“You’re a witch hunter,” Steve says, cold trickling down his spine, and Billy gives him a slow blink.
“Well, yeah,” he says, as though this means nothing to him at all. Steve sighs.
“So I’m a witch?” he points out, hauling himself up onto an elbow so he can look at Billy.
But it only makes it worse. Because when he looks at Billy he’s reminded by everything that he’d be giving up. Everything that he’s spent his life searching for.
“I don’t really give a fuck, Harrington,” Billy says flatly, stretching his long arms above his head. Steve watches the muscles flex, how the motion makes his red t-shirt shift just enough to reveal a strip of creamy tanned skin. “It’s not like my family are really active hunters anymore.”
“Your dad will be pissed,” Steve says quietly, because he knows enough about Neil Hargrove to know that while no, the Hargroves don’t hunt anymore, that Billy’s dad definitely won’t let him stay with a witch. And a male one at that.
Billy scoffs loudly.
“I really don’t give a fuck,” he says again, bitterness creeping into his voice. “And neither should you.”
Steve flops back down onto the tartan blanket and stares up into the glittering night sky. His backyard has always been perfect for this sort of thing - the clear open sky above Loch Nora, the soft glow of the pool, the complete absence of his parents. Steve had had very different intentions in mind when he invited Billy over for dinner and some stargazing. It had been a perfect third date, right up until Steve had caught sight of the witch hunter's mark on Billy’s wrist.
“I don’t care,” he lies. Because even though Billy rents a shitty studio apartment above the bowling alley, he’s still not free of Neil Hargrove. The distance isn’t going to be enough to save Billy, and Steve doesn’t need any runes or cards to tell him that. He can see it in the fingerprints around Billy’s wrist, in the long white scar on the soft skin of Billy’s thigh, the set of Billy’s jaw.
It terrifies Steve that Billy is choosing him over his own safety. “It’s not like the dating app has a ‘no witches’ option,” Billy says flatly. “And I wouldn’t fucking tick it anyway because I don’t give a shit.”
“You knew though,” Steve protests, because hiding a witch mark is far easier and something Billy must have deliberately covered on their past few dates. Billy had never taken his denim jacket off on their first date. And he’d worn long sleeves on their second date, and the few times he’s stopped in Family video to visit Steve. “You knew straight away in the coffee shop, you could smell me…”
“So what if I did?” Billy bursts out, hauling himself upright. His eyes flash in the moonlight, the unearthly indigo shade of a witch hunter, and he’s never looked more beautiful. Steve sits up too, wondering if Billy can see the glow of gold in his own eyes, the color of magic. A`dead giveaway of Steve’s lineage. Witches and witch hunters have been enemies since before Salem. And while most are no longer active, it’s still unheard of for the two to mix. “I didn’t care, Steve! You could have transformed into a bat in that coffee shop and I wouldn’t have given a shit, alright? I didn’t ask to be able to smell magic, I didn’t ask for my stupid ancestors to go out burning witches and I wasn’t about to stop our first date for something so idiotic and outdated.”
“Not about to tie stones to my feet and chuck me in my own pool then?” Steve asks, curling his fingers around Billy’s bare left wrist, just over the jagged witch mark seared into Billy’s skin. He can so easily spend the rest of his days with his skin pressed into Billy’s.
Billy gives him a flash of teeth and Steve’s stomach swoops at the sight of it. This night might go the way he had planned after all.
“Not unless you really annoy me,” Billy murmurs, eyes heavy and dark, and presses his mouth to Steve’s. It’s not their first kiss, but it’s certainly their most honest one.
When the kiss grows more heated and they fall back down to the ground, Steve takes the opportunity to use a little magic. Not something he does on the day to day, not in a tiny town like Hawkins, but he thinks maybe he can show Billy that there are benefits to dating a witch. It takes Billy a good few minutes to realize that the night sky has changed to Steve’s bedroom ceiling.
“Handy,” Billy comments, looking impressed at the sudden teleportation. His hands slide further down inside Steve’s jeans and his fingers curl around the curve of Steve’s ass. Steve sucks on Billy’s full bottom lip to stifle his moan.
“Got any good spells for getting naked?” Billy asks lasciviously.
