Billy is…intense. Steve quickly decides that Billy was always predisposed to be that way and that under the thumb of Neil his intensity was…well, intensified. Neil programmed him to be on top of things all the time; looking after Max, chores, school, being a “man” in general. But Billy’s just kind of like that too from what Steve can see. Billy was intense about basketball, about the social hierarchy of Hawkins High.
But now there is no school, no basketball, no social hierarchy of Hawkin’s High, and he doesn’t have to look after Max anymore.
There is Steve though.
Billy’s intense about Steve from the first time he sees him. Once enemies turns to lovers turns to…well, soul mates, Steve supposes, the intensity is a laser focus that is sometimes overwhelming. It’s not always overwhelming in a bad way. Often it’s not, at least not to Steve, who’d wanted somebody’s attention (sometimes anybody’s attention) so much for long that it was like a great ache that made his body thrum.
Now he’s got Billy’s full attention and he’s got it all day long.
Steve is laid out on a towel in the sand and Billy keeps glancing over at him. Steve sighs and turns his head, resting his chin on his arms, and gazes up at Billy through his shades.
“What is it?” Steve says.
“Did you put on sunscreen?”
“This morning.”
“Pfft. That was hours ago.”
“I haven’t been in the water-”
“Hold on.”
Then Billy’s familiar hands, warm and strong are rubbing sunscreen over his back. “You’d burn your ass off without me around,” Billy says.
“Mmm.” Steve isn’t going to complain.
Once Steve thought he saw G-men following him. He thought that men in black were after him because he told Billy about the Upside Down or maybe just because. He saw them twice before flipping out in the apartment with Billy and calling Hopper long distance. It turned out to be nothing. Billy was pissed that Steve didn’t tell him right away.
Steve knew it was serious because Billy called him “Harrington.”
“You gotta let me look out for you, Harrington! This is serious shit!”
Because that was how Billy was raised and that part of it wasn’t too bad sometimes.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Steve said.
“You were worried! If you’re worried, I’m worried!”
“You hungry?” Billy says now.
“I’m just peachy,” Steve says. “Will you relax? You’re so tensed up. We’re at the beach.” He reaches over to squeeze Billy’s ankle. “Lay down with me.”
Billy sighs and lays down on his back. Steve focuses on that golden shoulder, all dotted with tiny freckles. He runs his palm up Billy’s forearm. “You’re in a mood.”
“I’m just peachy.”
“Billy…”
“Talked to the old man on the phone last night.”
“Oh…”
“Just for a minute. I just…” Billy’s nose scrunches up. “Sometimes I think if I don’t keep my eye on the ball, all this goes away.”
“Well, sometimes I think demogorgons are gonna storm Santa Monica,” Steve says. Billy snorts at that and he smiles but Steve reaches over and turnes his chin. “My thing isn’t any crazier than yours.”
“Mmm.”
“Well, I tried,” Steve says.
They’re quiet then as Steve tries to think of something to say to bring Billy out of his particularly intense mood (although nothing has ever worked much before) when Billy says, “My old man says you’re gonna come to your senses. Drop my fag ass like a rotten egg after you’ve sowed your wild oats or whatever. Says I’m an idiot if I think this is forever.”
Steve feels a thrill of white hot anger that, ironically, reminds him of that fight which now feels like a million years ago and he sits up and whips off his sunglasses. “That goddamn son of a bitch doesn’t know shit! You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Billy Hargrove! I’m yours and I’m not going anywhere and that bastard can rot in hell! Fucker!” He kicks, impotently, at the sand.
Billy is grinning, looking much more relaxed, and now he sits up and shrugs. “I know.” Sometimes, Steve knows, Billy needs to hear Steve say that if only to confirm what he already knows to be true. Steve leans over and kisses him firmly with an enticing bit of tongue.
“Let’s go get some tacos and fuck,” Steve says. “I’m hungry.”
“He isn’t
shooting at me. Trying to set me up. Expecting I’d vault towards
him…but he thinks like a blunt instrument. Hits like one,
too, don’t forget… Nightwing would clean his clock. I have to play it smart.
Luckily, outsmarting him won’t be difficult. I have more training. I’m more
agile. All he has is brute strength. And two modified Glocks. And apparently,
he’s stupid
enough to use them in a crowded street.
You’d think I’d stop being surprised by
his choices by now. Jason’s problem is his insecurity–he’s the Jan
Brady of the Bat-family. (And yes, I know that makes me Cindy) So he overcompensates--tries
too hard to impress, to succeed-goes to extremes. But…with Batman gone…what
if a part of him is right? Not the killing–spraying bullets around
like an idiot–but making tougher…harder…choices…? If Gotham’s prisons won’t
hold someone like Jason, what other choices are there? I better
make up my mind pretty soon…”
–Tim Drake
on Jason Todd (Robin #177 – Search for a Hero Part 1: The Concrete Cauldron)
Billy makes it into the triwizard tournament and he’s proud as fuck for defeating a dragon to make it to the second challenge. He’s the only Hogwarts student to compete and he’s like, the son of a muggle and showing up all the snobs who think he’s not good enough. Who bet against him.
So he’s stoked for the new challenge. Figures out the egg and studies up on spells so he can breathe underwater. He reads up on merpeople and knows his shit before he ever steps foot in the water.
What he isn’t prepared for, what he never expects, is to dive to the bottom of the Black Lake and see bodies. Bodies floating, suspended, from the lake floor.
And among them is Steve. His Steve. The Hufflepuff keeper that Billy knocks off his broom anytime he can manage. The goofball he mocks for blowing up a feather in Charms their first year. The pretty boy who haunts his dreams.
Imagine how revealing it is, when he breaks the surface of the lake, clutching Steve tight as he pulls him to safety. Imagine Steve’s face when he sputters awake, sees Billy Hargrove hoisting him onto a dock with gills in his neck. Imagine Steve’s shock when he sees other contestants holding their siblings, lovers, or friends. And Billy can’t meet his eye when they sit panting on the dock.
“All this time, Hargrove?” Steve would finally ask, amused at the cliche of it all. The pigtail pulling and jokes.
Imagine Billy’s face when he finds Steve’s gaze, when he pants and grins with water dripping down his shimmering skin. Running through his golden hair.
Gosh, that part in Much Ado About Nothing when Beatrice and Benedick read each other’s secret love letters and admit their love is always so cute. But, like, too cute.
… That’s more like it. That’s the response I’d expect of two hyper-critical sarcastic dorks in love.
I want to go bookstore hopping, like bar hopping, but with bookstores. I want to spend an entire day just going from bookstore to bookstore, browsing through their selection, and buying books I won’t read for another 10 years
i just really want billy to be into this look. like, steve’s goddamn glowing in the california sun, doesn’t look like a washed out ghost. which, that look’s fine and all, but there’s something so settling for billy to see steve happy as a clam, golden and bronzy, hair highlighted from the sun. it’s not even a change steve did on purpose. it just happened, and it’s such a sign that they’re living their life together. and god, billy loves him so much. he honestly gets so excited over the fact that steve wants to come home with him every night.
Starvinbohemian 