Me When Rewatching Stranger Things And I See Any S2 Steve + Billy Interaction:

Everyday I wake up and I remember there's an alternate timeline where Steve and Billy had their S3 plotline and Billy lived and got the redemption arc he deserved and Steve's entire character didn't revolve around him being "Nancy's ex"

They tried to move him, drag him away from the unmoving boy lying before Steve but he couldn't move. His legs numb beneath him as he sat there staring at the blood covering his tank top unsure if all of this was even real but eventually the sirens got closer and the fire began to spread far too close for comfort. That was when a fireman appeared urging him to get out, to leave before his lungs gave in to the smoke but Steve couldn't leave him to the flames. He deserved better than that so he stood up but before he could be ushered towards the exit he leaned down and lifted him into his arms.

His legs weak from exhaustion, his head aching from the drugs and injuries but he walked through the smoke. Through the blue emptiness with no one but the boy he loved curled into him as if he were just asleep. Nothing but the flashes of red and blue to lead the way until finally he felt the cool breeze of the night air and he stepped out of the Mall and the smoke, into the commotion going on in the parking lot.

No one rushed to him or took Billy from his arms. In fact no one even looked his way as more men rushed inside to put out the fire they had caused. For a moment he wondered if he was the dead one and if this was hell but even hell would not be so cruel. He lay Billy down on a stretcher and watched as he was loaded into the back of an ambulance, Max by his side. Not a word passed between them but a simple thank you from the girl who was grateful that he hadn't left him inside. Shock still in full affect until he walked through the door of his bedroom and felt the reality of it all come crashing down.

Billy was gone...

This is a Dacre and Joe appreciation post 😌

Every weather is sweater weather in Hawkins

For Harringrove Harvest day 3: ”Claudia Henderson’s hand-knit sweater”

(Read on AO3)

~~~

“I’ll miss you.”

The voice is low, and coming from outside the partly-open kitchen window that is facing the back of the house. Claudia Henderson pauses on her way to the sink with a pile of plates in her hand and listens, because it’s not the voice of any of the kids – they were all accounted for in the living room, ten seconds ago – but whoever’s speaking sounds … sad. And tonight is supposed to be a pre-Christmas celebration; a night of family and friendship and cheerfulness. She doesn’t want anyone to be sad in her house, especially today. That’s why she insisted on cooking for everyone.

“I know,” another voice says, and this one she recognizes as Steve’s. Which means the last speaker must have been his friend, Billy Hargrove. Max’s brother, the same boy that the kids had such a hard time accepting in the beginning, for whatever reason. Claudia can’t imagine why. He seems like a sweetheart to her.

Steve continues, “I wish I didn’t have to go. But mom got it into her head that we’d spend Christmas together as a family, and –“

“No, no, I know,” the voice of Billy Hargrove comes through. “I’m happy for you. Getting to spend time with your parents, in Europe? Sounds awesome.”

“Won’t be so awesome without you. I wish I could take you with me.”

“I know. But it’s only two weeks.”

There’s silence for a while, and Claudia carefully sets the plates down on the formica countertop and takes a step closer to the window under the guise of reaching for the dish soap.

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i miss him (fictional character that i can rewatch or reread at any time i want)

Day 1 Harringrove week: Song prompt "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" by Whitney Houston

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.

I don’t know if you’re still taking requests in particularly for writing, if not you can just react to this idea that’s been banging about in my head rent free and it’s the scene where Billy and Steve come to blows at the Byers house except Steve is a trans man, already has had a rough night, with the binder on and hasn’t taken it off since the day before and he’s been fighting monsters and crap, and the kids (mainly Dustin) is freaking out because he knows and before Billy and Steve properly start fighting inside, Steve takes one or two hits and can’t breathe and collapses and Billy kinda just freaks along with the rest of the kids and we get to see a bit of protective little brother Dustin with Billy catching on and helping out. (Then he (Billy) gets dragged along by the kids with Steve to the tunnels, because like hell Steve’s up for running and fighting and Billy can’t just leave them.)

I tried to write it myself but my motivation hasn’t come back from it’s holiday.

Hey!! I'm always taking requests for writing, even if it might take me a little bit to get to said requests sometimes 😅😅 But I love this so much!! Thank you for coming to me with this!! (And felt that motivation thing 😭)

----------------------------

Steve's night had been... rough to say the least.

Interdimensional monsters, having to look after a very rambunctious group of middle schoolers, and on top of all that, a binder that felt like it was a few seconds from squeezing his soul from his frame, had never been on the agenda. And yet here he was.

But, as if that wasn't bad enough, of course life had to throw him another curveball. One with sharp teeth and piercing blue eyes that bore daggers into him. One that possessed a mean right hook and an even meaner left.

And Steve had keen reflexes, or at least he would if it were any other day, if he hadn't quite literally been to hell and back just hour before. So, it catches him by surprise when he shoves Billy back into the Byers' kitchen table with a sharp huff only to be met with a harsh blow to his cheekbone seconds later, followed by one of the most menacing, frankly crazy laughs he'd ever heard.

Steve couldn't think straight, cupping his cheek as he staggered back somehow even more out of breath than before. The screams coming from Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Max were all muffled by the harsh ringing in his ears, chest feeling tighter than ever as he in took a rugged breath from his nose, letting it out through quivering lips. He barely had enough time to look up and make eye contact with the blonde teen in front of him before he was knocked down for the count.

Billy's solid fist made contact with the soft fat covering his fragile ribs. It was as if he was seeing the world in slow motions, body betraying him, knees buckling, stance faltering, torso suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs as he fell backwards. Even in his weakened state he had enough sense to try to catch himself, elbow jutting back to catch his fall.

The room felt uncharacteristically quiet when he made contact with the floor, letting out a soft pained noise, elbows catching him just enough to he didn't hit his head, but gave quickly letting his back fall against the hardwood. He squeezed his eyes shut with a long groan, only opening them back up when he heard Dustin at his side.

"Steve!" he shrieked in his normal high pitched way, gently smacking Steve on the cheek as if to wake him up, like he had ever been knocked out in the first place, "Shit, c'mon, Steve!"

Steve blinked up at him once before scowling, swatting his hand away " 'M not dying, Dustin," he mumbled, eyes falling to just behind Dustin where now Max was holding the end of his nail bat against the chest of a very concerned looking Billy. He couldn't help the strange bloom of pride that spread inside of his chest, right along side the pain.

Dustin seemed to let out a little breath of relief, "Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, falling from his knees back onto his ass. While Lucas backed up Max, Mike came over to where he was lying on the floor, "What's wrong with him?" he asked Dustin worriedly, like Steve wasn't even there.

The other boy just swallowed, looking down at Steve, he knew. This was probably the worst it had ever been, but Dustin wasn't a stranger to the fatigue Steve faced when having worn his binder for too long. And seeing as he'd been wearing the same clothes for nearly a day and a half, Dustin thought it was pretty safe to say the binder had stayed on as well.

Shit.

"Shit, Steve," Dustin sighed, shaking his head, 'shit' and 'Steve' seeming to be the only two words he could come up with tonight. Steve felt the burn of shame deep in his gut, but was it really his fault? It's not like he even had time to think about something like that when he was quite literally fighting for his life. But maybe if he stayed like this for much longer he'd be fighting for his life for a different reason.

"Christ, Dustin," Mike scolded, "What the fuck's going on?" Dustin just looked from Steve to Mike, back to Steve with a semi sympathetic look. Almost as if he was asking Steve for permission to tell. Because the thing was, Dustin was the only one who knew about his situation. Well, besides Carol, and Tommy, and his parents, but you get the point.

Nobody else in Hawkins knew he was trans and Dustin didn't want to be the one to ruin his secrecy if he didn't want to tell. Steve just frowned, looking to the side, not knowing what to do. He hated that it had to come to this, that it had to come out this way, but he also knew he had to tell them something. He cursed himself, feeling the signature sting of tears brimming his eyes, half hoping that maybe one of those demodog things would come back and rip him to shreds.

Dustin was the first to notice, giving him a sad look of understanding, quick to comfort him, "Hey, hey, hey," he rambled, wedging a hand behind Steve's back to lift him up, almost scared in the way Steve winced at the push of his spine shifting his confined ribs, "Okay, it's okay," Dustin slid his hand so instead it was wrapped around his entire back, lifting Steve up as slowly and carefully as possible.

Steve hadn't even realized they were now all staring at him until he was properly sitting up, eyes falling to Max who's head was turned, Lucas' the same, and Billy who was looking over their shoulders.

He gave them a teary-eyed glare before quickly thanking Dustin for helping him sit up, thankful that he was given at least a minute to recover before having to stand, though he had high hopes that the task might be easier given his current position.

"What the hell is going on!" Mike snapped, now fully and openly freaking out. Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow, not used to seeing him so uncool under pressure. But Steve also couldn't help to think that it meant he cared.

" 'S hard to explain," Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose with the side of his wrist, grimacing at the snot before wiping it on his shirt. He couldn't help the slight upturn of his lips when he reached a hand out for either Lucas or Max to take and they both gave him a grossed out expression, leaving Dustin and mike to get up and each take an arm, clenching their teach as they pulled Steve's dead weight up off the ground.

He hadn't even been thinking about his cheek until he scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing as the feeling of the forming bruise.

Billy, right.

When Steve dared connect their eyes Billy didn't scrunch his nose or snarl like he expected, but instead looked at Max who had finally lowed the nail bat and then looked at the floor like a kicked puppy. Steve wanted to kick himself for thinking he looked kind of cute when he let down his guard, almost not scary at all, almost.

"Steve, hello? Earth to Steve," Steve was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by Dustin, gripping his shoulders. The brunette blinked down at him, head still feeling a little foggy from everything. The quizzical look Dustin gave him left him puzzled.

"You gotta take it off," he whispered, leaning in close enough so that Steve would be the only one to hear him. Steve's frowned deepened, sniffling again, but the waterworks didn't return, "I know it sucks, but it's gonna suck worse if you don't take care of it now."

Deep down Steve knew Dustin was right, that if he didn't take off his binder now, he would be in even deeper shit later. But what was he supposed to do without it? There was no way he was about to leave without it on. He was relatively flat, the one trait he was glad he got from his mother, besides his hair, but not that flat. People would look, people would stare, people would ask questions that he really didn't want to and really didn't have time to answer.

He just wasn't ready, "Steve," Dustins voice was firm but caring, laced with a hint of pity. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Mike beat him to it.

"I feel really out of the loop here, guys." Steve rolled his eyes as did Dustin.

Finally Steve caved, for the sake of his sanity if of nothing else, "Fine, I'm going to the bathroom," he announced, heart softening at the toothy, grin Dustin gave him dropping his hands from his shoulders.

Just as Steve was about to leave the room and round the corner into the hallway he turned around, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but," he grumbled, pointing, but only with his forearm, not wanting to face the pain of lifting his bicep, "Hargrove," Billy's head snapped over to Steve, "You're in charge."

He didn't even give the kids time to argue before stalking off, disappearing into the Byers' narrow half bath. When he closed the door behind him he stayed there for a moment, pressing his back against the door, closing his eyes. He was pretty sure he could fall asleep right there, standing up like a horse, it it weren't for the throbbing pain in his cheek and the sore rub of his chest.

His Nikes squeaked across the tile, making him cringe slightly as he made his way to the sink, or rather the mirror, giving himself a good look. He really did look like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes, a cut on his cheek from what he could only assume to be Billy's ring, framed by a nasty purple bruise. Steve sighed, grabbing a towel from a hook beside the counter, wetting it, before pressing it gingerly upon the wound. He hissed at the contact, lips pursing as he dabbed the warm cloth to his, face, even paler than usual.

If he didn't know any better he would have guessed he was sick, scarlet red blush splotching paper white flesh. But this was only the first of his problems, next came the more serious matter.

Carefully, Steve slid his Member's Only jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, metal zipper clanking on the tile. his hands shook like a leaf as he reached for the hem of his shirt, taking a deep breath that sent a sharp pain down his spine. It really was time to take this thing off. Slowly he grabbed the bottom, sliding it up, the task proving to be more difficult as he went higher. In the end he was cringing, grinding his teeth with a short grunt until he finally got it off, discarding it onto the floor.

Now Steve was just left with his binder, looking at himself in the mirror with sad, almost scared eyes. He hated seeing himself without one. Because he had it in his head that if he never saw his chest then he could just convince himself that it wasn't there, that the breast he loathed so much didn't exist and all he had were the flat expanse of pecs.

He made the executive decision to turn around, thanking God that the binder had a zipper on the front. He grabbed the zipper, feeling a slight panic run coarse through his veins before he began pulling, with each new pull of the teeth it felt like his lungs grew a size bigger. Breathing getting easier and easier until he had fully unzipped the compressive material.

Steve looked ahead at the tile that lined the shower as he shrugged it off his shoulders, taking the deepest breath he could muster before releasing it again. It was freeing in the worst way. His ribs still ached and his chest was just all around sore, but at least he could breathe a bit better.

He dared to let his hands wander, rubbing smoothly over his ribs, pointer finger being able to feel the subtle jut of each one as he went along. He could feel the binder rash against his sides, bicep rubbing against the raw skin making him flinch.

Steve didn't want to turn around, but there was that voice in the back of his head, the one that always lingered there. Telling him he needed to face his true self, who he really was. And deep down he knew it wasn't true, that he was just as much a guy as any cis guy. But sometimes he let it get the better of him. So he did, he turned around, staring into his own eyes at first before he let them dip lower.

He bit his lip, not being able to take looking for more than a second before looking up that the ceiling, tears forming stubbornly in the corners of his eyes. His nipples were hard and chaffed, the rash directly under the swell of his breasts even worse than the rash on his sides.

He squeezed his eyes shut, image imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. Steve cried silent tears, wet streaks of disingenuous shame ran down his face until his crying wasn't so silent.

Billy was sitting in the living room when he heard it, sending Max who was explaining everything to him a quick ", Shh." And when that didn't work a firm, "Shut up, Shitbird," as he worked hard to drown out her complaining at the nickname and focus on the soft noise coming from the hallway.

When one particularly loud sob rang through the house everyone stopped talking, all eyes pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

Dustin was the first one to make the move to go, quickly being shut down by Billy, "Hold it," he said, reaching out a hand gesture to halt him, fearing the worst after hearing what Max just told him, "I'm going."

He was reaching for the bat at Max's side when suddenly- "No!" Everyone looked at him with wide eyes, "You- You can't," he babbled, shaking his head. Billy just furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"Like hell I can't," retorted, gripping handle with a firm hand, using it to propel himself up out of his seat. Dustin did the same, pushed himself up out of his seat, with a huff and a stubborn cross of him arms.

Billy gave him a look, or rather a glare, to which Dustin himself returned, tough kid. "Look, something's wrong in there and if it's something... something bad I don't need any of you shitheads," he gestured with the bad towards the group, "getting hurt, kapish?"

Dustin stared at him a second longer before falling back into his seat, deciding that if it was a demodog Billy stood the best chance. He would just have to pray, for Steve's sake, that he had things handled in his department, so Billy didn't learn anything he could use against him later.

Billy approached the bathroom door quickly but carefully, not wanting to waste any time if Steve was actually about to get mauled by some creature, "Harrington?" he called, knocking on the solid door three times, pressing his ear close.

Nothing.

"Harrington, open up!" he demanded, fear level only going up when all he heard was the persistent sound of Steve's cries, "Harrington I swear to God-"

Suddenly a new sound came from the bathroom, a scream, not high enough to be one of fear, but rather of frustration. But Billy didn't have enough time to think about that, just that Steve could be in trouble. In one swift movement he twisted the door handle and pushed through, quickly returning both hands to the bat where they belonged.

Steve didn't even notice Billy's presence until it was too late, until he was standing in the door way with a look Steve couldn't tell was shock or disgust. He quickly went from clutching the side of the sink to having his arms crossed over his chest, trying to hold onto what little dignity he had left.

He looked at Billy like a deer in headlights, like at any second Billy might flip, this time doing more damage than the first.

They stayed like that longer than they should have, Billy staring at Steve and vice versa, cold air from outside the bathroom sending a shiver down the brunette's shirtless form.

"Please..." Steve pleaded softly, what he was pleading for he wasn't sure. And Billy just blinked, tongue darting out out wet his lips which had gone dry. He took a cautious step froward, causing Steve to step back. The fact pained Billy, causing him to shake his head slowly and drop the bat, the object toppling to the floor with a crash, like some bizarre peace offering.

But it seemed to work for Steve who's posture visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, exhaling from his lips, but that didn't mean he wasn't still guarded.

Billy's expression remained confused, eyes darting from Steve's chest to his face, and back to his chest, "Want to take a picture? It'll last longer," Steve scoffed, turning a little bit on hopes of blocking his view.

Billy cleared his throat, eyes wandering now to the floor, "I'm sorry I just- I didn't-" he stumbled, but thankfully Steve was there to finish his sentence.

"Didn't expect me to be such a freak?" he grit, almost as if they weren't Billy's thoughts but his own.

But the blonde quickly recovered, "No!" he exclaimed, "No, not at all," he assured, "At least not because of this." His lame attempt at a joke actually landed, pulling a wet laugh out of Steve's exhausted lungs.

"You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself, Hargrove," Steve retorted, corners of his lips upturning into a soft, yet sad smile, Billy's smile about the same.

"Yeah, well..." he started, eyes being pulled back down to Steve's exposed side, thanks to the new angle, getting an eyeful of the rash that resided there, "Shit, man, that looks nasty."

Steve just looked down almost bashfully, "The flatter never ends," he mumbled, but the words held no real malice.

Billy shook his head, "No, I mean- I didn't mean it like that. Just looks like it hurts," he explained, to which Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Like a bitch," he admitted, subconsciously chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

Billy nodded too, in consolidation and in thought. There was a beat of tension filled silence before Billy spoke again, "Y'know if there's any lotion lying around I could help you with that," he offered, hoping that he wasn't over stepping any kind of boundary.

"You, Billy Hargrove, that guy that tried to rock my shit, less than thirty minutes ago, want to help me?" Steve questioned with disbelief, eyes wide as they met Billy's.

Billy just shrugged, scratching the slowly growing stubble on his jaw, "Change of heart, I guess." Steve scoffed, but not out of disbelief, rather out of humor.

And maybe saying no was the sane thing to do, but when was Steve ever known to make the right choice.

"Yeah, alright."