He’s drunker than he’d anticipated.

Not sloppy drunk, just…moving a little looser, his blinks long like a comfortable cat, bumping into things and smiling to himself because oops…

He didn’t expect to get this drunk but his heart was just ripped from his chest, so…

He hiccups softly and moves through the crowd, feeling stupid in his Halloween costume now that Nancy’s gone and now he just looks like some loner loser wearing sunglasses inside. At least they hide his red eyes.

Maybe he’d gone outside to cry, maybe he didn’t.

He pours himself another cup of whatever and turns to go back outside — and runs right into a bare chest.

“Woah, easy, tiger,” the new kid all but purrs, grabbing Steve’s arm to steady him.

Steve blinks hard behind his sunglasses and focuses his eyesight as best he can, furrowing his brows as he shrugs the blond off, muttering/pouting, “Go away.”

Those blue eyes are sizing him up now, a knowing look on that annoyingly handsome face (handsome?), before the guys says, “C’mon, let’s go outside,” and grabs Steve’s arm, pulling him towards the backyard.

God, why didn’t he just go home?

At least the cool October air feels nice on his hot skin, a nice change from the stifling indoor air. He leans against the railing on the deck and takes another sip of his drink, making a face as it hits his tongue and how can he still taste it when it’s basically burned off all his tastebuds?

“Saw your girl leave without you,” the blond hums, leaning against the railing with him, and Steve turns to look at him in the dim light, the yellow-orange glow from the house highlighting the other’s features even with his sunglasses on.

It’s like, kinda unfair, how someone can look this good.

God, what was his name again?

“It’s messed up, y’know,” the blond hums as he pulls out his pack of cigs and pulls one out, “Pretty boy like you? You should be the one breaking hearts.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve slurs softly, watching the other put a cigarette between his lips, eyeing the blond moustache there, how the flame of his lighter shows more of his face, and what was Steve talking about again?

“Well?” The blond breathes out his inhale of smoke, brows pinched gently.

“Well, what?” Steve mutters dumbly, blinking.

It makes the guy laugh, his eyes crinkling as he grins, showing off perfect teeth, too. Fuck him. How dare he.

“Man, you’re wasted,” the blond chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes landing on Steve again as he takes a long, slow inhale.

Is there tension? Steve can feel something in his stomach.

God, is he gonna puke in front of the hot new guy?

Wait, no. No way.

It’s butterflies. He swears it.

“Y’know,” the blond mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, taking a step closer to Steve, those blue eyes boring into his own even through the dark plastic, so close now Steve can smell his cologne and it’s kinda making his head spin in a good way.

“What?” Steve mumbles in return, almost scared of anyone else hearing him, even though it’s just them back here.

There’s a mischievous look on that handsome face as the blond hums, his tone low and slow, “I’d let you break my heart, again and again and again…”

Steve’s drink slips out of his hand and falls onto the deck, spilling between their feet. Fuck. His shoes.

But it’s whatever, because he makes the guy laugh again, although softer this time. Like Steve made him laugh.

He hasn’t made anyone laugh in a while.

“I got it,” the blond purrs, taking his cigarette from his mouth and holding it to Steve’s, and he takes it between his lips silently.

He receives another little smirk for that before the blond is bending down, grabbing the red cup from the floor but not standing right away, no.

Instead, he looks up at Steve, blue eyes sharp and maybe just a little glazed over from drinking, but there’s intent there.

And, well. Steve can’t help but to imagine other things the guy could be doing down there, on his knees.

It’s silent. The only sound is the party inside, muffled, and it’s definitely his raw emotions and neediness that’s mixed terribly with alcohol that makes Steve reach down and put his thumb on those pretty lips.

And he’s not sure what the blond’s thinking, but his lips part, and his tongue coaxes Steve’s thumb inside. It’s warm and wet and the guys sucks, like he would Steve’s cock, and it makes something lost but familiar tilt its head in Steve in consideration.

Oh, he hasn’t felt this in a while.

It feels good.

“What was your name again?” He asks as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth with his other hand, licking his lips to wet them as he curls his index finger under the blond’s chin, keeping his thumb firmly in place.

The blond’s eyes are half-lidded as he mutters his name around Steve’s thumb, his tongue smoothing along his fingerprint, “B’lly.”

“I think you got something in your mouth there,” he hums, smiling as Billy tries to pull away but he doesn’t let him, earning him a glare.

There’s a fire in Billy’s eyes that Steve could become obsessed with.

And he feels it as Billy bites, nothing to break skin, but it’s enough for Steve to pull his hand away with a sharp ‘ow’ and Billy’s immediately standing, crowding him against the railing.

He should feel afraid, or something, but he doesn’t. Just a burning pit inside his stomach, which only grows as Billy reaches and pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, their eyes connecting again.

“You wanna get outta here?” Billy asks, plucking his cigarette from Steve’s hand, taking a long drag.

It’s a loaded question, full of possibilities and options. Like he’s been given a second chance at something, and it’s thrilling.

Answer the question Steve!

anon...you requested this back in September 2022 and it was at the very bottom of my drafts...I'm so sorry 😭 I'm not sure if you're still in the fandom or not but I finally finished your request!! light smut at the end!

-

He had expected it to be awkward. And, it kind of was, but he hadn’t expected it to feel like this - like what he’d been missing for so long as finally there, right where it was supposed to be.

Their lips had brushed for the first time at the age of 13 and 14, as a dare, at Tommy’s birthday party. And when Steve had pulled away, he saw this confused look in Billy’s blue eyes, his brows furrowed slightly. They’d been friends since the tender age of 6, when Steve had spotted a blond boy with curly hair standing alone at recess on the first day of kindergarten. They’d been inseparable ever since.

But once the girls and boys at the party had begun to giggle at them, they had laughed it off, Billy pushing at his shoulder like he always did, and Steve pushed that evening to the back of his mind, content to forget all about it.

Except, he couldn’t. Whenever he looked at Billy, his eyes went to his lips. Shaped so perfectly, pink like his mother’s azaleas, with a sharp cupid’s bow and plump bottom lip that drove Steve crazy. 

And as they grew, muscles filling out and limbs elongating, jaws becoming scratchy with stubble, Steve still found him beautiful. His eyes, so intense, even when they were staring off into the distance and disconnected from the moment. His hair, always curled and set to Billy’s specifications, smelled of hairspray and cigarettes and Steve loved it. The freckles that dotted Billy’s nose and cheeks made Steve’s knees weak, along with the ones on his shoulders - especially those ones. 

He spent so long admiring Billy and convincing himself that it was nothing, that he never noticed Billy doing it back. Looking when Steve wasn’t. Hooking up with girls that had brown hair and brown eyes. Grabbing Steve’s biceps during gym class and grinning at him knowingly, “You been lifting weights or something?” even though Billy knew they worked out together multiple times a week.

Perhaps it was just building up to this moment, at Steve’s 17th birthday party. His parents had fucked off to wherever they were that month and Billy had convinced him to throw a party, whispering in his ear all week at school.

“C’mon, dancing queen. You’re only seventeen once.”

‘Dancing queen’. As if Billy listened to ABBA. 

Obviously, he gave in. He told a few people, who told others, and those others told their friends, and now here Steve was, being helped upstairs to his room by Billy. A strong arm around his waist, both of them giggling drunkenly as they get into the room and Billy shoves him onto the bed with a grin.

“Sleep it off, Stevie,” he hummed, not even bothering to look away as Steve rolled onto his back and began to undress, always one to sleep in just his briefs when he was drunk.

“I’m—" a hiccup, “I’m gonna, okay? S’your fault for giving me so many shots...” He mumbled as he kicked off his jeans, feeling Billy help him when they got caught on his ankles. He managed to open his eyes - unsure of when he’d closed them - long enough to see Billy standing at the foot of his bed, a soft smile on the blond’s face. “You gonna sleep here?” He asked softly.

Billy had nodded, “Yeah. M’not tired, though.” There were still guests downstairs, after all. And Steve trusted his best friend to make sure everyone left or had a place to sleep before going to bed himself.

“‘Kay,” Steve whispered, “G’night.” 

“Night, Stevie.”

When Steve woke up the next morning, his brain feeling way too big for his skull, he found Billy next to him, asleep. And despite the hangover, Steve had sleepily blinked through the waves of nausea to admire Billy in the morning sun: messy hair, thick eyelashes casting a shadow fanning across his cheekbones, and his lips slightly parted with deep breaths. Clothes missing except his briefs, so comfortable and safe in Steve’s bed.

Steve’s heart had skipped a beat and he knew he was in love with Billy in that moment.

He’d always been a fool for love, but with Billy, it was different. It ran deep, something that felt like it was in his DNA, like he’d been made to love Billy Hargrove before he even knew it.

In the summer after their junior year, it all came to a head, when he kissed Billy in his backyard.

It was a hot July evening, and instead of melting in his room, Billy had shown up on Steve’s front door with a six pack of beer, a towel over his shoulder, and a familiar smile as he asked, “Wanna go for a dip?”

And who was Steve to deny him anything?

-

The sun is hot but at least the beer is cold, Steve thinks as he leans back on a recliner and sips at the lip of his can, watching Billy flop down in the recliner next to him, cracking his beer open with a happy hum. 

It’s easy, with Billy. They’re assholes to each other but it’s the way they work. Snide comments, mean smiles, soft looks, inside jokes. They talk and drink for the entire afternoon, finally taking a dip in the pool once their skin is hot to the touch, and even then they’re splashing each other because it’s a competition and Billy never backs down, keeps poking Steve until he gets a reaction.

Maybe that’s why Billy swims him into a corner, a smirk on his flushed face, water clinging to his eyelashes and soaked curls. Steve lets himself be cornered, a hand resting on the edge of the pool as he grins at his best friend, ready to splash the blond but Billy has this look in this eye then. Something a little intense, a little serious, and it makes Steve freeze. 

He sees the way Billy’s eyes flick down to his lips, for just a second, but it’s long enough that Steve notices. 

And, he freezes, for a moment. The tension is thick and Billy falters, that cocky expression slipping away to uncertainty for a moment, like he's realizing that he's made a mistake.

Steve hates it. Hates that Billy would think for even a second that he wouldn't want this.

So, he pushes off the wall a bit, until he's pressed up against his best friend and he's clumsily pressing his lips to Billy's for a second before pulling away, eyes wide.

Billy's eyes are equally as wide, his jaw dropping a little in surprise.

And because Steve is Steve, he breathes, "I'm sorry."

Which has Billy blinking in confusion, his brows furrowing for a moment before he huffs in exasperation and splashes Steve in the face again.

"What the fuck!" Steve coughs, feels the chlorine burning his nose and eyes as he wipes at them, and when he opens them Billy is climbing out of the pool, the wet muscles of his back flexing under the sun so perfectly that Steve is stunned into silence at the mere sight.

Billy stands and turns around, an expectant look on his pink face as he stares down at Steve, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He waits a moment before asking, rather impatiently, "Are you getting out or what?"

"Are you going to throw me back in when I do?" He asks cautiously, already swimming to the edge where Billy had just lifted himself out from.

"You're making me want to, the longer you stay in there," Billy mutters, watching Steve climb out of the pool and standing there just a few feet away.

They look at each other for another moment, unsure of what to do, because it's settling in that they kissed without a dare or an audience and it meant something.

"Do it again," Billy mutters suddenly, almost whispers.

And Steve doesn't need to be told twice.

He steps close, their chests nearly touching, leaning in to press another kiss to Billy's lips - when he feels a shove to his chest and he's indeed flailing backwards into the pool.

When he resurfaces, Billy's frowning down at him and all but hissing, "Why the fuck would you apologize?"

"I don't know!" Steve gasps with desperation, a hint of a whine in his voice as he swims back to the edge of the pool, pushing his wet hair back from his face and glaring up at Billy as he folds his arms over the edge of the tile, "I...I panicked, I guess."

"Yeah, no shit," Billy huffs, his mouth twitching, "C'mon. Get out."

Steve gives him a look, which makes the blond roll his eyes before taking a step back from the pool, a safe distance away from Steve as he climbs back out again.

And then Billy's charging at him again, and Steve tenses and squeezes his eyes shut, expecting to feel himself thrown back in the pool, but then there's only warm skin and strong arms around his shoulders, pressing him down into the earth, and then Billy's demanding mouth against his.

His mouth is wet, hot, sucking Steve's tongue inside with a soft sound. Steve's immediately wrapping his arms around Billy in return, pressing into his body, tilting his head as he lets Billy claim his mouth.

It's aggressive, a little rough, so Billy.

The blond pulls away, his lips so red now, his eyes so blue under heavy lids as he whispers in a tone Steve can't refuse, "Upstairs."

They track water inside, but no one's around to give them shit for it, and it's hard for Steve to care when Billy's pushing his shorts down, so beautifully naked and hard in Steve's bed.

He pushes his own shorts down and climbs onto his bed, crawling on top of Billy and letting his best friend pull him down, feeling a hand gripping the soft-firm muscle of his ass, encouraging him to rock his hips down.

"Billy," he breathes, slotting his thigh between the blond's, their lips meeting again in a kiss as they rock together, desperate and needing and wanting.

Billy moans into his mouth, the sound so low and rumbling, settling in Steve's chest where he never wants it to leave.

It's embarrassingly quick, their first time, with the sensation of their cocks sliding together so slick and hot, pushing each other over the edge with a gasp and hissed curse.

And under that gauze of bliss, where Steve feels like he's floating, he begins to talk.

"Want you forever," Steve murmurs, unable to stop the swell of affection in his chest as Billy begins to rock under him again, their bodies so intertwined he didn't know when he started and Billy ended.

"One and only," Billy whispers, his voice a little shaky, staring up at Steve with such raw vulnerability, "You."

"Don't want anyone but you, Billy," Steve smiles gently, leaning down and pressing sweet little kisses to Billy's warm cheek, again and again, and Billy accepts them without complaint.

In fact, he looks pleased, with his own soft smile and pinked cheeks.

He looks happy.

Glowing with it, maybe.

Steve wants to see him like this, forever.

"It's always been you, and always will be," he promises, gently bumping the tip of his nose against Billy's, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Gonna love you forever, whether you want it or not."

"I do, want it," Billy whispers, his voice cracking a little with emotion, his blue eyes so wet as he clings to Steve, "Promise?"

"How is he?

Konyash glanced tiredly over his shoulder, less than impressed to see who was speaking to him. Sighing, he turned back to his notes, leafing through the pages.

"As I explained to Sir Radzig, the fever has eased and he had a restful night," the sawbones explained, tapping his notes in annoyance, "as long as he keeps taking the remedies, he should be back on his feet in a few days."

"Yes, well, I am not Sir Radzig," Hans snatched the notes from the physician's hands to read through himself. Rolling his eyes, Konyash focused in his potions.

"I am aware, sir, but there is no need to worry. I've dealt with many an ailment," he examined several phials, setting one aside, "besides, your friend here suffered much worse which I was able to treat without incident. He shall be fine."

He must have been referring to Henry's first encounter with Runt, a tale Hans had only ever heard about in the court and Henry's scattered memories. He snapped the book closed, handing it back to Konyash.

"If he isn't, it'll be your neck."

Konyash raised an eyebrow but he didn't say anything, instead bowing sarcastically. He left the room, then, leaving Hans alone with Henry. The nobleman took the physician's seat, drumming his fingers on the table.

"People are going to talk if you keep acting like that."

Hans smiled as he joined Henry on the bed, holding hands and idly stroking his skin, "and I'll be sure to do my best to give a fuck."

Henry chuckled which quickly turned into a cough; Hans helped him to drink until he was satiated, collapsing weakly back against the bed.

"So," the incapacitated bodyguard croaked with a cheeky smirk, "how's my replacement working out?"

Hans gave an exaggerated groan, running his hands over his face in exasperation, "like an over eager puppy. He won't leave me the fuck alone and he lets. me. win. at everything," he punctuated each word with a sharp hand gesture, "I never though I'd miss getting my arse kicked by my subordinate."

Just then, as if he was summoned, there was a knock at the door followed by the appearance of Josef, the excited young guard assigned to Sir Hans' temporary service. He tripped into the room, dropping his weapon in the process. He scrambled for his sword, standing upright.

"Reporting for duty, sir!"

Hans and Henry exchanged amused looks before the nobleman stood from the bed before striding over to Josef and taking him by the shoulders, attempting to manoeuvre him from the room.

"No need, my good fellow," Hans said cheerfully, opening the door, "I'll be studying medicine today."

"Come now, sir," with great difficulty, Henry managed to sit up and lean on his elbow, gesturing between them, "you were just saying how you needed exercise. Didn't you want to go to the archery range today?"

Before Hans could protest and perhaps throw something at Henry, the guard nodded enthusiastically, "yes, sir! I'm sure Captain Bernard will let me hold a bow this time."

He stepped outside, waiting for Hans to join him. The noble scowled at Henry, approaching the bed; he lightly prodded Henry's chest so he fell back onto the bed, laughing to himself. Still, he leaned down to give him a quick goodbye kiss.

"If you think you're getting a massage now."

Henry reached for his hand, lifting it to his mouth for a gentle kiss, "you've probably got what I've got now."

"If I have, and you're assigned a different lord momentarily," he leaned down whisper directly to him, "try not to fuck him."

Point is, since he's secretly watching Billy so much now, he definitely notices that Billy is into men. Because Billy is seen with men, a lot. Different men. And Steve doesn't know what he feels about that but he's feeling something. And so he keeps watching.

And then, of course he notices when there are marks starting to show up on Billy's skin. Bruises. And the way Billy winces at times when he moves, as if in pain. And that paints a very bad picture in Steve's mind, so he either confronts Billy or stages an intervention with his loved ones, and is so earnest and worried when he presents it, like, "We've all seen it, and we know what's going on. You deserve much better than being with someone who hurts you, Billy, you have people who care about you, tell us how we can help."

Meanwhile Billy's watching him (or them) like they've grown mushrooms instead of ears, and is like "What? no one hurts me in a way I don't want and specifically ask for. Jesus, I get beat up by my dad for half my life and no one gives a shit but I have too much kinky sex and suddenly it's a problem ..."

And Steve bluescreens of course because a) whoops, that all makes actually and also b) he's now imagining scenarios which he has previously not entertained and he is very interested.

(And whoever else is there with them are properly horrified of course)

Happy Midsummer!

In Sweden, there’s an old tradition that says that if you pick seven different kinds of flowers on the night of Midsummer’s Eve (and do not speak while doing it, or for the rest of the night), and you put the flowers under your pillow - you dream of the love of your life, or the one you are destined to marry.

Since it’s Midsummer’s Eve here today, I couldn’t NOT draw this.

Dustin: You’re totally gonna kiss the new guy, aren’t you?

Billy (confused): You didn't hit me

Steve (also confused): what? Of course I didn't

Billy: but I did something wrong...you're supposed to hit me

I swear to god after like a week people will still be reading but nobody leaves comments anymore and I just want to make it absolutely clear that I would be excited and elated to get a comment on these fics one hundred years after I post them.

Billy with lipstick 

"Eyes on me. Yeah. Good boy."

---

Thank you so much for trusting and sticking around.

Has known from the first moment when Neil's hand slipped for the first time. Gets reminded everyday, when he's a girl, a loser, a faggot and never a son.

He thought it was just words and bruises that made it bad. He should actually be lucky to even have a dad at all. Where would he be without Neil?

Steve's eyes, wide and horrified, tell him something else. It makes Billy uncomfortable, in a way the school nurse back in California did, when she asked him if he's got a safe place to go to and he didn't have an answer, because he was nine and scared.

"What?" Steve says. His voice got an edge like he's choking up and tries not to.

"It's no biggie." Billy's got the sinking feeling he has screwed everything up, like when he told the nurse that he sometimes hides in his closet or under the kitchen sink until Neil falls asleep.

"You just told me you didn't get dinner for two nights in a row." Steve rubs his nose and Billy sees tears in his eyes. That can't be worth anybody's tears, can it? "And that you slept in your car."

"I just wanted to get out of his hair." Billy rolls his eyes. It's better to avoid Neil's moods. He's glad he's got the Camaro. It's a fucking privilege. Maybe rich guys like Steve don't get that.

"Yeah?" Steve squints his eyes. "What did he say?"

"Get out," Billy repeats. Cuts himself off before he can add the "fucking pussy" Neil screamed. Maybe it wasn't even that. Neil screams a lot, way too much that Billy can remember it all - and Steve's upset enough.

Somehow it feels like it's all Billy's fault. He shouldn't have mentioned that he's fucking hungry and relieved that he got his paycheck today.

Steve sucks in a deep breath. Leans forward and Billy digs his fingers in his palms, trying not to flinch. It's a reflex. Whenever someone is angry, he's all tense, like he's about to be stretched apart any second.

Steve presses a kiss on Billy's cheek.

"You can always come here," he says. "Always."

It's a lie, something inside Billy whispers. He'll get tired of you. Even your mother did leave you.

"I'll give you the spare key," Steve promises. "You don't have to sleep outside."

"Why would you do that?" Billy asks, brows furrowed. If Steve isn't home, they can't have sex and that's all Billy is probably good for.

"I want you safe, baby." Steve flushes. "Billy, I mean."

He rubs his neck. "I'll make us dinner, okay?"

Every word feels like hug. Billy's chest grows warm. "Okay."