challengers!billy x challengers!stu x fem!reader
cw: lots of kissing, swearing, alcohol, one(?) use of Y/N, reader is called a girl one time i think, dialogue pretty much just taken from the transcript of challengers
song: uncle ACE - blood orange
An hour. Thatâs how long has passed since Stu and Billy offered an invitation to their shared room to some hotshot new tennis player, (Y/N), or whatever, at a party. To be fair, theyâd been more focused on other things than names when striking up the conversation. Not that it mattered when you didnât even care to show up.
Okay, maybe thatâs pessimistic thinking. You havenât shown up yet.
The hotel room theyâve been assigned is fuzzy this summer night, dreamlike, like time moves slower inside it. Music plays from a radio, faint, though neither boy recognises it well enough to go out of their way to turn the volume up. The air sits static for the time being even with the window open. They suppose they canât complain, since there is a fan, albeit a clunky, oscillating one, which only satiates both boys enough to leave them wanting more.Â
With a posture that his mother would scold him for, Stu drapes himself over his armchair, casting a glance at his doubleâs partner laying on the bed. (that is definitely one way to describe Billy. The boys have been attached at the hip since childhood when theyâd met at their tennis academy). And he doesnât need to be a psychic to know whatâs passing through his head, since itâs already in his own: how fucking boring is this?
Because Christ, all theyâd been hoping for was that youâd come back with them, take your pick, and let the lucky guy get it on. Not just leave them waiting and fiending for anything, anything at all. Even a hug would be fine, and that is saying something when considering their standards.
âSheâs not coming,â Billy declares after a while, stretching like a cat atop the thin covers of the bed. âSheâs not coming âcause you made it sound weird.â
âWhat? What did I do?â
âYou made it sound like..â He pauses, trying to find the right words. âI dunno, like we wanted to fuck her in here or something.â
âBut we do.â Stu sounds genuinely confused, still not lifting his head from his sprawled position.
âOkay, yeah, but what did you think would happen? We keep shooting our shot âtil she takes pity on one of us, hopefully, and the other one just, like, sits in the bathroom?â
Now heâs gone and done it. âWhat, is that beneath you?â
âI think itâs beneath her.â He turns now, looking at the peeling wallpaper closest to the bed. If he squints, it looks like a smiley face.
âOh, do you?â Stu smiles, mainly to himself. âAnd what if she chooses you? Canât handle all that without me in the room?â
âSheâs not coming, dude!â
As if manifesting it into reality, a knock sounds out from the far side of the room, sending the pair both bolt upright in their respective seats. A glance to each other, then the door, then each other again, like theyâre in some old cartoon, and they both sprint over.
Stuâs the one to actually open the door, though both are quick to greet you loudly over the top of each other.
âAre you guys, like, soulmates?â Your question acts as acknowledgement to both of their eager attitudes. They snort at it, but you hesitate, as if to make it seem more real. âWhat? You seem like brothers. Youâve got the connection.â
A look is shared between them -- them? brotherly? really? -- and you think that youâre just gonna have to ignore it until Billy shrugs. âGuess thatâs what boarding school does for you.â His voice is nice, you think, relaxing, like he could be a radio show host. Youâd surely tune in as often as possible.
Realising youâve been standing in the hallway for too long to be polite, Stu takes a quick step aside and ushers you into the messiness of their room. How theyâve achieved such a level of disarray in one day is a feat in itself, and you almost find yourself in awe of it. Almost, because you also think itâs kinda gross.
Still observing the room around you, you gingerly sit on the floor between the two twin beds that the hotel supplied, and the pair quickly follow suit, forming a circle like theyâre in elementary school. You note that theyâve pushed the beds together to make one big one, whatever that implies about them, and store it for later. Both of them lean in toward you like theyâre anticipating your words, and you try not to let it boost your ego too much.Â
âAre you sure your girlfriend wonât mind this?â You finally speak, turning your gaze toward Stu. âI mean, I thought you mentioned something about another girl earlier.â
Surely this has to be the last thing that he could want someone else to think when heâs trying to hook up with them. Clearing the dryness from his throat, he rushes to answer. âNot my girlfriend. Just a girl. Who is a friend.â
It comes out in such a matter of fact way, like heâs making himself believe it, that it makes you snicker. Oh, and youâve got a nice laugh, too. He supposes he should take pride in being the one to bring it out of you and puffs out his chest a little.
Your attention turns to Billy now, though he doesnât falter under your look. âOkay, and what about you? Are you pretending not to have one too?â
Just as he opens his mouth to speak, Stu jumps in again to do it for him, at which Billy silently curses him for. Heâll get his karma sooner or later for it. âOh, Billyâs between ladies at the moment.â A sharp, joking nudge of his elbow makes the dark haired boy frown harder.
âDonât say it like that. It makes me sound like Iâm some sort of..â He trails off, though for dramatic effect or lack of words, youâre not sure.
âManwhore?â You offer, just in case. He shakes his head at it, though itâs more of a playful reaction than anything.
Stu nods. âExactly! He does fine for himself.â You donât find it hard to believe, but he keeps going. âI mean, just look at that face.â Heâs nudging the other boy again, purposefully antagonising until heâs physically swatted away.
And then itâs another temporary silence, air hanging hot over your neck, your back. You rub the palm of your hand absentmindedly in an attempt to stop it from cramping, not that it works, and you find yourself wishing you hadnât put as much effort into your match earlier. Wouldâve been an easy win anyways. Meanwhile, the duo seem to be communicating solely through eye contact again, and you wonder if it was one of the language classes at their special academy. Maybe itâs not too late for you to learn it, too, and start deciphering these secret codes they send one another.
You clear your throat, straightening your spine. Show off your confidence, though itâs not like you have to. âSo, how often does this happen?â
They move in sync, tilting slightly to convey their lack of understanding.
âGoing after the same girl, I mean.â
A shake of heads. âNot as often as youâd think, actually. Thereâs usually not an overlap in our types.â
You smile. âSo I should be.. flattered?â
Stuâs occupied with biting his thumbnail, but speaks anyway, so the words come out muffled. âArenât you everyoneâs type?âÂ
Flattery will get them anywhere if they lay it on thick enough.
Billy takes a sip from the half-empty beer can heâs been nursing for the entire conversation, and you gesture for him to pass it, at which he complies. Itâs quiet as they watch you drink, beholding the masterpiece that is the subtle movement of your neck. If they didnât know any better, theyâd say they were actually salivating at the sight (and it isnât much whatsoever). You wipe your mouth, and they slowly recline back in their previous positions, nearly embarrassed with themselves.
âAnd the two of you?â Your index pointed between the pair, inquisitive.
Stu seems to grasp your meaning, but he doesnât react, instead waiting for Billy to do so first. And so he does. âWha-- oh! Oh, no.â
Now he chimes in. âNo, no.â
Billy pauses, squinting. âWhat, is that surprising?â
A small smile slips onto your face. âWell,â a moment as you decide whether or not youâre going to tease him any further, before you decide against it, âno.â
Thereâs a malicious glint in the other boyâs eyes like heâs had his very own lightbulb moment. âI mean..â he starts, but Billy realises what heâs doing and cuts him off.
âDonât what?â You query. Sure, you were just kidding around before (partially), but now there are actual facts behind the theory. The darker-haired boy seems to be glaring at you for asking, however you donât think heâll make you go without knowing, because he cups Stuâs mouth with his palm so he canât speak.Â
âDonât let him tell you. Heâll start making stuff up to make me sound bad. Iâll do it. It was just a stupid thing in the summer after we graduated 7th grade, and we were playing this game--â
âTruth or dare.â Stuâs stifled voice supplies helpfully.
â--right, obviously it was truth or dare, you idiot. Anyways, we were dared to kiss, or whatever, and Iâm not a chicken, so I did it.â After the look you give him, he groans, adding: âjust on the cheek!âÂ
Stu worms his way out of his friendâs grip just to irritate him. âReally? Couldâve sworn I felt you going in with your tongue.â This makes you giggle despite its childishness, and Billy looks to the ceiling.
You interject before he can start sulking. If heâs even the type to sulk -- you donât actually know the two of them well enough to discern their personalities. âNo! I think itâs cute. Itâs a cute story.âÂ
Stu reaches out for the can sitting at your feet, shaking it slightly. Of course it has to be empty right when he gets thirsty. A sigh. âWeâre out of beer.â
Warm wind finally flutters through the open window, gently rattling the thin panes of glass as if attempting to fill the quiet that follows. Itâs a shame theyâve been placed up in this shithole with everybody else, you think momentarily -- they deserve a little better, and so do you. Itâs getting late already. Probably a sign for you to stop playing around, as you quickly decide, lifting yourself onto their joined beds.
They seem to not catch on, staring blankly, until you pat the spaces next to you. âCome here.â And theyâll be damned if they donât listen, scrambling up to sit either side of you.
âSo which one of us did you want to..â Billy starts, not so much nervous as he is excited. âFirst come first served, right?â Maybe itâs this stupid reasoning that makes you lean into him first, soft lips finding purchase atop his own.
Itâs hard for him to just sit there and contain himself, which you catch on to when his nimble fingers slip up your thighs and onto your hips, moving himself closer. A little overconfident as he tries to guide your mouth open for himself, but heâs earned it after the humiliation Stu has put him through. Right, Stu. Stu, whoâs watching over your shoulder, mouth agape like heâs just won the lottery.
When you finally pull away, Billy is still leaning in for more, eyes half-closed. But youâve turned to his friend, who meets you and your mouth halfway. Heâs a little messier with it, you notice, maybe trying to impress you with his boldness. Or the fact that he has no shame. Either way, it kinda works, because youâre drawn into him despite yourself. If youâre really paying close attention, you can note that his lips are a little drier, to compare the two.
He probably did need that last bit of the beer more than you did.
Before he can show off to you anymore, you pull back from him the same way you did Billy. Both sit dazed, happy, waiting for more. Your hands forge a path up the back of their necks, reaching the softness of their hair and gripping, just enough to feel the beginning of a sting. Like youâre playing with dolls, you draw them in closer to you, close enough to feel their hot breaths against your cheeks, short and sharp and needy. Close enough to admire the way their eyes twinkle, reflecting the overhead light that theyâve left on (couldnât have expected to go too far, then.) Close enough to bring them to your lips to let them worship. They do, actually, and they do it well.Â
Noses smush together, reckless, not holding back, though you swear you hear an âow, dude, moveâ come from Stu. Billy seems to comply whether he heard it or not, as he shifts lower to graze his teeth over your neck. A shiver runs down your spine, and you feel the cause smile against you, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of it. Stu fights for your attention at your lips, his hand snaking towards your own hair to tug at it. You make a noise that both of the boys assume is a result of their own actions, egos swelling.
Billy doesnât resist when your hand pulls him back up to where you and Stu are, finding his spot at your lips like heâs magnetically pulled to them. Might as well be, with how close you all are at this moment. Itâs getting harder to tell them apart when theyâre this close -- all youâre picking up is the heat, the wet, the speed. These guys sure do like to rush it, you think, leaning back to observe them by themselves. Itâs a sneaky move, sure, and if they catch you theyâll probably send you out of their room in a fit of rage. But itâs fucking hot.
So, so hot, watching Stu clutching the back of his friendâs shirt collar like someoneâs going to steal him away, lips forcing onto his, open and speedy. Not that Billyâs any better, because heâs doing just the same. The music from the radio is still too unknown to care about, but it makes it feel like youâre watching a movie play out in front of your eyes. Hands travelling anywhere and everywhere so long as they get to be touching the clothed body of their closest friend? Itâs something you like to see.
However, not something you like enough to watch them tear off each other's clothes with their teeth, which is where you think this might be going.Â
âOkay.â You clear your throat, obnoxious, and their heads whip around to look at you. Their faces are flushed, hot and pink, and their lips glisten with saliva.
They glance at one another again, realising what youâd watched, and quickly separate. Like theyâd blacked out and were different versions of themselves and can now feel the shame seep back into their bodies. You stand from the bed, adjusting your t-shirt as you do so.
An exaggerated yawn. âIâm going to bed.â
Stu looks confused. âI thought we were getting your number.â
âI thought I told you earlier, Iâm not a homewrecker.â You had said this to them after hiding away from the rest of the party, at which theyâd called it an open relationship. Now you canât tell if they were joking.
Stu fakes a laugh, but Billy looks a little more serious (or is it desperate?), not pretending to smile.
He attempts to meet your eyes, and youâd be lying if you said you donât find it at least a teeny bit cute. His voice is softer than earlier --Â still with its edge, though. âPlease.â
You exhale a sigh, placing your hands atop your hips, taking a second to think. âIâll be watching your game tomorrow. Whoever wins can have my number, âkay?â
Billy looks to the floor, not insecure in his abilities, but rather annoyed. Why canât you just make up your mind like a regular person? Stu sits where you were only a moment ago, feeling the warmth of the essence of your body. If he tries hard enough, he can smell your perfume.
âYou can beat him, yâknow.â This is to the one still standing. âYou should beat him, actually.âÂ
Billy perks up a little, squinting as though trying to gauge your intention. âAre you saying you want me to win?â
âIâm saying you wonât get my number if you donât.â
âBut what do you want?â Heâs dragging it now, trying to get you to admit to something that isnât even true.
âI want to watch some good fucking tennis. Goodnight.â
And then youâre gone, just as quick as youâd come to them. Like the ghost of Christmas future advising them of what theyâll miss out on if they mess it all up. It works, to be fair. Billy looks to Stu, nudging his shoulder from his taller position.
âRemember when you said youâd let me win?â If it sounds like heâs joking, he absolutely isnât.
Stu pushes his hand away. âDude, that was forever ago.â
âWhat about my parents?â Billy might as well be pleading now, though he would never really. Not for Stu, at least.
âMan, I hope they get fucking.. ax-murdered.â
yes this is a repost i hated the og
is this too niche target audience for a crossover lmk
