Nayelli

I saw a post about Billy Hargrove's blackened veins resembling cracked porcelain, and my immediate reaction was

kintsugi that young man!

Basically:

WIPs and info under cut:

bite risk.

(alts + info under cut)

he was just a boy. he was just a boy who was violated to the point he lost all control of his thoughts and self. he was just a boy when he saved el, and he was a victim when he hurt the kids in the stairwell. and just a victim when he was in the sauna.

steve’s got his head tilted back, lips parted, breath coming in soft gasps as billy kisses down his neck, hands gripping his hips

their bodies are pressed close, grinding slow and messy on the couch, the room thick with heat and quiet moans.

then…

“AHHHHHHH!! STEVE?!”

the voice hits like a gunshot.

they both freeze. steve’s eyes snap open, billy jerks back like he’s been burned, and dustin stands in the doorway, backpack half-off, mouth hanging open in pure horror.

“what the hell is happening?!”

steve scrambles upright, shoving billy off him, heart pounding. billy’s already halfway across the room, yanking his shirt down and buckling up his belt, face pale and tight.

“dustin!??….dude!…wait-”

“are you…were you…” dustin stammers, pointing wildly between them. “you were making out with billy?! billy hargrove?!”

“you’re not even supposed to be here!! how’d you get in!?”

“clearly!” dustin yells, backing up a step. “i came to grab my walkie! i didn’t think i’d walk in on…on whatever that was!! and you gave me a key to the back door in case of emergencies!” 

steve’s face is flushed, panic rising fast. “okay, liste-”

“no! no, i don’t want to listen!” dustin’s voice cracks, high and sharp. “you’re gay?!”

steve flinches. “i…i don’t know, maybe? it’s not that simpl-”

“but you’re supposed to be the cool guy!” dustin shouts, pacing now. “you dated nancy! you give me advice about girls! and you!” he turns to point at billy, “you!…you flirt with moms! you’re basically a guy slut! and now you’re what….you’re kissing steve?? you both hate each other!” he turns again at steve, his face completely red and voice at an even higher octave… “really!??… billy hargrove!!”

billy’s jaw clenches. he looks like he wants to disappear.

“dustin,” steve says, stepping forward carefully, voice low and urgent. “you can’t tell anyone. please.”

dustin snaps, eyes still wide full of disbelief.

steve glances at billy, who’s staring at the floor like it might swallow him. “please dustin. because it’s not safe! for both of us! for billy…his dad. neil. he’s… it’s just not safe. please man, don’t tell anyone!”

dustin looks at billy again, really looks. sees the fear in his eyes. the way he’s bracing for impact, like he’s already preparing to be punished.

he takes a long, slow deep breathe. “you’re serious,” dustin says, his voice still loud but a little softer now.

steve nods. “i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

dustin’s breathing hard, still overwhelmed, still trying to process the image burned into his brain. steve and billy. kissing. grinding. moaning. ewwwww! he rips his cap off, stroking a hand through his curls.

he’s looked up to steve for years. the hair. the charm. the effortless cool. and now everything feels upside down.

how ironic.

but he sees the way steve’s standing protectively in front of billy. the way big mad badboy billy hasn’t said a word, like he’s afraid even speaking will make it worse.

“i won’t tell,” dustin says finally, voice quiet but firm. “i swear.”

steve exhales, shoulders sagging with relief. billy doesn’t move, but something in his posture shifts, less rigid and less ready to run.

“you can trust me…,” dustin adds, trying to sound normal again, “but…you owe me. and I mean like OWE ME! owe me like a lifetime supply of brain bleach and pizza.”

steve laughs, shaky. “deal.”

dustin grabs his walkie and heads for the door, still muttering, “steve harrington, ladies’ man turned billy’s boyfriend. what the hell is hawkins.”

“Why tf is he here”- Dustin/lucas

Poor max is stressing out, girls been though enough.

It's been two months since Billy moved in with them and Joyce would just like 48 hours of nothing coming up that makes her want to cry, scream, or ring Neil Hargrove’s neck. Or all three at once.

So today it's this.

"What's this?" she asks, with the little slip of paper pinched between her fingers. Billy’s distracted, digging around the living room looking for something, she has to repeat herself, "Billy, hon, what's this?"

He squints at her hand, he's got a couch cushion in each of his, "Uh, my paycheck." he says perfunctorily before turning back to his hunt.

"OK, why was it on top of my purse?" It’s his first paycheck from his new job, so this is the first time it's come up.

It's a ring he was looking for. He jams it on his middle finger as he says, "I already signed it over, it's good to go. Jane! Will! Get the lead out, I'm not waiting around all day, I've got shit to do!"

It's automatic. It's unthinking. Like a matter of course. It's her house, so the money goes to her. (The day she gets him to stop calling it 'your house' she's gonna dance a little jig.)

"Billy," she walks over to him, he's got his jacket on now, filling his pockets with car keys and his pack of Reds. She waits until he's looking at her, then makes her Serious Mom face at him to keep him looking at her, "I'm not taking your paycheck, honey."

She hands it back and he takes it on reflex, before immediately trying to hand it back. Mouth flapping for a minute before he manages to say, "What about rent? Utilities? Food?"

She shakes her head gently, refuses to take the cheque, "If you want to contribute to the household expenses, then that's a conversation we can have. We'll work out something fair. But I'm not charging you rent."

Will and Jane come thundering down the hall in a tornado of jackets and supplies for... whatever it is they're doing over at Dustin's today. She listened, but it was about robots and she’s still not sure if they meant real robots or imaginary ones.

Billy just keeps staring at her, mouth a little slack. He tries, wordlessly, to give the cheque back one more time. So she takes it, just to fold it up and tuck it in his breast pocket along with his smokes. Gives it a little pat to shut the flap firmly.

Billy shook his head, a little desperate, a little heartbroken.

“I can’t,” he said, and his voice sounded as unstable as he felt. “Argyle, I can’t, it’s yours.”

Argyle smiled, and though it was as bright and kind as ever, there was a an edge of sorrow to it that sent an ache ripping through Billy’s chest.

“It’s Saint Christopher. For safe travels.” He pushed his hand closer. “You need it more than I do, man.”

Billy took a step back and Argyle, undeterred, unclasped the chain, looping it easily around Billy’s neck. He smoothed the pendant over Billy’s chest, fingers summer-warm, and Billy’s eyes stung as he sucked in a shaky breath, vision hazy as he met Argyle’s gaze.

“I’m gonna miss you, little buddy.”

Billy wanted to sink into that familiar warmth and never come out. He wanted to climb into Argyle’s van and drive away with him, escape with him. He wanted this day, this moment, to stretch out forever.

But Neil was at the house, waiting for him, probably already fuming at how long he was taking. The backseat of the Camaro was crammed with everything Billy owned, the tank filled in preparation for a thirty-hour drive, and California was slipping from his grasp with every passing second. There was nothing he could do.

“Yeah. I’ll miss you too.”

Argyle pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him, holding perhaps a little tighter than usual, a little longer than usual, and Billy felt the pendant pressing close to his skin between them.