(omega steve tells alpha billy about his desire for children. billy struggles to understand the concept. or, alternatively, the one where billy thinks steve is far, far too good for someone as rotten as he.)
“I want pups. I’ve always wanted pups.” Steve tells him one day, randomly, as they sit in Billy’s bed. The blonde Alpha is smoking a cigarette with Steve’s head against his chest. He’ll be damned before he calls this snuggling (and Max can go to hell for calling it that) but he can admit that he likes this - feeling Steve search for his warmth.
Billy thinks about teasing him, reminding him of the children he already cares for, in a similar manner as Robin. But instead, he takes a drag from his cigarette.
“I want like a lot of pups too.” Steve continues. The Omega’s finger tap a light pattern against Billy’s naked chest. Billy holds in a smile at the tickling feeling of his- the Omega’s cold fingers on his warm skin. “Maybe five - ooh, no, six! Yeah, six pups. I’ll have three boys and three girls.”
Billy blows out the smoke, making rings. “And what are you going to do with this army of children, Harrington?”
Steve’s lips twitch up to form a smile. “Everything. I want to do everything with them.”
Billy blinks, as he watches Steve’s eyes close, imagining his future life. “I want to go camping with them and go to the beach. I want to go on those- those long road trips that those corny families in the movies do. I wanna go see the Grand Canyon, the - the Niagra Falls with them. I just want to give them the childhood that I never got, that I always wanted, with parents that care.”
And Billy, well he can understand that. As someone who grew up with little to no love at all, he understands the feelings Steve has. Although, he can’t quite comprehend wanting to give someone else the love that he never got to recieve. It almost doesn’t feel fair, to give someone else, even his own hypothetical children, something that he could never get.
But that’s where Steve is better than him. So selfless and caring and so so much fucking better than him. Because despite having a shitty childhood, with even shittier parents, he still has the heart to be loving and compassionate and giving.
Billy tries to imagine it - this idealistic fantasy future that Steve Harrington has for himself. He imagines Steve pregnant, round and pudgy and soft. He can vividly see Steve glowing with pregnancy, hands rubbing his steadily growing tummy. He can imagine Steve holding his babies, one in each arm, with an unbearably fond smile. He can even imagine the ridiculous family trips - skiing, snorkling, hiking. He can see it all happening to Steve, with a bright smile and six little rugrats following behind him.
But Billy. Billy can’t for the life of him imagine himself in those scenarios.
He can’t imagine rubbing cream into Steve’s round tummy, kissing his forming stretch marks. He can’t imagine driving one of those large family RV’s, cracking dad jokes and singing along to terrible radio music. He can’t imagine teaching little children - his little children - how to fish or tie their shoes. And by God could he never imagine holding a newborn baby in his arms, wrapped up in a soft blanket, and peering at Billy like he’s their world.
God, to do all that he’d have to be with Steve, huh? Not just fuck-buddy’s, or some weird friendship-in-between like they are now. He’d have to mate him, put a pretty little mark on his neck and claim the Omega as his. And even though the practice of marriage is an old and traditional one, Steve’s always been a somewhat traditional Omega (an ideology he got from his parents and could never quite shake off). They’d have to have a wedding to get married, a large one to fit all of Steve’s family and the not-quite-his-biological-children that he can’t drop.
Billy takes another drag of his cigeratte and blows out the smoke harshly, aggressively.
But that would never fucking happen would it?
Because Steve could never - should never, be with someone like him. Someone made of harsh angles and jagged lines and sharp edges, shouldn’t dream of being with a person as delicate as Steve Harrington. Logically, how can someone who’s heart is made of dandelion fluff possibly settle with someone who could set it on fire?
“Well that,” Billy stubs out his cigeratte on the wall before flicking the butt of it away. “Sounds like a fuckin’ nightmare.”
Steve lifts his head from his chest, turning to face Billy with a subtly pinched expression. It’s not pouting, because Steve would kill him if he knew that Billy thought it was, but it’s definitely a sullen expression.
“And what does that mean?” The Omrga sounds mildly miffed.
Billy bites down on his smile. “It means that I’d rather drown in Jordan Lake than take care of six brats, darlin’.”
And as he watches Steve continue to not-pout and fuss, Billy can’t help but lean in and kiss him. And he can’t help but think that, as the taste of cigarette smoke mixes with peppermint, that he really can’t imagine ruining Steve any more than he already has.
