#steady ground

Still, he did his best to ignore the fascination with Billy, as Billy’s new best friend was Tommy Hagan. So there was no real loss there. Yet, Hawkins is small, and rumors still spread that Billy was trying to take his spot. He wanted to be the top dog in the school. He wanted to take down the King. 

Steve’s main concern had been where Camille fit into this. If he were King, she would be his Queen. Though Camille hasn’t said anything about the boy. The only time Billy has come up between them was when she mentioned that Lucas had a crush on the boy’s stepsister. 

Steve was unsure of how to feel about that and left it alone. Despite being with Camille for three years, Lucas could still be a little shithead to him, and he knew if he pressed, he would get some sort of smart remark from the kid. 

Yet as the days cooled into October, he didn't pay much attention to the boy until Camille told him they needed to take Lucas to and from school indefinitely. It was then that Lucas informed him that Billy almost ran him over with his friends on their way home from school. 

Steve didn't like the feeling settling in his gut, especially as he and Camille got ready for Tina's Halloween party. He watches as Camille fixes her red wig for her Daphne costume in the mirror of his car. There had been a lot of back-and-forth on the costumes, but in the end, a happy girlfriend made for a happy life, as his Risky Business costume was nixed in favor of being Fred and Daphne from Scooby-Doo. Although he was thanking his stars, Camille didn’t stick with her Flintstones idea, although he thinks this purple dress is equally as dangerous as Wilma's white dress. 

As he trails down to Camille’s legs, he hopes she isn't attached to her tights. As he knows, he won’t have the patience later to take them off her slowly. 

In fact, he wouldn't mind skipping the party altogether. 

“How long do we need to stay here?”

“You’re wanting to skip out on a party?” Camille asks him. 

“I can think of other things we can do on this Halloween night,” he says, wagging his eyebrows. 

Camille laughs before she leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek, “Later, baby.”

He huffs, but he pulls her back and plants a deeper kiss on her lips. He doesn’t care about the remnants of gloss that will be left on his lips. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Camille can tell that Steve doesn’t really want to be at the Halloween Party. 

She really didn’t want to come herself, but all her friends were stating she had been spending way too much time with Steve. And as much as she loved her boyfriend, she didn’t want to be the girl whose whole world revolved around her boyfriend. 

She promised them a night out by going to the Halloween party. So after dancing with Steve for a bit and having a few drinks, she left her boyfriend talking to one of his basketball teammates while she found her girls, who were drinking, dancing, and gossiping. 

She makes her way back to where the drinks are and decides to take a break from alcohol and grabs a pop. It is then she feels a presence behind her, and at first she thinks it is Steve, but when she turns, she is invaded by the smell of sweat, leather, and beer. 

Billy Hargrove stands before her with a smirk. 

Camille didn’t have much thought of Billy Hargrove. She knows most of the girls think he's cute. He isn’t shy about boasting about all his conquests. Yet, he just seems like an asshole, especially from the tidbits she has been getting from Lucas since he slipped about his interest in Max, Billy’s stepsister. It didn’t take her long to realize why Billy was an asshole to her brother. 

She also wasn’t blind to Steve’s reaction to Billy’s presence. Her boyfriend hasn’t said anything directly to her. But she saw when his jaw would clench at the mention of the boy. If she was hearing about Billy’s threats of wanting to topple Steve from this so-called high school hierarchy, she knew Steve was as well. 

Yet, with all of Billy’s boasting and preening his peacock feathers, Camille has been curious about where she fits into all of this. 

She is lucky that she doesn't have the boy in any of her classes. Yet, she has become familiar with the heat of his eyes if she passes him in the hallways. 

“Can I help you?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. 

His smile is predatory. She knows objectively that Billy is pretty, she supposes. She can tell he cares about his appearance and loves the attention. It’s a trait the boy shares with her boyfriend.  She isn’t one to downplay the fact that during her and Steve’s freshman and sophomore years of high school, he had been a jerk. 

Though Steve had never been cruel for its own sake. He had been a bystander to the torment Tommy and Carol would inflict on others, and she had told him that made him just as guilty, especially when they hit a rough patch during sophomore year because of his nonchalant attitude towards the bullying. 

Billy seems to thrive on the harassment he does. Sharp, cruel words she finds can do more damage than a blade. 

“I figured it was time to properly introduce myself.”

Camille fights the urge to wrinkle her nose at the smell of beer wafting from his breath. 

She gives a polite smile. “I'm sure we weren’t introduced for a reason.”

His smirk is predatory. “I bet.”

He licks his lips, and she watches as his eyes move behind her. She can tell by his posture who is approaching before she is surrounded by a familiar warmth and the hand at the small of her back. 

She isn't surprised by Steve's territorial gesture, especially since he ignores Billy completely while whispering that he is ready to go.

Steve doesn't acknowledge Billy's presence at all as he drags her down the crowded hallway. They pass a few people who try to stop her and Steve, but Steve seems to be a man on a mission.

As they leave the house, the fresh air clears the fog from the teenage hormones. It's only then that she really can comprehend the tightness of Steve's grip on her hand. The way his shoulders are tense as he rushes them to his car. Camille stays silent as they approach his car. He is further from the house, where they can hear whispers of the music, and no one can really see them. 

He doesn't stop at the passenger door, but at the back door. He opens the door: “Get in.”

He doesn't miss the clenching of her thighs before she follows his command. He follows after her immediately, but he doesn't crowd her.

Instead, he makes himself comfortable against his door as he eyes her. He doesn't say anything as he unbuckles his belt and jeans, nor as his finger does the come here motion, and she doesn't hesitate as she slides over on the seat and into his lap. 

“Take me out.”

Before grabbing him, she licks her palm and gently grips him. He is warm and heavy in her hands. His pretty pink tip is already flushed and pulsing as he leaks in her hands. 

She begins moving her hand up and down, her fingertips teasing the slit as she smears his pre-cum. 

Steve's hands, which were at his sides, begin to move to her thighs, where she wants him most, but he bypasses her growing ache as he grips her hips. He moves her closer as he meets her lips. She can taste the beer and the fruity mixed drink on his tongue. She moans loudly as he traps her plump bottom lip with his teeth. Yet her moan turns into a yelp as he rips her tights. 

He releases her lips. “I'll buy you new ones, baby,” he promises against her neck as his fingers slither behind her panties. Camille’s breath hitches as he preps her with one of his thick fingers first. There is no resistance to his fingers.

Her gummy walls accommodate him easily as she chases his finger. She leans back slightly as her hands reach the hem of the dress, which is pushed up to her stomach. She removes it completely from her heated skin. Her wig gets caught in the shuffle of clothes. She removes it along with her dress, unclipping the barrettes holding her hair back. 

“You weren't wearing a bra,” Steve grumbles at the sight of her bare chest. 

“I sewed some cups into the dress,” she tells him. It wasn't as if she was necessarily gifted in the chest department. 

Steve doesn't respond verbally, but she mewls as he adds another finger, her walls constricting around his fingers. She can already feel her high building as she begins to ride his fingers. Yet, she wants more. 

“Steve…” 

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers as he places chaste kisses against her jawline. Camille grinds down harder, his thumb rubbing on her button, causing her breath to stutter. 

She knows she needs more. “Do you have a condom?’

With his free hand, he searches for his wallet and never once loses his rhythm as he continues his torturous plunges with his thick fingers. Yet, even in the fog of her lust, she feels his slight tenseness. “I'll pull out,” he mutters against her skin. 

“Steve…” she groans. 

“I promise.” 

Camille stops their movements. Camille knows they shouldn't. Every time she lets Steve go raw, she is filled with pins and needles until her period. She knows the pull-out method isn't 100% effective. And she can't get her birth control until she turns 18. 

Steve's pink lips trail from her jawline and capture her lips in a burning kiss. She sighs as his blunt tip knocks against her swollen clit. She knows the battle is lost. 

Camille pushes herself up, and Steve guides himself into her. “Fuck, Steve…” No matter the preparation, his size always steals her breath. 

Camille rolls her hips, and it's all the permission Steve needs as he helps lift her body up and down, slamming against him. 

She is moaning, groaning, and screaming as they grind together. He adjusts his body for more leverage, and she practically yelps as she feels him kiss the tip of her cervix, and she begins convulsing with her release. 

The car turns foggy and humid. She knows anyone walking by will no doubt know what is happening in the car, if not from the movement, then from the noise Steve draws from her throat. 

“Shit!” Steve lifts her off him, and she feels his cum coat her thighs and her tummy. 

Steve doesn't seem to care about his release pooling between them as his arms wrap around her, bringing her closer. His lips press against her sweaty hairline as they catch their breath. 

“You alright?”

Camille nods as she tries to catch her breath. Her limbs feel like jello, and she is not going to be surprised if she walks funny tomorrow.  “You know I don't pay any attention to him.”

Steve is quiet outside of his breathing. “I know. It's just…I don't know how to say this without sounding like an asshole.”

“It's just us, babe.”

“I don't really care about the high school politics…if he wants to beat my keg records, be the Star on the basketball team, or whatever other social title, by all means he can. I just don't like how he makes it seem like you're a consolation prize. Like you're not your own person. I just hate how I feel I'm being taunted. It's like it's all I hear every day about what he fucking does, and I truly don't care. Though what bugs me more is the thought I was that insufferable freshman and sophomore year.”

Camille can't help but snort at his last comment. He was a major asshole in public. It was part of why she would always shut him down when he approached her during their freshman year. 

“Hey, I'm serious,” Steve sniffs. 

“I know you are,” she coos. 

She snickers at the affronted look on his face. His pink plush lips set in a pout. Camille takes pity on her boyfriend and gives him a sweet kiss. Her boyfriend hums in appreciation before they pull apart. She digs in deeper. “You want to tell me what's really bothering you?” 

“I just worry about life after high school,” he admits. “You'll be gone…and I'll be here…a disappointment.”

“Hey, not everyone needs to go to college,” she consoles. She knows the topic of college has been a touchy subject in the Harrington household. She knows his dad has been pushing the topic to uphold the Harrington name. 

Ignoring the academic side, as much as she loves her boyfriend, he is an average C student at best; she knows that college wouldn't be the right path for him. He has gone with her to tour campuses, and they worked on applications together. Yet she could tell he was overwhelmed by the process, and even more so, he never showed much enthusiasm for higher education. 

In fact, Steve always seemed to falter when it came to deciding his future. Sometimes she thought he purposely didn't let himself see past high school. She didn't think it was self-sabotage, but she wouldn't be surprised if he avoided the thought because of the expectations his father had set for him. 

She always assured him he could go to tech school or join the workforce. He didn't need to know his path immediately. 

“And how does that look? You're going to college to be a nurse, and I'll be working at a gas station.”

“Steve, I'm not with you for money. And there is nothing wrong with working at a gas station.”

“It's pathetic,” he rebuffs. “I'll be here in shitty Hawkins, and you'll be surrounded by more Billys.” 

“There is always gonna be racist assholes, babe,” she responds in an attempt at a joke that Steve doesn't find amusing. 

“Steve, I'm with you because I love you. Not because of whatever monetary value or social standing you can bring me. I'm happy with you. If you work at a gas station and happen to love it, I'm fine with that. I don't want you to rush into something that is going to make you miserable.”

Steve doesn't say anything for a few minutes. “The only thing I know for certain about my future is that I am going to marry you.”

It amazes her that Steve can still give her butterflies. She is glad that the night and her skin tone can hide any blush that he could draw out of her.  “That's a bold statement, Harrington.”

“But true,” he replies softly. 

“You're such a sap, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve only smiles before he puckers his lips. Rolling her eyes, she kisses him sweetly before pulling back. She turns her attention to the mess between them, grimacing. “So messy.”

Steve snorts before he shuffles and pulls out a gym bag. Camille wrinkles her nose. “Do I even want to know how long that has been in there?”

“They're clean. I still remember the lashing you gave me for leaving dirty clothes in my car.” 

“It was gross, Steve.” 

“And I learned my lesson,” he tells her as he finds the small hand towel and begins to clean his release from her skin and between them. 

“You should probably start keeping baby wipes in that bag.” 

Her boyfriend waggles his eyebrow: “This is going to be a recurring thing.”

Camille rolls her eyes before she rummages through the bag herself. Being clean from his spend, she grabs his Hawkins sports shirt and throws it over her chest. She moves herself off his lap. She debates putting on the pair of shorts, but, given the dampness of her thighs, she forgoes them. The shirt is long enough. 

“Home and shower?” Steve asks as he tucks himself back into his pants. 

“Can we go get a milkshake?” 

“Of course, babe.”

Steve bites his cheek as Camille practically squeals over the thought of a milkshake. He wonders if he should be slightly concerned that the thought of a milkshake brings more excitement than his cock. 

Yet the simple excitement of the milkshake reminds him why he loves Camille. It's always the simple things that she loves. Sure, he will spoil her with his dad's money, with perfumes, jewelry, and fancy dinners. Yet, it's always the small gifts like a teddy bear, a homemade card he had made with her siblings, or the quiet nights of them lounging in his backyard stargazing that she loved the most. 

It reminds him that he doesn't need to perform with her. He never did, as Camille always had the uncanny ability to see right through him even when they played in the sandbox as kids. 

Steve slides out of his car first. He holds out his hand for her to grab. “Hey.”

Camille looks up at him, and he only leans down as the kiss he places isn't consuming or heated. It's soft, gentle, and warm. “I love you so much.”

He feels Camille melt against him at his words. Her arms wrap around him. He places a kiss on the top of her head as he allows them to be in the moment. 

He almost misses it when he sees a faint light. But he knows who stands there in the dark as the cherry embers flicker in the night. 

Steve doesn't feel the need to gloat or brag. In fact, he doesn't bother to allow the moment to take up space between him and Camille. 

Instead, he gives Camille another kiss against her crown, and he can't help but give her butt a little pat. It causes her to giggle as he opens the passenger seat of his car. 

He doesn't care about being King or whatever crown Hawkins wants to bestow on him.