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ihni · 3 months

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The sound of the doorbell is what wakes him. The morning sun is shining in through the window, hitting the messy curls on the pillow next to him and making them shine like gold. The sight makes him smile, and his first instinct is to reach over and brush the curls away from his boyfriend’s face. There’s nothing better than getting to watch him wake up, after all; watch those blue eyes flutter open and squint against the light.

The doorbell rings again before he can act on his urge, though. It is followed by loud knocking, which rouses the body next to Steve; unfortunately in a less peaceful way than Steve had imagined. Billy’s eyes shoot open and he tenses as he immediately takes in where he is, and with who. Wide, blue eyes meet Steve’s.

“Shit!” he says and is halfway out of bed before Steve can even react, pulling a shirt – Steve’s, not that it matters – over his head. “It’s Neil!”

Steve has just opened his mouth to protest, say that it’s not – it can’t be, Neil doesn’t know about them – when there’s a knock again, and an angry man’s voice drifts up from outside.

And it is indeed Neil’s voice.

Shit.

Steve jumps out of bed too and nabs for the other shirt that’s been discarded on the floor – but no, no, he can’t show up at the door wearing Billy’s shirt, he can’t, so he drops it again before hurrying to his closet. He pulls on an old T-shirt, and then whirls around and grabs Billy’s face between his hands. Billy’s face, which has gone ashen with fear.

“Stay here,” Steve says. “I’ll get rid of him. It’ll be okay.”

He turns and walks out of the room, squaring his shoulders as he goes. In his periphery, he sees Heather’s head peek out of the guest room that she and Robin stumbled into late last night while blushing and giggling, but he ignores her as he makes his way to the stairs.

The knocking and shouting continues, sending equal measures of anger and fear down Steve’s spine. How did the man know to come here? Billy said he’d told him that he was going to a party last night; said that he wasn’t even given a curfew. The man would have had no reason to suspect that the party was in fact a very private affair at Steve’s place, with just him and Billy and Robin and Heather – a safe place, as all of them knew about each other’s preferences by now – and definitely would have had no reason to show up on Steve’s doorstep this early in the morning. As far as Steve knows, Billy’s dad doesn’t even know Steve by name, and shouldn’t know where he lives.

He’s halfway down the stairs when a hand grasps his arm.

“Don’t,” Billy says, voice shaking. Steve turns – he’s standing a step below Billy, so he has to look up to face him – and sees that Billy’s shaking his head. “Don’t open the door.”

He’s scared, Steve realizes. Really scared.

From outside the door, they can now make out Neil’s angry words between the bouts of knocking. “I know he’s in there! Open the door. William!”

Billy is just standing there, still holding on to Steve’s arm. His eyes are big and pleading. He’s obviously terrified, and it feels so wrong. No one who has fought monsters with the same fervor as Billy should ever have to be scared of a mere human.

A calm settles over Steve, followed by resolve. He gently extricates himself from Billy’s grip – ignoring the way Billy trembles – and says, “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He continues down the stairs, but Billy shoulders past him and blocks his way. Puts both hands on Steve’s chest and pushes. “I don’t care if he hurts me,” he hisses. “But he’s dangerous.” The man yells some threats from the other side of the door and knocks again. Rattles the door handle for emphasis, this time. Billy flinches and looks over his shoulder before continuing, “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Steve says. He doesn’t know that for sure, but he can’t imagine it. This is his house, or, well, his parents’. Neil is the one who’s trespassing. And Steve knows the Chief of Police.

He walks past his boyfriend and crosses the hall. A hand lands on his shoulder again. Not forcing him to stop or trying to hold him back; just there. Imploring.

“Please,” Billy begs, and it pierces Steve’s heart like a knife because Billy doesn’t beg.

Billy, acting like this, is not right. The man on the other side of the door has brought Billy too much pain already. This has to end. And that end starts now. By getting rid of the immediate threat.

They’ll figure out the rest later.

Steve walks on. Stops in front of the door and only then realizes that Billy’s standing there with him, still with a hand on his shoulder. He’s watching Steve with big, wet eyes and shaking his head silently. Don’t do this, he doesn’t say out loud. Please, just ignore him.

But Steve can’t. Not this time. Not when the man is ranting on his doorstep on a Saturday morning, threatening to break in. Not when Billy’s standing here next to Steve, shaking with terror.

Billy is not getting hurt by that man in Steve’s house. If Neil tries to set one foot inside, Steve will kill him.

Steve reaches for the door, and with his other hand, he pushes Billy up against the wall just inside the door. Close enough to touch, but out of sight of his irate father. He can feel Billy’s heart beat frantically under his hand, and silently vows that this is the last time. This is the last time Billy is afraid.

He breathes in deeply and takes a second to slip into spoiled rich-boy mode. Then he opens the door.

“What?” he drawls, unimpressed. He gives the man outside a contemptuous look. The man draws himself up to say something, but Steve doesn’t let him speak. “Do you know what time it is? It’s Saturday, man. Some people are trying to sleep.”

Neil Hargrove is proper; not a hair out of place. It’s the first thing Steve thinks as he sees him up close – he has seen the man from a distance at times and listened in on the occasional phone call between him and Billy, but Billy has never let Steve even get close to the house on Cherry Lane when he knows that his dad is home.

The man is of average build and doesn’t look particularly dangerous from an outsider’s point of view, but there’s something cold in his eyes that sends shivers of fear down Steve’s spine when he’s pinned under Neil’s gaze. He doesn’t let his discomfort show, though; just lets the man take in Steve’s appearance fully – his messy hair, the way he’s just wearing a shirt and underwear, and how he’s obviously just got out of bed – and waits for him to speak.

“I know he’s here,” Neil growls – actually growls, like an animal. Steve sees movement out of the corner of his eye but doesn’t dare glance to where Billy’s huddling up against the wall. Instead he leans against the side of the door, placing himself more firmly between Billy and his dad.

He has seen the bruises on Billy’s skin and he has hated that he has to let Billy go back to that house time and again, but this is the first time he truly sees what Billy faces at home. He thinks, idly, that he won’t be able to let Billy go back there again.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and tries to make it sound as if he thinks the man isn’t all there in the head. By the way Neil’s face turns darker, he succeeds.

“My son, William. I know he’s here.”

“William,” Steve deadpans, as if it’s a word he has never uttered before. He raises one eyebrow. “Look, there’s no William here, man. You’ve got the wrong address. Go yell at someone else’s door. Or don’t, I don’t care. Just go away.”

He starts to close the door, but Neil’s hand shoots out and stops him. He doesn’t move to go inside, but he’s holding the door without letting it close, and staring at Steve with narrowed eyes. A challenge. A threat.

“I’m not leaving without my son.”

So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?

Steve draws himself up and narrows his own eyes as he stares back. He manages to dial back on the disgust, but some of it must shine through because he can feel himself sneering. “Who are you again?” he asks. Flippantly.

“My name is Neil Hargrove,” Neil says, pronouncing every syllable with obvious annoyance. Good. “And my son, William –“

“You mean Billy?” Steve says, letting surprise color his voice. “You’re Billy’s dad?” He doesn’t let the man answer, instead he lets out an incredulous laugh. “You think Billy is here?”

“His car is parked down the road,” Neil seethes, and oh. “You’re on the basketball team with him. And I know what he’s like. He’s a dirty little faggot who –“

Steve lets his face shut down. Slips on the mask that he has seen on his parent’s faces on many occasions during boring parties and work functions. The ‘do you know who I am’ persona. His voice is ice cold when he speaks.

“I’m not sure what you are insinuating, Mr. Hargrove, but if I were you, I’d stop talking.” Something like uncertainty flickers in Neil’s eyes. Steve drinks it in. “I don’t know if you know my parents –“ He nods to the brass plaque next to the door with ‘Harrington’ etched into it “– but I’m sure they won’t be too impressed when they hear that some lunatic showed up at their door on a Saturday morning, accusing their only son of being …” He holds Neil’s eye. Can’t – won’t – say the word the man used, not with Billy behind the door. “… a deviant.”

Disgust is dripping from his voice – disgust over this sorry excuse for a human, disgust over the fact that he has to deal with this at all – but that lends him credibility in this particular instance. He sounds just like an offended rich boy. An offended rich boy with influence.

As if on cue – which it most likely is, since Steve suspects that the girls have been listening in for some time now – there are soft steps behind him on the stairs, and Robin’s voice drifts out from behind him, “Steve? What’s going on?”

He lets the door open just a little bit wider under the guise of turning around, allowing Neil Hargrove to see Robin. Robin, whose hair is also sleep-mussed, and who is wearing an oversized button-up shirt. It’s not Steve’s – she must have taken it from his dad’s closet – but Neil doesn’t know that. She paints a perfect picture of a confused girlfriend who just woke up to the sounds of yelling, and Steve is so grateful that he’s friends with her.

“Nothing, baby,” he says, softening his voice. “Go back to bed.”

Robin hesitates with one more look at Neil. Licks her lips, as if she’s worried. “Should I … call someone? The police, or …?”

Perfect. Thank you for the assist, Robin.

“No, there’s no need to bother Jim this early in the morning,” Steve says, making sure to use Hopper’s first name, and turns back to face Neil. Neil, whose face has paled. Who has possibly started to realize that he may have messed up. Steve gives him a stiff smile and lets his voice go cold again as he continues, “Mr. Hargrove here was just leaving. Isn’t that right, Mr. Hargrove?”

Too proud or too angry to say it out loud, the man just gives a jerky nod and steps back. Steve will take it, as long as he leaves.

Starting to close the door again, Steve sneaks one glance at Billy’s pale face an arms-length away, and adds, in a sudden bout of inspiration.

“Oh, and if you’re looking for Billy in Loch Nora –“ He gives Neil, who’s half-turned to leave, a slow once-over, showing just enough disdain to make it clear that someone like Neil Hargrove doesn’t belong in this part of town, “– then I suggest you try the Holloways next. I think I saw him with their daughter Heather at the party last night.” He gives a sardonic little smile at the way Neil Hargrove’s face shutters. Everyone’s heard of the Holloways, just as everyone’s heard of the Harringtons. “I’m sure Tom and Janet will appreciate being disturbed on a Saturday morning just as much as I have. Who knows, it might get you a mention in the Post.”

With that, he shuts the door in Neil Hargrove’s face and locks it, and turns to his wide-eyed boyfriend. Who hasn’t moved from his space behind the door.

He ignores both Robin running out into the kitchen on silent feet – probably to make sure that Neil Hargrove actually leaves – and Heather coming downstairs, in favor of putting his hands on the sides of Billy’s face and lean in so their foreheads are touching. Billy is shivering and his breaths are uneven, but he reaches up and grabs at Steve’s wrist and the back of his head with something akin to desperation.

“I can’t believe you,” he whispers. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” Steve says, and is rewarded with a shaky little laugh.

“Shit,” Billy breathes. “I was so scared, Steve. I thought he was gonna –”

“But he didn’t.”

They stand there for a little while, just looking at each other. Holding each other and breathing each other’s air. Gradually, Billy’s tremors subside. His heart rate slows.

Eventually, Robin comes back into the hall and announces, “He’s gone. Got in his car and left.” She adds, pointedly, “Didn’t look like he was heading for the Holloways’, either.”

Steve looks at her and then drifts his eyes over to Heather, who’s sitting on the second to last step on the stairs, looking at them with one eyebrow raised. He winces. “Yeah … uh, sorry about that, I guess. I should have asked first.”

“You should,” Heather agrees. “But you didn’t, which means that you owe me one.” She looks between Steve and Billy and says, “I would have agreed if you’d asked, but you know. You still owe me.”

Steve laughs. Heather turns to Billy and points one well-manicured finger at him. “So I guess we’re dating now, you and I. I hope you know that I expect to be wooed.”

After Billy gives her a little salute, she nods and turns to Robin. Smiles lewdly as she takes in her appearance in the oversized shirt. “You look good in that,” she says, biting her lip. “Let’s see what other fun clothes we can find in that closet.”

The girls disappear up the stairs, giggling. Steve has a suspicion that his parents’ closet are going to be in complete disarray soon, but can’t bring himself to care. It’s a small price to pay.

“Do you want to go back to bed, too?” Steve asks, and belatedly realizes what it sounds like. “To sleep some more, I mean!” he adds. Because a Neil Hargrove scare first thing in the morning is probably not exactly a turn-on. “Or do you want breakfast? I can make breakfast. We have –“

“I want to go back to bed,” Billy says, thankfully cutting off the rambling.

“Okay,” Steve says and reaches out for his hand. When Billy’s hand slots into his, is it perfectly steady. No more tremors. “Okay, let’s do that.”

But Billy shakes his head. “I don’t wanna sleep, though.”

“… no?”

Billy’s looking at him through his lashes – his ridiculously long lashes, which he knows is Steve’s Kryptonite – and gives a small smile.

“Not gonna lie, babe. That was a terrifying experience. But …” He takes a step closer, brushes the lightest of kisses against Steve’s lip before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “… the way you shut him down like that, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Then he abruptly turns and sashays away, but not before giving Steve’s butt a quick squeeze as he passes.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs with one hand on the bannister, and looks over his shoulder all seductively. “You coming?”

Oh, Steve is coming, all right.

He chases Billy up the stairs. (And this time, when he catches him, he’ll hold onto him and never let him go back to that house again.)

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #buckleway #heather holloway #robin buckley #stranger things #harringrove fic #ihni writes #got this scenario stuck in my head and had to write it down #wrote it over the course of a few hours #:)

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weird-an · 11 months

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It's the first pride Steve ever goes to. It's 1986, he's in San Francisco, far away from Hawkins and its horrors, walking along the street with Robin.

She grins and Steve can see it in her eyes, a new sense of belonging, a relief, a we're not alone, shining brighter than the sun. Behind them someone yells the theme: "Forward Together, No Turning Back".

He feels like there is a wound in his soul and now it's like the words pull the splinter out. He never wants to go back to Indiana again.

He turns around the corner, following the masses and he gets so distracted by all the shirtless guys, he nearly bumps into the one in front of him.

"Sorry," Steve says, his mouth hanging open when he comes face to face with Billy Hargrove. Who died at Starcourt a year ago.

Billy who blinks at him, blue eyes full of life and now- confusion. He's still rocks his mullet, only now he's wearing a pink scrunchie. He isn't wearing a shirt. There is a big scar just below his sternum, thin lines stretching from it towards his shoulders and abs like an exploding star. There is glitter on them, sparkling in colors of the rainbow.

Robin's elbow hits his side. Steve is staring, but he can't look away.

"Eyes up here, Harrington." Billy snaps his fingers in front of Steve's face. "What are you doing here?" he says accusatory like he isn't the one thought dead.

"Because I belong here," Steve snaps. It has taken so much time and nearly dying at the claws of Demodogs and the teeth of bats to break down the barriers of what he thought he had to do and what he wanted to. No fucking way he's going to let Billy say anything against that.

Billy stares at him, scars glittering in the sun.

"Same," he mumbles. Steve's pulse stutters for a few seconds.

Billy then grins boyishly at Steve, reminding him of the Billy who rubbed against him at practice and always stole his soap in the showers, the one he rarely got to see and never did against after the sad excuse for a fight at the Byers' house.

"Steve Harrington! As I live and breathe." Billy laughs and slings his arm around Steve's shoulder. "A fucking queer like me."

"Yeah," Robin interrupts. "How are you still breathing, Hargrove?"

Billy rubs his chest, one arm still around Steve. A bit of glitter stays on his fingers.

"No fucking idea," he says. "I just know I wanna get wasted tonight."

Robin opens her mouth to possibly ask a million questions, but Steve's mouth is faster. Even though he didn't plan on saying anything.

"Can I buy you a drink then?" he blurts out.

Billy nearly trips. Steve laughs into his ear. He made Billy Hargrove stumble. By asking him out. This is the best day of his life.

"Fucking unbelievable." Robin rolls her eyes.

There is a shade of pink on Billy's nose and it's not from the sun. "I promised Heather I'd at least make it to-"

"Heather?" Robin's face lightens. "Holloway? Is she alive, too?"

"You bet your ass, Buckley," a voice behind them says. "Let's ditch these idiots after the parade."

Heather winks at Billy, a similar pink scrunchie in her hair and popping a bubble gum with the same color.

"Bitch," Billy says without malice.

"But your best one." Heather blows him a kiss and grabs Robin's arm.

Billy grins at Steve. Steve grins back. He wants to kiss him on his thin blond mustache. Maybe he will, tonight.

Forward together, no turning back.

#i just want everybody to be gay and alive #happy pride #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #robin buckley #buckleway #heather holloway

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