Steve’s house has too many fucking rooms.
Billy’s never seen more than half of them, hasn’t really ventured too far outside of the kitchen, sitting room, and Steve’s room.
But here he was, banging into every single guest room, every single study, looking for Steve.
His car was out front, and Billy expected to find him in bed, ready for Billy to spend the night with a sweet smile and very little clothing.
And he wasn’t in the bathroom of the rec room, or the sitting room, or anywhere that Billy could think of.
He had checked everywhere, starting with the top floor and working his way down, poking his head in every bathroom and linen closet.
Turns out there was a washing machine and dryer on the top floor, as well as a set on the main floor.
Did they really have that much laundry? To constitute two different sets of machines? Billy does his own laundry, he knows how big a load is, why do three people need-
In the fucking huge master bedroom.
He was curled up in the too-big bed, facing the ornate mantelpiece and the fireplace on the wall opposite the door.
He was asleep, his shoulders rising and falling gently with his breath.
He was curled in the center of the bed, one of the silk-covered pillows clutched to his chest, leaving plenty of room for Billy to squeeze behind him in the giant bed.
Billy left his jeans on the floor by the bed, yanking his shirt over his head to press himself against Steve in just his underwear.
He ran hot, generated so much heat when he slept he was like Billy’s own personal furnace.
The silk sheets were smooth and felt like nothing Billy had ever experienced against his skin.
The duvet was thick and heavy, and the bed smelled like the floral soap Steve used in the shower.
Steve shifted against Billy, his head shifting a bit.
One dark eye blinked open, peering at Billy groggily.
“This your parents room?”
Steve’s dad had an apartment in the city, closer to the office. He spent most weeknights there when he could be assed to be in the state at all.
Billy really doesn’t know how that business runs with the Harrington couple almost never near their namesake firm. In fact, Billy doesn’t even know what the Harringtons do. Steve’s never told him.
“This bed is ridiculous.”
Steve huffed a laugh, rolling over lazily to tangle his legs with Billy, both their heads on the same pillow.
“Sometimes I sleep in here when I miss her. Is that weird?”
“No. She’s your mom. ‘s okay to miss her.”
Steve smiled at him weakly.
“The sheets like, always smell like her. I don’t know how. It’s just, nice, I guess.”
Billy doesn’t remember if his mom had a signature scent. Maybe if he caught a whiff of it the memory would come slamming back.
Billy buried his nose in the pillow, trying to suss out more than the heady scent, the fragrance that was all Steve to him.
“This just smells like you. Like that soap you use. The pomegranate shit.” Billy has showered with Steve a few times outside of the school locker room.
Showers that were supposed to be sexy, only for Steve to perform the most elaborate hair and skin routine Billy has ever seen. It took an hour in the shower and another thirty minutes after. Billy was exhausted just watching him.
“I stole that from her years ago. The smell is so her, and it makes my skin nice.”
Steve had scoffed at Billy’s five minute shower routine.
It’s not that hard, Harrington. Hair, pits, junk, done.
“I like the smell. Just makes me think of you.”
Billy reached under the thick duvet to worm his way up Steve’s t-shirt, pinching Steve’s side.
“So, what’s up? You just miss her, or did some shit go down?”
Steve put one arm over Billy’s shoulder, playing with a few of the short curls at the crown of his head.
“She called me. In hysterics. She caught Dad cheating again. I said she should just leave him, you know? Been telling her for years. Apparently their prenup is like, intense though, so she doesn’t wanna, and that bums me out. Like, she’s so unhappy with him, and it sucks to watch her be miserable. He doesn’t give a shit about either of us, and I don’t know why she keeps clinging to him.”
“It’s safe. She’s been married to him for like, what, twenty years?”
“See. That’s a long time to be with someone. It’s hard to restart after that. You’re a different person than you were twenty-six years ago.”
“I know that, I think, but it doesn’t change how shitty it is.”
Billy doesn’t know how Steve’s mom would act if she left his dad.
Billy’s mom left without a trace when she divorced Neil, but Steve’s already got the disappearing mother thing going on, so frankly it wouldn’t be too big a change.
It would break Steve in half though, probably.
“Maybe she’s just waiting ‘till he croaks. Cash out on that last will and testament.”
“Billy, that’s not funny.” But Steve was smiling a tiny bit as he said it.
“She’s been poisoning his food every night for the past year. She’s playing the long game.”
“Bill, serious, that’s my mom.” Steve was trying to stifle a laugh.
“The murderess of Hawkins court,” Billy said in a laughter voice. “There’ll be some weird museum dedicated to her in this very house one day.”
“It’s already a fuckin’ museum.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be like, a tourist destination. House of a killer.”
“You’re messed up.” Steve was grinning now, tugging on Billy’s hair lightly.
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