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Chapter Text

January 12th, 1984

"Harrington, is that you?" A deep, sultry voice rang out from the counter at Scoops Ahoy.

Steve immediately stopped playing with the rubber bands on the counter at the sound of such a familiar voice.  Ah, shit, Steve grumbled in his head, desperately not wanting to turn around and face the man behind him.

"Hmm, the bodacious hair makes me believe that it is, in fact, you, Harrington. But I must say, I didn't remember Harrington having such a nice looking ass," the voice sang lowly.

Goddamn it, why is he here? Steve bit his lip and scrunched up his nose. He stared at the window, wishing he was in the break room on the other side of the translucent window instead of out here, at ten on a freezing cold January morning. Why the ice cream shop opened so early, especially in January, was a mystery to Steve, but it was nothing compared to the mysterious man behind him.

"Aren't you going to turn around and give me a full view of that cute little sailor's uniform?" He said flirtatiously.

Steve, knowing the other male too well, decided to turn around. He knew the asshole wouldn't leave until he did. With a grimace, Steve turned around in the most embarrassing outfit he had ever worn to look into the blue eyes of Billy Hargrove.

"King Steve," Billy said with his lips curled upwards in a smirk. "It seems you have finally tried to humble yourself." Billy narrowed his eyes and leaned over the counter, pushing into Steve's personal space, and spoke lowly. "Did it hurt falling down from the throne, Pretty Boy?”

With a snarl, Steve placed a hand on Billy's large shoulder and pushed him back. Billy straightened up and smoothed down his trademark denim jacket, looking at Steve with a look that could only be described as amusement. The look in Billy's eyes pissed Steve off.

"What the hell do you want, Hargrove? Do you realize this is an ice cream shop and not the classroom of Hawkins High?" When Billy didn't answer Steve tensed his shoulder and taunted, "Huh, it seems the ever so perfect Billy Hargrove doesn't remember that this is a mall, not a classroom. I suppose he's not perfect. Not in the slightest."

Billy remained emotionless and Steve was furious. Why the hell can I not get under his skin? Steve wondered.

Just as Steve opened his mouth to make a smartass comment, Billy said, "What I would like is to get a strawberry ice cream."

"Jackass, why would you need strawberry ice cream at this time of day?" Steve asked, his anger now laced with confusion.

"Please put it in a cup," Billy replied, blowing off Steve's questions as if the man wasn't speaking.

Steve wasn't having that.

Steve crossed his arms defiantly and said, "No."

They stared at each other until Billy asked a gravely, "What?"

"I said no. Not until I know why you are buying ice cream at ten a.m. in January."

Billy raised an arched eyebrow. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why not?" Steve retorted.

Billy huffed our a laugh. "Okay, Harrington, I'll tell you," Billy said as he leaned in closer over the counter once again. "The truth is that I have a strawberry ice cream addiction."

Steve raised his eyebrows, clearly unamused. "Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Steve copied in a childish manner.

Steve put his hands on his hips. "It seems I can't get anywhere with you, Hargrove."

Billy smiled as if it were a compliment.

Steve leaned in, now making the distance between their faces decrease dramatically. Now they were about eight inches from their faces touching, and it wasn't entirely uncomfortable, though Steve would never in his life admit that.

"I'm serious, Hargrove. Why?"

Billy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I could tell you, but then I would be risking a punch to my handsome face."

"Your ego is the size of this ice cream parlor," Steve spat.

Billy actually laughed at Steve's monotonous voice that had interrupted Billy while he was spouting bullshit. The laugh was so brief and over in a second, making Steve wonder if he actually heard it or if he imagined it.

With a smile, Hargrove said, "This is top secret, alright. Think you can keep what I'm going to tell you a secret?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I can keep a secret,"

Billy smirked. "Figured so," his smug voice rang out from his mouth. "Now, to answer your undying question, I am here at ten a.m. on a January morning to test the strawberry ice cream."

Steve quirked a brow.

"I am actually a strawberry -only strawberry- ice cream taste tester. I'm on a secret mission to find the best for the president of the United States."

Steve stared at Billy, his face showing how absolutely over Billy's shit he was. "Was that really the best you could come up with?" Steve asked. Billy just shrugged.

Steve sighed and raised the index finger of his right hand and shoved it close to Billy's nose. "You have one more chance to tell me what it is you are doing here. If you don't, you will be sent out the door, never to get ice cream from Scoops Ahoy."

"Never?" Billy tested.

"Never."

Billy rested his elbows on the counter separating the two men and placed his head in his open hands. "I guess I have no choice but to tell you the truth."

Steve, already annoyed, flicked Billy in the forehead. "Tell me already, dipshit."

Billy raised both his eyebrows, surprised that Steve had the balls to flick him and call him a dipshit.

"You're really serious about knowing this," Billy mused. "I guess it can't hurt to tell you."

Steve waited, anticipating another wisecracked response. He was surprised when he didn't get one. Instead he got the actual explanation.

"I'm here to get my bratty step-sister, Max, some ice cream," he explained with a sigh.

"Why is that?" Steve asked, unable to keep his intrigue under wraps.

"Serve me the ice cream and then I'll tell you."

Steve rolled his eyes and walked to his right over to the freezer. He grabbed a plastic cup and asked, "How many scoops?"

Billy snorted. "Just one. I'm not that nice."

For once, Steve agreed with Billy. He slid open the freezer and scooped out the ice cream, acutely aware of Billy's sharp eyes watching his every move. Not wanting to give Billy any sort of satisfaction, Steve ignored his staring, pretending it didn't make his stomach stir. Steve didn't know why Billy's hot-blooded stare  made his stomach flutter, but he decided he would not dwell on it, for it was probably nothing. Right?

"Did you want to add a cherry?" Steve asked, his tone playful.

Billy chuckled and licked his lips, staring up into Steve's eyes. "Pretty please, Harrington."

Steve ignored the way his stomach squirmed after watching Billy sensually licked his lips. He grabbed a cherry by the stem and plopped it on top of the ice cream. He slid the cup across the counter towards Billy and punched in the total on the register.

"Your total is $1.25," Steve said, avoiding Billy's cobalt blue eyes.

"Pricey," Billy murmured. He slid the dollar and a quarter across the counter, leaving his index finger on the coin. "Say, Harrington, why don't you give me a discount?"

Steve bit the inside of his cheek and finally looked Billy in the eye. He asked, "Why would I give you a discount?"

"Why?" Billy copied in a butchered surprised voice. "Why you ask? You should give me a discount because I'm making your day better."

"Oh, please," Steve scoffed. "You are making my day worse, and that's saying something. I'm here at the mall, in a goddamn ice cream shop in a dorky sailors uniform at ten a.m.," Steve complained exasperatedly.

"Well, aren't you just a downer," Billy said with a laugh. "Why don't you just skip work for now? No one but me is going to come here for at least another two hours."

Steve just stared at Billy, mulling over what he said, seriously considering it.

"And, one more thing," Billy said and straightened up. He toyed with the collar of Steve's sailor uniform. "This is not dorky. It's cute."

Steve's ears burned red and he slapped Billy's strong hands away. "Fuck... fuck off," Steve stammered.

Billy smirked and took the ice cream cup from the counter and picked the cherry off the top. He locked eyes with Steve and slowly licked the ice cream off the bottom of the cherry. With one finger he pushed the cherry into his mouth, past his full lips, and ripped the cherry off the stem. Billy's sultry and alluring smirk grew larger as Steve's cheeks flushed red as the cherry he had just eaten.

"See you around," Billy said, his speech lower than necessary, bringing out the deep rasp of his voice, leaving with the reason of his visit unvoiced, not that Steve seemed to notice.

Steve stood there and watched Billy disappear. Goddamn it, Steve cursed to himself, Why the hell am I hard?

Steve shook his head, trying to get his bearings back to earth. Steve glanced at the register and sighed. What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with my brain? More importantly, what the hell is wrong with my dick?! Getting stiff over Billy fucking Hargrove is seriously screwed up. Something has to be seriously wrong.

Even with all of those thoughts, all Steve knew for certain was that he needed to talk to Robin as soon as humanly possible, hopefully for her to make sense of what the hell just happened.

Chapter Text

January 13th, 1984

The next day Robin was working the night shift with Steve. When she walked in, Robin saw Steve bouncing both of his legs timorously as he stuffed Neapolitan ice cream in his face.

"Jesus, Harrington," Robin said, trying desperately not to laugh. "Why are you binge eating? Is it your time of the month?"

Steve took another hunking bite and stared over at her, shame and confusion written all over his face.

Robin furrowed her eyebrows. "What the hell happened?" Robin asked, hanging her winter coat on its peg. "You look like someone whose been abducted by aliens and probed in the ass."

"Worse," Steve mumbled through the freezing cold ice cream in his mouth. He shoved another bite in his face and said, "Way worse," while spitting ice cream out of his mouth.

Robin sat down on the table and looked down at Steve. "What could have possibly happened to you that is worse than being probed?"

Steve broke eye contact and swirled the melted ice cream in the bottom of the large bowl with his plastic spoon.

Robin's face mellowed with disquiet. "Shit, what happened, Steve?"

Steve let go of the spoon handle and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I don't fucking know. It was... bizarre."

"Did your children do something idiotic and dangerous again?"

Steve huffed our a strained laugh, still not making eye contact. "I wish. It'd be better than..."

He trailed off, leaving Robin to stare at the top of his hair. Typically, Steve would spat out he wasn't a mother and he didn't have children, that he was just an overqualified babysitter, but Robin found it disconcerting that he did none of those things.

"Steve, whatever happened, I'm here to listen. No jokes. I promise," Robin said with a reassuring smile.

Steve glanced up and felt comforted by her smile. After a beat, he said, "It's about something that happened when I saw someone."

"Wow, that's vague," Robin quipped. "What sort of something do you mean?"

Steve's cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment and he hid his face in his hands. Robin's eyes widened and with a delighted smile she exclaimed, "No!"

Steve whipped his head up to look at his friend. "What are you thinking?" He asked, worried.

"You found someone attractive and popped a boner in front of them! That's the only reason you would be so embarrassed," she said, hitting the nail on the head.

Steve was stricken by the truth. He froze up for a long while. He then let out a long sigh. "For fucks sake, why do you know me so well?" Steve grumbled.

Robin grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "It's because you have no shame. If you're embarrassed over something, it has to be something as awkward as popping a boner in an unexpected and inappropriate moment."

Steve laughed. "That's true. Damn."

Robin and Steve laughed together and quickly it faded out to silence.

"So who was it?" Robin asked.

Steve, feigning ignorance, asked, "Who was what?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "The girl you popped a boner for."

"Oh, um, well," Steve stumbled over his words. "It-it wasn't anybody. Just a vexatious moment."

"Bullshit," Robin said boldly. "Besides, I'm surprised you even know what vexatious means."

Steve shot her a dirty look. He grit his teeth together and started bouncing his legs anxiously once more. Robin sighed, twisted her mouth, and said, "I won't pressure you anymore. Sorry."

Steve glanced up again, checking to see if her sincerity was genuine. After a long moment, Steve decided she really was telling the truth.

"Long hair."

Robin furrowed her eyebrows. "What about long hair?"

Steve waved his hand in a 'you know' motion, even though Robin didn't know. "The, um, person. Incident. Whatever."

"She had long hair?" Robin asked.

Not exactly right, but close enough, Steve thought. He gave a small nod.

"Blond curls that came down to her shoulders. Really attractive face and, god, what a gorgeously sculpted body," Steve rambled, clearly stuck in his own mind. All he could think about was how... delicious Billy looked. "The earring really pulls it all together," he finished.

Earring, not earrings? Robin thought to herself. That's different. "She sounds hot."

Steve laughed. "You're right about that."

Robin tossed her hair. "Of course I'm right."

Steve laughed harder, his anxiety about the situation melting down. This was Robin, his trustworthy best friend (who happened to be the same age as him). He had no reason to worry, yet he did. It was a part of him that wouldn't let go of the trepidation of coming out even though Robin would accept him. Probably, he thinks.

Steve stretched his arms behind his head and said, "But you're wrong about something else."

Robin raised her eyebrow playfully. She loved a good guessing game. "Oh, is that so? What could my perfect brain be wrong about?"

They giggled and Steve, albeit still worried, his heart pounding like a drum, said, "The fact that you never asked for a body type."

"What would that have to do with anything?" She asked quizzically.

"A lot more than you think," Steve said, his voice wavering. His confidence was clouded by his anxiety once again and Robin noticed.

"Okay," Robin said slowly, trying to figure out just what the hell he was talking about. "I had assumed she was curvy, but I guess that's wrong, no?"

Steve tilted his head to the side and thought. Well, Billy is kind of curvy, he thought indecently. His ass is amazing and his chest is popping with muscles. Not to mention his drool worthy abs and thighs. And, dear gods, his face; It looked as if it had been sculpted by the heavens itself.

"Steve," Robin said snapping in his face. "Steve, stop drooling."

Steve jerked out of his daydream and wiped the saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. "Sorry," Steve said shamefully. "I didn't think I was actually drooling."

Robin burst out laughing. "Holy shit," she wheezed out between bursts of laughter. "I can't believe you actually drooled over her body!"

Steve buried his face in his hands while Robin laughed so hard she cried. "No," Steve said through his hands, dragging out the 'o'. "Why, universe, why?"

"Hey, at least you didn't drool in front of her," Robin laughed. She was trying to be helpful but she couldn't help another jab at his ego. "If you did, you would never get a girlfriend. Just like right now."

Robin howled with laughter and Steve dropped his head down, letting his forehead bang loudly on the table. Robin jumped and mellowed our her laughing.

"Sorry," Robin apologized once she had stopped laughing. "I'm sorry. Just tell me what happened, dude. I'm going to turn eighty before you start talking."

"I have been talking," Steve snarked. "What the hell else do you want to know?"

"What did she look like? Was she pretty? Was she unattractive?" Robin started rambling out.

Steve grit his teeth, trying to keep his annoyance at bay.

"Why are you so embarrassed to talk about her? It's a girl that made you pop a boner. I'm sure that's happened plenty of times before."

As Robin kept going on and on about this assumed girl, Steve was becoming increasingly annoyed, patience running thin until it just snapped.

He stood up and yelled, "You know why I didn't tell you who? It's because I got a hard-on while looking at a man!"

Robin was silent, eyes wide. Steve's chest heaved and his heart stopped once he realized what could happen next now that he admitted he was not straight.

Steve was panicking and decided to be intimidating, though it didn't really work. He just sounded scared. "If you fucking tell anyone, I will end you," Steve said, voice wavering.

Robin raised her hands. "Dude, your secret is safe with me. I promise you that."

Steve dropped his chin to stare directly into Robin's eyes. He was no mind reader, nor was he good at reading body language, so he asked quietly, so quietly it was nearly a whisper, "Do you find that disgusting?"

"When I think about it -- what happened -- yes," Robin said.

Steve's stomach dropped, but Robin continued talking and Steve expected the worst. He closed his eyes tightly.

"Thinking about your dick disgusts me," Robin said with a laugh. "Not the queer part."

Shocked, Steve opened his eyes. He stared at her for a long minute then punched her bicep. "Shit, Robin, you almost gave me a heart attack," he said with a grin.

"Sorry," she apologized for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "I can't stop myself from ragging on you and trying to give you a scare."

A cocky grin was plastered on her face and Steve wanted badly to get rid of it, but let it be; He was too focused on the fact that Robin did not hate him or find him disgusting to care.

Steve expected her to ask questions again, try to crack him and find out who the guy was, but she did not do what Steve expected, which was actually a common occurrence.

"We are one in the same" Robin said wisely.

Steve was baffled. He raised his eyebrows, extremely lost. "As in... we both like guys?"

Robin snorted. "No, as in we both like the same gender."

"Oh," Steve murmured with a few nods. He stopped nodding suddenly, his brain catching up to what Robin had said. "Wait, what?"

Robin patted the tabletop to her right, wordlessly telling Steve to sit beside her. He did and once he had settled, he turned his head to look at Robin.

"I like girls, Steve," Robin said, her eyes truthful and veracious. "I am a lesbian."

Steve nodded again; It had become like a reflex at this point in time. "That's cool," he said easily. "I like girls too."

"Yeah, no shit," Robin barked out a laugh. "I knew you in highschool, dumbass. Well, I didn't really know you personally like I do now, but I knew how you were with the cheerleaders," she said pointedly. "I heard a rumor you screwed the entire squad, not at once of course. Is that true?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah," he said and grabbed his halfway melted ice cream. "I only slept with like half," he said breezily, shoving a mouthful of strawberry ice cream in his mouth, just like the one Billy had bought. The memory made his ears feel hot.

"You say only half like it's no big deal," Robin said, shaking her head in disbelief. "You are ridiculous, Steve Harrington. Absolutely ridiculous."

Steve shrugged his shoulders teasingly and shoved another large spoonful of dessert in his mouth. He was relieved that he knew someone he could trust and confide in. Someone that understood him, accepted him, and had the same feelings about sexuality as him. It was as if an invisible hand released the grip on his throat and let Steve feel like he could really, truly, breathe again.

.....................................................

"Steve! Steve! Steve!" Dustin shouted as he ran into Scoops Ahoy.

Steve and Robin gave him unimpressed looks. Robin rolled her eyes as Steve asked, "What's up, man?"

"You aren't going to believe this!" Dustin said in-between breathless pants.

Steve quirked a brow and swirled his hand, urging Dustin to tell him. "I'm not going to believe what?"

"Billy drove me, Max, and El to the movies today and was, surprisingly, nice."

Steve tilted his head to the side. "You sure that was Billy and not some clone made to look like him?" He asked, ignoring the 'dork' that came from Robin's mouth. "Because Billy isn't nice," he finished.

"Why do you think I said 'You aren't going to believe this'?!" Dustin said erratically. "And he said that he wants to see you tomorrow!"

Steve stared at him, brain completely fizzled.

"He said the same time and place as last time, which was weird," Dustin informed.

Robin, ever the smart woman that she is, turned to Steve. Steve did not have to look at her to know that she figured out the identity of the guy that gave him a hard-on.

Dustin put a hand on his chin. "Maybe he wants to fuck up your face again."

Steve scoffed. "That was a while ago. If he wanted to bust my face up, he would have done it again by now."

Dustin nodded in agreement. "That's true," he said just as a timer in his pocket went off. Dustin clicked it off and darted out of the store, yelling to Steve over his shoulder, "Tell me what happens tomorrow!"

Once he was out of sight, Steve said dramatically, "Don't you dare ask, Robin."

She smirked at him but did what he said. She was not going to ask because she already knew, though she was definitely going to bring this up later. She laughed to herself and walked away, disappearing into the break room.

Steve felt nervous, yet excited to see Billy again. He just had to hope that he would not be that excited again.

Chapter Text

January 14th, 1984

Steve was panicking. He paced back and forth through the breakroom of Scoops Ahoy, chewing on his fingernail. Robin peeked through the window that separated the shop from its breakroom and said, "Steve, stop freaking out."

He stopped pacing long enough to stare at her and say, "Easy for you to say. I get turned on when I'm looking at him! It's ridiculous." He then resumed pacing.

Robin rolled her eyes. "Dude, I understand. I had to watch Tammy Thompson change in the locker room and pretend I wasn't gay, which is not easy."

Steve nodded. "Fair point, but when I get turned on , there is a very noticeable reaction," he said while gesturing to his crotch.

Robin put her chin in her hand and leaned against the windowsill. "I guess I am lucky to not be able to pop a boner every time I'm aroused."

"Damn right you are!"

Robin thought more on Steve's predicament as he anxiously paced the floor. Robin snapped her fingers and said, "All you have to do is hide your lower half with the counter. It's foolproof."

Steve, who was a complete idiot, stopped pacing and said to Robin, "You are fucking brilliant."

"Obviously," she replied shamelessly. "What's new?"

Steve drummed his fingers on the table in front of him. "I wonder what time he will be here."

Robin shrugged. How the hell would she know? No one ever knew with Billy. He was as predictable as a squirrel that ingested ecstasy.

"Is now a good time?" A voice from behind Robin said.

Both Robin and Steve jumped but only Steve let out a less than dignified, "Motherfucker!"

Billy laughed. "Jesus, Harrington, I'm not that  scary."

Steve turned red, half from embarrassment, half from Billy's pink lips drawn into a smirk. "Fuck you," he said, but with no real force was behind the words.

Robin, who was quite literally caught in the middle, stepped out of the way and said, "Well, I do not want to be third wheel, boys, so I'm going to head out." She gathered her coat and purse and closed the door behind her.

Steve walked out of the breakroom and stood in front of Billy, willing his dick not to pitch a tent. Fuck, that would be embarrassing if it happened... again,Steve thought. At least last time Billy was gone before he could see.

"Was it that obvious we were flirting?" Billy asked, his voice low and slightly raspy. It made Steve shiver involuntarily.

Steve tried to play off his nervousness and shrugged. "Well, you aren't exactly hiding it."

Billy leaded in over the counter, looked up to meet Steve's eyes, and said, "Good," with a raise of his eyebrows.

Steve's tongue did not work, unable to reply. Billy took his silence as an invitation to jump over the counter and lean back against it coolly.

FUCK, Steve thought as he looked up and down Billy's body, his brain not stopping to think he was being extremely obvious about checking the other man out. He looks so hot, Steve thought as he bit his lower lip. Acid wash jeans with his boots and a leather jacket sure looks good on his tanned skin.

"See something you like?" Billy asked, already knowing the answer was a big fat 'yes'.

Steve nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah, I do," Steve said, surprising himself.

Billy grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth, licking them over with his tongue. He grabbed Steve's collar, yanking it to him until only his fist separated their chests. Steve stumbled but stayed upright, studying Billy's blue eyes now that he was really close. "Glad you do," Billy said, and kissed Steve square on the lips.

Steve froze for a second before his brain started working. He pushed himself off the blond and stumbled back until his back hit the wall. "Whoa, what the hell, man!" He exclaimed.

Billy raised an eyebrow, not fazed by Steve's actions. "What?"

"D-Do you realize where we are?!"

"Yes, Steve, I do," Billy replied slowly.

Steve was panicky and shook his arms about while he exclaimed, "Dumbass! We are in public, where anyone could see!"

Billy turned around and looked, seeing a few people roaming around, but not one looked at the ice cream shop they were in. He turned around to look at Steve critically. "See?" He said casually. "It's fine."

"It's not fucking fine!"

Billy rolled his eyes and that ticked Steve off. It was Steve's turn to grab a collar, and so he did. He yanked Billy into the break room by the collar of his shirt and kicked the door closed behind them. Steve released his grasp on Billy's shirt and slid the window closed quickly.

"Whoa, Steve, are you going to frisk me?" Billy asked teasingly.

Steve yanked off his stupid sailor hat and threw it on the table. He stomped over to Billy and whispered in his ear, "Yes, I sure as hell am."

Billy's stomach lit up and his blood burned as Steve grabbed his cheeks and pulled his mouth to his in a rough kiss. Billy returned the press of sparking lips and bit Steve's bottom lip, holding it between his teeth just long enough to hear Steve groan. Billy grabbed Steve's hip, pulling the other man closer, making their bodies pull flush against the other. Steve kissed Billy's lips again, firm but soft, and it made Billy shutter and hug both of his arms around Steve's waist. Billy pressed a needy kiss to Steve's wet lips and darted his tongue out to gently prod against Steve's closed mouth. 

In response to Billy's wordless plea for a deeper kiss, Steve ran his hands over Billy's stubbled cheeks and onto his neck, trailing his fingers up into Billy's hair in a more than enticing way. Steve gripped Billy's blond curls and tugged. The hair pulling was some sort of kink to Billy, unbeknownst to both men, and caused him to let out a throaty groan and rock his hips forward involuntarily. Steve hissed in through his teeth, their faces so close together Steve took in Billy's exhale. Billy, red faced and growing hard, flicked his tongue out to lick Steve's lips, and panted, "Come on, Steve. Give me more." 

Steve felt his cock jump at the begging from this badass that he made a panting, growing hard quickly and stiffly, mess. Steve ground their hips together and leaned into Billy mouth, his tongue sneaking through the opened lips and over sharp teeth to touch Billy's own. Steve felt him grip his waist harder and move his tongue against Steve's expertly but without patience, and, dear gods, did it make Steve want more. Everything was hot and sweaty and full of labored breaths and it was the best kind of messy. Steve untangled one hand from Billy's hair and slid it down his arched back to his firm ass that Steve took in one hand and squeezed. 

Billy's fingernails clawed into Steve's back and his hips stuttered forward, milking a groan from Steve's throat down into his own. One hand pulling his hair and the other groping his ass along with a hot tongue dancing with his had Billy trembling like a schoolgirl getting her first kiss. Billy lustfully and desperately spread his legs open, giving Steve the space to push his knee between them until it met the wall behind them. Billy rutted against Steve, his cock impossibly hard and aching, and he deduced that Steve felt the same. When Steve pulled his tongue out of Billy's mouth, Billy's wavering lusty voice pleaded, "More. Give me more," so desperately that Steve had no choice but to give him more. 

More, more, and then some more. 

The air was charged with energy as Steve moved his hand from Billy's ass and grabbed his belt buckle, fumbling with it until it unclasped and used his sweaty hand to unzip Billy's jeans, immediately shoving his hand down Billy's sky blue boxers and lightly grasping his hard dick. Steve tugged Billy's hair roughly, sucking a hickey onto the left side of the blonds neck, quickly jerking him off with a practiced hand. Billy yanked down Steve's shorts and underwear, grabbing his dick and reciprocating the action that was being performed on him. Heavy breaths and grunts filled the room as they jerked each other off in tandem. 

"Fuck, Steve," Billy rasped hoarsely, "I'm going to co- aHH!"

Billy quickly snapped his teeth together, embarrassed of the moan that escaped him once his orgasm had hit. He stopped jerking Steve off completely as he came, his heavy hand holding the hot flesh. After a few seconds he resumed stroking Steve, his hand movements uncoordinated on Steve's penis. The mix of Billy's wet release on his hand and the hand on him made Steve come, regardless of the off kilter movements.

They leaned against each other, breathing heavily as the high of an orgasm swept their mind, leaving their bodies in a light bliss. Slowly, Steve untangled the blond hair from around his fingers and pulled himself off of Billy, looking over his body as he pulled his hand from the waistband of sky blue boxers. Steve felt a hand climb up his back onto the back of his head, pulling him in closer until his lips met Billy's in a kiss full of something unnamable. 

They pulled back and searched each other's eyes for regret or resentment, and came up empty on both ends. A drop of cum falling from Steve's palm broke the spell between the young men. Steve cleared his throat and bumbled, "I'll find some, uh, napkins or something," and turned away from Billy to search for something disposable to clean themselves up. 

After locating a stack of napkins, Steve walked over to Billy and gave him an unnecessarily large stack to clean up his hand with. Just as Steve brought the brown napkin to his hand, the rapid ringing of the bell on the counter and familiar voice shouting, "Steve!" caused a rush of dread to run through him. Steve whipped his head up to stare at Billy and saw he was as panicked as himself. 

Billy quickly yanked his pants up, rushed to the employee door, and yanked it open. He cast Steve a quick glance and a smarmy grin over his shoulder before disappearing.

"That motherfucker," Steve mumbled to himself as he quickly rearranged himself to a presentable figure and opened the break room door to see Dustin in the midst of climbing over the counter, though not as graceful as Billy. "Henderson!" Steve shouted, trying to ignore the replay of the sexy man he had just been with barely a minute before. "What're you doing here man?"

Dustin slid down and settled on the customer side of the counter. "I'm here because last week you promised to give me the comic book." He looked behind him before leaning in closer and said, "The one with the boobs," in a hushed whisper.

The thought of Dustin, who was secretive about drawn heroine boobs, almost catching Steve and Billy having some sexual adventures sent Steve into a bellyaching, uncontrollable laughing fit.

Dustin was confused. Steve continued clutching his stomach and laughing like a hyena watching American Pie: Band Camp. Robin's break had ended and she entered from the door of the break room and stared at Steve before looking at Henderson, her eyes asking 'what is he laughing about?'

Dustin shrugged.

Steve ignored both of them and continued laughing so hard it hurt. He walked into the break room and grabbed his bag. He threw the comic at Dustin and continued his tirade of unexplained laughter as he walked out of Scoops Ahoy into the main walking area of the mall.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Did he take drugs again?" She asked.

Dustin stared at the retreating figure alight with crazed laughter. "...Probably."

Chapter Text

January 19, 1984

Steve groaned as he popped his neck and then his back, instantly feeling less pressure in his back. He sighed and reclined the drivers seat in his Beemer, and settled back, listening to the radio while the heat blasted through the car. He was tucked away in the parking lot of Starcourt Mall, trees shadowing the bleak moonlight from inching into the car, the nearest light too far from his car to light it dimly. It was dark and Steve felt some sort of melancholy. He closed his eyes, feeling somewhat reassured of his safety with his car doors locked.

Steve had an unnecessarily large house to return to, but felt better being away from his home. Well, it'd be more accurate to say the house in which he resided. It was not Steve's home, per say, but he was fortunate to have a place to return to, unlike all too many people. Even so, the house are currently bare of any other life except for maybe a random house spider or two. It was heated but still had a cold that bit with razor sharp sharks teeth.

Steve's right hand fumbled around in the backseat before grabbing onto the small pack of Parliament cigarettes and his cheap Bic lighter. He gingerly pulled a cigarette from the pack, careful not to crush the filter, and closed the pack, tossing it back in the general area he had picked it up. He flicker the lighter, enchanted with the small flame in the dark of night. He lit the end of the cigarette that wasn't in his mouth, inhaling a bit to get it started. Once it was sufficiently lit, he let out a small inhale of smoke and cracked the drivers side window down about an inch, just enough to let out the permeating smoke, but not too much as to let in the brittle Indiana cold.

"Five days," Steve muttered to himself.

It had been five days since he had seen or heard from Hargrove. Steve knew he should not expect anything — hell, he still didn't — but it was peculiar that he had not heard about the blond from one of his children.

Perhaps he has been a good boy recently, Steve thought to himself with mirth. He flicked some ash off the cigarette and into the glass ashtray sitting on the center console. It would be fucking ridiculous if he was a good boy, Steve though and imagined Billy in a pressed suit and his hair cut short. The world would have to stop spinning before that happened.

A sum of long inhales and exhales of smoke later, the cigarette was nearing its end and, not wanting his fingers to get burnt, Steve snuffed it out in the ashtray, nearly knocking it over with his elbow. He was not as smooth as the girls in high school thought he was. In fact, if he were compared to Billy Hargrove, it would be extremely apparent that he was not smooth.

He lit another cigarette and continued to ride the dangerously addictive  nicotine buzz.

But no one was smoother than Billy Hargrove. At least that's what Steve Harrington thought. Perhaps Steve only thought that because he was twirled and whipped by Billy, but he chose to exercise a different point of view, the view being that Billy Hargrove was smoother than sand on an idle island that no person or animal had ever touched on.

Billy Hargrove was so smooth he had managed to lightly rap on Steve's passenger side window with the second knuckle on his index finger without Steve noticing that he had sauntered over to his Beamer.

And boy, did Steve scream.

Steve flailed about in shock, still unknowing of who the mystery person on the outside of the car was. Not too surprisingly, Steve had dropped his cigarette and it was still burning on the dashboard, the only little spec of light through the car. Steve's mind was flashing through the worst case scenarios possible while his heart hammered louder than before, and if Steve was not so spooked, he would have thought he was having a heart attack.

Steve was panicking. He did not know what he should do.

Do I open the window and give them money? Steve thought worriedly. Or will they shoot me and then take my money. Oh, my god. Ohhhhh, my god.

There was gentle knocking on the window again, only this time it was paired with a smoky voice saying, "Steve?"

Steve's heart stopped completely.

Billy fucking Hargrove, Steve mused to himself, suddenly relieved it was not a thief or murderer. As he was relieved that his wallet and body was still intact, he became even more pissed that the blond asshole had given him such a fright.

With a strangled, animalistic growl escaping from his larynx, Steve pulled the handle and swung the car door open with all his might. He felt and heard it collide with Billy's solid body. Billy let out a satisfying, "Oof," and stumbled backwards. "Harrington, the fu-"

Billy did not even get to finished his sentence before Steve's fist collided with his nose, bringing stinging tears to his eyes instantly. Despite conditioning and natural reflexes, Billy did not fight back. He just put his right hand over his nose and felt a couple of drops of blood drip from his left nostril. It was not too serious of an injury; The bleeding would stop and nothing was broken.

"Steve, what the hell?" His voice was a bit too calm given the situation.

Steve, whose veins were still pumped with adrenaline, watched Billy cradle his nose and replied, "Bastard, I should be asking you that!"

Billy dropped his hand from his face and stared unflinchingly at Steve, and Steve suddenly was hit with a rush of dread that quickly and easily overweighted his anger. The two stared at each other. Billy had no anger on his face, just the considerable 'why the hell did you do that?' expression. Steve's eyes dropped from Billy's and stared at his nose, watching a thin stream of droplets slide down from the nostril and onto Billy's lips. The man made no move to wipe away the blood, far too used to the feeling and taste of it to care.

"I," Steve stared weakly. He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet, standing up straighter. Again, he started to talk, this time clearly. "I thought you were someone trying to mug me."

Despite his nose being hurt, Billy snorted out a laugh, sending a small spray of blood flying. Steve's face turned in disgust. "Gross, man," he said while shaking his head.

Billy just shrugged.

"I honestly thought you were a person trying to murder me and steal my car," Steve said, giving Billy a more detailed explanation.

Billy cracked a smile and started laughing wildly and unabashedly. "Shit, Harrington," he exclaimed. "That's hilarious!"

Steve flushed red in embarrassment. He felt he might have overthought the situation a tad more than necessary. Still, he had the right to be frightened and disturbed by a stranger tapping on his window in a secluded, unlit parking lot at the dead of night.

Steve blew out a long sigh and watched his breath come out in a cloud, finally feeling the bristled Indiana winter on his skin. Steve's denim jacket did little to war the cold, making the man shiver. He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping Billy would not say anything.

Billy did not. Instead, he walked right up to Steve, the toe of his boots squared with Steve's black Converse high tops. He smirked and snuck his arms around Steve's back, causing leather to move over denim. Billy grabbed his jacket in both hands, curling the fabric around his fingers, tightly gripping it. He tugged and Steve's chest hit his and suddenly Billy's bloody lips were on Steve's, moving hungrily and wantonly.

Steve and Billy both felt it -- the absolute burning heat through the air during the throw of a hand.

Billy bit Steve's lip harshly, and Steve could only groan and plunge his tongue into Billy's mouth, meeting a more than eager tongue to wrestle with his. It was a flurry of sloppy, deep kisses filled with lust and eagerly roaming hands, grabbing and groping whatever they could find. Steve grabbed Billy's ass and rutted into him. Billy disconnected their lips in favor of throwing his head back, a string of saliva beading from his bottom lip down his chin. Steve grinded forward again and licked Billy's chin up to his lips, effectively leaving more spit, but neither of them cared.  They continued to move against each other in the dark of night, Steve kissing Billy's sensitive neck.

They were heated up and ready to go, and Billy voiced that by panting out, "Goddamn it, Steve, get me off would ya?"

Steve nipped at the skin on his neck, causing him to beg more, "Oh god, please," he whined, hands gripping Steve's hips tightly.

"What is it you want, huh?" Steve asked, panting hotly on Billy's neck.

Billy released his hold on one of Steve's sides and brought his hand to tug on his perfect hair. "I want you to suck my dick."

Steve was lost in the moment. He forgot his inexperience regarding sex with men and opened the door to his beamer, shoving Billy into the car impatiently. Billy carelessly shoved the ash tray into the passenger seat and flopped onto the backseat, knees on either side of the middle console, watching enamored as Steve squeezed into the car and just barely closing the door. Steve shifted his knees and held onto the headrest while trying to make room for himself in his car. Another shift and

BEEEEEEEP

"Fuck!" Steve exclaimed, moving upwards so his ass would stop touching the steering wheel, effectively knocked his head on the roof harshly. "Shit!"

Billy couldn't help but burst into loud, bellyaching laughter. "Steve!" He exclaimed gleefully through deep rolls of laughter. "You honked the horn — with your ass!"

Steve was quite embarrassed but he himself had to admit that was hilarious. Steve couldn't help but laugh too, it first started as a chuckle and now it was loud and pure laughter coming from deep in his gut. The two laughed like children who had just pranked their parent. It was blissful and full of abundant happiness, all thoughts of sensuality thrown out the window. Their qualms were easily forgotten as they laughed and laughed until they could not anymore.

Not wanting the lightened moment to end, Steve, in vain of getting another minute of unadulterated childlike glee, told Billy about the time during a middle school basketball game he had tried to throw the ball into the goal and instead of going through the net, it came back and hit him square on the forehead.

Billy threw his head back, exposing his neck covered in a hand shaped bruise that was anointed to him by a certain devilish man. Billy was thankfully that his body was cloaked by the darkness of the night so no eyes — not even Steve Harrington's — could see. The marks upon his skin that he couldn't fight made Billy feel pathetic.

Extremely pathetic.

But he was not thinking of that. He was thinking about how much of a dork Steve Harrington was and how the male had him laughing so hard he was nearly crying. Billy was certain he had never laughed this hard in his life. Hell, Billy honestly could not remember the laughed time he had just laughed. That thought was upsetting.

Extremely upsetting.

Billy was used to this sort of lifestyle. This sort of hurt and abuse, hiding emotions and marks from any set of eyes that could see him. He supposed that's why in an elementary school out in California his friend was a blind kid. The partnership was just that. Billy would stop the kids that bullied Tyler with a strong swinging right hook and Tyler would help Billy just by being his friend, which was something the young boy did not have. It was nice to have someone not judge you from your appearance or make assumptions.

Something that Billy Hargrove felt Steve thought towards him. He felt Steve could not care less about his home situation nor his background and their history together. Thy had fought and nearly killed one another but Steve did not air that over him. He moved from that into a better mindset when thinking of Billy. That made Billy smile.

Steve would make him smile in the darkness.

Wish or hope. Billy had never been one to do either, but something on him told him this, this thing with Steve, could be different from everything that had happened in life.

Billy only hoped that one day Steve would help make him smile in the light. It was his wish that would happen.

It was a fruitful wish was deep, deep, and more deeply in the seemingly never ending darkness, but it was a wish from a person who disbelieved in hope, because they had never had hope that had actually helped them.

Never had does not mean never will.

And that is why Billy took the risky leap into his wish.

Chapter Text

January 23, 1984

The evergreen pines shook in the heavy wind in the forest. The blowing wind rustled the dead brown leaves on the ground, sending them scattering and tumbling along downwind. Steve felt a shiver crawl up his back and crack through his entire body. He crossed his arms over his torso and hopped up and down on his toes, drawing a cold breath in and exhaling, watching it come out in an icy cloud that was quickly whisked away and folded into the nearly freezing cold blowing through the entirety of Indiana. Steve had expected there to be snow on the ground when he woke up at dawn after a nightmare, but instead he found the temperature to be four-degrees above the freezing point with ruthless and biting wind.

Steve continued trudging along the back of the Harrington's property that lined up with the woods. The sun meekly peeked over its crest, just barely helping to light the early morning darkness, yet it did not help the cold slap of the forceful wind. Steve was used to the biting cold of winters in Indiana. He grew up with them and knew how to trudge through it as if it were a sunny day in mid-spring.

Steve was walking without a specific reason but rather with none at all. His home was a generous four thousand sq. ft., probably a bit more if he was being honest. It was excessively big, especially since only three people live there. Typically, only one person was there and he rarely saw the other occupants — his parents. Steve was fortunate and over the past year or so has learned not to take that for granted, especially now that he was working a job that payed minimum wage and had to figure out how to eat and live on that. His parents no longer have him spending or food money but they let him live in the large house with no rent.

Sometimes his mom would slip him grocery money for the month without her husband knowing. She would place the money is his palm and fold his fingers over it and kiss his forehead. Steve knew not to refute the money, because it was the way his mom felt she was taking care of him. Steve was also happy that she would open a bottle of vodka and make herself a White Russian or two or three while she was there for the day or evening and leave the bottle of expensive vodka in the freezer, pretending she did not notice the liquor was gone the next time she showed up.

A twig snapping drew Steve from his thoughts. He whipped his head to the right and stared treacherously at the woods. His knees wobbled and his heart sped up, yet he tightened the grip on his bat without hesitation, ready for attack. Another twig snapped and Steve's senses mimicked those of a dog's. His alertness was high and his eyes scanning sharply. The air surrounding his body radiated with readiness and a good bit of apprehension. Steve was ready for whatever came his way.

Come at me, motherfucker, Steve thought with a sneer.

Nothing came at him.

A bird twittered from far away on Steve's right, but Steve paid no mind. A happy little bird was nothing of the same as a demodog or whatever the hell name Dustin had come up with. Steve kept his ground for a long while, finally feeling a couple rays of sunlight hit the back of his neck. It did nothing to warm him up, rather it just gave him a sense of time. Steve tilted his head from side to side, feeling it stretch and give a few weak pops. He lowered his bat from ready position and rolled his stiff shoulders, still watching the woods. Steve figured it was time to head back to his house and did just that, no second did he stop watching for his nightmare as he trekked back the way he had come during his insomnia riddled morning.

Steve locked the back door and double checked the locks before setting his bat down. Steve exhaled heavily, his blood itching for a cigarette, of the sweet feeling of nicotine swirling in his body. He walked into the foyer and searched through his jacket before wrapping his fingers around his basic lighter and pack of Parliaments. He walked on the waxed hardwood floor until it gave way to the kitchen's tile. He set the items in his hand on the small circular table designed to specifically be a breakfast table. He cracked the window open, the cold air nipping at his exposed fingertips, but Steve could not care to be bothered by the coldness.

Steve walked back over to the other side of the kitchen and rustled through the cabinet above the coffee maker, knocking over a bottle of hazelnut syrup and he sifted through the collection of different coffees, finding his typical brand and coffee filters. A snow white paper filter was placed in the brewing basket and filled with Gevalia coffee grounds. Steve himself had to admit he felt like a douchebag when he chose a pricey coffee to be his go-to but it had a nice, rich taste, though Steve did not mind regular diner coffee. He refilled the water and set it to brew, padding over to the table and dragging one of the two cushy chairs to the side of the table, getting as close to the open window as the table would allow.

Steve tapped the pack on his palm, seeing as it was a relatively new pack with only two cigarettes missing. He opened the top of the pack and pulled out a cigarette, putting the filter between his lips gently, flicking his lighter multiple times before a flame emerged. I need to get a Zippo lighter, Steve thought to himself as he lit the end of the cigarette. He was annoyed by the lighter he currently had in his possessions. One that won't fight me to light.

He drew in a few small breaths, getting the cigarette to start burning evenly. He sat in solemn silence as he inhaled smoke and blew it out after it started to sting his lungs. The drip of the coffee and the small waves of cold wind gave Steve's mind the okay to relax. Steve did not realize how tense he was until halfway through the cigarette. He neared the end of his cigarette and flicked a bit of ash off before taking one final drag in, feeling the heat burn on his lips. He snuffed the cigarette butt out in the glass ashtray that his parents had got in London. He let a bit of smoke flow through and out his nostrils, letting the rest of the smoke blow out through his mouth.

Another dark lacquered hickory wood cabinet was opened to reveal an extensive collection of mugs from around the world. When Steve was a child, his parents would always bring him home a souvenir from wherever they had travelled to, whether it be work or vacation related. What was a small child supposed to do with a mug that had a generic note on it, saying something along the lines of 'Thank you for buying this souvenir!'. The notes were never personalized by his parents. The gift was always left on the coffee table in the den, his parents already long gone, leaving behind nothing but a damn mug. At least the mugs were filled with candy, Steve thought, trying to find something worthwhile about the unneeded gifts. Though I think it was the nanny who put candy in it. Well, that’s depressing.

Either way, the mugs could be put to use, mostly now that he was older. He gripped onto the swirled handle of a black mug splashed with varying sized pink dots. He was not sure if the mug was something nicely hand painted or a souvenir from some place that decided to not put text or symbols on its mug. Steve shrugged to himself and unplugged the coffee maker, poured a steaming hot cup of joe and wandered back over to the table by the window. He carefully sat his mug down and sat down heavily in his chair, his body aching for some rest, some god forsaken sleep that was not plagued by night terrors and horrific flashbacks as well as disturbing dreams and a fear of the darkness while resting unarmed.

Steve rubbed his eyes tiredly, willing the dryness to sort itself out and bring moisture back to his eyes that currently felt like the Sahara desert. Steve cursed around the unlit cigarette hanging between his lips, annoyed that his lighter kept getting a spark but no flame. Steve snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the table. It rolled around before getting stopped by the empty flower vase. Steve was more irritable with no sleep, that much was apparent. He snatched the lighter and threw it across the kitchen, hearing it smack against a cabinet door.

"Fuck me," Steve griped as he stomped out of the kitchen and to the front door.

He snatched his coat from the coatrack, making it shake and tremor, and haphazardly put it on. He grabbed his keys from the end table and slammed the front door shut, jamming the key in the first lock and twisting counterclockwise, hearing the lock clunk into place. Steve slid into his Beamer and started the engine who's sound rumbled through the morning air. Steve turned on the radio and tuned through different station, yelling "Shit!" when he found nothing good.

While the engine warmed up and burned off the frost, Steve dug through a dozen CDs before finding one he wanted to hear. He slid it into the CD player and turned up the volume, letting AC/DC pound through the speakers as he threw the car in reverse and sped down the road at double the speed limit, sending crunchy dead leaves swirling and scattering as the BMW sped along the quiet road. By the time Steve arrived at the locally owned grocery store, the town had started moving about, like crickets starting their chirping after dusk, slowly at first until they met a crescendo, moving in and out of harmony. Steve stalked into the store, head turning this way and that, looking for the pharmaceutical and over the counter section. A sign lead Steve to the right corner of the store, showing the small selection of pain relievers, multivitamins, Alka Seltzer, and allergy relief medications. Steve looked beside a bottle of contact solution, reading the label of supposed soothing eye drops.

He picked it up and headed down the long aisles, mind strayed from what he had planned to do. For too long he stared at the selection of body washes before finally picked up one that smelled of cherry blossoms. It was feminine but not overtly so. Steve liked the smell and figured why the hell not. He wandered to the empty checkout lane where a sleepy looking brunette lady was chewing on her fingernails. She straightened her posture and cleared her throat and greeted Steve. "Hello, how are you this morning?"

Steve stared at the cover of a magazine that had a tanned, muscular football player with a mullet that looked like Billy's, though the face was not the same at all. Billy was pretty and handsome at the same time. He had a mischevious sparkle in his blue eyes and an air of confidence around his sexy body. Steve suddenly had the urge to find Hargrove and taste every inch of his body. He shook his head, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed though no one could read his thoughts.

"Sir?" The cashier asked again. "You okay?"

Steve tore his eyes from the magazine and to the cashier who was looking at him oddly. Steve sniffled and placed his items on the counter and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just tired," he responding flatly.  "Can I get a pack of Parliaments? Actually two."

The cashier nodded and turned around, looking for the brand he wanted. Steve suddenly remembered that he needed a lighter and looked beneath the counter and grabbed a charcoal grey Zippo windproof lighter, placing it beside his girly scented body wash that he suddenly realized he should point out to the cashier that he was buying it for his girlfriend, though that was a lie. He was buying it for himself but he always used the 'it's for my girlfriend' ruse every time he bought something that was directed towards women. Before Steve could say anything, the brunette scanned his cigarettes and said, "I smoke the same cigarettes as you."

Steve nodded absently. He was not sure what to do with the information. Should he respond back or ignore it? Steve did not want to be rude but he was stooped with a cloudy mind. He decided not to say anything since the woman had finished scanning all his items. She told Steve the total and Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and did not feel it. He checked every pocket he had and silently freaked out.

He forgot his wallet.

"Shit, shit, shit," Steve mumbled as he rechecked his pockets over and over, continuously coming up empty. "Ah, shit."

"Do you know any words other than shit?" A smooth voice with a hint of smoky rasp said from Steve's right.

Steve turned and was face to face with Billy Hargrove whom was flashing his trademark smirk. Steve was surprised to see Billy this early in the morning at a grocery store. By now, Steve should not be surprised by Billy popping up everywhere. It was his thing after all, appearing out of nowhere at bad moments, if the parking lot meeting two nights ago was any indication.

"Billy," Steve said softly.

Billy's face seemed to light up. "The one and only. Now, Steve, do you care to tell me why you are feeing yourself up in a store? In public, I should add."

Steve ignored Billy's quips and exasperatedly said, "I forgot my fucking wallet."

Billy clicked his tongue. "That's a shame, isn't it?" He teased and leaned in closer, his blue eyes changing to something that made Steve shiver involuntarily and turn red. "You should watch your belongings better, Steve. Don't let them get away."

Even though Steve was sleep deprived and running on nothing but anxiety and nicotine, he understood what Billy meant and, holy mother of the universe, did it make Steve want to jump Billy right then and there. Steve couldn't help but reply back, "I was too busy thinking about..." He gave a short pause as he trailed his eyes downward, resting his gaze on Billy's pink lips. "Another thing that belongs to me that happened to disappear for a couple long nights."

"Is that so?" Billy asked, his tone flirtatious.

Steve let his eyebrows jump up once, not missing the way Billy looked at him. The cashier watched the two, wondering if they were abstractly fighting or pulling each others leg like friends do. She was wrong either way, but she didn't need to know that. Billy turned to her and her knees turned to Jell-O. "I'll pay for his shit," Billy said, feigning annoyance.

"Okay," the cashier said, a little out of breath and a little awestruck. "Sure."

Billy put down the item he was holding and pointedly ignored what expression the two people around him were making and asked, "Can I trouble you for a pack of Marlboro Red's?"

She gave a nod and turned around, her ears obviously red with a lustful blush. Billy locked eyes with Steve, giving him a flirtatious wink, letting Steve get a feel of why Billy had picked up a bottle of lube. Steve tried not to feel it too much, because popping a boner right now would be Hall of Fame embarrassing.

The cashier returned with Billy's chosen brand of cigarettes and handed it to him, scanned the lubricant, look upward to meet Billy's eyeline. "Do you want to put this in your, um, your pocket?" She asked, trying her best not to look below his waistline.

Billy casually ran his fingers through his hair, feeling a knot in his blond curls. "You can put it in the same bag as his stuff," he said dismissively, jutting his left thumb at Steve. "No need for an extra bag. Gotta help save the environment."

He couldn't help himself from snorted at the blatant lie from Billy's mouth. "Of course," Steve replied, a note of snark whipped into his flat tone.

Steve grabbed the bag, and waited until Billy got his change before trailing over to the automatic door, heading towards his Beamer. Billy took long strides until he was hot on Steve's heels and damn, did the brunette's ass look good. Those tight jeans did a number on Billy's resolve, making him bite his lip to hold back an animalistic growl.

Steve felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It felt like there was a cougar behind him, ready to pounce, going straight for his neck. He delightedly shivered. Something about Billy in his primal nature, wanting and wanton, made Steve want to behave the same way.

Steve turned the key into the lock on the door handle and opened the door. He glanced over his shoulder and said to Billy, "You know where I live. Stop by sometime."

And with that Steve put his car in drive and drove out of the parking lot, leaving Billy to pull a cigarette, watching the car drive away earnestly. Steve had just passed the baton to Billy, letting him choose if he wanted this thing between them to continue developing. Billy had already decided he wanted this to continue into something more, whatever sort of more it should turn out to be.

Billy chuckled lowly to himself. Tonight, he thought, I will show Steve how far I plan on taking this. I'll show him I'm no pussy. I'm fucking ready.

----

Steve cleaned the kitchen with a new sense of vigor and nervousness. He had taken Billy's lube in hopes of luring the man to his house. If Billy chose to do so, Steve would know that the man was not just fucking with him. It would show Steve that Billy wanted this as much as he did. Still, Steve was surprised with himself for having the guts to lay the choice solely on Billy, even knowing how unreliable Billy was.

Steve was nervous the entire day, while he cleaned the coffee maker after he made a fresh pot, vacuuming, showered and put artificial tears in his dry eyes, and ate. The nerves and Billy, shit, Steve's brain was scattered like shredded paper thrown into a fast paced wind. Around noon, Steve settled onto the leather couch in the den and turned on cable TV. He ate a freshly prepared Caesar salad and drifted off to sleep before being awakened by a dream that raised his pulse and made his palms sweat. Once his eyes were opened, the dream was forgotten.

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling lucky that he had gotten two hours of sleep Even though it was such a minimal amount, Steve felt better after running on empty for hours and hours and hours. He shuffled to the kitchen and cleaned the dirty dishes from his meal and closed the window he had opened in the wee hours of the morning. Steve mentally kicked himself for forgetting to close it, but figured it would be no good to beat himself up about something that had already happened and could not be redone. He closed the window and trailed up the large staircase, his fingertips gliding along the polished wood handrail.

Steve stopped on the landing of the staircase and looked down into the living room. It made no sense for him to do so, but he felt like he had to, which was something he had started feeling since the night at the Byers' house. Ever since that freaky demogorgon had appeared in the wall. It made Steve curl into himself, shoulders pointed inward and walking down the hallway towards his father's study with his back hunched over slightly. Steve closed the solid door and locked its brass handle, flicked on the lights, and peered around the spacious room. Steve knew if he ever got caught in his father's study, he would get his ass handed to him while simultaneously being kicked out of the house.

His father was very secretive about his study and Steve had figured out why back in middle school. After a particularly boing day in the seventh grade, Steve decided he would get up to some mischief and, already pissed at his parents for never being there, he picked the lock and sneaked into the room and cmbed through every single item he had in there. Furniture and shelves were moved and peered behind before being put back in its original position with a practised percision that every fourteen year old boy would be proud to have, at least that was what Steve had thought. After finding a small key underneath a small porcelin statue of some libertarian that Steve could care less to learn about he unlocked a small metal safe which held a mystic of treasures than the common man could not get his hands on, only tthings that rich and influencial sleazebags could attain. Steve had an idea of what they were but he could not be certain since he had no experience with the things, and figured the best way to fnd out about them was to put it to use.

Steve first grabbed something he knew about: a pack of Cuban cigars. His father loved cigars, but only when he was with other people with the same mentality as him, only rich and conniving douchebags. He opened the box and pulled one out, now making the empty slots rise from three to four. He leaned over an end table and pushed open the window, his shirt nearly catching on the flowing fake green leaf plant that looked alarmingly realistic. If Steve hadn't known it was fake, he would have accepted it was real with no second thought. He grabbed the lighter his father had placed precariously beside the ashtray located on the edge of his desk and flicked it for some time, trying to figure out how to get a flame. Once he did, he jumped slightly, unnerved at the quick appearance of the flame.

Steve lit the cigar, pulling in harsh breaths of smoke that made him cough and his eyes tear up. He tossed the whole thing out the window, not caring to snuff it out of dispose of it correctly. He shoved the window down and latched it back in place, decidedly having enough adventure for the day. His non-caring attitude fluttered away and he carefully moved everything back to its precise place and location.

The ringing of his doorbell echoed through the house, causing Steve to jerk out of his daydreams and into the real world again. He thumped down the stairs and to the door, wondering who was at the front door. It could not be a Demogorgon -- but those things didn't knock or ring, waiting to politely enter the house. No, those damned things came in and wreaked havoc however they pleased. Steve took care to walk up to the door quietly, in case it was someone, or something, he wanted to avoid. He held his breath as he looked through the peephole and spotted none other than Billy Hargrove, the gorgeous man himself.

Steve ran his hand through his hair, suddenly self conscious. He unlocked the door and let it swing open halfway to reveal his entire self to Billy, beckoning for him to come inside without ever gesturing or saying to, his eyes saying more than he ever could. Billy's lips quirked up into a tiny smile, almost inconceivably. Billy pushed past Steve, arms brushing together as he walked into the foyer. Billy looked around and whistled. "Damn, Steve, you have a nice house."

Steve locked the door and turned to peer around the house like he had never seen it, just like Billy. Why he did was a mystery. Perhaps he thought he could see something new or different about his house after looking at it from an unfamiliar standpoint. Before he could think, Billy was beside him, his California sun tanned arm wrapping around Steve's thin waist. A shiver licked its way up Steve's spine, hot electricity coursing through him.

That was all Steve needed before he walked Billy backward into the front door and attacked him with an open mouth. Billy tongue and lips readily met Steve's, both of them too far into the other to take it easy and slow. Steve's hand was in Billy's hair, pulling his head back while his other was on his ass, feeling the firm and supple ass through his trademark tight jeans. Billy ran his hands beneath Steve's shirt, fingers brushing over his back, abdomen, and chest, mapping out his frame while he let Steve kiss him hotly and hungrily, eager to return the same feelings. Steve gave a sharp tug to Billy's long hair and Billy couldn't help but grunt in satisfaction. Steve licked up Billy's neck and nipped at his neck just under his jaw. One of Billy's hands came up to hold Steve's head, his other resting on Steve's chest beneath his shirt.

"Take off your shirt," Billy commanded, groaning from low in his throat as Steve bit and sucked a hickey onto his neck.

Steve did as Billy asked, not wanting to stop anything that was happening. His shirt was recklessly thrown behind him and suddenly Billy pinches his nipple, startling Steve in such a delightful manner that he moaned abashedly against the skin on Billy's neck. Steve's face was red as he pulled back from Billy to yank at his denim jacket impatiently, not wanting to be the only one showing some skin. Billy rushed to help and pull off his jacket and shirt with Steve's help. The men groped and memorized each other's body while their mouths elicited small lightning bolts through the connection point and down their bodies, meddling with the body contact kept their arousal up high and stiff, begging for them to become intimate. Billy grinded his hips into Steve's, hot and dirty and desperate, and Steve felt the same.

Steve parted from Billy's wet mouth, his arms still wrapped around Billy's middle, keeping them close. He panted and asked, "You want to continue this upstairs?"

Billy slid his palms up Steve's chest and onto the back of his head, never once breaking contact with Steve's warm skin, and pulled him into a firm kiss. Billy parted their lips slowly and rested their foreheads together, peering into Steve's brown eyes as he replied with a strained, "Hell yes."

One more chaste kiss and Steve grabbed Billy's hand in his tightly, pulling him through his house, up the stairs, and down the hall into his bedroom and pushed him back onto the bed. Billy let it happen, not giving a fuck about being a complete and total bottom. He was a man and was masculine, so what the hell did it matter if he preferred to be fucked in the ass? Absolutely nothing to Steve; He loved that this muscular, tough, and downright beautiful man trusted and allowed him to hold and take him. It made Steve's heart swell.

Steve licked around Billy's nipple, wondering if men liked it as much as the women he had bedded did. Billy's thighs jumped, giving Steve his answer. He wanted to make the man beneath him feel great and beyond himself with pleasure, so Steve took his time to lick and suck on Billy's chest, nipples, and stomach, occasionally nipping at his tan skin, always getting a little gasp in response. Steve had now shifted to the foot of the bed, his knees resting around Billy, his ass touching his heels. Steve licked just above Billy's waistband, the edge of his tongue grazing along his skin-tight jeans. He braved a look at Billy's face, asking silent permission to continue downward. Billy's face was flushed with desire, pink coloring his cheeks. He bit his lip and nodded slightly, giving Steve the go-ahead.

The room was silent, save for Billy's panted breaths, but it was not awkward. Instead, it was rather intimate, something that Steve just realized. He would have never figured badass Billy Hargrove would like a connection with him before penetrative sex. Being the catcher is probably very nerve wracking and something he would do with someone he felt comfortable enough with to take care of him. Steve unbuttoned and unzipped Billy's jeans, fingertips sliding inside the waistband of Billy's boxers and pulled downward. Billy lifted his hips to help Steve take his pants off, dick embarrassingly hard. Billy felt himself blush, turning even more red until he looked like a tomato.

Steve felt a rush of happiness and pride as he looked at Billy's rock hard erection. Now that Steve was fully looking at it, he noticed it's large size. How the hell am I going to fit that in my mouth? Steve wondered. He decided to do what he had done with Billy before, and started rubbing his hand up and down the length with a loose grip, teasing more than giving Billy the friction he needed. Steve stopped moving his hand and left it to stay at the base of his girthy cock, and flicked his tongue on the underside of the head. Steve let his left hand slide over Billy's abdominal muscles lightly, feeling Billy tense and shiver beneath him. Steve felt a bit more confident. He started giving earnest licks up Billy's shaft and on the head, tongue flicking over the slit, and a while pierced the air of the room.

Steve glanced up at Billy to find him biting on his index finger, trying to keep in what he thought was embarrassing noises. Steve kept the smoldering eye contact as pulled his cheeks into his mouth to cover his teeth, and let his mouth slide down Billy's cock like it were a flag on a flagpole. Steve could only take in about two inches, his gag reflex threatening him as he took the dick farther into his mouth, letting him know he could only get so far, granted it was only a third of Billy's cock in his mouth, the rest covered by his hand. Steve reciprocated what girls had done on him to Billy, knowing his technique was awful, granted it was because this was the first dick he had ever put in his mouth. He had noticed that Billy liked his tongue more than anything else, so while he started jerking Billy off, he kept the dick in his mouth and rolled his tongue around and on the head of Billy's cock. He had not been at it long, but Steve's jaw was starting to ache from how wide open it was.

Steve moved his hand to rest on Billy's hipbone, his thumb circling the indentations and pressing in lightly and Billy let out a moan that sounded so needy and boy, did it ever turn Steve on more than he already was. Steve ignored his own wet erection, focusing on giving Billy what he needed to climax and let bliss overtake him. Billy's hand rested on side of his head, not holding or pushing, just resting as he body shivered and shook. Closed mouth moans and small mewls had Steve nearly coming in his pants. Billy's groans now came out of his mouth unobscured, too close to the edge to care that he was begging, "Fuck, Steve, I'm close. Oh, God, so damn close. More, more."

Billy's body tensed then shook with undeniable pleasure as his orgasm hit, cum filling Steve's mouth as he continued sucking Billy through to the end. Steve did not like the taste of Billy's cum in his mouth, wanting to spit it out, but kept it in his mouth as he lowered his head down and then up again slowly, making Billy groan and grip his fingers in Steve's hair. Steve pulled off with an audible pop ands sat back on his haunches. Billy's eyes cracked open and saw Steve's face, and he knew that Steve did not know what to do with the load of cum in his mouth. Billy's limbs were jelly as he ran his hand around bottom of the bed, searching and finding the small trash can and handed it to Steve, who graciously accepted the can and spit into it, emptying his mouth from the nasty taste.

"Are," Steve started but his voice cracked. he cleared his throat and looked down to Billy's face. "Are you good?" He asked sincerely.

Billy's mouth tilted into a bemused smile. "Fuck yeah, I am." They couldn't help but smile at each other until Billy's broken voice said, "You seem to be straining a bit, though." Billy's eyes darted down to stare at Steve's crotch pointedly. "I can help you out," Billy said, his voice seductive. Steve could come undone just by looking at Billy's post orgasmic state. His nipples were perked to attention his face flushed and body having patches of sweat. His dick was out for display unabashedly, still wet with saliva. "Just give me a minute."

Steve skirted his fingers up Billy's muscular stomach and chest, pausing to grab Billy's necklace and study it closer. He did not question why Billy wore a cross around his neck, and the man offered no explanation. Steve let go of the pendant and ran his fingers up his neck and onto the side of his pretty face. Steve leaned down and stole a kiss from Billy's lips. The kiss was soft and almost tender in a way lovers would kiss. Steve pulled away and looked into Billy's half-lidded, stark blue eyes.

"Would you be mad if I said you are pretty?" Steve asked in a quiet whisper.

Billy's hand rested gingerly against the back of Steve's neck, fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. "I wouldn't be mad," Billy replied. He was open and relaxed more than anyone had ever seen. "Because it's true."

Steve giggled and let Billy tug his head down for another soft press of their lips that morphed into a sensual mix of heat and passion. Steve's hand clumsily searched on the bed for the lube, finally locating it with sweaty fingertips. He flipped the cap open with minimal resistance and squirted some onto his other hand before leaning down and kissing Billy's lips gingerly. One hand gripped Billy's strong thigh and raised it, giving a better angle to access his asshole, his other lightly brushing the lube around the tight entrance before slinking the tip of the middle finger into Billy. Billy gasped and Steve stopped moving, instead leaning in to kiss Billy's rough cheek tenderly.

After a second, Steve started to wiggle his fingertip, playing with the rim of Billy's hole. Billy gripped Steve's freckled shoulder in a tight grip as his partner's finger slowly made its way inside of him. Billy felt a delicious tingle start from the ring of muscles around Steve's finger and shock it's way through his body, making his cock fill with interest even though he was already spent. Billy let out a moan of pleasurable contentment and rested his head on the nest of pillows with his eyes closed.

When Steve pressed two fingers up into Billy, Billy let out a strained groan. He felt something in the rim tear and shock him with blinding pain that had him clenching around the fingers in him and clawing his fingernails into Steve's shoulders, almost certainly leaving crescent shaped indentions in his skin. Steve froze, fingers clenched between hot heat as he worriedly asked, "Shit, Billy, are you okay?"

The fat tears sliding down Billy's cheeks gave Steve the answer he was looking for. Billy let out a pained groan, his teeth clenched together so tightly it made his jaw hurt. "Hurts," he said.

Steve pulled his fingers out quickly, causing Billy to yelp in pain. "Motherfucker, that hurt!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Steve said fervently. He rubbed his hands over Billy's thighs that were wrapped tightly around his midsection. "I'm sorry, Billy. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Billy opened his eyes and stared up at his eyelashes, trying to will the tears away. "It's fine," he said, sounding completely and utterly not-at-all okay.

Steve rested his hands on Billy's legs. "Well, what... what happened? Did I do something wrong? Did-"

"Shut it," Billy said, effectively stopping Steve's worried tangent before it could fully commence. "It felt like something tore."

Steve's eyebrow quirked subconsciously. "Ripped? Oh shit, I should have gone slower. Oh god, I should have-"

Billy slapped a hand over Steve's mouth. "Let me catch my breath for a minute, would ya?" He grumbled out, letting Steve know it was a suggestion rather than a question, regardless of how it was phrased.

The moments ticked by and slowly but steadily, Billy lowered his legs and urged Steve to lay beside him. Steve waited with baited breath as Billy relaxed himself, willing his body to mellow out and relax on the bed completely. The job was easily finished when Steve threw a soft blanket over their bodies.

"It happens," Billy said.

Steve, being Steve of course, asked, "What happens?"

Billy rolled his eyes. "It sometimes happens that the ass needs an adjustment period before you can fit a lot in. It's not like a chick where you just shove it in the first time."

Steve nodded along. "Oh. Still, I'm sorry for hurting your asshole."

Billy could not help but snort out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine." He rolled on his side and grabbed the side of Steve's face, forcing his eyes to meet his own blue ones. "I'm serious, Steve. It's fine." He followed his statement by giving Steve a heart stopping smile and a couple pats on the cheek.

Suddenly, Billy's eyes glinted with mischief. "I'm sure you know, but you haven't gotten your rocks off yet. Need a hand?"

Chapter Text

February 17, 1984

A few weeks had went by in a whirlwind of events. Steve and Billy followed their respective lives and met up more and more to jerk each other off or have fun without any sexual encounters. Steve had given Billy a blowjob for Valentine's Day, and noticed that Billy was pliant, almost like a receiver who never reciprocated. Steve did not mind, hell, how could he? Steve told Billy he was like a pillow princess and earned a swift kick from the man himself.

Now Steve was on the couch icing his balls for what felt like the umpteenth day, grumbling to himself about having literal blue balls. After Billy had kicked him in the nuts, he left and Steve hadn't heard from him since. Steve did not know which hurt worse: his balls or his emotions. Somehow, Steve had gotten attached to the idea of spending time with Billy or dreaming about Billy, or really anything to do with Billy. For lack of better words, Steve Harrington was addicted to Billy Hargrove.

Steve lazily lolled his head to the back of the couch, already bored of the movie be had popped in the VHS player after five entire minutes.

He wanted to see Billy.

The doorbell rang. It was as if the gods had answered Steve's prayers. Steve did his best to get off the couch, walking bowlegged to the door, the pack of frozen peas that doubled as his ice pack laid on the couch where he had just sat. Steve was like an excited puppy, ready to see its owner after they had come back home. He opened the door and was met with a face he did not expect to see.

"Hey, Steve," Nancy said, her voice small but stern, like it always was. "Can we talk?"

Steve blinked a few times and stuttered out, "Wh-, uh um yeah, yeah sure come in." He wanted to slap himself in the face for how stupidly nervous he sounded. It really was unlike Steve to act like that, and Nancy noticed.

Nancy sat on the couch, mirroring the way she did when they used to date and watched movies on the couch. Well, more like they made out, but that was long over for both of them, already finding a man they would rather be with.

Nancy cleared her throat and stared up at Steve, who had decided to stand with his arms crossed rather than sitting. "Mike has been talking about you," she said.

Steve quirked an eyebrow. "Is that something new?"

Nancy ignored that and continued, saying, "He said you have gotten yourself a girlfriend."

Steve stared at her, his heartbeat starting to thrum loudly. "Um, okay." He replied, feigning carefreeness, which wasn't easy.

"I don't think you have a girlfriend, Steve," she said, her look turning to one that seemed to know everything.

Steve felt a rush of fear course through his body, nearly crashing onto his knees. His legs wobbled like gelatin. "Well, I do," he replied, cursing himself, knowing his voice was one of a liar's. There was no way Nancy would bite and believe that.

Nancy sighed and patted the couch cushion beside her. "Steve, I know we ended our breakup on a bad note, but we are still friends. You know that."

Steve nodded. He did know that, though this was not something he talked about to anyone but Robin, who was well versed in the works of same sex attraction. He could no longer hold himself up on his legs so he collapsed on the couch as far away from Nancy as he could.

"Steve, you can trust me," Nancy said reassuringly.

That's a damn lie, Steve thought. Suddenly, his nerves were outweighed by anger. "Really, Nancy?" He spat, turning to her and yelling, "Can I really?!"

Nancy shrunk back into herself. Steve ignored that and continued with a raised voice laced with venom and accusation, saying, "Do you not remember everything that has happened in the past two years? Every time you have defied my trust, crushing it like it's a goddamn bug? Huh?!"

Nancy blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes. "Steve, that's not fair."

"No, it's not, Nancy. Was it fair when you told the school about how my father abused me? I told you that in confidence and told everyone with your big fat mouth!"

Nancy's lips quivered as she struggled to fight back tears. She knew that Steve calling her a slut did not even the score with everything she had spread with gossip. "Steve," she said quietly in a choked voice. "We both made mistakes. We were young and stupid."

Steve felt his own tears rising, his anger quickly burned through with the well of emotions hidden behind his eyes. "Yeah, we were, but I'm the only one that apologized and tried to change it and make it up to you. You didn't."

"I-I'm so-" Nancy started but Steve stopped her with a hand raised.

"Don't," he said lowly. "Just... don't."

Nancy sniffled into her hands. Steve swiped at his eyes, pulling away with a bit of moisture from tears that fought not to fall. "Please leave," he told her quietly, staring at the wall, waring with his eyes to not give in and overflow with emotion.

Nancy left after a long minute, closing the front door behind her loudly. The noise jarred Steve out of his war, which proved to be a fatal mistake. The tears started to fall without abandon and leaked down Steve's face.
Steve broke.
,.,.,.,.,.,,.,.,.,.,..,..,.,.,

February 18, 1984

Steve woke up on the couch with a heavy heart and a migraine. The house was empty, silent. It was always empty, why should he expect anything different? Still, even after all these years, it hurt. It always hurt if he thought about it too long.

Steve pulled himself off of the couch, his limbs feeling like lead. With a heavy sigh, Steve made his way up the stairs and pulled on his work uniform. That stupid, stupid sailor uniform. Steve did not bother looking in the mirror, knowing he looked like shit, which is exactly what Robin told him.

Steve blew a long cloud of smoke out from his lungs, like a dragon that lost its flames. Robin wrinkled her nose and fanned her hand in front of her face, dissipating the badly directed line of smoke. "I know," he replied.

Robin picked at her nail polish, a subconscious habit. "How many days has it been?" She asked without giving any other description to what exactly she was asking, but Steve knew precisely what she was asking.

"Four days."

Robin squished her face up in thought. "That's not what has you so down, is it?" She phrased it like a question, but it was exceptionally obvious that she was stating her assumption.

"Lesbians know everything," he said with a laugh, because it was true, at least it was with Robin. The woman was smart, essentially a genius.

Robin posed and smiled. "I don't know about everything, but we are just smarter than everyone else. It's gay power," she joked.

Steve's lips curved into a real smile. He dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe, leaving behind the crushed feeling in his chest as he and Robin made their way back to the mall.

Chapter Text

February 18, 1984

The afternoon sun slipped through the February chill and burned Steve's eyes as he sat on the back-porch of his parents' house, nursing one beer bottle after another. His eyes continuously slid back and forth, watching, studying, trying to spot a monster, if there was one. His paranoia was not unnecessary or excessive, it was an important trait with his life that involved the Upside Down. With all the death and destruction and lurking in the shadows, whether it be the shadows of your mind or the shadows within the clearing or in the forest, it was a necessity to be observant and alert, always ready for the unexpected. If you were not expecting monsters, you would have a disturbing awakening, or rather a disturbing death.

Steve was drinking, which did not help his laser-eyed focus on the woodland just beyond him, but the beer did wonders to qualm his excessive anxiety. His heart wasn't beating at near death anymore, but rather just its usual quick beats that came whenever he was not with Billy. The thought of Billy alone made his heart skip a beat. Steve sat his beer bottle down and voiced his sudden realization in a small voice, because he was only talking to himself, after all. He said, "I really like Billy. Maybe closer to love."

Steve shook his head. It was too early to love him. They had been together just a month, but they have known each other much longer. Even so, saying he was in love with Billy Hargrove was a needy, rushed conclusion. Steve found he was attached to Billy, everything that he was.

Steve Harrington had fallen deep down the rabbit hole of affection for Billy Hargrove. It was a startling realization, really. Steve was afraid to fall prey to emotions so deeply after his break up with Nancy. It was a harsh break up, and Steve is not ready to get his heart broken again. His drunken mind did not think completely and he started overthinking, or perhaps he wasn't thinking enough. He decided calling Robin and talking to her would be a smart decision.

Steve stumbled out of his seat and across the back porch to the house and he ever-so-gracefully walked into the sliding glass door. Steve cursed and grumbled, putting his hand over his throbbing nose while he slid open the door and stepped inside. Steve slid the door closed behind him and locked it; He liked to be cautious with his life. He had never cared much before, but there was something about the possibility of getting ripped apart and eaten alive that made Steve want to watch his back.

Steve remembered Bob. He was a terribly nice guy that died brutally. Bob deserved more out of life and it made Steve sick to his stomach that the man was gone without fully living. The more he thought about the Upside Down and everything that has happened, the more Steve wanted to jump out of his crawling skin. Steve put a cork in his negative thoughts and focused on getting a box of crackers from the pantry, which happened to be very stale and had the consistency of damp cardboard.

Annoyed, Steve threw the crackers in the trash can before opening the freezer and rooting through it like a rat on a mission in New York City. Of course, the freezer did not have much to offer, seeing as how Steve never shopped for more than a couple items. That, and Steve lived on take out food. He located a bag of combination pizza rolls and pulled it out, aimlessly tossing the bag in the air as he ambled towards the cabinet and pulled out a plate.

"Can I cook these in the microwave?" Steve wondered to himself aloud. His vision was blurry and it made it hard to read the small print on the back of the yellow bag. "Hmm, guess so," he murmured to himself, just guessing considering he had not actually read the instructions. Turns out Steve talked to himself when he was drunk.

Steve collapsed on the leather couch with his plate packed with pizza rolls, not noticing one had fell off the plate and landed on the floor. He turned on some mind-numbing cabal television and slowly made his way through his dinner. Given that the pizza rolls were crammed on a paper plate, some were still cold on the inside, but Steve was too drunk to care -- or notice, really. He just ate them and laughed at the vacuum infomercial that was playing on the boxy screen.

A knock came from the front door, causing Steve to open his eyes and squint through the glare of the television screen. His pizza rolls were abandoned and scattered on the floor from when Steve passed out at some point. Who the hell is trying to talk to me at this ungodly time of night, Steve thought, thoroughly irritated. What he did not know that it was barely a quarter past eleven. He stumbled over to the front door and opened it, peering out at Robin, who had seen him a mere six hours ago at the end of his shift.

"What's going on, Steve?" Robin asked, not doing a terrific job at hiding the worry on her face and in her voice. "You called me two hours ago mumbling about not wanting to be killed by a Demogorgon or some crazy shit. What the hell is going on with you?"

Steve stepped out of the doorway, a silent invitation. Robin walked in and hung her puffy coat on the coat rack beside Steve's heavy winter coat. With the door closed and locked, Steve followed Robin into the living room and flopped down heavily on the couch, making a cold pizza roll burst open and cover the seat of his pants. Steve was still far too drunk to notice and rested his head back on the top of the couch, his throat bore open and his glazed eyes stared up to the ceiling.

Robin was never the type of woman to beat around the bush (no pun intended), she was a go getter. She shot straight to the point, again, no pun intended. She raked a pizza roll onto the floor and sat on the couch beside Steve, and said, "Steve, you can't drown your problems in alcohol. The problems are still there after you sober up."

Of course, Steve knew that. He slurred out, "But I don't know how to deal with this shit without Billy."

Robin raised her eyebrows at the confession that Steve would never remember making, and she figured that was for the best. "Even so," Robin said, "You can't just be an alcoholic."

Steve turned his head to face Robin, his eyes glassy, his nose and eyes burning from the strain it took to not burst into tears. "I can be whatever the fuck I want, Robin."

Robin stared solicitously, her heart aching at her friend's current state. "Yeah," Robin said quietly, voice thick with emotion. "You can."
Steve turned his head away from Robin, unable to stop the onslaught of tears cascading down his pinkened face. Robin did not say anything for awhile, letting Steve cry in what he thought was an unnoticeable forthright. Minutes and multiple sniffles later, Robin tentatively asked Steve, "Are... are you alright?"

Steve cleared his throat and shifted so he was staring forwards at the television. "No," he answered honestly, but did not add anything on to explain why.

Robin did not pressure, knowing that the farther you push, the more someone pulls into theirself. She sat beside him, giving him the company and knowledge that somebody was there for him, regardless if he said what was bothering him or not. He was unable to thank Robin, but she already knew.