I May Like A Ship Where The OTP Are Friendly And Sweet And Generally Nice To Each Other. But..... What

#i love her, your honor.

And if I only could,

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to rewrite season 4 episodes 8-9

Damn that hit close to home

Just take those old records off the shelf…

Happy Holidays from me to you, lovely reader 🤍☃️

~

Billy says a tense, “Thanks, pops,” as Neil hands him a new pack of Marlboros on Christmas morning. He knows it’s only because of Susan and Max that he’s getting anything at all, but he still says his thanks through gritted teeth because manners have been beaten into him.

Susan gifts him a pair of wooly socks, a much needed staple for the frigid weather outside, and he thanks her quietly as he thumbs the fabric - and repeats it louder when Neil tells him to speak up.

Max doesn’t give him her present until after breakfast, which is a Black Sabbath tape to replace the one he’d accidentally ruined by pulling it out of his stereo too fast. He thanks her by ruffling her hair with a smirk, which makes her growl, “Billy!” as she smoothes her hair down. He leaves the newest issue of Wonder Woman on her bedside table when she’s busy with her mom.

The gifts are fine. The ‘quality family time’ makes him want to crawl out of his skin, though. So, once the afternoon rolls around, Billy’s gone.

His favourite gift out of them all is when Steve opens the front door of his big house and his pretty boy’s irritated expression melts away to glittering eyes and a warm, excited smile.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Billy murmurs with a grin, wishing to give his boy a kiss but his parents are home for once, so it’ll have to wait. Steve says nothing and pulls him into the house by the wrist.

He gives his polite greeting and a ‘Merry Christmas’ to the Harringtons as he steps inside, shedding his jacket and scarf at the door before Steve’s taking him upstairs, away from his busy parents.

Billy glances over his shoulder once they’re in Steve’s bedroom before pulling his boyfriend in by the waist, their lips meeting in a slow, deep kiss. It soothes Billy’s nerves better than anything.

“So,” Steve murmurs as he pulls away just far enough that Billy can see his smile, “Did you make the ‘nice’ list after all?”

“Fuck no,” Billy chuckles softly, his shoulders no longer up by his ears as Steve rubs up and down his biceps.

“I figured,” the brunette grins, pulling away from Billy’s embrace to grab a wrapped box by his bedside table, “Which is why I got you this.” He hums, looking proud of himself.

The wrapping paper is god awful and gaudy, but Billy opens it quietly and pulls the top of the box off to look inside.

It’s a new zippo lighter. Silver, with an engraved ‘B’ at the bottom left corner. Steve mumbles for him to look at the back, so he pulls it out and flips it over, reads the engraving there: ‘Yours, PB’.

Billy snorts softly, looking up at his boyfriend in amusement as he says, “Yours, Peanut Butter?”

Steve looks confused for half a second, brows furrowing, until he gets it and then he’s groaning and running a hand through his thick hair, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling. After a moment, he mutters, “It stands for ‘pretty boy’.”

Billy starts laughing again, unable to help it, because Steve is so fucking cute and tragic and Billy loves every ounce of him. “C’mere,” he mutters with a grin, putting the zippo back into the box as Steve steps close. Wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend, Billy gives his lips a gentle peck, murmuring playfully, “Thank you, peanut butter, I love it.” He gives Steve another kiss, just for good measure, and a third because Steve’s pouting now and he’s too cute when he does that.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve finally cracks a smile, chuckling softly with a shake of his head, “Fuckin’ peanut butter.”

“Here,” Billy smiles as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope, handing it to Steve quietly.

It’s a small collection of polaroid pictures of them, taken by Chrissy during the summer at various locations. The quarry, parties, Steve’s pool, the mall, random parking lots. Billy’s favourite is in there: Steve’s hand on the gear shift of the Camaro, Billy’s hand on top and holding it as he drives. It’s a simple picture but the sun is hitting it just right and you can’t tell it’s them, it’s like a little secret. Chrissy had squished herself into the backseat just to get the picture and Billy’s grateful she did.

Steve’s expression is soft as he looks them over, smiling to himself as he recognizes the areas and recalls the day. There’s also a handwritten ‘IOU a BJ’ card at the bottom of the stack that Steve holds up, eyebrows lifted as he playfully asks, “Is this a one-time use?”

“No,” Billy smirks, “But I’ll be surprised if you manage to not lose it after one use.”

“Asshole,” Steve chuckles, slipping the pictures back into the envelope after taking another look. He leans in and Billy meets him halfway for another kiss, always eager for it.

Steve mumbles, “Thanks baby,” against his lips, pulling away with a warm smile, “I’m gonna put them with the rest,” he says as he pulls away to grab the shoebox under his bed, which is filled with other Billy-related items.

Steve’s mom, decked out in her nicest red dress, comes up the stairs and knocks on the door, giving the two boys a smile as Steve shoves the box under his bed again and stands, breathing, “Yeah?”

“The catering company will be here soon - are you staying for dinner, Billy?” She asks, flicking her dark eyes between them.

Christ. Of course the Harringtons didn’t cook for Christmas - they hired other people to.

Billy shakes his head slowly, “I’d hate to impose—”

“—Nonsense! We’re having multiple guests over, and I’m sure Steve will appreciate having company his own age,” she smiles, her mind already made up.

“Uh - in that case, sure,” he says with a tight smile and a nod, “Thanks, Mrs. H.”

She gives him another smile before looking to Steve, “Make sure you give Billy a nice shirt to wear tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, mom, I know.”

“Great, be down in half an hour,” she says with a nod and turns, heading back downstairs to probably sort out the rest of the evening.

“Fuck, I’ll never get over how stupidly rich you are,” Billy huffs in wry amusement, looking over at his boyfriend again, “And the fuck’s wrong with my shirt?”

Steve shrugs with a smile, “Nothing, in my opinion. My mom’s just…like that. Appearances mean a lot. Gotta wear your sunday best to the Harrington Christmas dinner, babe.”

“Christ - remind me to just kidnap you next year and we’ll go to a McDonald’s.”

Another soft smile appears on Steve’s face and he nods, wrapping his arm around Billy’s middle, kissing him quick and gentle as he mutters, “I’m holding you to that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna do it.”

“Mm. Love you.”

“Love you, too, peanut butter.”

Steve smacks his ass for that and Billy laughs, sitting down on the bed while his boyfriend goes to pick out a shirt for him.

billy

billy

This is the most terrifying thing Billy’s ever done.

Forget staring up at a wave twice your height, forget staring down demodogs with nothing but a crowbar in his hands. Forget his dad staring him down across the dinner table.

Billy turns the Camaro’s engine off and stares up at Steve’s house, every window in the house lit. Steve left the porch lights on for him. When he knocks, Steve’s voice calls out,

“It’s open!”

Billy follows the smell of food to the kitchen, where Steve is standing bare chested in front of the stove, wearing only basketball shorts and stirring something in a pan. Usually, Billy’s skin feels like there’s a colony of ants crawling under it, making him jittery and anxious and angry, but the sight of the expanse of Steve’s back, with his wide, relaxed shoulders and his creamy skin and his moles, it settles something deep inside Billy. It makes his anthill calm.

“Hey,” Billy settles against Steve’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin on his chest through his open shirt. His hair is damp and he smells like shampoo, fresh from the shower. Billy knows Steve likes to shower as soon as he gets home from the Mall, or else the smell of ice cream lingers in his nose. He slides his lips over Steve’s shoulder until he reaches his neck, where he kisses him, slow and wet, until Steve leans back against him with a groan.

“You’re distracting me,” Steve whines, and turns his head to kiss him back any way. “I’m gonna burn the sauce.”

Billy groans when their tongues meet, shifts them so he can lean Steve against the counter without risk of getting burned.

“You’re distracting me, princess,” Billy says against Steve’s cheek. “Come home to find you half naked making me dinner like that…” It slips out, just like that. Come home. Like the Harrington’s big house belongs to just them, to Billy and Steve and this thing between them that’s been growing for months.

Billy remembers what he needs to do tonight, what he needs to say to Steve, and it sits like a stone in his stomach.

“I’m making us dinner, shithead. And it’s gonna burn if you don’t let me go,” Steve’s arms tighten around Billy’s waist, fingers digging into his skin under his shirt.

Billy can only hold him back, stroke his thumb over Steve’s cheek. Kiss him again.

He lets Steve go with a slap to the ass that has him sputtering and laughing as he turns back to the stove. Billy grabs two beers from the fridge and cracks them open, setting one next to Steve.

Steve leans in to kiss him thank you. He’s too sweet.

The sauce turns out alright, and they eat their pasta by the pool outside, trading stories about their days at work. Steve likes hearing about the little kids Billy teaches at the pool, because he’s a sap, and Billy cracks up whenever Steve tells him about the way Robin’s always on his ass.

When Steve comes back with more beers for them, Billy can’t put it off anymore. He has to get it over with, even it feels like he’s stabbing himself in the chest.

“I gotta talk to you about something,” Billy says as Steve sits down facing him.

Steve’s face is open, trusting. “Yeah?”

“I, uh… I’m leaving Hawkins, at the end of the summer. I’m going back to California.”

Billy looks Steve in the eye as he says it. He’s no coward. So he watches Steve’s eyes dim and his lips go slack, curling around the soft “oh” that comes out of his mouth, dipping at the end in disappointment.

“I thought…” Steve starts, and Billy can’t let him finish, can’t let him say whatever it is he was about to. If Steve gets worked up this might turn into a fight.

“I can’t stay,” He forces out. Looks down at the beer can he hasn’t taken a sip of yet. “Not with- I can’t stay.”

“Billy-”

“But I thought maybe,” Billy stops, licks his lips. Takes a breath. This is scarier than the demodogs, the thought that Steve might say no, “I thought, maybe, you could come with me.”

His heart is pounding in his chest and the anthill has woken up, making Billy feel like he’s gotta get up and run to the Camaro and speed out of here, but he bugs his fingers into his knees and stares blankly ahead.

“You mean it?” There’s an edge to Steve’s voice that Billy hasn’t heard before. “You’re not saying that cause you think I’m gonna say no?”

Billy rears back, tries to make sense of what Steve just said and comes up empty.

“What the fuck, Steve,” He snaps. “Of course not.”

Whatever Steve hears in his voice seems to settle him, because his shoulders relax and he grins that big, goofy smile of his.

“Okay,” He laughs, giddy. “Okay, yeah.”

It takes Billy a second to get it, then he can only laugh with Steve.

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, and barely sets his beer aside before pouncing on Billy, laying him back on the patio floor and laying all his weight on Billy just to lay a searing kiss on his lips. The heat of Steve’s mouth is familiar and comforting, and Billy lets himself sink into the kiss like he’s done a hundred times before, lets it melt his spine and warm his chest like it always does. Let it call him home.

“I love you,” Steve says against his mouth, and Billy closes his eyes tight, nudges his nose against Steve’s.

“Love you,” Billy’s voice is barely a murmur, but Steve hears it anyway.

Billy’s heart is pounding for a different reason, now. There was no need to be scared at all. Nothing else feels scary, or like he can’t get through it, when Steve’s there. So they’re getting through this summer, together. And when it ends, they’re leaving Hawkins in the rearview mirror, together.

One reblog = one punch in the face for Neil Hargrove

This fanart is the first of 3 or 4 that all belong to a little 4-Part Fanfic that I started to write a while ago! If you want to read the first part you can do that HERE! (Aaaand also a little reminder that the Pre-Order for VOL1 of my Comic is only up for a few more days now! So if you are interested, you can get the comic and other stuff HERE ! AND I also started a second Comic on Patreon, which is a S2 AU after the fight at the Byers soooo if you are interested in that one, you can click HERE!) Ok I am done with advertising now- I really hope you guys enjoy the fanart! ❤

i hope im not just a mutual to you but also a “why the fuck am i following this guy again”