Harringrove Summer Bingo

“You tell me,” Steve says, keeping his voice level. At least he’s not the one in the hat. And boots. And not much else. 

“Seems like we have a bit of a wild bronco on our hands,” Billy says, sliding his hand across Steve’s golden skin. “Untameable, one might say.”

“Oh, I think it’s been tamed,” Steve gripes. These kinds of games are unusual for them, exactly, but this one comes with a few more flourishes than usual. At least Steve’s naked. He’s not sure he could manage this role if there were accessories. 

“Don't look it to me,” Billy corrects firmly, tapping the head of Steve’s cock with a finger. It jerks in response, desperate for more than teasing. He’s been hard as fuck since Billy came strutting out, with boots, the hat, and fucking ass-less chaps around his thighs, leaving his dick and hole perfectly on view. 

Steve doesn't want to know where he got them. 

“No, I think it needs breaking in,” Billy says, sliding his palm along Steve’s belly. “Let’s see what you can take, shall we?”

And Steve has to watch as his boyfriend leans over, pink tongue obscenely brushing against the cock-head like a lollipop. His groan fills the room, loud and uninhibited, as Billy just drags his tongue across and over the slit, relishing every second. 

“Sensitive,” Billy mutters to himself, keeping his hand against Steve’s stomach. The fucker is actually holding him down, preventing Steve from thrusting up. Asshole.  

“So you’re a cock-sucking cowboy now?” Steve grumbles, and Billy just grins. 

“Probably like pirates, there was a lot of cock-sucking,” he says. “And yes. I don’t want to climb on that thing without any concern for my safety, do I? Riding something that wild and big without proper preparation could be dangerous.”

Steve feels like snapping that Billy’s never had such concerns before - if anything, Billy’s prone to climbing on his dick with minimal preparation, without sufficient lube, almost relishing in the burn from taking Steve’s sizable dick. But this is Billy’s game and he’s got to play along. 

“Is it now?” he asks, and suspiciously eyes Billy’s chaps. He was in the bathroom for a long time and he had to wonder exactly what had taken him so long. It wouldn’t surprise him to find Billy’s hole already pink and stretched, glistening with lube just behind that leather. It makes his thighs clench just thinking about it. 

“Got to be sure,” Billy says firmly, dropping his head down again. Steve can feel his warm breath against the wet patch, nose almost brushing against where Billy’s saliva was still damp on his skin. “This looks like one hell of a beast.”

And, almost as if to prove a point, Billy slides his mouth down over the full length of Steve’s cock, so swiftly and smoothly that Steve can’t help the startled yelp or the wild bucking of his hips. But Billy, the fucker, still has him pinned, moaning loudly around his full mouth.

“I hate you,” Steve bites out, digging his nails into the sheets and pretending that he can’t feel Billy’s saliva dripping down into his balls. Billy loves sucking dick so much that Steve usually jokes about him having an oral fixation. It’s not far off either - Billy always has to have his mouth on Steve any time they get naked and every time it’s like he’s salivating for it. “You and your stupid games.”

There’s no answer save for the sound of some obscene slurping. Steve’s toes curl a little against the bed. 

He forgets about complaining and lets his head drop back against the pillow, letting Billy enjoy himself. 

Finally, just as Steve’s beginning to think he needs to tug on Billy’s hair, Billy backs off, letting Steve’s cock slide out of his mouth with a wet slurp. 

“Much better,” Billy says, and his voice sounds rough, although whether that’s from taking Steve’s cock so deep down his throat or from sheer want, Steve doesn’t know. It’s likely to be both

“Wait,” Steve says, slightly panicked. They’ve missed a crucial step and he refuses to fuck Billy without any prep at all. But Billy just blinks his eyes, mischievous and blue, surrounded by a heavy layer of eyeliner. That’s definitely not a historical part of the cowboy outfit. “I haven’t fingered you.”

“What do you think I was doing in that bathroom for so long?” Billy asks, his voice low and dangerous. Steve groans. The last thing he needs when he’s so on edge is the idea of Billy fingering himself in the chaps, opening himself with lube-slicked fingers until his hole is pink and glistening. 

Billy holds his cock, lowering himself down so that the tip is just brushing his hole. Steve bites down on his lip, unable to bear the wait, as Billy tantalizingly slides it back and forth, letting Steve feel the heat and wetness without sinking down. 

But finally he gives in, allowing the fat cock-head to slip past the rim. They both moan and Steve scrabbles for purchase on Billy’s ridiculous chaps. Billy doesn’t stop, and clearly his prep wasn’t all that thorough, as it’s not a smooth ride. But Billy’s always liked a little burn, a little edge with their fucking. He must feel stuffed full, feels every inch of Steve’s fat cock and the rapturous look on his face when Steve is finally pressed inside, balls deep, shows how much he’s enjoying this. 

“Yeehaw,” Billy says, not without satisfaction, wiggling joyfully in his seat. Steve grinds his teeth. Some days, he can’t believe that this stubborn, reckless asshole is the love of his fucking life. 

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Steve asks, trying to resist the urge to thrust up. At least, just yet. It’ll probably help with Billy’s little role-play, but he needs to give Billy some time to adjust. 

“I figured it goes with any good cowboy movie,” Billy points out and Steve slides his hands across the soft leather of the chaps. 

“This is not a good cowboy movie,” he points out. “This is bad cowboy porn.” Billy just shrugs, completely unbothered. 

“Fine by me,” he says bluntly. “I’d be better in porn anyway.” 

“I’m not arguing,” Steve says, allowing appreciation to seep into his voice. Because yeah, Billy looks fucking good, legs spread wide as he takes the full length of Steve’s cock. There’s leather rubbing against Steve’s thighs, firm hands resting on his torso for balance, and a wicked glint in Billy’s eyes that promise a really good fucking ride. 

“Come on then,” Steve says, suddenly impatient. He slaps the bare flesh of Billy’s cheek, the crack of flesh on flesh echoing around the room. Billy only just contains his shudder. 

“Want to ride me, cowboy?” Billy asks suggestively, and if Steve had the available brain-cells, he might point out that Billy might be confusing their roles. But Billy just raises himself up a little on his knees, offering Steve the opportunity to take what he wants. 

Steve can’t help it - he bucks his hips, catching Billy off guard so much that his yelp echoes around the room. Like that, the tension is broken and it might be riding, it might be fucking, but Steve no longer cares. Billy braces himself against Steve’s chest, letting Steve dig sharp fingers into his hips and rides Steve like he’s the mechanical bull at the bar. 

“The chaps are terrible,” Steve grunts, once they have a good rhythm going. Billy just grins, cheeks flushed and hot. 

“You fucking love them,” he says firmly, and maybe Steve does. They’re rubbing against his skin as Billy bounces up and down, but they’re perfect against Billy’s plush round ass. 

It’s good, but not good enough and Steve’s had enough of the game. He catches Billy by surprise, tossing him off and over onto the bed. He kisses Billy first, something rough and desperate while he pushes back in, grabbing hold of Billy’s thighs to push them open how he wants. 

“I’m still riding you,” Steve says, catching sight of Billy’s disgruntled face. He sinks in smoothly, much more appreciative for being able to have some control, to have Billy close. “Actually, I’m plowing you.”

“Why do I bother with costumes,” Billy grumbles and Steve pauses to whip the cowboy hat from Billy’s head and drop it onto his own. 

“Because you’re a vain asshole, who knows you can make me beg for it?” Steve points out. Billy’s a peacock at heart - every flashy shirt, every skirt, or leather trousers, or pair of panties are just as much for Billy’s benefit as they are Steve’s. He likes playing dress up, likes being able to, with feathers and lace and lipgloss. 

“I look fucking good,” Billy grumbles, hooking his hands behind his knees to keep himself spread wide for Steve. 

“Yes, you do, cowboy,” Steve tells him and rides him at a gallop until Billy is flushed and incoherent. 

“Got any funny cowboy jokes for me now?” Steve asks, clenching his fingers into the flesh near Billy’s hip. 

“Gonna unload your six-shooter?” Billy says and gives him such a shit-eating grin that Steve has to kiss it off him. 

“You fucking bet I will,” Steve says, against the soft bud of Billy’s bottom lip. Neither of them are going to last much longer, Billy reaching down to take himself in hand. Normally Steve would do it, but the angle this way is a little awkward, keeping Billy half-folded back on himself to thrust in deep. 

Billy comes first, unable to hold out against Steve’s rough fucking and Steve follows, weakly managing a few more thrusts before he half curls over Billy’s body, coming in deep. Billy doesn’t complain when Steve collapses on top of him, merely winding an arm around Steve’s back. They’re pretty glued together, something hot and sticky pressed against Steve’s chest. Steve just pants, breathing in the warm, sweat-heavy scent of Billy’s body.

“You stole my hat,” Billy says, eyes all soft and dreamy in a post-orgasm haze. Steve grins and flicks up the brim. 

“How are the chaps?” he asks and then makes a face. “Did you rent them?”

“No, thank fuck,” Billy snorts. “They’ve got all sorts of spunk on them now.”

“Maybe we can clean them for another time,” Steve suggests and tosses the hat off onto the bed. He pulls himself up, wincing as their skin uncomfortably peels apart. It’s no better when he comes to pull out, although he does stop to admire the mess he’s made. 

“Perv,” Billy mumbles, looking as though he’s in no rush to get up. Or maybe Steve just did a good job and he actually can’t. Steve presses a kiss against Billy’s damp curls. 

“Do you think he likes men?” he asks, jogging to keep up with Robin as she heads back towards the elevator. 

“Of course he likes guys,” she says, jamming the button. “Even I can tell that from across the street.”

“But how can you tell?” Steve asks pathetically. He wants to be prepared in case he ever runs into this guy, perhaps at the supermarket across the street or the coffee place three doors down. If he gets the chance to flirt, he wants to know that he should take it. 

Robin just fixes him with a glare as the doors glide open. “Because I can,” she says and steps inside. And after a beat, Steve has no choice but to follow her. 

Unloading the van sucks, but probably not as much as paying for an extra day if they return it late. He has to have Nancy pick them up from the depot because Robin never got her license and couldn’t follow him in her car. 

“Success?” Nancy asks, as they climb, dirty and exhausted in the back of her air-conditioned car. 

“Steve’s moved in,” Robin says, glaring at Steve until he does up her seat-belt for her. “But I hurt my shoulder hauling boxes.” Nancy flicks her eyes up to Steve through the rear-view mirror. 

“It was cheaper hiring a van,” he says pathetically. He wants to go back to his apartment and climb into the shower before falling into bed for several days. Except he doesn’t have that luxury because he starts work the day after tomorrow. And his dad had made it very clear - Steve would get no privileges by being his son. The only thing that was going to make it at all bearable was that Steve had decided to move out - there’s no way he’s dealing with his dad at home and at work. 

“We might not have run behind if Steve hadn’t found so many excuses to stare at the hot guy in the building next door,” Robin grumbles. She bumps Steve’s knee with her own. “You owe me Chinese.”

“And me,” Nancy chimes in, signalling for her turn. “I deserve an egg roll at least for coming to get you guys.”

“If certain people could drive, we could have brought my car,” Steve points out. Robin just beams sweetly at him. 

“I’m broke,” she reminds him. “Which is why you owe me dinner.”

She also spent all day hauling boxes so Steve buys her dinner. Nancy stays to steal an egg roll as promised, and half of the chow-mein before disappearing out of the door. Robin eats half of her body weight in shrimp and rice and then falls asleep on his new couch. Steve covers her with a blanket and goes into his room, because he should probably make his bed before he actually wants to get in it. He makes the mistake of pausing at the window.

The guy is naked. 

Okay, shirtless. And stretching. Yoga by the look of it, and Steve stops dead to stare at him as he moves smoothly through the positions, stretching long limbs with tight, taut muscles. If he’d looked good earlier, he’s even more gorgeous with all of that golden, perfect skin on show. 

Steve yanks his curtains closed, face flushing furiously. 

Fuuuuuuuuuck. 

<hr> 

The guy does yoga most afternoons, to Steve’s immense frustration. Sometimes he’s shirtless. Sometimes he does it in the sluttiest tank top Steve’s ever seen. On a particularly hot day he wore booty shorts and did downward facing dog right in Steve’s face. 

Unpacking is slow. Steve hates it, and after work the last thing he feels like doing is digging through boxes of his possessions with the intent of tidying them away. But bit by bit, it gets done and his apartment starts to look a little more put together. 

“How is it?” Robin asks one afternoon, her number popping up on his phone the moment he gets in from work. He wonders if she knows his schedule down to the minute or if she secretly installed cameras when he was trying to set up the TV. 

“It’s fine,” he says, struggling to loosen his tie one handed. Working for his dad isn’t what he’d intended on doing with his life but it pays well and the work isn’t awful. He’s good with people, always has been. And he could have gotten a better apartment if he’d taken his parents offer of help but he still has a small smidgen of respect, hence why he’s living next to an alley and two floors above a takeaway. Weirdly enough, his dad seems to respect the decision too. “I prefer high school when my afternoons were spent lounging around the pool, but I’ve been told that’s not really a valid life choice.”

“You could,” she says, sounding bemused. “But yeah, people might start to judge.”

“This way has memos and bills, it’s not preferable,” Steve says bluntly, digging a can out of the fridge and wandering through to his room. It’s not quite summer yet but the days are already starting to soften with that haze of sunshine and the smell of mown grass in the air. “But there are doughnuts in the break-room on Fridays so it’s not totally…”

Steve abruptly drops the can, where it rolls away under the bed. Steve doesn’t notice, because he’s busy pressing his back against the wall, heart pounding furiously. 

“Steve?” Robin says, sounding alarmed. “Steve, what’s going on?”

Steve pokes his head out, peering around the dark blue curtains he got on sale. But it’s still there across the way, like a gloriously tan vision of Steve’s best wet dreams. 

“Ro, he’s in a towel!” Steve hisses furiously. He’s still leering - he actually can’t seem to stop, as his hot neighbor wanders around his room wearing nothing more than a white towel slung around his waist. “Shit, Ro, what do I do?”

“Get a piece of paper,” Robin says, sounding less than enthused now that she knows Steve isn’t dying. “Write ‘do you want to bone?’ in Sharpie and see where it goes from there.”

“Ha ha,” Steve says dryly. His neighbor seems to have no idea that Steve’s even there, pulling clothes from his closet without a care in the world. He only ever seems to close his blinds at night, which might be justified. He overlooks an alley after all, and the only one with any chance of seeing into his apartment is Steve. 

“Steve?” Robin says, her voice cutting through Steve’s haze like a knife. “You okay? Is it good?”

Steve feels like snorting. He’s seen male models look worse than this guy. 

His dark blonde curls are damp, spiraling down his shoulders and softening his face. The towel is clinging on for dear life, a few stray droplets trickling down his belly and into his happy trail, a soft layer of golden hair visible just above the white cotton. His legs are equally spectacular, long and well-defined, and go on for miles…or that might be the deceptively small towel that brushes the top of his thighs. And when he turns, even from here, Steve can tell that his eyes are a brilliant, bright shade of blue. 

He shaves, Steve notices. Everywhere except…and his eyes drift down again to the bulge under the towel. 

That honestly looks like the best present to unwrap that Steve can think of.

“Steve,” Robin says sharply, her voice breaking him out of the spell. “If you’re sporting a chub right now, I am hanging up. I cannot talk to you when you have an erection.”

“We have weird conversations,” Steve says distantly. But she’s not wrong. Even the faintest glimpse of this guy these days has Steve ready to go. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” Robin says pointedly and not entirely without disgust. “Go take a cold shower.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Steve replies bluntly, fingers tangling in the curtains. He’s going to watch for as long as he dares and then close the curtains so he can furiously jerk off, picturing what it might be like to yank the towel away and suck him into his mouth. 

“Ew,” Robin says and true to her word, hangs up. Steve stays where he is, lobbing his phone at the bed. Just in case he’s tempted to take pictures. As much as he’d like to have something to stare at, that’s probably even worse voyeurism that he’s already participated in. And also probably a felony. 

He presses a hand against his aching cock, palming himself through his trousers to take the edge off. But to his disappointment, his neighbor collects a few items of clothes and disappears again. 

Deflated, Steve collects the soda can, dropping down onto his bed. Maybe next time he should vet his neighbors before moving in. Maybe check for gorgeous half-naked men with exhibitionist issues before signing the rental agreement. 

On the plus side, Steve hasn’t needed porn since he moved in here. 

He should shower, Steve thinks miserably. Jerk off under the spray and pretend the hot guy is in there with him. He pulls on the tab, still hopefully watching the window.

Just to make a point, the can - fresh from being dropped and taking a journey along Steve’s bedroom floor - neatly explodes in his face. 

<hr>

The ensuing heatwave only makes things worse. 

His neighbor begins wearing as little as possible, frequently going shirtless and wearing those tiny little booty shorts again. Steve would wonder where he got them, because they’re bright pink, but they look so fucking amazing on that ass he almost doesn’t care. 

Steve’s almost dying in his suit and tie but his dad doesn’t do casual Fridays so Steve just has to suffer unless he’s in the air-conditioned office, or until he can stagger home and change into something lighter. 

Day after day, Steve pulls on some shorts in his room and hopefully watches the window for his neighbor. 

He should feel a little bit bad about stalking this guy. But - even more pathetically - the brief glimpses that Steve gets are the best part of his day. Even if Steve never gets to actually meet his neighbor, there’s something uplifting about just seeing him. 

He’s not sure what his neighbor does for a living, but at a guess, it’s probably shift work. Some days, the guy is there doing yoga when Steve gets home from work. Sometimes, it’s not until it’s dark when the bedroom light turns on and he stumbles in the door. It’s not like Steve’s predictable routine, day in, day out. 

But that’s the only thing - well, pretty much the only thing - he hasn’t been able to suss out about this guy. 

He’s a surfer; obvious enough by the surf board and wetsuit that occasionally grace the floor space. He does yoga and Pilates, and clearly likes cars, cooking and travel, judging by the books on his shelf. He can keep houseplants alive and has the largest CD collection that Steve has ever seen. Occasionally music drifts across the open windows, old music, new music, and every single song is great. There are photos but none of them ever look like they could be his family, except for a red-haired girl that makes faces at the camera in a way that so obviously screams ‘younger sister.’ 

It’s becoming a bit of a problem. How adorable he looks in the mornings, golden curls all matted and wild, how he moonwalks across the floor to music, the way the sunlight hits his lashes. Steve’s swiftly finding himself less in lust and more in the overwhelming grip of a crush. 

On one of the hottest days of the year, Steve stumbles through the door just before the sun begins to dip. He’d gone out with Robin to the local Italian place, partly because they made really awesome pasta and partly because they have air-conditioning. His shitty building doesn’t have it, something he should have considered before moving in. But then again, if he’d prioritized amenities rather than cheaper rent, he’d never get to see his neighbor suck on an ice cream. 

He stands under a cold shower for as long as he dares, pulling on a t-shirt and boxers. He stops to tug open his window, trying to let a little cooler air in. Sometimes this backfires with the street noise but Steve would rather sleep a little with a breeze rather than stay awake because he’s dripping in sweat. 

He needs to buy more fans, he thinks, just as movement in the dim room across the alley catches his eye. 

His neighbor is in bed. 

He’s alone, thank God, and clearly shirtless in the heat. There’s a fan in the corner of the room, providing a little relief. It lifts the curls falling down the guy’s face, the rest of his hair pulled up into a loose bun at the base of his neck. Steve’s never seen him wear his hair like that before and it looks incredible. It shows off his cheekbones, highlights his long neck. Steve stares at his closed eyes, the long lashes visible even from here. 

But then the guy moves, rolling over and dragging half of the sheet with him. A long, lean back becomes visible - not new to Steve but a welcome sight, nonetheless - as does something else. 

Steve stares at the guy’s bare ass, firm and plump and as tanned as the rest of him. There’s a brief moment where he wonders how that happens - does he sunbathe naked on the roof? - before it’s gone, swallowed by an intense desire to take that soft flesh in his hands, knead it and tease it apart to see the pink hole that’s hidden beneath. 

Steve’s never wanted to bite someone’s ass so badly before in his life.

Steve strips off and climbs into bed but even after he’s spilled over his fingers, he still doesn't sleep. 

<hr>

Steve has begun jerking off almost religiously. These days all it takes is a glimpse of his neighbor and he’s half-hard. There’s not a lot he can do about it - it would be easy enough to go get laid but he knows it’s a pathetic substitution deep down. He doesn’t even know the guy’s name and yet he haunts Steve’s every waking moment. 

He doesn’t tell anyone and the flicker of shame almost makes the sharp tug of want even worse. He knows that it’s wrong and he can’t bear the idea of stopping. 

But all of a sudden, a few days go by without the appearance of his neighbor and Steve starts lingering by the window each night before he draws the curtains, waiting and hoping. But the light never turns on across the way and Steve goes to bed disappointed. 

Steve gets home on Monday evening, tired and curt from an unpleasant day at the office. Stepping through his front door only reminds him that he needs to take out the trash, find himself dinner and clean up all before he goes to bed and this starts all over again. Even worse, it’s still a hot and sticky summer’s day, and this does nothing to improve his mood. 

Tugging at his tie, suddenly desperate to be free of it, Steve steps into his bedroom. He might have a pizza in the freezer that he can shove in the oven. He’s in no mood to make an effort tonight. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, and only just remembers that his curtains are open when he turns around. 

His neighbor has returned. 

He’s lying on the bed again, still golden, still beautiful. His chest is bare, smooth and toned, with the faintest glimmer of sweat against his skin. His hair is loose against the pillow, the softness of his curls suggesting that his hair has only recently been washed. Steve drinks him in, appreciating every small detail from the leather bracelet around one thick wrist, to the purple nail polish on his toes. 

This time, his neighbor isn’t asleep. 

And unlike last time, there’s no sheet covering his lower half. 

There’s also no mistaking the large purple dildo he’s currently fucking himself with. 

For a moment he wonders if he fell asleep on the couch when he’d stumbled in through the door. This has to be one of the many fantasies he’s had since he moved in, filthy images flicking across his mind while his hand works quickly under the sheets. But he blinks, once and then again, and the image stays. 

Oh fuck, he shouldn’t be watching this. But there’s almost no way he can pull his eyes away from where the long piece of silicone slides in and out, vanishing somewhere just out of Steve’s eye-line. And God, does he want to see how this guy takes that thick cock in his hole, how slicked up and open he is. 

He’s enjoying himself, plush lips open in tiny gasps that Steve currently can’t hear. The other hand is stroking his cock, in a smooth, deft motion, with a little twist over the head each time. Steve doesn’t know what to watch - the fat, leaking dick or the hand pushing the dildo inside himself over and over. If the angle were slightly different, Steve knows what he’d prefer. 

There’s a bottle of lube thrown casually on the sheets, a pair of sweats dropped hastily onto the floor. Steve wonders what caused this apparent frenzied need to be fucked, how he might have rushed to his room and pulled the silicone cock and lubricant from the drawer. Shit. Did Steve miss much of this? Did he come in just after the careful preparation, how his neighbor fucked himself with his fingers first? Or does he take that cock so often, he didn’t need much, merely playing with his hole first before he slicked up the dildo?

There’s the faint sound of a moan that carries across the street between their open windows and Steve almost reels, unsure his legs are able to support his weight. He’s never heard the guy’s voice before and now that he has, it’s all too easy to imagine how he might moan for Steve. 

It’s the worst sensation in the world, being so close to something that he desperately wants. Because they’re mere feet away, divided by an alley and an open drop, and Steve can see every detail but not touch. The tanned wrist re-positions the dildo, angling it in deep, and it must hit just right because there’s another, much louder moan that reaches Steve’s ears. The guy braces his feet against the bed, quickening his pace until he’s fucking himself in rough, quick strokes, almost a match to the hand still working his cock. He must be close, teeth biting down on his plump bottom lip as he works himself to orgasm. 

Steve can’t wait. He drops to his knees, shoving his trousers and boxers down over his thighs and taking himself in hand. There’s a sharp pulse of adrenaline in his blood, that he’s doing this so openly and without any shame or guilt. But he can’t wait and he doesn’t want to close his curtains. Anyone in his position would do the same when faced with a vision like that. 

It doesn’t take long, the first curl of his fingers around his dick like a balm and from there it’s all too easy to jerk himself, firmly and just a little too roughly. He shoves his clothing down a little more to reach behind himself, circling his hole with a dry finger. It doesn’t matter because it’s just enough, imaging his neighbor lying on his bed, preparing himself with one lubed finger, then maybe two. All before he slicks up the dildo and spreads his legs wide to take it. He’d look the same taking Steve’s dick, stretched out and begging for it. 

It doesn’t take long to bring himself to the edge, pressing the pad of his finger against his hole. Steve only just stifles his cry to avoid being heard through the open window but he still whimpers as he comes across his bedroom floor and his fingers in thick, white spurts. 

The guilt settles in almost immediately, with Steve still crouched on the floor, flushed and dripping onto the hardwood floor. He slumps down against the wall and futilely wipes his hand on his shorts. He needs a shower and fresh clothes, but what he wants is to look out of the window again and see if that guy has come. What his face looks like. If he pushes the dildo in deep. How he looks with come splattered against his belly. 

Steve wriggles out of his ruined clothes, dropping them into a pile before adding his shirt to it. For a moment, he considers standing up, giving the guy a taste of his own medicine. But the impulse fades away as quickly as it’s come and Steve sheepishly crawls across his bedroom floor out of sight so he can get to the shower unseen. 

<hr>

Coffee’s pretty much a necessity these days. 

Steve’s never really been kept awake by a neighbour much before. Yeah, when he was in a frat, things were different - one guy played drums and didn’t seem to keep to normal hours, not to mention Jason kept bringing girls back and having obnoxiously loud sex. Not good sex, judging by the girls’ faces the next morning but still, a rattling headboard is still something of a bad sleep aid. 

But this is different. Steve closes his eyes and the last thing he wants to do is sleep when the images that appear behind his eyes are all the same.

He’s seen the guy since but thankfully, not in similar, compromised positions. As fucking incredible as that day was, and God knows he’s never come so hard by himself before, he’s not sure he can cope with a repeat performance. 

He’s started keeping his curtains closed out of a sheer need for survival. He has to do things like eat and work and not jerk off constantly because even a glimpse of the guy’s arms are enough to get him hard. 

Robin’s started to grow concerned and that’s even without Steve telling her the whole truth. If he told her everything…she’d probably slap a ‘predator’ sticker on him and throw him into lava. Which at this point, he’s pretty sure he deserves. 

“Cappuccino, please,” someone says from behind him and Steve politely shuffles along the counter out of his way. It’s not packed in here today, the lull of a Thursday afternoon, and only a few stragglers are hunched over tables nursing coffee while scrolling their phones. 

“It’ll be a moment,” the barista says, pointing a thumb at a machine that’s hissing furiously behind her. “Let me just sort that out, I think there’s a blockage.”

“No problem,” the guy says easily, resting a long, tanned arm on the counter top, casually twirling a loyalty card between his fingers. He must come in here a lot, because Steve’s just moved in and he keeps forgetting to sign up. 

There’s a very familiar leather bracelet wrapped around his wrist and Steve’s stomach drops as he stares at the thick black leather, the tiny beads sewn onto the end. He knows that fucking bracelet. He’s seen that fucking bracelet, has seen it around a wrist as it worked a fat cock into a tight and greedy hole. 

When he turns, his hot neighbor is mere inches behind him, hair pulled up into a messy bun, and wearing yet another tank top. The board shorts and flip flops make it even worse because he looks like an asshole surfer and it’s fucking hot. 

Steven. Do not get a fucking erection in public. 

But when shouting this loudly in his mind doesn’t work, Steve resorts to digging his fingernails deep into the flesh of his arm. 

“Sorry, did you want cream on that?” the barista asks, smiling sweetly at Steve. This predictably doesn’t help. 

Yes, I need a lot of it, I want it all over me, I want it in my mouth, in my fucking hair, in my…

Steve swallows weakly. It’s a terrible reminder that he still hasn’t seen that guy come. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he mutters and pretends to not notice his neighbor watching him. 

“Hey,” the guy says, as the barista turns away and begins to work the newly fixed coffee machine. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“I just moved in,” Steve says, pointing down the block towards his apartment. “Uh, Flat 3C. Number 40?”

“I live in the building next door,” the guy says, as though it isn’t the bane and joy of Steve’s entire existence rolled into one. “I’m Billy.”

“Steve,” Steve says. Billy. He’s played a lot of names over in his mind the past few weeks but Billy’s never been one of them. It suits him. Short. Boyish. Probably good to moan in bed. 

“Steve,” Billy says, rolling the name over on his tongue. Steve gets harder at the way he says it, good and slow, like he’s tasting it. “Not seen you here before, Steve. And as Carla here will tell you, I’m always here.” Steve’s stomach curdles unpleasantly as Billy grins at the barista. To her credit, she just rolls her eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him,” she advises Steve warmly. “He only likes me for my coffee.”

“She’s the only good one here, cherish her,” Billy says, tapping his nose. “Everyone else always burns the milk…so, you new to the area? Or are you about to tell me that you moved from three blocks over and if that’s the case, I may look like an idiot.”

“No, I’m new,” Steve says, and wonders why he managed all four years of high school being the smoothest, funniest guy ever when it came to talking to girls. It would be just his luck that he finds a guy he really likes and has all the charm of an old sock. “I mean, I lived with my folks before.”

“Cool,” Billy says, leaning casually on the counter. Steve follows the curves of him with his eyes, all of the way from his jaw to the sleek lines of his neck and the firm ripples of his arms. “I know all of the great places to eat, if you’re interested. Or bars, if you like bars.”

“I eat,” Steve says, pulling his attention back to Billy’s words, rather than just staring at his bottom lip. “I go to bars. I don’t really know what’s around here.”

“Great,” Billy says smoothly. He has an earring dangling from one ear - how has Steve never noticed that before? - which somehow makes him even hotter. “We should go out sometime. What do you like?”

“I…” Steve says, and turns his head. He half feels as though he needs to be pinched. God, he wishes Robin were here. She’d be able to tell him if it’s a come on or if Billy’s just being nice. “Pretty much everything. Anything that’s not Chinese takeaway though. I’ve eaten a lot of that since I arrived.”

“No egg rolls,” Billy agrees, and fuck, his grin up close has Steve weak at the knees. It’s a little bit lopsided, a little bit cocky, like Billy knows just how charming he is. “You free tonight?”

“I am…free,” Steve says hesitantly. Shit. What if Billy takes him out to a bar to meet women? What if Billy suddenly produces a girlfriend, or boyfriend, someone stunning and who knows right away that Steve has a stupidly huge crush on Billy? Staring across the alley is one thing, but getting involved in his life is another. 

But Billy’s expression has morphed from bright and flirty to something else. His smile has dropped at Steve’s obvious discomfort, a flicker of wariness in his bright blue eyes. 

“I mean, if you don’t want to…” he says and Steve feels his gut drop a little. 

“I do!” he says hurriedly. The last thing he wants to do is have Billy go back to being a distant neighbor, now with the added bonus of constantly reminding Steve that he fucked it up every time he sees him. “I just…I don’t know whether you mean a date or…” His voice trails off when he sees Billy’s face. Great. Maybe Billy was just being nice after all. 

“You can’t be serious,” Billy says in a low voice, drumming his fingers furiously on the counter top. “What gave you the idea that it wouldn’t be a date?”

The barista is almost definitely eavesdropping and Steve feels a little bit like sinking into the floor. But Billy just keeps standing there, waiting, like he’s expecting Steve to get it. 

“I fucked myself on a dildo in front of you, why didn’t you make a move?!” Billy hisses, but clearly not in a low enough voice. The red-headed barista abruptly drops the bottle of syrup and she flushes a deep pink as she scrambles to get it. It’s almost distracting enough for Steve to not understand the implications right away. 

“Wait, you did that on purpose?” Steve squeaks. Billy just stares at him in disbelief. 

“You didn’t know?” he asks, sweeping a hand through his wild mane of hair. “Fucking hell…it’s been weeks, Steve.”

“I just thought you were really bad at closing your blinds,” Steve mutters in embarrassment. Fuck, he could have been having mind-blowing sex with this guy already, instead of feeling like the worst creeper in existence.

“No,” Billy says bluntly. The barista seems to be lost behind the counter, apparently hiding at waist level. “Only when a gorgeous guy moves in over the way and I want to get his attention.”

“Oh,” Steve says weakly. Billy just shakes his head, and he might look exasperated but there’s the faintest smile tugging at his lips. 

“Okay, let’s try this again,” he says and holds out a hand. “I’m Billy. I’m your neighbor. I think you’re hot and I’m free for dinner this evening.”

“Steve,” Steve says, pressing his palm into Billy’s. He may be a slow learner but he’s not that slow on the uptake. “I’m apparently kind of an idiot. Do you like Italian?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Billy says, and fucking rubs his thumb over Steve’s. Steve just stares at him, unable to stop the sharp shock of arousal that dances across his skin and down to his belly. Billy just watches him, his thumb making deep, gentle circles into Steve’s skin. 

“Want to have a go holding the dildo?” Billy asks in a low voice, running his tongue along his plush bottom lip. Steve considers the implications and short circuits. 

“I don’t really need coffee, do you?” he asks, because the barista seems to have abandoned them entirely and he suddenly has a need for something else entirely in his mouth. 

The summer heat blazed on, one of the hottest summers in Hawkins, and Billy’s last concern at the moment. Billy had caught Steve crying which is how they currently found themselves sitting in Steve’s car at the quarry, having a smoke. It took a lot of convincing from Billy’s part because Steve is stubborn like that.

After a long silence, Billy finally spoke up. “You wanna talk about it, pretty boy?”

Steve stayed silent, staring off in the distance as he tried to swallow back his tears. He never wanted to admit this to his friends, much less Billy of all people, for fear he’d never hear the end of it but Billy was acting nice enough for him to open up.

“I just- feel so lonely sometimes,” he mumbled before adding, “Do you ever feel like you have no purpose?”

Billy was about to respond but Steve continued. “I just do the same thing over and over again. I get up, go to work at Family Video for 8 hours, go back home, watch TV and do the same thing the next day. And on the days I’m not working, I just pig out in front of the TV or drive around town.”

That’s when the waterworks really kicked in and Billy had never seen him like this before, not even during upside down shenanigans. He was always the stoic one, the first one into battle and Billy lo- it was one of the things he admired a lot about Steve. Billy moved a bit closer to Steve in an attempt to comfort him.

“Steve-”

“Robin is at college,” and Steve looked so angry, whether at himself or at his life, Billy didn’t know. “The kids are all grown up now so they don’t need me anymore,” he sniffled, the tears coming down once again. “So now, What the fuck am I supposed to do? I don’t know what I want to do with my life, and my dad won’t get off my ass about it,” he hit the steering wheel hard, his eyes red.

“Steve-”

“I just feel so fucking stuck, Billy, and it fucking sucks!”

He hit the wheel again, as he continued to cry and sob, and Billy wanted nothing more than to hold his pretty boy’s hand and tell him everything will be okay, but he couldn’t even if he wanted to do so desperately. They were just friends, but it pained him to see Steve like this, and that’s when it hit him that he cared about Steve even more than he thought he did before.

“Steve-” He waited to see if Steve had anything more to say, once he saw Steve stayed silent, he continued.

“The kids love you, Steve. You always complain that they call you all the time for help and that you have to pay collect each time but you do it anyway. Clearly, they still need you and care about you, no matter how old they are. I know you don’t see Robin as much as you used to, but I bet she still calls you all the time, right?”

Steve turned his head and looked him in the eyes for the first time since they came here which encouraged Billy to continue. Billy almost got lost in those big dumb Bambi eyes again. He really needs a map next time to not get lost in them.

“What I’m trying to say is you’re still needed, you’re still wanted. I know it sucks you don’t see them as much as you used to but -“ he couldn’t believe he was about to say this.

“If it’s any consolation,” his voice shy. “I know I’m a bit of a jackass to you most of the time but if it helps,” he turns away from looking at Steve and mumbles. “I care.”

Steve just stared at him, and the growing silence did nothing to soothe Billy’s nerves. Had he said too much? Is Steve going to laugh in his face now?

“Sorry, what did you say?” Because Steve could not hear what Billy had said earlier.

Billy sighed. “I said I care, Steve. Okay. I care about you, and I’m kind of glad you didn’t go to college right away.”

Because Billy didn’t go either, he’s been too busy saving up money for it, and after starcourt, he had missed the deadline for a scholarship. Having Steve all to himself for all these years without the brats hanging around, were some of the best years of his life.

Suddenly, it clicked for Steve. “Wait, hold on. You- you like me?” Looking a little too stunned to speak more than that. He was still trying to wrap his head around what Billy had just said.

“Please don’t rub it in,” the blonde ran a hand over his face. “And you better not say anything to the shitheads or your fine ass is grass, you hear me?”

Steve threw up his hands in a show of peace but he couldn’t help but throw in something of his own. “You think my ass is fine?” A soft smile on his lips.

Billy’s heart did a few leaps now that Steve was smiling again. He did that. He made Steve smile and it was more than he had hoped for after Steve’s crying session. He faced the window, and hid his own smile from Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, but don’t let it get to your head, pretty boy,” he replied. “You know my ass is better,” and again he didn’t know what compelled him to say the following to Steve as well.

“But yeah, I’ve had a stupid crush on you since we met,” shut the fuck up, hargove. What are you doing?!

It’s like he couldn’t control his mouth or the word vomit that was starting to spew on this day of all days. He only wanted to comfort Steve, not confess his feelings for the guy.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Steve replied, with the softest of voices. He leaned in to grab Billy’s hand, and Billy let him. It felt so nice, and they fit perfectly together.

“I don’t know, I just figured you weren’t into guys, let alone someone like me.”

“Well, I’m into both.”

“Into guys and girls?”

“Well, yeah, that but I’m also into you Billy,” he pulled Billy closer even though it was uncomfortable to sit next to each other in the front seat. He played with one of Billy’s curls.

“Really, Harrington?” He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. It felt like Christmas had come early. “You mean it?”

“Yes, Billy. I mean it,” he kissed Billy’s hand which sent a small shiver down Billy’s spine. “I care about you, too. A lot. And you’re right, you caring about me does help,” Steve replied with a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, princess,” he replied as he let Steve touch his hair, his own eyes falling closed, relishing the feel of Steve’s touch. “You feeling better?”

“Much better,” Steve smiled.

“Good, can we make out now?”

Steve just laughed as he pulled Billy in for a kiss. “Such a romantic.”

Billy’s leg started to bounce beneath the table as he scrolled through his phone. Thankfully, he and his date had decided to meet at a restaurant. There was currently a heatwave, and as much as Billy loved summer, as soon as he walked outside, he could feel his skin wanting to peel off. 

Thirty minutes had passed and still no sign of his date. Billy had already eaten half of the bread that was served to him. The more time passed, the more his leg bounced underneath the table. He was getting bored, looking through his phone waiting for a text while simultaneously looking at the entrance to see if his date had arrived. 

An hour had passed, he was already pissed off, but his anger began to grow like a small furnace. Although he has learned to manage his anger, it still manages to show up once in a while. One of his biggest pet peeves is when someone is late, and he hates being late for anything. Billy was always prompt or arrived early to his dates and appointments. However, it seems this guy didn’t share the same values.

“This is the last time I use a dating app,” he muttered to himself, and asked for the waiter to bring him his meal. He wasn’t going to wait for his date to arrive before he could eat, especially since he was starving. 

An hour and sixteen minutes had passed. The anger started to simmer, transmuting itself into sadness and hurt. Billy and this guy had been chatting and talking on the phone a lot. They hit it off immediately. Billy was convinced this man could be the one, since they had the same tastes in music, similar values. He had grown tired of dating so many different men from multiple apps, and nothing ever came from it. 

All they seemed to ever want was a piece of ass. Billy had already passed his slut era, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. But now that he was in his early thirties, he was looking for a more committed relationship, someone he could grow old with. Heather often called him a sap, but he’s a romantic at heart, especially now. 

Another thirty minutes later, and he was furious, so he called on the waiter to give him the check and was about to send a text to the asshole, when someone decided to sit across from him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“Harrington?” said Billy. 

“Yep, it’s me. Hope it’s alright.” Steve stared back with hopeful, bright eyes and the most beautiful smile Billy had ever seen. They hadn’t seen each other in over ten years.

“What are you doing here?” He looked around as if the answer would come from somewhere in the restaurant. 

“Uh- yeah, about that,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “This is gonna sound really embarrassing but I’ve been here the whole time. I saw you arrive and waited for the chance to approach you.” 

“Why?” Billy asked. He and Steve were never friends, and barely talked to each other back in the day. 

“You just- looked so upset that I didn’t-” 

“Oh, so you came out of pity, is that it?” Billy replied with a little more harshness than he had intended. 

“No, I- okay, honestly, I was kind of hoping you came alone. I asked the waiter if you were waiting for someone and he said yes. I just wanted to- talk to you, if that’s okay?”

Billy didn’t know what to say. His phone was still in his hand, and here comes destiny serving him up his biggest crush ever on a silver platter. It’s funny how the universe works. 

“I’m sorry your date ditched you,” Steve continued, his eyes shining with sympathy. Billy could not look away from them. 

“Yeah, me too,” Billy responded, putting his phone away. 

“Can I ask - were they your partner?”

“No,” Billy snorted. “This was our first date- or, well it was gonna be. Met him on a dating site,” he sighed. 

“God, I hate those apps. I’ve sworn off them years ago. Got me nothing but trouble and a waste of money.”

“Looks like I should do the same,” Billy looked down at his plate, full of regret, and hurt. 

“Do you wanna get dessert?” Steve said, after a few moments had passed, hoping the dessert and a chat would cheer him up. 

“Sure, pretty boy. Might as well,” he replied. “So, what are you doing in Cali? I thought you’d stay in Hawkins forever, settle down with a girl, and have some kids.”

“That was part of the plan but then Nancy happened and- well, you know the rest. Everything went to shit after that. Robin wants me to live with her out here, plus they’re more welcoming here than in Hawkins for people like us.” 

“What do you mean?” Billy replied, feeling like he had missed something. 

“Gay people,” Steve responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Wait, you’re gay?”

“No, I’m bi- 

“Are you shitting me, Harrington?” Billy exclaimed.

“No, I’m not shitting you. Why do you look so surprised?” 

“Because of what I said earlier about having a wife and 2.5 kids,” Billy deadpanned, and stared back at Steve as if he were dumb as rocks. “I thought you were straight as a line back in high school.” 

“I thought so, too, but Robin really helped me figure some things out.” 

Surprise turned into anger, bubbling beneath Billy’s skin. If Billy had known this back in the day, maybe things would’ve been different. Then again, maybe not. Who’s to say? Ever since he was born, he always felt like he was dealt with the shittiest cards ever. Seems like the universe enjoys toying with Billy even as a grown-ass adult. 

“Billy, you okay?”

“I just-” Billy sighed. “I feel the universe is playing with me. I’m not gonna lie, Harrington, but I had the biggest crush on you back in high school and if I had known back then that you were-” He ran a hand across his face. “But I guess it’s too late now.”

“Hey, hey,” Steve reached out to touch Billy’s hand, and Billy let him hold it. It felt nice, soothing, a soft balm to Billy’s soul. “It’s not too late. The whole reason I sat down with you is because- well, I want to get to know you better,” his voice is soft as velvet, afraid he might scare Billy away. “And maybe the universe is giving us a second chance, and- I’m here for it if you are.”

Billy squeezed Steve’s hand and Steve squeezed back. A soft smile graced the pretty boy’s lips, and Billy could hardly believe it. He was finally getting the chance to be with Steve. 

“Yeah, I’d- I’d like that,” he smiled back. 

Time flew by as they talked for the next hour. It felt so easy to talk to Steve. They didn’t have the exact same tastes on everything, but they did share the same values. It almost felt like they knew each other forever. They talked about high school, what they’re doing now, Max and the other kids Steve used to babysit. Billy loved it and didn’t want the night to end. 

Steve had offered to walk Billy to his door, and once they arrived at Billy's apartment, suddenly Steve felt awkward, unsure how to proceed. “I had a great time, Billy.” 

“Me too.” 

Steve continued to stare at him, his eyes moved to Billy’s lips. “Can I-?”

Billy conceded the point with a protesting roll of his eyes, and added another groan for emphasis. He wasn’t really going to abandon his best friend to a crowd of rowdy old schoolmates who didn’t know that they’d be barking up the wrong tree, but also, if he was going to do this he wasn’t going to do it quietly. He loved Heather, but she’d owe him for this. He hadn’t been back in Indiana since the day after graduation, ten years ago, and if he’d had his way, he’d have stayed out of the state for the rest of his life.

Oh well. He supposed it could have been worse. At least they weren’t going back to Hawkins.

No, their destination was the small town of Michigan City. Well. Small in comparison to San Diego, where they both lived, and even smaller in comparison to Chicago, where they were staying for the weekend. He supposed, though, that compared to Hawkins, Michigan City was quite an upgrade. Plus, it was close enough to the border to Illinois that it almost didn’t count as Indiana, and only an hour’s drive from Chicago. Hence the rental.

“How did Cunningham end up there, anyway? Her man from there, or what?”

He felt, rather than saw, Heather turn her head towards him, giving him what was probably an incredulous look. “’Her man’ is from Hawkins, too.”

“No shit?” His opinion of whoever it was jumped up a couple of notches – anyone from Hawkins with the good sense to leave had to have at least a couple of working brain cells.

“Chrissy’s marrying Edward Munson, Billy,” Heather said in a voice like that should mean anything to Billy. It didn’t.

“Okay?”

“Munson!”

“I heard you. Unfortunate name … He’s not a serial killer too, is he?”

She sighed, loudly. “Do you remember anyone from school?”

Images of mole-dotted skin and carefully styled hair flashed through Billy’s mind for a second, but he shoved them back down and said, “I try my best not to” just to be contrary.

An impatient hand gesture followed in the periphery of his vision, and then, “Okay, let me ask you this; who did you use to buy your weed from back in Hawkins?”

“What do you –?” Wait. Munson. Eddie Munson. Could it be? “No! The Freak?”

Heather’s smile was somehow smug and exasperated at the same time. “Yup.”

He had to say it out loud, just to clarify. “Chrissy Cunningham – the cheerleader – is marrying Eddie Munson.”

“Yup.”

“Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.”

“Yuuu-up.”

“Huh.”

Whatever she saw on his face, it made her cackle, and he couldn’t help smiling himself at the sound of it. She laughed like a witch in a children’s cartoon, but only around people she was comfortable with. Billy had been one of those people for close to a decade now, and he was so grateful for it. Grateful enough that he was willing to accompany her to the wedding of one of her old friends that they had both gone to school with.

Something occurred to him. “Hang on. So if Chrissy invited the popular crowd …”

“Then her soon-to-be-husband probably invited the unpopular crowd.”

Billy took his eyes off the road for long enough to turn an excited grin in Heather’s direction. “Jocks and nerds. What a combo.”

“And a free bar like the cherry on top.”

He laughed. “I take it back. This’ll be fun.”

~~~

One thing Billy had entirely forgotten to account for when he considered the potential guest list, was that he hadn’t stuck around after graduation, and thus hadn’t kept up with how the friend groups might have changed. Oh, they hadn’t much – the lawn outside the church was still full of old jocks and old nerds, separated into their respective cliques, albeit better dressed than any of them had been back in school. But there weren’t only jocks and nerds.

“Is that Steve fucking Harrington?” Billy hissed through his plastered-on smile as he and Heather made their way to the closest group of people to say hello. Heather glanced in the direction he was staring and gave an enthusiastic but invisible ‘uh-huh’ like a world-class ventriloquist.

“Why the hell is he here?” Billy grit out but didn’t have enough time to get an answer before Heather threw her arms around some pregnant red-head who squealed like a pig in lieu of a greeting. A delighted pig, but still.

Billy spent the next ten minutes or so getting re-introduced to people he had forgotten about and had no interest in getting to know again. While he shook hands and kept a polite smile on his face, his thoughts were whirling around in his head. Steve Harrington was here. The guy who Billy had had such an embarrassing crush on through his entire time in Hawkins, and that he thought he’d never see again. That Harrington, was here. But how? And why? Steve hadn’t been a part of the popular crowd during senior year, but last he heard he hadn’t hung out with the losers and outcasts either. Which begged the question: was he a guest of Chrissy’s, or Munson’s?

Or perhaps neither? Billy’s eyes narrowed a fraction when he glanced to the other side of the lawn for the fourth time in the last five minutes and once again set his eyes on the tall brunette woman at Harrington's side. He vaguely remembered her, and thought she might have been in band back in school.

Someone who had been in band definitely counted as a loser, at least according to the high school hierarchy. So maybe she was a guest of Munson’s, and Harrington was here as her plus one, much in the same way that Billy was Heather’s? That would explain a lot – except what Harrington was doing with a band geek in the first place.

She wasn’t ugly, Billy supposed. If he had been the least interested in women, he might have had to concede that maybe she had a certain appeal. But despite this, she was far out of Harrington’s league – then again, most people were; Billy included. There had just always been something about Harrington that set him apart from the crowd; something that elevated him above it. And sure, it was possible that part of it had been Billy’s big fat crush on the guy, but –

“Billy?”

Billy was torn out of his reverie by Heather’s voice, and he blinked and turned to her with a smile.

“Yes dear?”

She threw a quick glance in the direction in which he’d been looking, and raised her eyebrows knowingly at what she saw. Billy had to bite down on the urge to explain himself.

“As I was saying,” Heather said, pointedly, and launched back into what was seemingly an anecdote from a disastrous cheer routine at one of their away games in the last season Billy had attended. He tuned into the discussion to be able to provide flattering and entertaining commentary, as was his role this evening, and pointedly didn’t look in Harrington’s direction again.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t see him again. Soon enough, it was time to take their seats in the church. Heather led them to a pew in on the bride’s side of the room, and Billy ended up next to her, right next to the aisle. From there, he had an unobstructed view of the back and side of Harrington’s head, as the man and his date were seated close to the aisle on the other side, a couple of rows closer to the front. A while later when the music started and the bride walked down the aisle, Harrington turned around with the rest of the crowd to look at her, and for a second, his eyes met Billy’s. Billy felt a jolt run through him, like he’d been shocked, and opened his mouth to –

To what? Speak? Ridiculous.

Besides, the moment was over before it started, when Harrington’s eyes drifted away from him. Billy turned to pay attention to the bride as well, heart beating hard in his ribcage for some reason.

Chrissy Cunningham, whom Billy vaguely remembered as someone who didn’t use to take up much space, seemed to be more than comfortable in the center of attention now; positively radiating joy as she walked down the aisle towards her soon-to-be husband. She looked this way and that and smiled widely at everyone she locked eyes with – Heather and Billy included – and it appeared that she was trying to pace himself; like if it wasn’t for the old man escorting her down the aisle, she’d be flying into the arms of her man.

But if Chrissy looked happy, Munson (whom Billy almost didn’t recognize, cleaned up and dressed to the nines) looked ecstatic. He stood in the front of the church, practically bouncing in his suit and shiny shoes, and the grin that split his face was the widest Billy had ever seen. Unlike his bride, he didn’t spare a glance at anybody else around him; not taking his eyes off his bride for a second.

They were … cute. Even Billy, cynical as he was, could admit to that.

The ceremony itself was pretty straight-forward, with the priest droning on and Billy tuning him out, instead focusing on what he could see of Harrington’s face across the aisle. His hair was just as luscious as it used to be, and the one beauty mark that Billy could see from where he was sitting made him shift in discomfort on the hard church bench when he remembered how those marks dotted the rest of Harrington as well. They used to drive him insane, in gym and in the showers, and thinking of them now had a similar effect – leading to thoughts not exactly suited for church.

Naturally, Heather noticed that he was distracted, because of course she did. Billy took an elbow to the ribs halfway through the service, and made a point from that on out to look straight ahead at the happy couple.

What stood out to him when he looked at them now was how unlikely the match was – the popular princess with the king of the outcasts – but also how happy they both looked together. Unlikely match or not, they obviously didn’t give a shit about what people thought. And, come to think of it, no one else seemed to give a shit, either. Sure, Billy had heard some less than complimenting comments out on the lawn before the ceremony – mostly about the groom, which wasn’t a surprise considering the crowd Heather had dragged him through – but no one actively opposed to it. It was just … everyday shit-talking, nothing worse;nNo one said anything out loud, or tried to stop the ceremony, or even turned a frown their way. No, the crowd was all smiles and applause as soon as the happy couple kissed and were proclaimed husband and wife.

It was weird. Almost as if the Hawkins crowd were more open-minded than Billy had given them credit for.

He was mulling this over as they milled out of the church (thankfully, he and Heather got out before Harrington and his date, so Billy didn’t have to struggle to avoid his gaze), and he was still mulling it over as they made their way to the venue close by where the reception would take place. It was an old barn, beautifully decorated with sheer white fabrics and lots of green leaves and white flowers, with twenty or so round wooden tables placed around the room, every table seating six people. Along one wall was a long table, where the bride and groom and their closest family were sat, overlooking the whole room and in plain sight of everyone.

Billy discreetly checked the name tags for the other four places at the table where he and Heather had been placed and was relieved to find that he didn’t recognize the names, since that meant he wouldn’t have to spend hours politely conversing with someone he had history with. But his relief only lasted a couple of minutes. He was in the middle of introducing himself to a couple named Garth and Hannah, when he heard a familiar voice from behind him. Somehow he managed to not falter as he shook Garth’s hand, and he waited until he’d sat back down before he surreptitiously turned around to look over his shoulder at the people at the very next table.

And of course it was Harrington, ironically enough placed just an arm’s length or two away. His back was to Billy, but it was still unmistakably him.

Billy inhaled deeply through his nose, quietly gathering strength. It must have caught Heather’s attention, because she glanced over at him. Then she turned her head a little further, and her eyes widened before she turned back at him and leveled him with a knowing glance, dangerous smile slowly growing on her face. Billy swallowed nervously as she adopted a polite expression and turned fully around in her chair.

“Robin? Robin Buckley? Is that you?” she said, voice high enough to let Billy know she was putting on a show. (Billy was under no illusions as to who the show was for. This was payback for the church, he was sure.)

Internally groaning and barely hiding a wince, he busied himself with sipping from his glass of water, but he heard a soft gasp and then a woman’s voice answering:

“That’s … I mean yes, yes that’s me. And you’re Heather Holloway. Who … knows my name!”

She sounded so astounded at that, that Billy just had to turn around to look at her. The woman’s – Robin’s – facial expression matched her voice, and she looked positively flabbergasted when Heather let out a giggle and reached out to shake Robin’s hand. “Of course I know your name. You were in band, right?”

“Uh, right.” Robin said and glanced to the side helplessly. Billy couldn’t help but follow her gaze, and there he was – Harrington. Close enough to touch and looking delicious enough to suck up with a straw, even after all these years.

Billy swallowed hard and almost choked on his spit when Heather put her other hand on his shoulder. “And this is Billy – Hargrove, if you remember – my plus one.”

“Right,” Robin said again, and then seemed to remember herself. She shook Heather’s hand a bit too enthusiastically and then pulled herself free and motioned with both hands to Harrington. “And this is Steve. Uh, Harrington. Light of my life.” She let out a nervous little giggle and immediately looked like she regretted it.

Harrington looked straight at Billy and, after a second’s hesitation, held out his hand to shake. “Hargrove.”

“Harrington,” Billy managed without his voice breaking, which he thought he deserved some credit for, and gave his hand a firm shake. Perhaps a little too firm.

“Oh right,” Heather crooned sweetly like she didn’t have some kind of agenda. “You guys played for the same team, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for a reply before she turned her attention back at a stammering Robin. “Anyway, band, huh? Do you still play? What are you up to these days?”

Billy tuned her out while staring into Steve Harrington’s dark brown eyes. They were still locked in a handshake but neither one had moved for several seconds, and it was starting to get a bit weird. With great effort, Billy untangled himself from the other man and gave a quick smile.

“So, Harrington. You a guest of the bride or the groom?”

It took Harrington a moment to answer, during which Billy half-expected him to just ignore Billy’s attempt at civil conversation. “Technically, the groom,” Harrington eventually said, “But me and Robin are friends with both Eddie and Chrissy, so …” He trailed off with a little shrug.

“I see,” Billy said, and silently wondered how that happened. Ten years ago, a band geek and the former king would never have gotten together. Then again, ten years ago, if someone had told Billy that the head cheerleader would marry the school outcast, he would have laughed in their face.

Harrington gave a polite little nod and then they stood there like a couple of morons while the girls chatted – Heather smoothly and Robin haltingly, but with increasing excitement. Thankfully, a waiter passed by them with a tray of tall glasses for the first toast of the evening, and both Billy and Harrington gratefully jumped on the distraction.

Billy took a glass in each hand – one for him and one for Heather – and then offered Harrington his own courteous nod before sitting back down with his back to the other man, trying to focus on the other people around his table. Soon, he was pretending to listen to Hannah when she started talking about the trip they’d made to get here, while self-consciously smoothing down non-existent wrinkles on his suit and keeping half an ear on the table behind him.

And that’s how the evening continued. During all the toasts, through all three courses of food, and during all the speeches, at least half of Billy’s attention was on the other table and on Harrington in particular. He silently cursed himself – it was just like back in high school, he hadn’t been able to keep away from Harrington then, either – and wished for a swift end to the evening.

It wasn’t all bad, though. The food was kind of amazing, actually, and Heather hadn’t been lying when she promised a free bar. Billy’s plans to survive the night included getting smashed and then make Heather drive them both back in the rental – her being the designated driver had been the deal, when she convinced him to come in the first place.

All in all, it was an okay wedding. Billy wasn’t the kind of person to cry at weddings, but even he got a little emotional at the speech by the old man who had escorted the bride down the aisle – who, as it turned out, was not Chrissy’s father, but actually Munson’s uncle, Wayne. Then again, Billy doubted a single eye in the room was dry after that.

The rest was kind of on par for what was expected of weddings, according to Billy’s somewhat limited experience.

Oh, except for one thing.

Ding ding ding. Someone tapped their spoon against their glass after dinner had been served like they wanted to make a speech and Billy instinctively looked up, but whoever it was didn’t stop. Instead, several people joined in, including the two other men at Billy’s table. All around them, the women in the room started standing up with big smiles on their faces, and weave their way through the tables towards the main table where – he realized – the bride was currently missing.

The women lined up behind and around the main table and then they all – under many smiles and laughs – bent down to hug and press a kiss to Munson’s face before walking past him and leaving space for the next in line, and walk back to their place. Billy was mighty confused, but Heather was currently standing in line next to Robin so he couldn’t ask her. Instead he watched the proceedings with a bewildered look and then turned to Garth. “What’s going on?”

Garth, who had been watching and clapping along with the rest of them, looked surprised. “Oh!” he said. “It’s a Hawkins wedding tradition.” He must have seen that Billy was lost, because he smiled and motioned to the women lining up to smooch Munson. “When any of the newlyweds leaves the room during the reception, if someone notices and taps their glass it’s a free-for-all to go kiss the one remaining.”

Billy blinked. What kind of weird backwater town shit was this?

“Just wait until Munson leaves, then it’s our turn,” Gareth grinned and threw up a pair of fingerguns, wholly unapologetically. Billy blinked again at the sheer audacity.

When Heather returned to her seat, he leaned in close under the guise of whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and hissed, “What kind of hillbilly bullshit did you drag me to, Holloway?”

“Oh shush you,” she said and patted his face – to the casual onlooker, it probably looked like a loving gesture. “It’s a practice that’ll grow on you.”

Billy was certain that it wouldn’t, actually, but he played along for now. So just after the main course, when it was Munson’s turn to take a piss break (or whatever reason he had for leaving the room), the ding ding ding of the glasses began again and Billy had to witness all the men line up to kiss the bride, who was now sitting husband-less at the main table.

He didn’t get up himself, and there were a few other men who also sat this one out, but the majority of males (including Harrington who, Billy noticed with interest, had taken off his suit jacket and looked very good in his crisp white shirt) took the chance to smooch the bride, all according to this strange new custom. And the weirdest part was that none of the men’s lady friends seemed upset by this – instead they were all smiling and laughing and clinking their own glasses in encouragement.

Fucking weird.

It got less weird as the night went on, though. And as Billy had always had a knack for blending in in a crowd – or at least only sticking out in a good way – even he joined the kissing line the next time Munson left the room. If he arranged it so that he was in front of Harrington in the line, then that was simply a coincidence, and if he made sure to show off his butt at the best angle when he bent down to press a chaste kiss to Chrissy’s beaming face, well, no one could prove a thing, shut up Heather.

As everyone got more tipsy – bless a wedding with a free bar, honestly! – the lines blurred between whose turn it was to join the kissing line once the telltale ding ding dings sounded out. Billy found himself in the line next to Heather one time, and got to see her bend down and press a not-so-chaste kiss right on Chrissy’s lips before it was his turn. Since he was so close to them, he could hear the delighted giggle Chrissy let out, as well as the blush on her cheeks when Heather let go of her, looking mighty pleased with herself.

So when, the next time it was time for the ladies in the room to line up and kiss Munson, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when a couple of men joined in the line, too (Billy’s table neighbor Garth being one of them). What was surprising, though, was that Harrington joined in. And so Billy got to watch Harrington, who had spent the last part of his high school career visibly moping over the loss of his goody-goody-two-shoes girlfriend and who before that had had – by reputation – more notches in his belt than anyone in Hawkins High, stand in line with a bunch of ladies only to bend down with a huge smile and press a slobby kiss onto Eddie Munson’s grinning face. And no one but Billy seemed to think that was noteworthy in any way. It elicited a couple of laughs, that was all.

He wondered idly if this feeling he was having was his worldview being turned upside down, or if he was just too drunk already?

Later in the evening, when the cake had been presented and devoured and everyone was happily full and pleasantly intoxicated and nursing either a drink or a coffee, they all helped pushing most of the tables to the sides of the room to clear a big space in the middle of the barn. The band set up – and by the grace of god they had both a drummer and a man with an electric guitar, and were actually pretty good so Billy thankfully didn’t have to stick a fork in his eye to escape some bubblegum pop shit – and someone dimmed the lights and turned on a couple of colored spotlights and suddenly, there was a dance floor.

The bride had kicked it off by dancing with the old man – Wayne – to a slow version of a song that Billy vaguely recognized but couldn’t name. Then after a minute or two of this, Munson had cut in to dance with his new wife while everyone watched, and after that first dance it seemed to open for everyone. The dance floor filled up with couples, and the ones not dancing were either gathering at the bar, walking outside in search for some air and less noise, or sitting down at some of the remaining tables along the walls.

Billy did the latter. He’d lost his jacket and tie somewhere around dessert, and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt after they’d finished off the cake. Now he was sitting alone at a table – Heather having abandoned him in order to drag a half-protesting Robin to the dance floor – and nursing his drink while watching the crowd.

“This seat taken?” someone said loudly next to him, to be heard over the music.

Looking up, Billy was more than surprised to see Harrington standing there, his own drink in hand and motioning to the chair next to Billy.

After the initial shock had passed, Billy shrugged and nodded to the empty chair. ”It’s a free country.”

Harrington rounded the chair and sank down on it in one smooth motion, without spilling his drink. He was close enough that their knees almost touched under the table. Unsure of where to look, Billy looked out over the dancing crowd once again and took a sip of his own drink.

None of them spoke for a while. On the outside, Billy was as relaxed as could be and content with watching the people dancing by, but on the inside he was scrambling for something to say that wouldn’t result in Harrington punching him in the face. Luckily, Harrington was the one who spoke first.

“It’s a nice wedding.”

Billy let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding as he nodded. “Yeah, yeah it is. Surprising, though.”

“Surprising?”

“Yeah, I mean. They’re … an unlikely couple.”

Harrington looked over at the newlyweds, where Munson was now leaning with his elbow on the table they’d sat down at, watching his new wife with a smitten smile on his face while she chatted with one of the bridesmaids. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “They’re a good fit, if you know them. A real good fit.”

Billy didn’t know them well enough to comment, but he had to admit that from what he’d seen, they seemed genuinely in love with each other. “Good for them,” he decided. “I just meant, if someone had told me back in school that the school outcast would marry the head cheerleader … I wouldn’t have believed them.”

Harrington let out a chuckle at that and inclined his head in recognition. “I’ll give you that. But high school was …” He trailed off, seemingly not knowing how to put it.

“Bullshit?” Billy hedged, and Harrington let out a startled laugh.

“Exactly! High school was just a bunch of bullshit people doing bullshit things.”

Billy licked his lips and glanced at Harrington next to him, lit up by the colorful lamps from the dance floor. He couldn’t have asked for a better opening. Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and spoke up, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Speaking of … I know I was … kind of a dick back in school. To you, specifically.” Harrington turned his whole body so he was facing Billy, and Billy had to look away. Couldn’t look him in the eye if he was going to finish this. “I guess I had my own bullshit to deal with back then, and took it out on … everyone else. But yeah. I’m sorry I gave you so much shit, back then.”

He was immensely grateful for the loud music in the seconds that followed, so he didn’t have to deal with the silence that followed. He eventually gathered enough courage to turn to Harrington, and found the other man watching him with an unreadable expression. But he didn’t speak, so Billy gave a one-shouldered shrug and forced out, even as his heart sank, “Yeah, anyway, just needed to get that out there. Do with it what you will.” Trying to keep it casual.

“No,” Harrington said, and then immediately after, “I mean, thanks.” He took a breath and started over. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, well …”

“Yeah.” Another pause, this one longer. Then, “Actually, you know what? Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge, and all that.”

Billy looked up in surprise at that. He hadn’t expected for his sad excuse of an apology to be accepted that easily. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harrington said and gave a casual shrug. “We were all teenagers. Stupid teenagers, doing stupid things.”

Billy couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. “Bullshit things.”

“Bullshit things,” Harrington agreed with a smile of his own.

“So … We good?”

Harrington pretended to think, before leaning towards Billy and pointing a finger at the bar in the corner. “Tell you what, Hargrove. Buy me a drink, and we’ll call it even.”

Letting out an incredulous laugh, Billy felt the need to point out, “It’s a free bar!”

“All the better for you then,” Harrington quipped. “I want a mojito.”

It was a done deal; they even shook on it before Billy stood up and sauntered off to the bar to pick up Harrington’s drink, as well as a refill of his own. It was the cheapest atonement he’d ever had to do.

The next hour was spent with the two of them talking and nursing their drinks at their table, watching people come and go from the dancefloor. Maybe it was the alcohol, and maybe it was Billy’s half-assed apology, but conversation flowed easier and easier between them as the night went on.

It must have been around midnight – the band had announced a break and put a record on instead so people could continue dancing, but to slightly poppier music – when Harrington put his head to the side and regarded Billy with slightly narrowed eyes.

“You know, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” Billy looked at him, raising one eyebrow (which might have actually been both of them, because he might have had a drink too much at this point), and Harrington hurriedly added, “I just mean, if I remember correctly, you left pretty soon after graduation. I didn’t know you were still in contact with anyone from Hawkins.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Heather was Billy’s only exception to that. Mostly because she’d dug her claws in and refused to let him go (which he was grateful for, now). “I guess,” Billy said neutrally. “Heather’s … special.”

“So you two, you’re …” Harrington said, and trailed off with his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Oh no,” Billy said, too quickly. “We’re not … we’re not together.” Too late, he realized that the reason he was at this goddamned wedding in the first place was to play Heather’s significant other so she wouldn’t have to deal with unwanted advancements from random guys, and that he’d just fucked up his one job. Heather was going to have his ass, but Billy thought that she might be understanding, in the end. For one thing, Harrington was here with his own date and was thus less likely to try to hit on Heather, and for another thing … Well. Steve Harrington had always been Billy’s biggest weakness, which Heather was well aware of. He couldn’t be held accountable for what he let slip in Harrington’s presence.

Especially when it was just the two of them, and Harrington was loose and relaxed around him and had laughed at several of Billy’s jokes at this point.

“What about you?” he asked to avoid further questions and nodded to the dancefloor, where Harrington’s date was blushing while Heather was grinding up to her. “You and Buckley get together back in school, or?”

Harrington followed his gaze and looked at his date with unbearable fondness. “Oh, Robin’s my soulmate,” he said, but before Billy’s heart could plummet in irrational disappointment he shook his head a little and continued, “But we’re not a couple.”

“You’re n– No shit?”

“I love her,” Harrington said, as easy as if he’d said the sky was blue. “But not like … not like that.”

“So you’re a free man, still?” Billy couldn’t help asking. When Harrington turned his full attention to Billy, Billy tried to cover up the way he’d instinctively leaned forward by clearing his throat. “I mean. Who would have thought the biggest ladies’ man in school would still be single ten years on?”

Instead of rising to the bait – if it was even bait in the first place, Billy wasn’t sure – Harrington laughed and took another drink. “Robin would say that I’m stuck in the frog kissing stage.”

That threw Billy for a loop. “Huh?”

“You know … That you’ve gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince?”

A beat. “Don’t you mean princess?”

Harrington made a high noise and held out his hand in a lazy ‘so-so’ motion, which was the most interesting reaction Billy had gotten out of anyone, ever.

“Whatever. I just. Kiss a lot of frogs right now, I guess.”

‘Whatever’? Billy was itching to know what that meant and if it meant what he hoped it meant, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing one asked about outright. So instead, he ignored the rapid beating of his heart and tried to play casual as he said, “I’m not sure Munson – or his bride – would be too happy to hear that you just called them frogs.”

For a second, Harrington looked startled – then his face split in a smile and he burst out laughing. “Oh you saw that, huh?”

“Harrington, the whole room saw that.” Relieved that his ribbing had gone over well and giddy with the possibilities, Billy went a step further. “Honestly, Chrissy I can understand, because if I remember correctly you were into that whole good girl schtick in school. But Munson? I didn’t think he was your type.”

He held his breath as he waited for the reply, and when it came he wasn’t disappointed.

“What can I say? I’m an equal-opportunity kind of guy.”

This time, Billy couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward in his seat. “Really?”

Harrington regarded him with something akin to calculated interest, before giving an equally calculated nod. “Really.” Then he surprised Billy by immediately asking, “How about you?”

Put on the spot, Billy jerked back a bit and stammered, “Uh, no. I’m a … I just play for the one team, myself.”

“Ah.” Harrington smiled a rueful smile and looked down at the glass in his hand, and wait, hang on, did he think that Billy meant –?

“Not the one that you’re thinking!” Billy blurted out, and oops, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But by the way Harrington looked back up with an attentive spark in his eyes, Billy was on the right track. And like … in for a penny, break the bank, or however that saying went. “I’m gay, actually. Had the biggest crush on you back in school. That’s why I was such an ass. To … you …”

… shit. That was a lot of information he hadn’t actually meant to divulge, and to someone he definitely hadn’t meant to divulge it to. Things he never would have said if someone else had been around to hear it. Where the hell was Heather when you needed her?

Billy swallowed hard when Harrington shuffled closer on his chair. Their legs touched under the table, and Billy couldn’t look away as Harrington slowly leaned forward in his seat.

“Is that so?” he all but purred.

“Uh,” was Billy’s very eloquent reply. “Yeah …?”

“What a coincidence,” Harrington said, voice low. “I had a similar experience, myself.”

His hand brushed against Billy’s as he reached out for something on the table that Billy couldn’t see. It brought his face closer to Billy’s for a second, but even when he drew his arm back he stayed where he was, close enough for Billy to feel warm breath on his face.

Then suddenly, there was a sound coming from close by that could only barely be heard over the music. The crystal ding-ding-ding of someone tapping something against glass. Billy glanced down at the table only to see that Harrington was gripping a dessert spoon between his thumb and forefinger and tapping it against an empty glass that had been left on the table. Looking up, Billy didn’t have the time to do anything but draw in a breath before Harrington’s lips were on his, and they were …

Kissing. They were kissing.

Billy had already been kissing back for a breath of two when what they were doing caught up to him, and he pulled back – not much, but enough to take a breath – and instinctively licked his lips to catch more of Harrington’s taste.

He threw an eye at the dance floor – a group of people were still dancing under the colored lights, but they were no longer dancing two and two, instead opting to form a loose circle where they were all moving independently. One of the dancers must have been someone’s grandma, and at least two of the women had removed their shoes. Other than the straggling dancers, there were a couple of people hanging out at the bar, as well as a few people who had sought out the privacy of the tables along the walls in the darkened corners of the room, just like he and Harrington had.

No one was looking at them. No one seemed to have seen.

Billy swallowed and bit his lip before turning back to Harrington, who hadn’t moved; who was still leaning in close with his elbow on the table and a confident grin on his face. Fuck it, but he looked downright delicious like that. Billy kind of wanted another taste.

“Strange tradition, that,” Billy managed and nodded jerkily to the glass on the table.

“Mmm,” Harrington said. “But it’s not a bad one.”

“True,” Billy said, and decided to be confident in turn. “In fact, I think it might be my second favorite wedding tradition.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the first one?”

Billy leaned in close and mirrored Harrington’s cocky expression. “Getting lucky.”

Steve was in the water again. They weren’t far into the ocean, just by the shore where the water was up to their waists, so Billy could stand comfortably, holding the surfboard, while Steve tried to learn standing on it.

“I don’t got this..” he gasped when his head was out of the water. He pushed the sticky strands of hair out of his face. His eyes burning from the saltwater by now.

“This can’t be so difficult..” Steve whined.

“It’s not. Once you figured it out, it will get easier, I promise!”

“You also promised me I would learn surfing. I keep making a fool out of myself for hours. I’m tired, I’m burning and cold at the same time, I can’t see anything anymore.. And there’s definitely something wrong with the surfboard!”

“Maybe you’re just not a natural in everything? It happens.” Billy said, but his voice was still soft, trying to sound encouraging.

“Or maybe you’re just a bad teacher.” Steve snapped and regretted it the moment he saw Billy’s jaw tense and his eyes turn cold.

Billy said nothing. He tugged the surfboard under his arm and stomped out of the water.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Billy was a fantastic teacher. He was cheering Steve on, starting in the morning and never stopped. He explained everything right and his patience was endless.

He was so excited when Steve told him he wanted to learn surfing and couldn’t wait to start teaching him.

Share his passion...

“Shit.. Billy!” Steve called, but Billy did not just leave the water, he grabbed his bag and towel and moved his spot far away from Steve.

“Baby?” Steve mumbled more to himself, his eyes following his boyfriend.

Billy wasn’t going home to their little, cozy bungalow rental, just away from Steve, to a different spot at the beach and he knew it was pointless, trying to talk to him now.

Steve messed up and he knew it. Maybe he could make up for it later, with a little massage and some good food from Billy’s favorite restaurant to enjoy on the ocean view patio, watching the sun go down.

Steve decided to start making preparations right away and hurried home to wash the sand and salt off his body, changed his clothes into a summer outfit, combining soft linen shorts in cream white and a matching button up shirt with decent stripes in light blue. Steve didn’t wash his hair, he liked the texture the ocean water added to it and how the sun had slightly bleached a few strands. Billy had turned fully gold-blonde, matching beautifully with his now tanned skin.

While Steve was fighting hard to not get a burn, Billy seemed made to be kissed by the sun to bring his looks to perfection.

The thought alone made Steve smile, but it faded the moment he remembered that he couldn’t just go hug and kiss him right now and that Billy was mad at him.

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” he mumbled to himself and decided bringing food wasn’t enough.

He would go to the mall, where him and Billy went shopping to find their perfect summer looks.

Both of them had worked their asses off with part time jobs through a whole year to save up for this trip.

To have a nice place to stay and some money to spend without worrying. It’s what they deserved after moving into the trailer park together to live at the lowest cost possible, while saving up as much as possible and on their own conditions. Not necessarily what Steve needed, but he needed Billy away from his dad and his parents thought it wasn’t the worst idea for Steve to experience living on his own, living humble, learning the worth of money.

When summer was over, they would move anyway, living on campus, because they would start going to college, yes college, yes, both of them, together. Steve was blessed to have his parents partly pay for him, they insisted and he agreed if they wouldn’t judge his trailer park lifestyle whenever they came to eat at the Harringtons to save up even more.

Billy got a scholarship for being a sports maniac and also a good student. Colleges basically battled to get him and Steve let his father pull some strings to get Steve into Billy’s top choice. He wasn’t proud of it but Billy encouraged him to not waste the chances he got by being born into a family with opportunities.

This holiday trip, though.. it was their baby. They worked so hard and put money aside only for this and now Billy was angry and Steve was sad.

Steve tucked his sunglasses in his hair and slipped into his sandals. He left a note for Billy that he would bring take-out and that he was sorry.

The mall wasn’t far but it was hot outside, so Steve walked more slowly than usual, buying some water on the way to keep himself hydrated, stopped for a moment in the shadow of a tree to catch a breath.

His body was tired from being active in the water all day, but he was determined to make it up and show Billy how much he loved him and how much he appreciated his patience and effort.

Gladly, the mall was chilly inside from the air conditioning and Steve felt immediately refreshed.

He wondered what else he could get for Billy besides the food, as he walked by a claw machine and remembered when they were here together and he jokingly asked if he should get him one of the little plush bears, wearing an ‘I love you’ T-shirt.

Billy wouldn’t be Billy, if he hadn’t scoffed and laughed it off, but Steve noticed how his eyes got soft when he looked back at the machine and maybe he secretly wanted one.. He would never admit it of course because it’s something a boy would get for his girlfriend and not his Billy Hargrove.

Too bad Steve already knew he had a soft core and maybe was even a little romantic at heart. He would never admit it, of course.

Steve was a hopeless romantic, shamelessly. Of course he had to get one of those bears for his beloved, -pretending not to care about romance- but secretly craving for it, Billy.

One little bear especially called to him and so one quarter after another was swallowed up by the machine and Steve hurried back and forth from the coin changer to the machine, always in a mild and definitely growing panic someone would come and steal his progress while he was getting more coins.

At some point, he was so devastated, he tried to bribe the guy who was maintaining the machines to just let him buy one, but he was not easy to break. Only after about twenty more tries and Steve on the edge of crying and kicking and getting arrested for vandalism, the maintenance guy discovered he had a heart after all, opened the machine to put Steve’s bear of desire as close to the edge as possible, so it only had to be kicked into the hole to be on his way to freedom.

Three more tries and the bear was Steve’s. He felt like a loser, but maybe he didn’t deserve a win.

Not after the way he treated Billy.

On the way to the restaurant, he passed an advertisement in front of a tourist agency for something he thought could be funny and useful, so he didn’t think about it long, walked in and booked it.

About two hours later, Steve was back at the bungalow with two bags of take-out.

Billy wasn’t back, yet. The note untouched.

Steve sighed and started to set the table anyway, but Billy wasn’t coming home and Steve wasn’t hungry, so the food stayed untouched while Steve was sitting on the patio, watching the sun go down on his own.

He opened his wallet to look at the photo he kept in there, two pieces of a photo booth stripe folded together.

He pulled it out to look at both of them and something fell into his lap. The straw from the first drink they shared on their first date, where they also took the photos.

What a crazy day that was… Steve thought back to it with a smile, his fingertips tracing Billy on the photos.

They looked so happy. Damn, they had too much fun that day. So much, Steve had decided for himself it was Billy or no one. The one for him. One perfect date was enough to settle it.

The date wasn’t exactly perfect, it was wild and chaotic and everything went wrong, except for them.. having their first kiss captured forever, because it happened in the photo booth. They were hiding.. laughing themselves to tears. Billy was starting fires all across the mall. Not literally, but he was unhinged that day and Steve was infected by his energy. Maybe he was just nervous.. but it was all gone when he was sitting on his lap, in that tiny booth, with Steve’s arms wrapped around him and they looked at each other, slowly calming down… slowly falling in love.. and they kissed.

“I love you..” Steve mumbled quietly and stared at the ocean. His fingers folding the straw into a little flower while he was thinking of Billy.. being too angry to even come home.

Steve slept alone that night. He wasn’t worried, it wasn’t cold outside and Billy could take care of himself. He had no idea if Billy waited for him to go find him or needed the space.

Usually, space was the better pick when Billy was angry. He needed his time to calm down. He wasn’t as explosive as he used to, but he still needed to walk away sometimes to keep himself from making things worse. It was okay. Billy wasn’t easy to handle, but Steve was getting better at it and Billy got better at making it easier. After everything he’s been through, Steve couldn’t ever be mad too long. He was forgiving when other people would have given up long ago. He was patient and what he got in return was the love, trust and loyalty from Billy Hargrove. Something he would never gamble with. Not for anything in the world.

Steve woke up in the middle of the night, still alone. He was lying awake for an hour or two.

Next time he woke up, it was bright daylight, the bear from the claw machine his only company.

He had overslept and it was already noon.

Steve got up hesitantly, his body aching from the surf training and his head felt mushy from sleeping too long and out of rhythm.

It was time to look for Billy.

Ready or not, he wouldn’t waste another minute of their precious holiday without him.

Steve found Billy at the beach, in the waves, surfing. It was the first time he ever saw him in his element like that and maybe, he was falling in love for a second time, while he watched him in awe and his heart wanted to explode. He settled a little afar from Billy’s spot. He knew his towel and slippers and bag. He probably slept there..

Steve let him finish and watched him walk through the sand without noticing him. He put down the surfboard and slipped into a crop top because the sun was burning his skin and smoked a cigarette.

This was bullshit.. Steve thought and decided to attack. With the bear in one hand and the straw-flower in the other, he approached Billy from behind and hugged him.

“Forgive me..” he mumbled and kissed his shoulder. “Please?”

Billy wasn’t even paying attention to the gifts and instantly turned around to hug him tight and Steve breathed out with a relieved smile. “I’m so sorry, baby..” he whispered, “I was so frustrated for being such a disappointment and waste of time.. I let it out on you, I’m really, really sorry, please don’t be mad anymore.”

Billy looked at him and Steve shoved the bear between them for extra power and Billy took it, his eyes soft when he inspected it. He shook his head and dashed away a tear.

“You think you were a waste of time?” he started hoarsely and Steve shrugged helplessly. “You wanted to share your passion with me and I’m such a loser, you didn’t even get to surf until now. You look not from this world, doing it, by the way.”

Billy smiled, his features softening more when he took the flower and remembered the straw. “Is that..?”

“Yeah.. I kept it.”

Billy laughed. “I kept mine, too.”

Steve smiled.

“You never were a waste of time.. I don’t know if you noticed how much I enjoyed doing that with you yesterday. Every single second. No matter how hard you fail or how long it takes. Being by the ocean, doing this with you… it means the world to me.”

Steve teared up and nodded. “To me, too. Can we keep trying?”

Billy smiled. “Always.”

They kissed and the weight of a thousand mountains fell off his shoulders.

“Let me get my stuff over here.” Steve said and hurried to his original spot when he heard Billy call after him:

“What the actual fuck, Steve?”

Steve turned around and Billy pointed at the little airplane, flying over the water, with a banner spelling “Billy I’m sorry. =(” across the sky.

“I didn’t know how mad you were!” Steve yelled back with a helpless shrug.

“Now I’m mad if you spent your hard earned holiday money for shit like that!”

Steve grabbed his stuff and walked back. In front of Billy, he took his hands in his.

“I paid that with my parents credit card.. I thought it would make you laugh, at least.. maybe break the ice..”

Billy huffed through his nose, then he chuckled. “Yeah. It’s kinda funny.”

Steve laughed. “No more fighting, okay?”

Billy’s eyes found his, reflecting the blue of the ocean.

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch about it..” he said apologetically and Steve shook his head with a sweet smile.