#punk!billy

[friendoftheknife]

yea i got into this punk au too or maybe it's something close to lostboys who knowsss (urge to see our babies like vampire family or smth) watch out billy enters his killer protective mod he is the youngest

[neonponders]

Combining tropes: 

punk sugarbaby!Billy and soft sugardaddy!Steve.

This was inspired by @ mikeyyyyyyy_ ‘s ig story (pictured under the cut). He’s Mikey Henger on tiktok. We’ve all seen his divine Billy cosplays 🖤

• • • • • • •

Billy got a new tattoo. He’s no stranger to the needle gun by any means, but he’s wanted hand and neck tattoos for a long time. He finally gave himself the former today.

He abstains from the latter for Steve. Because Steve loves Billy’s throat. He thinks Billy’s skin is beautiful and the guy likes necks, apparently. Billy prided himself on his ass - and, well....everything else - but whatever floats Steve’s boat.

Billy calls him a vamp.

Steve calls him, baby.

So he gets his tattoo, sitting tranquilly in the chair as the artist does her work. Afterwards, blue eyes appraise the latest addition to his collection. Billy already knows everyone is going to assume it’s a crow or a raven. That doesn’t matter.

He sends a picture to Steve.  The reply doesn’t take long:

Want a manicure to go with it?

Billy’s typing as a second message comes through:

What food do you want?

Billy knows where this is going. Steve has his own nail technician who makes house calls. He never gets anything beyond cuticle care, but today Billy felt rejuvenated.

Only if we match. Greek rice plates.

He gets some black hearts sent back to him because Steve’s a romantic and Billy now has a black phoenix flying in his skin.

Steve was...a learning curve. But then again, so was Billy in the beginning. Steve had to let Billy fly, and Billy had to get used to Steve providing a perch for him to land.

A soft bed to land in. A fridge that never emptied. New boots made of loyal leather instead of plastic, and poly gel nails if Billy wanted them.

He didn’t give Billy a job, though. Billy did that on his own. Hair stylist by day, drummer and dj by night, and Billy liked his work. His clients were like him: pissed at the world but knew how to tip, and music had long since become his outlet.

Then he went home to Steve. Both he and the nail technician were waiting; one moving their food out of boxes and onto plates, and the other just finishing up her station for Billy’s hands after he washed them. Steve kissed Billy in the privacy of their kitchen and then cradled the tattooed hand in both of his. “Do you love it?”

“ ‘Course I do. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.”

“I’ve heard hand tattoos swell up a lot. I’ll get an ice pack ready.”

Billy knew there wasn’t much point in telling him no. Steve, still in his work slacks with his pressed shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, who cared and cared and cared. He cared so damn much.

As Billy sat at the dining table and nail technician began her work, Steve followed in and said, “Whatever he gets, I’ll sit right after him.”

Billy juggled relinquishing his hands, eating, and resting his hand on the ice pack. Soon his nails gleamed with clean, black gel paint.

“Scoot. My turn,” Steve declared almost excitedly. Billy snorted quietly and took the rest of his food to the couch as Steve began his manicure.

Paid and tipped, the technician went on her way and Billy chuckled at Steve marveling at his black nails. “Are your colleagues going to think you’re unprofessional?”

“Only if they want to be misogynistic pricks. You can tell who’s sleeping with their secretaries because those women have new nails every week.”

Steve fell onto the couch in such a way that one of his legs draped between Billy’s. He took Billy’s wrist and set the hand on a throw pillow. “You’re gonna fight people off like gnats, the next time they see the sex magnet on the drum set.”

Billy’s other hand squeezed Steve’s knee. “I was thinking of using the electric set to practice tonight.”

Steve didn’t tell him no. Just, “Will your hand be okay?”

Because Steve didn’t have any tattoos. He didn’t think less of them, but he saw them as open wounds every time Billy got another.

“So long as I keep the Second Skin on, yeah.”

Steve insisted on the ice pack until whatever episode finished on the television and Billy went into his music room. Since Steve’s - their - place was technically a condo in the city, Billy got a much more accommodating electric drum set.

Then he played until he sweat. Sweated right through the Second Skin over his tattoo and realized at some point, Steve had dropped off an iced lemonade. Billy drained the glass on his way to the shower. Black globs and flecks rushed down the drain - 

As Steve stepped through the door behind him. “Want an extra pair of hands?”

Billy hummed. “Love some.”

After the initial wash, Billy kept his hand out of the water. Steve washed his hair, knowing very well how Billy liked his scalp touched. And as white suds moved down the drain, wet lips touched Billy’s neck, making him hum again.

“Have you decided on something here, yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“I’m not asking permission. It goes against my nature.”

Steve laughed breathily. “I know. Except for that one thing.”

Billy cocked a brow and looked back at him. “One thing?”

Steve’s eyes rolled. “Yeah, the one thing. Kind of a big deal. At least, I like to think I’m a big deal.”

“You trying to tell me something, Stevie?” Billy crooned, reaching between them for Steve’s half-erect member.

“C-Careful, your ring’s on.”

“ ‘Course it’s on. It’s always on. Never taking it off. It’s in my skin as good as you are.”

Steve’s eyes went hooded and dark, peeking up through his lashes like he was shy. Billy’s hand left his erection to slide along Steve’s neck. His gold band shined through the dark tresses. The same way Steve’s did.

Matching hands.

Almost.

Maybe Billy could convince him to get a black feather somewhere.

[harringrovetrashhh]

Lost Boys of Starwood Ch 1

Fandom: Stranger Things Paring: Harringrove Chapter 1/10 Rating: T Co-written by myself and the amazing @catharrington​

Summary: West Hollywood California was a lighthouse on the beach for Steve Harrington moving down from nowhere Indiana. But for billy Hargrove it was a cage with golden bars kept locked by his father good and tight. They both found safety inside the darkness and splendor of Starwood, but will they be able to see the only way they can be truly found is through each other?

Read it on ao3 here or in the read below

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Billy grunted, trying to squirm his way out from between two massive bouncers.

They ignored his shouts and threats, and continued to lead him outside. Once at the door, they threw him on to the street and slammed the door behind him.

“And fuck you too!” He gave one final middle finger at the closed door, and huffed before pulling out his almost empty pack of Lucky Strikes and lighting up a cigarette. This night was turning out to be a bust. The few drinks he was able to pilfer from the bozos around the dance floor weren’t doing much more than giving him a light buzz. When Billy tried like hell to convince an older guy to buy him a shot of Jack, the old geezer got security involved. Billy had just slid his hand up the meat of this guy's inner thigh a little, nothing big. No one is ever down for a good time any more.

Thankfully, the lights of Hollywood Blvd never turned off. He walked slowly, hands stuffed down inside the pockets of his tight denim, sweat from the club slowly drying on his naked chest. Billy left the top buttons open, even out on the street, wouldn’t want anyone to miss the show.

In his short year of exploration of the strip, Billy was proud to say he had been in each club at least once. Usually he was able to get a beer in his belly and a hand on his ass before he got caught and kicked out for being 17. He didn’t look it though, hand to god. He could pass for older, no problem, the earring and cocky smirk only aiding in the ruse. It’s just he didn’t have a fake ID, and, whilst Billy hid his age, he never hid his loose sexual orientation. Some clubs were okay with it and some were not, to say the least. The ones that didn’t care played the music that Billy craved. The angry lyrics, the loud guitar, the volume breaking the metal from the speakers as quick as they can, that’s the music Billy needed in his veins.

Taking slow drags from his cigarette, head down and debating about going home for the night, Billy started hearing some halfway decent music. He turned up his head to the sound of hard drums and a fast guitar start up, followed by an angry voice practically screaming I don’t wanna live to be thirty-four. Billy was definitely intrigued, and so he followed the music to another club. The neon sign naming the bar as “Starwood” and proclaiming the night’s guest to be a band called The Circle Jerks . Between the music and the name, Billy couldn’t find one reason to resist as he steered towards the doors. The chaos of the loud music at a shitty bar seemed exactly the kind of excitement buzz Billy was craving so deeply.

Just as he was poised to go in, Billy faltered in his step as a towering brick wall of a man covered the doorway. His one hand pushed the heavy door open, while the other was almost closed in a fist around a bloodied up man's throat. They walked out farther into the sidewalk, with the bouncer dragging the other man like a doll.

Billy knew an opportunity when he saw one, and even though there was a heavy thrill in seeing this fight and getting a look at the full sleeves of ink up and down the bouncer’s arms, Billy saw an opportunity. Billy used the distraction to dive for the quickly closing door.

Inside Starwood wasn’t much. The hallway was blacked out and the floor was scuffed from use to be just as dark. Multiple layers of faded posters glued to the walls on either side were a buffer to the noise, but not a good one.

Billy let his hands slide alongside the short hallway as his ears lead him around a corner into a thick mass of bodies.

As soon as he entered the main area of the bar, he was overwhelmed in the best way. The music was loud and fast, the bodies were sweaty and constantly in motion, and the booze was pouring freely and creating sticky puddles that merely added to the atmosphere. For the first time in a long while, Billy felt at home. It was easy to slide between the dancing bodies towards the bar in the back. He hung back, read the crowd, and easily snuck over to a particularly crowded spot at the bar.

He tucked himself just behind a thin woman who was already slurring her speech and snatched the neck of a beer bottle right under her nose. She was too busy leaning forward into the space of another girl talking with her hands to notice the thief, and once Billy took enough steps away she would have no reason to suspect a thing. Sometimes people let their guard down too easily at a bar, and while Billy knew about that, thankfully he just wanted to get drunk tonight. He cleaned off the lip of the bottle with the hem of his shirt before gulping it down for dear life.

There was a uniquely shaped stage on the other side of the large room, taking up almost the whole wall but was narrow. The band performing that night had the singer squashed between a massive drum set and a guitarist who held a wide power stance in tight leather pants that fit him like a second skin. The singer didn’t seem to have a care in the world as he bumped and even grinded against his guitarist's ass during a long and heavy solo.

This bar kept getting better and better to Billy. He wondered for a moment if he would have luck with what he attempted in his previous escapade. He had leaned up against a support beam covered in stickers and something sticky, but he didn’t care about that, nothing he hadn’t felt before in other places like this. Sea blue eyes scanned around the dark room hunting like a shark.

Then he saw someone, a lanky boy, fresh as a daisy but rushed and sweating behind the bar. He had long brown hair that just seemed to float above his head like a damn halo, and brown eyes that were just as big. From where Billy was standing all the lights of the stage reflected off those eyes, rainbows of colors, and when the boy slid a glass down the bar top and smiled, it was just as fantastic. Something that pretty shouldn’t be in a place like this, where the floor was basically one big puddle and the paint was peeling. He belonged on the cover of those magazines Susan read. Billy wanted to get his lips on that smile.

Billy chugged the last of the beer and marched over to the bar, waiting for a minute until it seemed that the bartender, with eyes like that damned cartoon deer Bambi, had a second to stop and wipe his hands down with a rag, then Billy took his shot. He caught the boy’s attention with a small gesture, and he had to yell over the noise, but he didn’t really care who heard.

“Hey, fuck me if I’m wrong, but is your name Bambi?”

He heard a couple hoots and cheers from the small gathering around the bar, but all he got from the boy was an eye roll, and he strutted to the other side of the bar to continue working. Bambi it was going to be then, his goal for the night, and oh was it going to be a fun chase.

He didn’t get to keep good on his goal however, because after staring at Bambi, or rather Bambi’s ass, for a minute and debating his next move, Billy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and came face to face with a person who was so clearly a skinhead, and not the nice kind judging by the nazi ring and the white laces in his boots, it made Billy want to roll his eyes.

He’d dealt with assholes like this at other bars, but he really didn’t want to go home with more bruises. It couldn’t be helped though, when the bald bastard leaned in close and spit “You a fucking fairy?” in Billy’s face.

Billy’s jaw flexed. This man was bigger than him,  but Billy wasn’t a push over. Hours under the sun surfing through unforgiving waves, weight lifting, and getting into more fights than he would care to remember has left him with an impressive physique of his own. Billy knew he was cut. And he knew how to win a fight. It wasn’t always about bigger or stronger but sometimes about the tricks.

“Who’s asking, big guy? Looking for a good time?” Billy flicked his eyes back across the bar just for a second to make sure that Bambi’s eyes were fixed on him. Their brown color sparkling with something intense as they connected. “Sorry but I’m taken right now-“

“Can’t fucking go anywhere these days without some faggot trying to suck dick in public. You’re disgusting!”

Billy couldn’t keep his smile under control, practically baring his teeth at this point. “You wanna watch me suck his dick, fella? Promise I’ll make it a show.” Then Billy’s tongue darted out to swipe along his bottom lip rapidity, wagging so suggestively, and it was turning the bald head on this bastard bright red. He hollered loud over all the music and noise of the bar, then lifted two hands gripped like fists in a club, fully ready to swing at Billy’s head of curls.

But then, the skinhead's shout was cut short. His anger boiled over so he was attacking all offense, leaving no room for defense. Billy easily leaned to the side and lifted his arm to push hard at the back of his sweaty, ugly head, successfully sending the thick skull of the man into the bar with a sickening crunch. That must be his nose, Billy had heard that noise many times before.

The skinhead crumbled to the ground, whimpering pathetically as he tried to stop the blood flowing from his face. Another man at the bar was lumbering over to haul the man up, maybe another security guy, maybe the same one from the door, Billy wasn’t watching. He only had eyes for Bambi, turning in place to stare at the bartender.

The sweet brunette bartender had obviously heard and seen what Billy did, and it worked like a charm. He leaned one hand on the bar and another against his hip, fingers coiled tight around the part where his shirt was tucked into tight denim jeans. “Nice show,” he had his head leaned down to look at Billy but his chin cocked up, like he was sizing him up. “Got a name?”

“Billy! The name’s Billy, pretty boy. But you can call me any time.” He had to yell over the music that hadn’t stopped.

“Order a drink, Billy. Whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“You on the menu?” Bambi clearly hadn’t expected Billy to try and flirt so blatantly again, blinking a couple of times as if to process what he had meant.

“Sorry Billy, not tonight. How ‘bout a beer?” His voice was loud from having to holler over the sounds of the bar, but somehow soft and spoken just into Billy’s ear. It felt almost like a caress.

Billy grinned, at least this time wasn’t an out-right rejection. It could only be a matter of time before he wormed his way into Bambi’s heart, or at least his sinnfully tight jeans.

“Or, what about a Dirty Shirley?” Billy said, licking his bottom lip.

“How about a good ol’ Moscow Mule?” Steve hollered back, a light chuckle in his voice.

“I think I’d much rather a Quick Fuck.” Steve’s eyes glinted mischievously under the harsh lights of the bar.

“I know just the drink for you.” He then proceeded to mix together three different types of alcohol from the bottles lining the back wall. He poured it all into a little shot glass and placed it in front of Billy with a flourish.

“Well, pretty boy, what’s it called?” Billy asked, trying not to seem too eager, but fuck if this wasn’t the most fun he’d had in while.

Steve finally leaned over the bar towards Billy, and whispered in his ear. Soft rose petal lips tickled the blonde hairs curled under the lobe of his ear.

“It’s called Blue Balls,”  Steve pulled away, looking like the cat who got the cream, not realizing that his snark had only cemented Billy’s determination to win him over.

With one quick move, Billy downed the shot easily and stood up.

“You got me, Bambi, I guess I can handle a little blue balls tonight, but next time I’m really hoping for that Quick Fuck,” and with that promise of a return, Billy strode deeper into the club, thinking

You may have won this battle, Bambi, but I’m gonna win the war.

--

So this started as me being thirsty for headcanons, and then catharrington was a genius and brought up the amazing idea of punk!Billy in California, and well... Lost Boys of Starwood was born! I'm so excited to start sharing this story with y'all, so please let me know what you think :)

Also, if you're into punk music, totally check out the music in this fic! It's all LA based bands from the 1980s. Or message me for a playlist I made lol. Also let me know if you’d want me to make a taglist for this series!

[harringrovetrashhh]

Lost Boys of Starwood ch. 2

Fandom: Stranger Things Paring: Harringrove Chapter 2/10 Rating: T Co-written by myself and the amazing @catharrington Read it down below, or on ao3! ❤️❤️❤️ You can also find chapter 1 here, if you haven’t read it yet :)

Summary: West Hollywood California was a lighthouse on the beach for Steve Harrington moving down from nowhere Indiana. But for billy Hargrove it was a cage with golden bars kept locked by his father good and tight. They both found safety inside the darkness and splendor of Starwood, but will they be able to see the only way they can be truly found is through each other?

Since that first night, Billy had become a regular at Starwood. Steve would never admit that he looks forward to the nights where he spotted the curly blond hair amongst the crowd of sweaty bodies, but he couldn’t deny that his heart beat a little faster, and he couldn’t stop the tiny smile that appeared on his face. Not many people would notice the slight changes, but Robin, Starwood’s other bartender, immediately put it together, and started teasing Steve mercilessly.

Billy would start each night greeting Steve and flirting openly like “You on the menu tonight, Bambi?” Or “What’s ladies night special, cocktail?” Or “Let me kiss you, pretty boy?”

That was the fourth day he had come in, the fourth time Robin and Steve even knew of Billy's existence, and the first time Robin saw Steve’s eyes go that wide. He really did resemble Bambi, she admired.

That night Billy was leaning over on the bar, light denim jacket open to a clean white shirt, and bent over just so that his ass was in full display. Thankfully, Steve thought, he couldn’t see that ass from where he was standing behind the counter rubbing down a glass and trying not to blush.

“Come on, babe, I see the way you look when I’m out there having some fun,” Billy’s eyes were blue and narrowed as he licked that wicked tongue across his lips. “All pretty and jealous at that bachelorette party last night. They got really handsy when they got wasted.” And as if to jog Steve’s memory Billy let his jacket down one shoulder, revealing his cut off sleeve and the swell of his golden bicep.

Steve swallowed. He definitely remembered the bachelorette party. He had been swamped and stuck at the bar, but even the throng of people couldn’t mask the golden curls or deliciously tan skin Steve had caught glimpses of. Billy had removed his trademark jacket, leaving him in a tight a-line tank top. His skin shined with sweat, toned muscles on display for well manicured womanly hands to get their feel. It had been utterly unfair, and Steve had messed up at least one drink that night.

“Want me to act like a handsy middle aged woman?” Steve set the glass back into the tray across the bar before he flicked his eyes to Billy. He let his tongue dart out as he considered how fun that sounded. Getting his hands around those golden muscles, squeezing, the itch made Steve trail his fingers down the bar closer towards Billy’s own.

Billy kept rock solid, his grin dangerously wide. “Nah, not your style, Bambi. I think you seem the type to scratch in the sack.”

And god, that sent shivers up Steve’s spine. He stopped his fingers an inch from Billy’s forearm as it leaned against the wood of his bar. His bar, Steve tried to remind himself, as he pulled his hand back. Tried not to think about the way his nails scratched the old wood as they went.

“Want me to make you the best Sex on a Beach you’ve ever had?” He asked.

Billy was disappointed, but not enough to let up. “I don’t know, I’ve had a lot of sex on the beach. You really want to compete?”

Steve’s smile was bright and his voice was loud to match the music playing. “It’s not even a competition, stud.” Then he turned to mix up the drink and kept the second long flash of Billy delight at his comment filed away for later.

There was a little wolf whistle from next to Billy, an older man who winked knowingly, but most of the patrons were regulars who knew the cat and mouse game.

Billy tried to keep his smile and his heart under control as he watched Steve’s practiced ease of drink mixing. Just as he finished and turned around to slip the fruity monstrosity onto a napkin for Billy, there was a slight change in atmosphere at the bar. Another man slid up beside Billy, his shoulders hunched and pale face turned downwards. Billy felt his body prepare for a fight as a defensive measure to the strangeness, but there was something morose about him and not so much threatening, so Billy kept himself in check.

“Hey,” Steve greeted the man, leaning closer with two hands on the bar counter, looking attentive, “Barry, right? Haven’t seen you in a second. Wanna order?”

The man, Barry was his name Billy supposed, smiled something that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I’m not here to drink. I just want to talk.” Billy had his lips around his straw and was listening intently. “It’s about me… uh, I’m having some,” Barry tried to continue but the words were slow. He sounded like he was pushing them out. “Some tests done. Just wanted to let you know in case anyone was… scared.”

Steve seemed to instantly get what Barry was trying to say. He reached out a hand and cupped his fingers over Barry’s pale wrist. “Thank you for letting us know.” He squeezed. Barry just looked down at that hand like it was the only thing holding him to the earth.

Robin was hovering around Steve’s shoulder, her eyes wide and concerned, but her jaw set hard. She was mulling over what to say to Barry when she was interrupted by a short intake of breath.

“That takes some guts man, you must be really brave.” Billy’s voice for once wasn’t laced in humor. It was serious as he ducked his head into Barry’s space to talk above the music. “Remember to stay strong, listen to those damn doctors, and know you’ve got people here thinking about you. This shit isn’t easy.” Then his hand curled in a comforting way around Barry’s thin shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze, before dropping back down to his drink.

Steve couldn’t stop the way his heart swelled in his chest this time.

“Thanks a lot,” Barry choked out, “really you guys this means a lot. I’m… well, I’ve got someone waiting for me at home. I just wanted to let you know. Thanks again.” Then he turned and left as quietly as he came in.

Robin was dumbstruck looking over Steve’s shoulder. Billy just continued sipping his drink and eyefucking her friend. She looked to Steve to see what his reaction to the whole scene had been, but he was just about as dumbstruck as she had been. He just… stared at Billy.

She sighed and decided to cut him some slack this time. She looked around and then patted Steve on the shoulder.

“Hey Stevie,” she hollered over the music, “There's a group over there that would probably love a cocktail from The Strip’s Best Bartender. Go on.” She pushed him down the bar to the other end, where a group of skater chics were lounging on the bar. He stumbled, but managed to right himself and take the girls’ orders and quickly began whipping up some intense looking drinks.

Once he was settled, Robin turned back to where Billy sat. The eyefucking was gone, replaced again by a more somber expression. “What’s up Blondie? You gonna tell me to beat it?” He muttered around his straw.

“What the fuck? No, dingus. I was gonna say I really appreciated what you said back there. Barry’s always been a big part of the bar, but since he’s gotten sick, it’s been really hard on the guy. You’re pretty chill, Bill.”

His expression melted into his standard joking face, and just like that, Robin and Billy became partners in crime, mercilessly teasing Steve everytime Billy came to visit or gossiping about people together.

It was one of those times that the truth came out. Billy and Robin had been gabbing about girls, when Billy let slip, “yeah, the high school girls are all cows, I swear.”

Robin's eyes widened and her mouth formed a little o shape. “High school girls?” She repeated the words back to him with fluttering eyelashes.

The smile melted off Billy’s face just a little. He hadn’t meant to let that slip, but he wasn’t about to try and hide anything from such a welcoming group of people.

“Uh, yeah Blondie. High school girls. That’s what I said.”

“As in, girls you are in high school with?”

“Unfortunately.”

Robin blinked owlishly a few more times, then shrugged. “Okay, well. I’m not your mom, so I can’t really tell you what to do. I am going to say that you have to tell him .” She said, pointing over at Bambi. Billy swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry.

“Now?” He didn’t want to hide his age, but damn if he wasn’t scared of Bambi’s reaction.

“Yeah dingus. Now.”

Grabbing his drink in his fist, Billy gulped the rest of it down hard. This would be a great time for some liquid courage to kick in. He chanced a look down the bar to see Steve’s eyes flick downwards and a blush coloring his pretty cheeks. The alcohol was warm on it’s way down, and Billy used his empty glass as an excuse as he stood up and swaggered his way towards Bambi.

He set down his glass loud against the old wood bar, and smiled at him, hoping it came across as charming rather than scared shitless, which he was currently feeling.

“You like my drinks that much Billy?” Steve chuckled.

“Hell yeah, Pretty Boy. You know you’re the best bartender on the strip.”

Steve just rolled his eyes, he hears that a lot goes without saying, but there is still a slight turn up of his pretty lips. This time Steve puts aside Billy’s empty glass and trades it for a long beer pint. “Let’s take it a little easier, you’ve already had a couple. Don’t want you doing anything stupid tonight.” Steve’s fingers linger across the now cold glass as he places the beer on the wood.

The bartender's eyebrow quirked as he thought of something, then turned to a small cutting board just a reach away. With a soft cut and a softer push on the rim of the glass, Steve presented a little orange slice for Billy’s edge. His eyes were sparkling with so much pride and humor, it made the lights from the stage look cheap.

Billy really couldn’t get enough of looking into those eyes.

“I’m 17,” he blurted out. If he wasn’t going to say it now then it would never come out, Billy knew that. He wasn’t good with words, or knowing what the right thing to do was. But he was good with flirting, so he curled his mouth into a particularly wolfish grin.

Steve’s eyes were cartoon wide. “Come again?” His lips pursed.

“Don’t wanna keep anything from you, Bambi, now that we are getting all nuzzled up.” Billy dips his head to take a small drink of his beer. Never takes his eyes off Steve’s shocked face.

“Woah, okay, woah!” The cloth he was using to wipe down glasses snapped as Steve whipped it across his shoulder. He pointed an angry look at Billy, who was still sheepishly trying to hide behind the rim of his beer.

“17?”

“Yeah, babe.”

“You can’t be here!” That made Billy’s heart drop. After coming and worshiping at this bar so religiously, basically kneeling at Bambi’s pretty feet, that’s the sentence he gets.

Trying to push down the stabbing betrayal in his gut, Billy opens his mouth to reply, but he finds he can’t, as a hard hand clasped over his shoulder.

Looking up he sees the bouncer from the first day he stumbled into Starwood, a burly tattooed man named Tony, who Billy had grown to know just like Robin. The anger on his brow was all part of the job. In reality, Tony was a big soft man who would rather hug someone than punch them, and Billy had found himself at the receiving end of more than one of those hugs. It earned him the play from his nickname: Tony the Tiger, to something more Billy-flavored: Tony the Kitten, just a big ball of tattooed fluff.

“What’s going on here you two? Lover’s spat?” Tony teased. Billy and Steve both turned bright red at the insinuation, but while Billy remained silent and glared at his beer, Steve began to sputter cute noises until finally reaching, “He’s fucking 17, Tony! How was he let in here in the first place?”

Tony narrowed his eyes and stared at Steve, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

“Why do you care so much, Harrington? It’s not a big deal.” He asked, voice slow and deep.

“Yes! It is Tony! He shouldn’t be in a place like this.” Steve waved his hand around guestiring towards the stage and light covered bodies hot from dancing. “He should be doing homework… or studying like a good student!”

That caught Billy’s attention finally. “Excuse me, Bambi? I am a straight ‘A’ student for your information.”

Steve’s face was pulled tight, like he was sucking on sour candy. His look wasn't attractive, but it was cute, in a spoiled cat sort of way. “It doesn’t matter, Billy. You’re still too young to be in a bar like this!”

Robin sauntered over as Steve’s voice rose in octave. “Dingus!” She clapped Steve over the back of his head, sending fluffy brown hair bouncing into the air. “What’s the big deal? So he’s 17. Being here isn’t affecting his grades or anything. Let the kid stay.”

Tony nodded along, crossing his inked arms across his broad chest. “I agree. If you really want to kick the kid out, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. I ain’t doing it.”

Steve looked between Robin and Tony a couple times, cheeks a heavy dusting of rose red as he flustered about, before finally settling on Billy. He grabbed the towel off his shoulder and pointed with it balled tight in his hand.  

“Fine. Stay. I’m not serving you alcohol anymore though.”

“But Cocktail! Who else will make such great Blowjobs?” Billy grinned, finally gaining some of his confidence back since Steve wasn’t fighting on him staying anymore.

Steve blushed an even brighter red, and shook his head. He stormed away from Billy and the rest of the bar staff to the other side of the bar, then started wiping down the counter furiously.

“Don’t worry Billy-Boy. I’ll still serve you, no matter what tight ass says.” Robin said with a wink.

Billy wasn’t worried, per say. He was relieved he wasn’t thrown out on his ass, of course, but he wished he hadn’t said his age at all. If lying meant that his Bambi wouldn’t turn and run away from him, maybe Billy should have kept lying.

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[kingsandsaints]