Made a new blog specifically for drawing Billy (didn’t want to post to my art blog bc antis don’t know how to act lol but I still wanted to share with the lovely Billy community)
I’m mostly here for Billy but I do ship Harringrove, Mungrove, and Harringroveson (or Steddily whichever people use) I prefer Harringrove though, since they were it for me when s2 came out
Based on a post by @prettyboybillyhargrove (thank you for your contributions to the fandom!)
Max has already known for a long time but she understands it's important to him.
(getting back to drawing and comic format. it's fun but difficult! I didn't know Billy's curly hair would be so hard, mad respect to people who do it well.)
"You know, I enjoy your sleepovers, but Steve - why aren't you hooking up with Billy right now?" Robin sips his dad's favorite whiskey - straight from the bottle and not even pulling a face.
Steve chokes on his own spit. "What?"
"You've been fucking for three months now," Robin says, almost bored like she's talking about the weather. "I never see you on Fridays."
That's not true. Robin is off by .. one month. Steve kissed Billy four months ago in a haze of weed and too much alcohol.
Before he can do anything stupid - like lie to her, Robin glares at him. "Don't you dare. Billy smiled at me last week. Like he's glad to see me."
"Maybe he... likes you?" That sounds dumb even in Steve's ears.
"Billy Hargrove doesn't like anything about Hawkins," Robin says. "Except you."
"He doesn't like me." Steve grabs the bottle out of her hand. That's the whole problem. They have been fucking and sure, Billy loves his dick ("Hawkins' greatest sight", he slurred into Steve's ear more than once), but that it. Except Steve's stupid heart didn't get it and now it flutters in his chest ever time he sees that ugly mullet.
So Steve needs to get away, take a break, before he ruins it all. He called Billy baby last week. Luckily Billy had been so busy getting fucked into the mattress that he didn't hear it. But if he realizes Steve's got feelings for him, they are over.
"He looked like a kicked puppy today when you told him it's girls' night!" Robin almost shouts. "And girls' night, Harrington? You should have seen how he glared at me!"
"I'm sorry, I panicked!" Steve says. "I just... don't want to lose him."
The confession just slips out, between sips of smokey Whiskey and Robin's outrage. Steve wishes he could take it back.
"Oh, Steve." Robin wraps her arms around him. "That man is such a sucker for you. It's so obvious. I'm pretty sure he's as much as an idiot as you are."
"Is he?" Steve isn't so sure.
"Dude," Robin says. "He swings by Family Video every day and not because it's such a fine establishment."
"He just likes videos." But then again, Billy is just hanging out by the counter and steals lollipops. "Oh. He never gets any."
Could it be...
"Now you're getting there." Robin grins and hugs him tighter.
I know Werewolves are fun, but let's give love to the other Were's in the world of fantasy:
Werecat Billy
Billy's were form is a cougar, his family having lived in the west for quite a few generations, their lineage of Were stemming from somewhere in the forests of California's mountain ranges.
He's old blood and his father expects Billy to act that way.
.
.
.
Also I want you all to know that I'm a dummy when I'm not thinking.
remember when u were a kid and the movies you could watch were limited to like. whatever was on tv at that moment and the like 4 VHS tapes you had. do not miss that
I have such a scene in my head and nothing to do with it so...
Post Starcourt Billy is a mess, and one night when he’s drunk Max's is like, "He absolutely cannot come home like this. It will go very very badly." and she’s really done with letting bad things happen to Billy.
And the only person available for her to turn to for help at that particular moment is Nancy.
And Nancy doesn't really want a drunk Billy Hargrove in her house, but he did basically fucking die for them, and Max is not above banging that drum very loudly. So yes, fine, he can sleep it off on their couch.
But they're not that quiet sneaking him in and they wake her mom up. Karen is, of course, shitting a fucking brick. Because there's her dirty little secret standing (swaying) in the middle of her perfect suburban life, picking through their music collection.
Nancy tries to smooth it over (she is also not above leaning on the 'almost died' angle, though Karen of course thinks it was in the mall fire). Karen says, "I just don't think it's a good idea."
Billy snorts, asks, "Why, is your husband home?" and drops the needle on Does Your Mother Know by ABBA.
"You're not a wolf, you're a fucking dog," Steve says to Billy.
Billy glares at him from the couch. Where he isn't supposed to hang out when he's a big hairy wolf. His hairs get everywhere. He also isn't supposed to eat the leftover chicken Steve wanted to give Dustin.
Billy huffs, tilting his head a little. He's always trying to keep the wolf when Steve is mad - or ranting or whatever. Steve has ended up scratching him behind the ears and telling him he's a good boy too many times. Not this time.
"It's not a full moon, you know what you're doing."
That's the whole stupid point. Steve keeps track. He has a fucking calendar.
Billy grunts and knocks his snout against Steve.
"Dude."
The wolf rolls his eyes. The world shakes a little, the hairs on Steve's neck stand up - and there Billy is again. Or at least most of him.
Great. He kept the ears. Sand colored like the rest of his fur, with black tips. Because Billy knows he just needs to make little noises and his ears twitch and Steve will cave. Not this time.
"You're no fun," he growls, voice still more wolf than man. He leans forward, toothy smile showing Steve that his canines are still sharp. "It's not that bad."
"What did we talk about?" Steve crosses his arms. He won't pet him.
Billy scrunches his nose. His right ear twitches. His nose turns a little pink.
Of course. Billy is such a brat.
"Billy," Steve grits out. If Billy wants the collar, he can have it. But in the end, Steve is in charge. "Get me the collar then."
Billy's eyes are brighter than the sky. "Fine, if you have to make such a deal-"
"And the leash."
Billy's mouth snaps shut.
"No leash," he bitches.
"You have thirty seconds," Steve just says, making sure he sounds bored. "I have a couch to clean."
Billy scowls at him, ears laid back when Steve fastens the collar around his neck and hooks the leash onto it.
"Maybe I let you loose too often," Steve muses. He tugs the leash.
Billy glares at him, the blush bleeding from his nose to his cheeks.
"You wanna go for a walk?" Steve asks.
"Outside?" Billy rasps. Obviously stunned that this isn't going like he planned.
"It's a nice day." Steve gets up and yanks the chain. Billy squirms. He's hard in his pants. "Do you wanna be a good boy or what?"
@cicadasketch Werewolf! Billy on a leash makes me crazy.
pairing: billy hargrove x steve harrington / WC: 4501
summary: based on this post by @ariesbilly (i was anon), el shops rather creatively for billy's birthday and steve has some things to say about his new look
this will be crossposted on AO3 as soon as i've got the time to set up a new account there. i hope you enjoy, and please consider leaving some feedback! also, i've got a harringroveson spidey/venom au in the works, so please let me know if you'd like to see that :-)
Billy’s genuinely, truly concerned when Jim pulls him aside at his little birthday dinner, and not just because he’s still a tiny bit wary around the man. He hasn’t done anything awful yet, so far there’s not a bone in his body that resembles his dad’s, but Billy’s lived with Neil all his life, and Jim only a few months. He’s getting better, but he’s not there yet.
“Listen,” Jim murmurs, taking the hand he’d used to usher Billy into the kitchen off of his arm. Billy appreciates it, it’s like Jim knows he doesn’t like being grabbed; like he pays attention to Billy’s comfort.
“She’s come a long way,” Jim praises El, “-but gift giving for anyone but Max is… hard. She just shops for herself, it’s like-” Jim rubs an exasperated hand over the scruff on his chin, leaned up against the kitchen counter while Billy leans in slightly to hear his low voice, “It’s like she finds something she likes. And since she likes the person she’s giving it to, she equates the two. ‘Thinks that whatever she likes, they’ll like too. That’s why I drink out of that glittery cup every morning,” Jim gestures to the tumbler currently drying on the rack, ‘BFF’ written in white loopy letters on the plastic, “She’s got the spirit, just not the know-how. And I was really trying to get her to branch out for you, I took her to the mall but she beelined for Claire’s, and-” Jim sighs, shooting a cautious glance back to the living room where the girls are waiting with their gifts, “Just- please act like you like ‘em. If you want, I’ll give you the receipt, and you can return them for cash, just- humor her. Please.”
“Okay,” Is all Billy says, really all he can think of saying, and Jim reaches out to pat his bicep.
“Thanks,” His shoulders slump in relief, “Alright, birthday boy, let’s get going.”
Billy’s used to birthday gifts, but not nice ones. If he was lucky, he’d get gas money for the week from his dad, but that’s only because Susan insisted on acknowledging the day. Gifts have always been an obligation, never a gesture, so sitting on the couch in front of three tissue-paper-stuffed bags is a bit daunting for the man.
“Mine first,” Max demands, pushing her bag forward. Billy sends her what he hopes she perceives as a smile, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. They’ve gotten a lot better with each other now that Neil’s not goading Billy anymore, and Billy’s glad for it.
Inside there’s a gift card to a surf shop he’d worked at one summer back in California. He doesn’t even know if there’s anything on it - for all he knows, she found it in a box of his old stuff - but just seeing the logo of the place makes him nostalgic, and his barely-smile blooms into an unbridled one. The gift of memory is one he didn’t know he’d appreciate this much.
“Damn,” He huffs out a laugh, plucking the thin plastic out of the tissue, “Where’d you find this?”
“I wrote to my grandma,” Max confesses, “There’s 50 bucks on there, but for the record, all I sent her to put on there was 20.”
Billy remembers Max’s grandma; they’d visited her once. She was awesome, but the kind of awesome that made parents distrust her, and contact was lost after the move to Hawkins. The old lady had crammed Billy and Max into the back of her cluttered bug to get ice cream after Neil and Susan had gone to bed, and it was nice for Billy to hear she was still doing well.
“Thanks,” Billy laughs, almost a scoff as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. She pretends to hate it, maybe she does a little, but she lets him, which is like another birthday gift: Annoying Privileges.
He sees a flash of black as he puts the gift card back in the tissue, and it explains why the tiny plastic was wrapped so excessively.
Don’t show Hopper, the note reads, with an arrow down, so he discretely peels away the paper to find three cartons of cigarettes beneath it. He’ll worry about how she got them later, for now he shoots her a smirk that she returns.
“Alright, mine’s kinda-” Jim fumbles for his bag, “-tied into hers. Here, kid.”
The tissue crinkles under Billy’s fingers, and he peers down into the blue bag to see a paper.
He pulls it out, squinting at the fine print.
It’s a hotel booking. A hotel in California, shit, right by the beach.
“I already called you off of work,” Jim smiles at Billy, “It’s about a month from now. Only condition is you take the girls with you, they’ve got their own room and we’ll send ‘em with gas money.”
Max’s grin is bright, and Billy knows this is just as much of a gift for her as it is for him. His chest feels tight, like each word on the page had sucked air out of his lungs until there was none left, and now he’s struggling to breathe. He’s wanted to go back since the moment he left, but his dad never would have let him, and moving in with Jim and El then immediately fleeing the state seemed rude, so he’s grateful for the push. He doesn’t even know how to begin thanking Jim, so he starts with the words themselves.
“Thank you,” Billy croaks, trying not to let a gush of emotions overwhelm him. “Seriously, I-” His voice wavers and he clamps his mouth shut, looking down and pinching his fingers along the folded crease of the paper to thin it down even more, “Thank you, Jim.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jim reaches out again, gives him that little pat pat to the bicep instead of trying to hug him. Billy thinks just for that, he will let Jim hug him next time.
Once Billy’s regained his composure and only let one gruff sniffle slip, El is handing over her bag.
“Mine was not as much money as theirs,” She looks serious, like Billy’s going to backhand her for not renting them an RV for the trip, “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Jim starts, ready to console her and teach her an etiquette lesson, but Billy lets out a weak chuckle.
“Don’t worry about it, El.” He tugs at the tissue paper, “One time I wrote I.O.U. on a piece of paper for Max’s birthday.”
El’s brows furrow at the unfamiliar phrase, and Max leans in, “It means I owe you, like, ‘I owe you one’. He didn’t get me anything.”
“I offered you something,” Billy gripes, pausing in his unwrapping efforts, “Not my fault you chucked it out.”
“Oh, no,” Max laughs, “I still have it. But I wasn’t gonna waste it on arcade tokens. I’m gonna make it count, you’re gonna bail me out of a bad party or lie to the cops about-”
She reconsiders, looking at Hopper who’s stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowed at her, “-Nothing. Lying to cops is bad.”
“Nice save,” Billy deadpans, ducking his head back down towards the bag. The tissue inside is messy, he can tell El did it herself.
Beneath the first layer of tissue, the stuff crumpled up to give the present volume, there’s six individually wrapped packages. Billy’s stomach does a little flip; call it nerves, call it endearment, but whatever it is, he reaches for the first package without paying it any mind.
His fingers peel at the tape sticking it all together, and his strong grip rips the tissue. He goes with it, tearing into the gift, and a purple plastic card falls into his hand. It’s punched in two places near the middle, and inside each hole is an earring. They’re- not his style.
They’re studs, little balls of gel in rainbow colors with squishy spikes sticking out of them. They honestly look like something a kindergartener would make with a hot glue gun, but there’s an expectant smile on El’s face and Billy finds himself smiling back at her, genuinely so.
“Thanks, El,” He flips the package over, price tag ripped off messily and silver backings staring at him, “These are cool.”
“I know you like earrings. There’s more,” She prompts him, the section of her hair that she’s tied up bouncing as she leans forward enthusiastically, “Open them.”
“Okay,” He laughs, setting the earrings aside. The second package yields another pair, this time two pieces of bread with little smiley faces on them, one painted brown for peanut butter and the other purple for jelly.
“That’s cute,” Billy laughs breathily, “That’ll go good with my purple button up.”
“Mhm,” El nods, hair once again bouncing, “That’s what I thought.”
As Billy expects, each package contains a pair of earrings. He gets tiny springs, a gradient of pink to purple to blue covering the curved metal, and they look like they’d be permanently damaged if he stretched them out even once. Then a pair of jellyfish-inspired ones, a clay head with a smile on its face connected by metal rings to all of the tentacles dangling below. Next are lollipops, stiff sticks leading into plastic that’s swirled in design and shaped like a bear’s head with yet another smiley face. Each little black curve on the earrings’ faces only makes his own grow. The fifth pair are meant to look like goldfish, suspended in resin that fills the bowl to make it look like they’re swimming in water. It’s the most intricate pair of earrings he’s ever seen, he’ll give Claire that. The final pair is much bigger than the others, and when he unwraps it, a pom-pom sticks out.
They’re big puffballs, tie-dyed pink and purple, connected to a peace sign stud that goes through his ear. They’re obnoxious, something you’d only see on a child whose grandparents had bought the biggest pair of earrings they could find because their vision was too poor to appreciate any smaller designs. Nevertheless, Billy pops the squishy backing off of one of them, and sticks it between his teeth. He slips his own earring out of his ear, and tucks it into the breast pocket of the shirt he’s wearing. He sticks the puffball into his ear right then and there, and El’s grin is almost unbearably wide.
“It looks pretty,” She gushes, and Billy laughs.
“Thank you, El.” He gives her the obligatory brotherly hair ruffle as well, but she looks honored compared to Max’s exasperation. In leaning forwards to reach her, the metal point of the second earring digs into Billy’s palm where he’s holding the card still, and he glances down at it thoughtfully.
“Here,” He thinks fast, plucking the backing off of it and handing it to El, “Let’s match.”
She looks at it wide-eyed, caught off guard, “You want me to wear the other one?”
“Duh,” He nods, hand still outstretched, “How else are people gonna know who bought them for me?”
She’s more than happy to snatch the second earring from him, sliding it into her own pierced ear and shivering slightly at the feeling of the fluff brushing against her skin.
“Alright,” Jim claps, a loud, striking sound, “You guys look great. Cake time?”
“Cake time,” Max agrees, already rising to her knees to stand and head for the kitchen, “Chocolate, Billy, your favorite.”
Billy’s all Thank you’d out. Not because he’s not thankful for this, because he’s more than that, but because he’s said it so many times today that the words are starting to lose their meaning, and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to be insincere, so he’ll save the ‘Thank you’s for when they really count.
Max and El settle on the floor in front of the tv to watch the movie they’ve picked out, clearly one that Jim hadn’t seen until now.
“Oh, not Terminator,” He reaches for the television to shut it off, but both girls scramble to fight him off, “It’s rated R, girls!”
“It’s Billy’s favorite,” Max huffs, and that’s not true, but he knows nothing in the movie will shock her, and El grew up being bounced around dimensions, so she probably won’t lose any sleep over a bit of blood.
“It’s true,” Billy drawls settling back on the couch with his cake and his beer (that Jim only reluctantly handed him because it’s his birthday), “But it’s fine, Jim, we don’t have to watch what I want, they can turn on My Little Pony or some shit.”
Jim wonders briefly how he’s been outsmarted by two tweens and a teenager. If he says no, he’s the asshole that ruins Billy’s birthday. If he says yes, the girls are going to see gratuitous shots of naked Arnold Schwarzenegger that he’d rather them not witness.
“You cover your eyes for the first scene,” Jim finally concedes, narrowing his eyes at Max and El, “I mean it, no peeking or I’ll do it for you.”
“Okay,” They agree, already far too amused for Jim’s liking, and Max turns to grin mischievously at Billy. It’s nice, he thinks, to do dumb shit with her. Like real siblings.
The movie starts, and Jim’s a bit too preoccupied eagle-eyeing the girls to make sure they’re not seeing anything raunchy to notice that Billy’s paying more attention than he ought to be. But once the man straightens back up so does Billy, mentally so, and turns his attention to Jim when he leans over towards Billy.
“Hey,” Jim’s whisper is gruff, but El doesn’t hear, “Thanks for that. She’s really happy.”
“No problem,” Billy admits, “They’re… different, but they’re kinda cool.”
Jim laughs, and Billy gets the sense that Jim doesn’t think he’s being sincere, but really, he is. The earrings themselves aren’t kinda cool, a year ago he’d rather have pitched himself into the quarry than wear rainbow-colored springs dangling from his ears, or a smiley piece of peanut butter toast, but what’s kinda cool is that someone gave them to him because they thought he’d like them; because they like him.
What’s kinda cool is love, Billy figures out that night, and his cake tastes a little sweeter because of it.
--
El doesn’t usually accompany Billy to work at the auto shop, but that’s only because he leaves too early for her to be awake yet. She’s recently discovered sleeping in, and sometimes she’s not awake before two in the afternoon. Now, though, she’s bursting with excitement for the California trip, even though it’s not for another month. Billy hadn’t slept with the puffball earring in, but he’d put it right back on this morning, and so had El. They’re sitting behind the counter now, planning an itinerary for the trip he’s not too stressed about, because he knows El will lose the paper before they leave in a month.
“And we have to go to In-n-Out,” She decides, “I know those are in California.”
“Yeah,” Billy laughs, “They’re not that good. I mean, I like ‘em, but there’s good burger places everywhere. They have these palm trees though,” He moves his hands to cross over each other, “They cross like an ‘x’, it’s pretty cool. My friend tried to climb one once, we got kicked out.”
El giggles, and her eyes wrinkle at the corners with the expression. Billy likes it, he wonders if his own eyes scrunch when he laughs. But he doesn’t do it very often, and especially not in front of a mirror, so he might never know.
She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, so Billy turns his attention to their customer log instead. There’s a man coming by in two hours to pick up his car, but the repairs are complete, so Billy doesn’t have to do anything about it. And there’s another customer coming at five for an oil change, but it’s only eight in the morning. He hears the scrape of wheels on gravel, and he cranes his neck to see over the reception desk and out the door.
Fuck. It’s a red beemer, one he knows almost better than his own car because of how frequently he’d crammed his camaro in beside it in the high school parking lot. It’s Steve Harrington’s car, and that means Steve Harrington came with it.
Billy tugs on the hem of his tank, tightening the shirt over his chest. It’s not that he wants to look good for Steve, it’s just- well, no, that’s it. The banter he’d shared with Steve over their time at Hawkins High was the most tension he’d felt in his entire life, and it came at a time when he sought thrill and excitement the most; apparently being sweat-covered, shirtless opponents on the basketball court does things to a man’s head. He’s not naive enough to think he’s gonna be able to sweep the guy off of his feet with one suave remark, not when just last week Max had somehow convinced the man to give her a ride back home from Jim’s place after a sleepover, and Steve had seen Billy bleary-eyed, messy-haired, and pajama-clad. He’d tried to own it, leaned back on the couch with his legs spread, one arm up on the back of the couch and exposed by the shirt he was wearing as he nodded with a lazy grin at Steve, ‘Morning, Harrington’. If he’d squinted, he could see a bit of pink coloring Steve’s cheeks. But a success or not, the experience was embarrassing, and he’s glad that he’s a little more put together today.
Billy forgets just how put together he is today. He feels the soft brush of the fuzzy earring against his neck right as Steve starts towards the store, and his stomach drops.
He has a very important choice to make.
He can take the earring out, giving him a better chance at this coy little game they have going, and subsequently insult his new sister, or, he could leave it in, puff up his chest with pride, and greet Steve with confidence, ultimately risking his win.
He almost tears his ear from how hard he rips the earring out.
“Harrington,” Billy drawls, “Car trouble?”
“Battery’s dead,” The man huffs, and there’s sweat beading at Steve’s hairline, “I had to push’er down the street, I was getting groceries.”
Billy feels like a cartoon character; he almost audibly gulps at the thought of Steve muscling his car down the road. He wonders if Steve could see his Adam’s apple bobbing if he really did dry swallow. He wonders if Steve would watch.
“Tough luck,” Billy sends Steve a lazy grin, passing the sign-in book over the counter with a pen, “Just fill that out, I’ll get your service started.”
“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, “Got an estimate?”
“Depends,” Billy shrugs, “I might do you a favor and replace those ugly seats you’ve got, too. That’ll cost extra.”
“Like your car’s hot shit,” Steve scoffs, but his tone isn’t demeaning, and Billy’s chest does that weird tight thing again when he realizes they’ve advanced to friendly banter, “Do you know how ugly that blue and yellow license plate looks against the blue of your car?”
He laughs, but before Billy can quip back, say that it’s California grade, that he’d rather die than replace it, the door to the back opens up, and El comes out.
“Steve!” She smiles sweetly, “Is your car broken?”
“Yeah,” He laments, eyeing her accessory, “Woah, crazy earring.”
“Billy has one, too.” She brags, then notices it’s missing from his ear. Billy’s stiffened where he’s rifling through the desk drawers for a form to give Steve, and before he can make any excuses, El spots the puffball where it’s fallen to the floor.
“Oh!” She lunges for it, handing it to Billy with a sweet smile, “It fell out. Here it is.”
Billy has another choice to make.
Scoff at her, say ‘nice one’, and tell her to put her earring back in. Or, take it from her and embarrass himself in front of Steve.
This time, he decides she’s ultimately more important.
“Thanks, El.” He grins at her, taking the puffball from her hand and hooking it expertly through his ear. It dangles against his neck, and he passes the form over to Steve who’s looking between the two of them with some sort of guarded amusement.
“Fill this out, too.” Billy instructs, “And I’ll start on your car.”
“O-kay,” Steve complies, more of that amusement painting his features as he ducks his head to fill out the form, “Pink looks good on you, Hargrove.”
Billy shuts the door to the back room as a response. He feels like punching the wall, because did that mean ‘good’ as in good? Or good as in ‘ridiculous’? He’s well aware Steve had a mean streak in high school, and Billy isn’t interested in being bullied.He’s never worried about being bullied by his peers before, he was always on top. Now it’s different, this isn’t high school and he doesn’t have backup boys to make his posse. It’s a one-on-one fight, and Steve’s got the advantage. And- and if it did mean good, what’s he supposed to do with that information? Wear a pink shirt the next time he sees Steve? Go as Pink Panther for halloween? He considers just about everything but dying his hair, mind swirling with possibilities.
He starts on Steve’s car to distract himself, and he barely manages to gather the courage to take his shirt off to push Steve’s beemer into the garage like he’d originally planned. He still does, of course. But it’s a hard decision to make.
--
“Steve,” El steps out from behind the counter, walking over to where Steve’s flipping through an old Highlights that Billy’s boss keeps there for kids, “What did you get Billy for his birthday?”
The man flounders, “Uh, when’s his birthday?”
El’s brows furrow, “It was yesterday. You didn’t get him anything?”
“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Sorry, El. I’m sure he didn’t expect me to, though, ‘probably didn’t hurt his feelings.”
“But friends give each other birthday presents.” She insists, “Why didn’t you?”
“He’s not my friend,” Steve grimaces slightly, but backtracks when El only gets more scandalized, “We- I… Ugh,’ He groans, rubbing a hand down his face, “We, like, hated each other in high school or something. I think he’s only nice to me now ‘cause he has to be, we’re all friendly, y’know?”
“Billy likes you,” El promises, “That’s why he comes out of his room when he knows you’re coming over. And why he always takes us to get ice cream. He likes seeing you.”
“Uh, I think-” Steve stammers, heart pounding so viciously he can hear it, “That’s probably… not what that means. Hey, um, do you have any water I could have? I’m really thirsty from pushing my car.”
He’s out from under her scrutinous gaze for long enough to compose himself, tamping down any hope she might have given him. It doesn’t help that he’s first heard Billy’s genuine laugh today, and the vision of the man’s bright eyes, scrunched and wrinkled at the corners have been plaguing him ever since. Things need to stop piling up, he decides.
When she gets back she sits in the chair beside him, one leg bent beneath her and the other firmly planted on the floor, “You should get him a birthday present.”
Steve hums, bringing the cup she hands him to his lips to buy him time to respond. Eventually, he settles on, “I’ll try to find something,” and she seems to like that answer, so she lets it go.
“I got him earrings,” She explains, and pieces of the puzzle start to fall into place in Steve’s head, “The ones that he’s wearing now. And five other pairs.”
“Wow,” Steve nods, feigning awe even though he knows Jim probably paid for them himself, “That was nice of you. He liked ‘em?”
“Yes,” She nods, “He likes earrings. And he said he’s going to wear them with me when we go to California.”
“California,” Steve echoes, brows raised, “That’s nice. When are you going?”
“In a month,” El recites, “Billy’s from California.”
“Yeah,” Steve nods, eyes drawn to Billy’s framed employee picture on the wall, noticing the tan adorning the smooth skin of his handsome face, “I know.”
--
“Okay,” Billy turns to look at the girls in his backseat, bright smiles on both of their faces, “Gas money?”
“Check,” Max slides him a wad of cash, and so does El.
“Snacks?” Billy pulls his wallet out, stuffing the bills inside.
“Check!” El takes over this time, a plastic bag in her hand that’s filled with enough ziploc bags of goldfish to last them halfway through the road trip.
“Bags?”
“Check,” Max jabs a thumb towards the camaro’s trunk, “We didn’t forget our suitcases, Billy.”
“If you did, and I hadn’t asked, you would have blamed me,” Billy narrows his eyes at his stepsister, “Don’t make me push you out of the moving car.”
What can he say: things are better, they’re not perfect. She knows he’s joking, though, she sticks out her tongue in response.
“I have one more thing,” El calls, effectively breaking up Billy and Max’s banter. The two look curiously at her, and she passes Billy an envelope, thick towards the bottom left corner.
“It’s a late birthday present.” She informs him, “Open it. It’s for the trip.”
“El,” Billy tears at the envelope with a confused furrow in his brow, “You got me stuff for my birthday. Why more?”
“It’s not from me,” She admits, “Just open it.”
The envelope was sealed well, by whoever sealed it. Billy all but mangles the paper to remove its contents, and when he does, a pair of earrings falls out, mounted on a purple plastic card. Claire’s.
There’s a pink and white striped surfboard on the left side, and a glitter-covered palm tree on the left. There’s a note inside too, and Billy peels it apart much more cautiously than he had the envelope.
Billy,
Happy birthday. Enjoy California.
- Steve
P.S: I wasn’t kidding. You look good in pink.
Billy nearly rips the earring card trying to wrench the surfboard off. Once he gets it out, he slides it into his ear, passing the palm tree back to El and grinning at the girls through his rear-view mirror. He admires the way that the earring looks against his tanned skin, and- oh, look at that; his eyes do scrunch when he smiles.
“Ready?” He raises a brow, sunglasses perched on his head and lost in his curls in wait of the California sun.
“Ready,” They confirm, and El’s nod sends the palm tree earring swinging beside her face.
Billy revs the engine, and it’s never been a happier sound, “California, here we come.”
