#hwol

it wasn't always like this. this fragile thing between them kept safe under layers of teasing and flirting and sarcasm keeps getting realer, and billy knows he wouldn't want it any other way, but his heart still hasn't gotten the memo that it needs to stop growing three sizes every time steve surprises him with so much honesty.

can't stop his lips from pulling up at the corners either, a soft smile creeping its way to his eyes, helpless. he steals the cigarette from steve's fingers with his free hand to hide it, the other buried in the soft hair at his nape, tracing lazy patterns on the side of his neck. he takes a long drag and blows the smoke up, shuffling imperceptibly closer, head thrown back against the leather seat but eyes cast low on steve's face, his pale skin and pink lips and long brown lashes.

"so whatd'ya wanna do," he murmurs, presses his lips to steve's hairline and leaves barely-there kisses with each syllable. steve tilts his head up, nose bumping billy's as he shrugs, eyes low and smile easy, relaxed. billy, cigarette still balanced between his fingers, pushes steve’s hair back from his forehead and tugs a bit, snorts at the way his nose scrunches up and steve pulls at his necklace, fingers curled around the pendant. he rests that hand on steves’s knee then, his long legs thrown on top of his, and steve holds his wrist and strokes the back of it with his thumb.

"my house will be empty", he says, the as usual left hanging in the air. "we can go there, or we can come back here." he gestures with his chin at the car window and the quiet surroundings of the quarry. steve's hand pulls at his wrist and billy lifts his arm to bring the cigarette to his mouth, steve’s lips pressing softly against the pads of his fingers. billy stares at them as they wrap around the stick and suck.

"everyone will be at school anyway," steve continues, blowing the smoke to the side. billy drags his eyes back up to steve's, to the line of his brows. "as long as we got music and booze everywhere's good."

"sounds like you got it all figured out," billy says with a soft chuckle. he brings the cigarette back to his mouth and takes another quick drag, exhales from his nose like a dragon. "do i have to rent a tux?"

steve grins up at him, devilish, legs shuffling on top of his. "i mean, i’d love to see it," and his big doe eyes are so bright and flirty it’s dumb, dumb like the big dopey smile billy feels growing on his face that steve leans in to kiss, just a short thing that has billy chasing his lips for more, his breath hitching. "but don't bother, baby. wouldn’t last long anyway," he mumbles, raising a brow and tugging billy in by his necklace.

"oh yeah?" he purrs, amused and warm and ridiculously pleased.

"yeah," steve breathes and kisses him, hands coming up to cradle his face. billy sighs into the kiss, lips closing over steve's upper lip and sucking, tracing it with his tongue. he tosses the cigarette out of the window blindly and wraps his fingers under his thigh, shuffling to lay steve on his back and lie between his legs, steve pliant under him, all soft breaths and slow kisses.

and they already got off before, could do it again, but billy doesn't feel like he needs to. it's something steve's taught him, kissing for the sake of it. making out for the sake of it, because it feels good, not just as a means to an end. and he likes kissing steve so much, wants to do it for hours, 'til he feels lightheaded and silly, lips kiss-bruised and sore, and steve would let him, does let him, happy and enthusiastic (and his, all his).

so two weeks later, steve steals liquor from mr. harrington's cabinet, billy buys a six-pack at the gas station out of town that never id-checks him, and they ditch prom and drive to the quarry. it's empty, the music plays loud from the car’s radio and echoes, and steve smiles at him drunk and blinding like he hung the fucking moon as they share cigarettes and alcohol and kisses and laughter. steve wears a deceptively simple white button-down that probably costs more than billy's whole outfit, and billy spent an extra half-hour on his hair only for steve to ruin it in ten minutes.

"you made a fucking mixtape?" he asks, incredulous, when steve asks him to get a cassette from the glove compartment.

"of course," he says with an easy shrug, hair bouncing in his eyes, and billy looks at him, looks at the sh&bh 1985 prom written in black marker on the cover of the cassette tape, and really has to hold back from saying something stupid like i love you, like i don’t know how i got so lucky.

steve steps closer, and if it wasn't silly, billy'd think he looked shy. "no offence, babe, but nothing you like can actually be danced to." he takes the tape from billy's hands and stretches into the car to pop it in the radio, one knee on the driver's seat. steve turns the volume up as a synthy beat fills the air and stumbles back out of the car. he clears his throat and takes billy's hand, pulls him in with a smile, flush against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, and billy can only go with it, heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

steve sways him, bobs his head, starts singing along to the song and billy can't help but laugh as the chorus hits and steve goes into an impressive falsetto, never breaking eye contact like he really means what he’s singing, how they’re head over heels in love, but making the dorkiest scrunched-up face billy’s probably ever seen. laughs, head thrown back as steve sings to him, the ringing of your laughter it sounds like a melody, to once-forbidden places we'll go for a while, hands around his waist in a slow dance, the softest smile pulling up his cheeks, big brown eyes looking at billy with something like wonder as he starts chuckling himself.

and billy can't believe what he's doing, dancing with a boy in hawkins, indiana, where he thought he'd either die of be killed, where instead he found a boy that loves him and makes him laugh and makes him feel like the beginning of his life is right here, in this moment, with fucking alphaville playing, wrapped in steve harrington's arms.