in Indianapolis.

So they’d made plans, and here they were: Steve, a soon-to-be divorcé working a soulless job at the family business, who at least had his hair, health, a measure of wealth; and Billy, not even slightly a woebegone waste case—scanning the booths with piercing baby blues, hair shorn on the sides, tawny curls piled on top. His ears glittered with metal hoops and studs, and that skin was bronze as Steve remembered. New tattoos twined his arms, disappeared under the white tank hanging loose from his shoulders, tucked into tight jeans.

He’d gained some weight—stood solid. Thick. It suited him.

Spotted, Steve raised an awkward hand, pursed awkward lips, and when Billy scooted in opposite, the exchanged hellos were—yep—awkward.

Unsure of the protocol for amends, Steve tried small talk—learned Billy lived with Max, who was caring for her ailing mother. His dad was still in the wind, vanished post-flaying while Billy was comatose.

Far as Steve knew, Billy had likewise vanished after a spell in the ICU. Rumors he’d been abducted by the government, but most figured he’d run off. Done the reasonable thing and put Hawkins behind him.

Turned out it was both. In exchange for his silence plus months in a secret lab, they’d set him up in the city of his choosing—and he’d chosen home. San Diego.

“Got an apartment, started community college…” Billy shrugged. “Over-indulged in the club scene. Couldn’t keep a job, couldn’t sleep. Tipped some bad dominoes. Hurt some good people.”

He’d been sober about a year, fully committed to the whole body-is-my-temple mentality. Been using music and exercise as his outlet whenever he itched.

“Went from bar hopping to gym bunny?” Steve suggested, and Billy flicked an assessing glance, wondering if the pun was deliberate.

It was. Steve’s mouth twitched, and Billy huffed a laugh. “Least I’m not eating rabbit food,” he said, nodding at Steve’s very sad salad.

“Hey, it’s tough diving into singlehood at our age,” he protested. “Gotta whip myself into shape.”

Billy guessed it—divorce?—and winced, commiserating. 

“How about you?” No ring, he noted. “Seeing anyone?”

“Ah—nope,” Billy replied, with a self-deprecating snort. “Not the marrying kind.”

And that… wasn’t quite what Steve asked. “Not the dating kind, either?”

Billy grimaced, conducted a short debate with the middle distance, and cleared his throat. “How about I say what I came to say and then we can… keep chatting. If you want.”

Steve pushed his plate aside, hands folded like it was a contract negotiation. “Okay.”

Deep inhale, and Billy mirrored him. “All right. So—I’ve been working backwards through people I’ve hurt, and you’re part of the last group. From when I was still a kid, technically, but old enough to do real damage. And… whether or not I need to… I want to. Like, it feels good to… purge, I guess.”

Beating Steve’s head in—that’s what he wanted to apologize for. He could have inflicted some lasting traumatic injury, hoped he hadn’t—you didn’t, Steve assured him, I’ve always been this confused—and had since developed other ways to cope with and express his anger.

“Like what?” he asked, curious. Billy blinked, lost track of his mental cue cards.

“Like—meditation,” he said, and Steve pictured him cross-legged on the beach at sunset, centering his chakra. “And journaling. And…” He scrunched his nose, flushed. “Uh—crochet.”

“Is that… when you hit balls through little hoops?”

“That’s croquet. Crochet is like—” Billy huffed, dragging hands down his cheeks. “It’s like knitting, okay? Will you let me just…?” 

Steve waved for him to continue, mimed zipping his lips. Covered his mouth at the thought of Billy knitting blankets of rage. This was serious, he scolded himself. Knock it off.

But… teasing Billy was fun. Gave him a strange thrill. Like when they used to spar at school. Banter.

Taking a deep breath, Billy found where he’d left off. “Right. Anger management. But I’ve also been re-examining my—motivations. Because for awhile, I told myself you deserved it, that I was protecting Max from shady dudes who’d lured her to the woods—”

Well, that’s fair, Steve thought, his perspective on that night radically shifting. Optics not great.

“—But I didn’t give a shit about Max,” Billy confessed. “I was just mad she got me in trouble with my dad and ruined my date… mad you lied to me about her being there, and that she’d ignored me about Sinclair, and… mad I was in Bumfuck Nowhere. So—I’m grateful you grabbed me off the kid. I’ve already made amends with him. And with Max. And I’m sorry I beat you so bad. Sorry I took it out on you.”

Steve hadn’t even remembered some of those details until Billy blew off the dust—one of those weird moments where you realize a hazy event was crystalline for someone else. Vivid and weighted with meaning.

“It’s fine, man,” Steve said, simple and easy, and Billy nodded, a fine tremor up and down. “Water under the bridge. I’m glad you’re—”

“I’m a fag,” Billy said, blunt. The eyes that rose to meet him were flat. Slate blue. “S'why I’m not the marrying kind.” A short, fractured laugh, devoid of humor. “And don’t think you’d call it dating, what I was doing. Russian roulette, more like. I should be dead several times over by now. Dunno how I’m not.”

Steve swallowed hard, couldn’t wipe the dumb shock—and the blue slate buckled, about to crack. So he revised his sentence from before. “I’m glad you’re not.” Managed a weak smile, heartfelt. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Billy ducked, but Steve caught the flash of wet. Slate in the rain. “I don’t have it,” he muttered, single sniff. “In case you’re wondering.”

And Steve meant to say I’m glad, a broken record but a sincere one, only the thing gnawing at him since the separation hijacked his mouth. “Nancy thinks I’m in love with this guy at work. This guy who’s a man.”

Billy’s head swung up, thrown off course for maybe the fourth time since he’d entered the cafe, and Steve facepalmed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s not why we’re here. I keep dive bombing your… amending. Amendment?”

That might have broken Billy—the poor dude slumped forward, brow on the table.

“I really am sorry,” Steve repeated, earnest. “And I’m glad you’re okay. That’s what I meant to say—that I’m glad you’re okay.”

A long sigh, and Billy propped his chin on folded wrists. “Are you in love with this guy who’s a man?”

“No,” Steve said, heating as it dawned on him that Guy Who’s a Man bore a striking resemblance to Man Sitting Opposite. “It’s more—crippling lust.” 

“Did you cheat?”

“No!” Then, dialing his tone from offended to firm: “I don’t do that.”

“Okay.” Billy straightened, thinking. “I’m not the best person to be anyone’s gay sensei, but I’m gonna give you my number in case you need to talk about this shit. And you better be careful. Be safe if you decide to… dip your toes in the water.”

Through the wall-mounted speakers, Jewel wondered one last time who would save their souls if they wouldn't save their own, the track winding to a close, and Steve had opened his mouth to ask Do you think we could have done that, way back then? Dipped our toes in the water? when Billy scrambled upright, nope, nope, nope under the faint strains of the next tune.

“Gotta go—this song’s gonna wreck my sobriety.” Finger guns, backpedaling. “You pay up. I’ll wait outside.”

Steve cocked an ear, bemused, listening hard all the way to the register. Plucky melody, a crooning boyish falsetto, incomprehensible—then finally, impassioned: Can you tell me who will still care?

The chorus kicked in as he walked out, and Steve caught on—laughed at the sky.

Mmm bop, ba duba dop Ba du bop, ba duba dop Ba du bop, ba duba dop Ba du—

He sang along, full chested: “Yea-ee-yea-ah!”

Billy groaned, slipping him seven scribbled digits with the air of already regretting his decisions.

“Thanks,” Steve said, genuine, running his thumb across the numbers. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” Billy swiped his curls. Unwilling smile. “Maybe.”

💛.🎶.💛

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Part 2 to this post

-

If Eddie could go back in time and keep himself from fucking things up, he would.

In a heartbeat.

Whatever friendliness had built up between Steve and him has vanished, replaced by awkwardness and, judging by Steve’s casual avoidance, a hint of disdain.

Or disgust, maybe.

All Eddie knows is that he hasn’t been invited back to Billy and Steve’s in the couple of weeks that followed their last game night, and he hasn’t so much as seen Billy even in glimpses. His usual place in the passenger seat of the Beamer is empty whenever Eddie spots the car in town, and it makes his stomach sink.

If it wouldn’t get him pegged as being weirder than previously thought, he would ask Max if things between her brother and his roommate were okay.

Then again, he wonders if he’s just obsessing over nothing.

“The fuck did you do, Munson?”

Eddie startles and drops the package of Oreos that he’d been holding, whipping around to find the owner of the voice.

Beside him in the aisle is none other than Billy. In a cropped t-shirt and cutoffs, no less, and with a scowl ingrained in his expression. Despite the fact that Eddie has a solid inch or two on him, he still feels towered over.

“I— what?” Eddie stammers.

He stares, wide-eyed, for a moment before he dips down to grab the cookies and hastily shoves them back onto the shelf. Can’t keep his eyes from trailing down to the blond’s midriff, and notices that there’s a bit of fluff there when he isn’t flexing.

It’s perverse, he thinks. Can’t help but want to lick and nip at the exposed skin.

“When you were at my place,” Billy explains. Demands. “What’d you say to Harrington?”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to meet his just as he crosses his arms, and then Eddie takes to staring at his forearms instead. Feels a little queasy when he looks away, like there are butterflies tearing apart his insides trying to get out.

“Uh, what did I say?” Eddie chuckles.

He wracks his brain for anything remotely resembling a reasonable response, and comes up dry after a few seconds. It gives Billy a chance to close in on him.

Eddie matches each one of his steps forward with a step back until his shoulders meet the shelf behind him, and he tenses up.

“I don’t know you,” Billy glowers. Dark eyes search over Eddie’s face like bloodhounds sniffing out a hare in the brush. “You’re around, and I know we share some common knowledge, but if I find out you’re fucking with Steve—“

“No, no, no— no fuckery here, I promise.”

Billy’s glare hardens.

“Promises don’t mean shit to me,” he spits. Leans away, shaking his head. “Stay away from him, Munson, and if I hear about any weird shit from Max—“

“No!” Eddie blurts. He shakes his head, holding his palms out. “I mean— no weird shit. I swear.” For a moment, he feels like Billy may pounce on him in the middle of Melvald’s, but when the blond finally leans out of his space, he sighs. “Is Steve, like, okay? Like are you guys… good?”

Billy pulls a face.

“No, man, we’re not fuckin’ good,” he snaps. “If we were, he’d be here getting groceries with me, begging to go get ice cream after, and I wouldn’t be talking to your stupid ass about it.”

Eddie winces. Doesn’t miss the slight flush that rises to Billy’s skin around the apples of his cheeks.

Despite the huffy and puffiness of Billy’s demeanor, Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s in danger. Instead, he feels bad. Worse than he did before he ran into the blond.

So, he straightens his posture and comes away from the shelf.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” Eddie says earnestly. “I talk out of my ass sometimes, but I really didn’t mean to mess things up.”

Billy’s sharp eyes tear away from him, finally, and his shoulders slump.

“Yeah,” he grumbles.

“Steve’s kinda my friend, y’know? Or, at least he was — either way, I feel like shit for upsetting him.”

“So why didn’t you do anything about it?”

Again, serious blues fix on Eddie, and he manages a quiet laugh that has Billy squaring his shoulders again.

Eddie just gestures to him vaguely.

“No offense,” he says. “But he has a pretty big guard dog that I didn’t wanna piss off.”

As the words sink in, Billy huffs. It’s quiet between them for a moment while he appears to be mulling something over.

“Come over and talk to him, then. Fix it.”

Eddie’s brows raise.

“What, like— right now?”

“Yeah,” Billy huffs. He reaches out, taking a fistful of Eddie’s vest, and turns to drag him up the aisle and back toward the front of the store. “I want my roommate back, and you’re not busy, so—“

“I’m grocery shopping?” Eddie blurts frantically. “And so are you?”

He doesn’t necessarily resist the pull, but he fumbles his steps as he keeps pace with the blond. He’s about to start listing his actual commitments for the rest of the afternoon when Billy sends a mean glare over his shoulder.

It has Eddie pinching his lips shut as he’s guided outside with several other customer’s eyes on him, their exit punctuated by the ring of the tiny bell above the door.

He hopes deep down that Billy doesn’t keep this iron grip on him once they get there, because he has the feeling that he’ll end up getting crushed.

[ghostlynimbus]

I did not get around to finishing the next chapter of Holiday At The Harringtons' yet so instead I posted a short pre-harringrove oneshot that I wrote for an anon request a while back

[onearmedlegend]

Okay guys, I’m writing AGAIN! (Whoo-hoo)

I gotta ask this, though: what position would Billy play on the football team? Linebacker, or quarterback? He built, so. Just wanted to ask you guys what seems realistic for him. Let’s imagine in this scenario Billy is in his senior year and Steve’s graduated, so that’s why Steve’s not on the team. Post-S3, too! Pre-S4 (or no S4, really 😂)

Be on the lookout for a new Harringrove fic!!