An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington
Additional Tags: Locker Room Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Masturbation, Power Play, Love Confessions, Blow Jobs, Steve keeps saying it. That fucking line. 'Don't cream your pants'. And Billy hates it, bratty Steve, king steve
Summary:
It’s at least the fifth time he's made it, that fucking comment.
It makes Billy’s blood bubble up to his face, makes his jaw clench, takes the power imbalance off his hands in a fast swipe, and Billy—fuck.
Billy hates it.
Don’t cream your pants.
“I wouldn’t”
“What?”
“Cream them for you” comes out weaker than he intended. That’s what happens sometimes with lies. Billy saves himself with a smug smirk, but knows he isn’t a very good liar.
I have to be an adult today (whatever the hell that means) so this is short but I couldn’t help myself. Based on This Steve with This Billy post for the lovely @lovebillyhargrove 🌹 and @withoneheadlight 🌹
photographer!Steve and model!Billy - boyfriend shenanigans.
💋 💋 💋 💋 💋
Potentially Billy’s favorite thing about Steve - out of many characteristics - was how easily gob smacked he could be.
Billy knew what he looked like.
But still. Seeing Steve just kind of stare in wonder at him for a while never gets old.
He does it today, while Billy’s trying to pay attention to whatever his manager is saying. He can’t help but slide a smirk in Steve’s direction, though: the poor guy standing listlessly with one camera hanging around his neck, and another on a tall tripod next to him.
The manger notices and wraps up what he’s saying concisely. Billy understood his frustration. Billy and Steve working together had proven a 50/50 chance at making million dollar ad campaigns
Or
Just clumsy dates, really.
Billy had been Steve’s entrance into this business - a fact not lost on either of them since various managers and executives threatened reminded them of it whenever photoshoots fell through - but Billy’s second favorite thing about Steve was how he didn’t let that cause a rift between them. If anything, Steve asked for more jobs with Billy, even at the risk of being demoted to a photographer’s assistant or Billy’s personal assistant.
But it kept them together. It allowed Billy a reassurance on international flights that he’d have Steve available to climb into his first class seat whenever Billy’s fear of flying kicked in.
As much as the agencies loathed to admit it, Steve was like a walking insurance policy for one hot-headed Billy Hargrove. If a photographer said something wrong, treated the models rudely, or if he was merely having a bad day, Steve could step in, and Billy eye fucked his boyfriend for hours.
Other models requested Steve. Billy knew that was a big deal for his boyfriend and was proud of him. He could always find Steve on set, either by his brightly colored beanies, or the fluffy hair going without. That had helped Billy feel more at home in this business; he may have opened the door for Steve, but Steve furnished it with friends and loyal connections.
Today Steve yanked the head covering off, already hot under the lights. It was just Billy here, even though he raked a hand through his mane. Billy liked seeing the gleam on his hair. He also enjoyed Steve’s little self-esteem thing about needing his hair styled in the presence of models.
“Ready, pretty boy?”
Steve refocused and stepped behind the tripod. “Yeah. Whenever you are.”
Steve must’ve taken hundreds of photos just in the first half hour. He set it on a steady timer, and moved around the room, changing the lights to warm tones, and then less explosive on the brightness. Billy did his work, tilting himself appropriately to catch the fan’s breeze when Steve pointed it to blow his suit jacket open, or billow through his half-open, black dress shirt.
“Ten minute break,” Steve announced. He was good about breaks. Billy’s manager brought a chilled bottle of water and Steve went through the portfolio paperwork for the shoot. It wasn’t much of a break for him, as he moved the lights and furniture around, but Billy was ready for him.
He sat on the luxurious ottoman, already in his first stance when he peeked at the lack of camera noise. “Steve?”
His boyfriend stood with his shoulders a little contorted so he could examine something going on with the camera hanging from his neck. “Sorry. I...I need another minute.”
Billy relaxed as much as he could so the suit did not wrinkle or collapse in shape. Eventually, though, he noticed Steve crouching over one of his bags for his tools.
Oh boy.
Billy sauntered over, standing over him as he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Can you hold this?” Steve answered instead. He blindly held the camera up, and Billy accepted, along with the explanation, “The lens is uneven and one of the pieces is askew.”
Billy silently thanked him for not wielding fancy terms at him, but upon a closer look at the device, it certainly wasn’t correct. A thin, middle section between the lens and the camera tilted wonkily. He breathed with a small amount of awe, “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. I think it got bumped during the drive,” Steve sighed, holding a tiny screw driver as he stood up.
“Come here,” Billy nodded toward the set, and Steve came to sit on the floor while using the ottoman as a table. He removed his jacket and wiped his forehead, glancing at the lights before Billy pestered, “What’s the matter?”
“I have to expose the sensor. With the shudder, it’s fine, but with too much light, we might be stuck with the tripod.”
“Can’t we turn off some lights?”
“I need to be able to see. Maybe you could, um, just hold your hands over it? Or hold that umbrella for me?”
Billy detached the umbrella from one of the unused lights and sat on the ottoman, with the umbrella situated on his thighs. As the camera became more exposed, he added his hands for extra shade. Eventually Steve surprised him with, “Are you okay?”
“Hm? I’m fine. We do this all the time.”
“Wasting a lot of time, though,” he exhaled nervously.
“We’re going to Sydney on Friday. That’s locked in, so don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t think blowing one shoot is justified by the promise of another,” Steve managed to giggle. Then he tilted his face up and just...gazed at him. “You look really good.”
Billy smirked softly. “I know.”
Steve’s eyes rolled. “Forgot who I was working with here.”
Billy laughed and saw in his periphery people moving around, other cameras working. This job always had multiple cameras. Hair and makeup stylists capturing their work from afar. His and Steve’s managers locking in behind the scenes shots for Instagram. Another perk of their success: the fanfare material behind the cameras built as much revenue as the actual scheduled photoshoots.
As Steve unscrewed something, Billy saw and heard the clatter of it falling back into place. “That’s good, right?”
Steve sighed a relieved smile up at him. Billy felt ticklish warmth in his chest. “Yeah, that’s good. The screws are probably bent, but I can get new ones before Friday. It’ll work for now.”
Steve put the damn thing back together while Billy returned the umbrella, and resumed his posture on the ottoman. A couple of people manifested around him to touch up his raiment and make sure his shirt was open to cleavage perfection.
“Steve, come here.”
The stylists retreated as his photographer trotted up -
Billy yanked him down for a kiss. And just as quickly pushed him back up to standing. “Go to work, my time is precious.”
“Don’t be a dipshit,” Steve remarked, and pointed the camera right at Billy’s face to make the lights flash in revenge.
Come Friday, Billy showed him something on his phone: the Instagram account his manager operated. Much to both of their amusement and chagrin - because a long day taking pictures was more grueling than most people realized - was a picture behind the magazine editor’s shoulder while he worked at his computer.
The caption read: Impromptu cover. Sometimes candid is better.
The image was Steve on the floor and Billy on the ottoman, the two of them gazing at each other mid-conversation in the set’s warm lighting.
Steve chewed his fruit and yogurt slowly, processing in the airport vip lounge. His hair was in glorious disarray, and Billy’s not much better underneath his ball cap.
“That’s the cover?”
“Seems so.”
“Your manager’s going to steal my job with a phone camera - why am I on the cover?”
“The theme was Warm Encounters,” Billy reminded. “It’s not a secret that we’re together.”
“I’m not styled or anything - ”
“Your hair looks good.”
“I’m wearing the t-shirt I got in Hong Kong. It says BURBUSSY.”
Billy laughed and closed the app. He pushed his leg to rest alongside Steve’s. “Good thing you were turned around. We don’t know if Burberry has a sense of humor.”
So with @withoneheadlight did this and awakened the 16 year old me who listened to Natalia Kills, so I was just merrily listening to Perfectionist on my way to work, and Mirrors came on, which cause this lil biddy by @steviespanties to just rocket into my brain
So hear me out,
Steve and Billy,
And because of a long-standing HC that Steve is a heel fiend (incidentally @neonponders wrote a fic with it and it blew my mind) and a we all know that I live my life for bottom Billy
So Billy just comes home one day and has had a rough day and just needs Steve to take it away
“Shut your mouth and close the door
I wanna watch you while you take it off”
Which obvs Steve is completely okay with because he loves being that grounding for him
“My stiletto on your neck
Until I tie your hands above the bed”
Because there is also nothing quite like taking away all control, stress or expectation and just taking his boy apart
I was tagged by @memes-saved-me <3<3<3<, Thank you, love <3<3<3<
~
1. why did you choose your url?
It’s because, one day, just a few months after starting to write again, feeling like I was sweating blood every time I had to sit down and do this, Neil Gaiman made me feel the most understood I‘ve ever felt when it comes to writing:
“It's a weird thing, writing.
Sometimes you can look out across what you're writing, and it's like looking out over a landscape on a glorious, clear summer's day. You can see every leaf on every tree, and hear the birdsong, and you know where you'll be going on your walk.
And that's wonderful.
Sometimes it's like driving through fog. You can't really see where you're going. You have just enough of the road in front of you to know that you're probably still on the road, and if you drive slowly and keep your headlamps lowered you'll still get where you were going.
And that's hard while you're doing it, but satisfying at the end of a day like that, where you look down and you got 1500 words that didn't exist in that order down on paper, half of what you'd get on a good day, and you drove slowly, but you drove.
And sometimes you come out of the fog into clarity, and you can see just what you're doing and where you're going, and you couldn't see or know any of that five minutes before.
And that's magic.”
He summed it up in another interview like this:
“Writing a novel is like driving through the fog with one headlight out. You can’t see very far ahead of yourself, but every now and again the mists will clear.”
i printed it and got it on my wall, too. so i don't forget.
and guess what’s one of my all-time favorite songs? yeah, you got it :D
also, that's the amount of mental enlightenment I go through life with: half the standard equipment. So it fits me pretty well i guess.
2. any side-blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.
yeah i’ve got a few. most of them to stash things i like, in general or in other fandoms, but in harringrove i have @thequarryatnight as a fic/hc storage of sorts.
3. how long have you been on tumblr?
uh, technically a few years?. I've had a few different accounts that I always ended up forgetting about. But had never really used Tumblr until this past last year and a half.
4. do you have a queue tag?
I use the most simplistic 'queue' ... when I remember to put it on XD (which, I should, because I'm always so worried people think I'm in here ignoring them when in reality what I usually have is the longest queue)
5. why did you start your blog in the first place?
Uh, long and boring story? xD. I started posting harringrove in my main a few months after I started using the account again, along with posts/reblogs for other fandoms. But with Tumblr being the chaos it is (for me at least, and for the way my poor add brain works) it felt pretty overwhelmed, having so many different things in one place, and never being able to find anything so I decided to make this one side-blog only for posting my fics, but then people started following me here and suddenly there were a bunch of them and then suddenly it felt like it made more sense?, rebloging things in here where more people could see them? so I made @thequarryatnight and started reblogging my stuff in there, so I wouldn't get crazy, and started using this as a more fandomish blog.
6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?
I love pictures taken from the side? xD, they’ve got this feeling, of looking at someone without them noticing. there’s a longing in there that’s always fascinated me, and steve’s breathtaking in this one (same as billy in my main pic, imo). i like to think billy'd look at him and think ‘fuck’, fall in love for the hundredth time so, yep. I love that pic.
7. why did you choose your header?
Is a picture of Santa Carla at night, aka Santa Cruz, where Lost Boys was filmed. Is my second favorite fictional town (first is Astoria i might have a list) and the feeling of it is just *chef’s kiss*. Had to have it. But I’m thinking of revamping it for the summer? maybe? I’ve got a few ideas, it’s been hard to decide, but I wanna bring out the summery vibe this year.
8. what’s your post with the most notes?
it’s apparently my upside-down kiss one! I'm pretty happy with how it turned out (i used this page since I had 0 idea of how to check this)
9. how many mutuals do you have?
i honestly don't know, but they all are amazing mutuals <3
10. how many followers do you have?
one of the best things about tumblr: doesn't show the follower count <3 (imo)
11. how many people do you follow?
about 1000? xD
12. have you ever made a shitpost?
if saying the first stupid thing that comes to my head in here is considered a shit post, then,t o o m a n y.
13. how often do you use tumblr each day?
I've been trying to reduce the number of times I come checking but still, way too many :D
14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?
nope. never. sometimes i want to leave my opinion in some posts, but i still feel pretty insecure about the language, so i'm perpetually afraid of being misunderstood.
15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts
the ones with something good/bad is gonna happen if you don't reblog? i usually scream internally while i fast-scroll past them while both feeling like bwahhahaha and scared shitless.
16. do you like tag games?
oh i LOVE tag games too much.
17. do you like ask games?
very very much. even if sometimes i repent bc it's hard for me to find the time to answer them xD.
18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?
dunno but @chichipafarolillos is my personal superstar <3
To @withoneheadlight, and a huuuge thank you for the inspiration!!!❤️💕
I deviated a bit from the “original script,” I hope that’s ok 😌
I just couldn’t stop thinking about your post??? I dropped everything to write it, and it might be a bit rushed because of it, but it was so much fun!!
So please, do enjoy~
-
The sun is too bright, the cars outside his window too loud, the fucking seagulls cawing and screeching.
Billy hadn’t come home yesterday again, and at this point who even knows how many times he’s spent the night in someone else's bed.
Not that it’s really any of Steve’s business, of course, they just live together, barely even friends but on tolerable terms, at least. Tolerable meaning they’ve made peace; Billy apologised during Steve’s last year of high school, and when he started working at Scoops Ahoy after graduating, Billy always saw it fit to come by-
“Picking up my shitty sister,” as he put it.
And when Steve started working at Family Videos-
“Waiting for Max to finish up at the arcade,” he’d claim as he browsed, “You, uhh, recommend anything?”
Not that it isn’t still hostile between them, but maybe that’s just how Billy is, and maybe that’s just how Steve likes him. Mean and rude and inconsiderable at times. Yet Steve’s favourite cereal is always stocked up, laundry washed, dishes done, and he feels guilty.
Guilty that he doesn’t do more at their shared apartment. Guilty that he never really thanks Billy for what he does. Guilty that he has an undeniable crush on his ex-nemesis now roommate.
With a heavy sigh, Steve drags himself out of bed, head throbbing from having drowned in sorrows in a bottle of straight jack. Slips on a pair of socks so as to not touch the chilly floor, and a shirt, large and black with Metallica printed on front; a shirt that isn’t his, that he “stole” from the dryer a few days ago. He gives the collar a sniff and it doesn’t smell of Billy - it smells of the laundry detergent they use, but knowing that Billy has worn it before is enough to warm his aching heart just a slight bit.
Stupid stupid stupid, he repeats in his mind as he inches toward the door of his bedroom.
Save for the floorboards creaking underneath his sluggish weight, it’s quiet. No tv running, no music from Billy’s bedroom, no grunting as he lifts weights on the bench that takes up far too much of the living room.
He’s not here. Billy’s not here.
Steve continues reminding himself how idiotic it was of him to even come out here. California is far away from his parents' reach, a place where he can maybe find out who he is, and Billy always talked about coming back here, so them moving in together was “convenient.”
However, so far all Steve has found out about himself is that he doesn’t know how to cook, gets sunburnt so easily that it’s laughable, and that he’s all too invested in Billy’s personal life.
When he opens the cupboard and finds Kellogg’s Apple Jacks™ on the shelf, a new and unopened pack, he groans in defeat as his heart does its usual dance and song, because of course Billy had ensured there was food for Steve. He always fucking does.
He pours them into his favourite bowl, a white one with fancy flowers painted in blue, stolen from his old home to just have something from his parents with him, and next goes milk. He yawns wide before shoveling in the first mouthful, the one that’s always perfectly crunchy and having just started tasting of cinnamon before it all becomes a soggy mess.
About halfway through the bowl, the floorboards behind him creaks and he nearly drops the bowl as he jumps, spilling a bit of milk on the floor.
Steve spins around to find Billy there, dressed in only his sweatpants, eyes cast down at where he was apparently staring at Steve’s ass, who’s quick to realise that he hadn’t bothered with underwear because he was oh so convinced he’d be alone for at least two more hours.
“O-oh, Billy, I-I didn’t hear you come in last night,” he stutters under the intense stare, placing the bowl on the counter and hopes it isn’t too noticeable when he gathers his legs.
Billy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything, simply looks down Steve’s naked legs, eyes burning and hungry. When he finally meets Steve’s gaze, he wets his lips before rasping out,
“I came home like an hour ago, was about to take a shower but wanted coffee first, and…” he trails off, and so does his eyes again.
Steve is… unnecessarily excited under those heady, ocean blues as they take in all that he is. Feels himself swell at the attention, but paralysed by shock of having been caught by Billy in Billy’s shirt and practically nothing else.
And Billy steps through the door frame into the kitchen. Keeps walking slowly, cautiously maybe, he makes his way to where Steve leans against the counter, fingers curled around the edge with anticipation and a bit of fear.
Normally he’d have guessed that Billy would call him names, mock him with a poisoned grin, but with such heavy lids and mouth slightly open, that doesn’t seem like the most likely outcome to this, and it only thrills Steve all the more.
Billy comes to a standstill in front of Steve, feet almost touching, and he leans closer, places his left hand next to Steve’s, thumb touching skin there. And he bites into his plump lower lip, eyes dancing across Steve’s features just to land on his mouth, mind clearly working away at something.
Up this close Steve catches a whiff of cigarettes and the usual cologne, maybe a bit of sweat from whatever he’s been doing all night. Or whoever. He can feel Billy’s calm and collected breathing ghost across his lips, and his heart stops beating in anticipation, lips quiver, dick hopeful.
“Is that my shirt?” Billy mumbles out and tugs at the hem that stops mid-cheek on Steve’s slighter frame.
He might be taller by a few inches, but he still swims in the shirt stretched out by Billy’s broad shoulders and chiseled pecs.
“Y-yeah…”
At that, Billy’s fingers let go of the shirt, then spread out against Steve’s skin. He takes an all too loud breath at the electric jolt Billy’s warm palm urges out, shooting straight to between his thighs where his cock gives a curious little kick.
The hand wanders, across his thigh to his front, moving at a pace so slow it can only be deliberate, Billy teasing him, or maybe waiting for him to say stop.
But he doesn’t, so he doesn’t.
Smooths the tips of his fingers higher up, through the coarse pubic hair, till he reaches the base of Steve’s shaft, the palm of his hand grazing against the lazy head, effectively making him grow harder, and gasp out a breathy, “Fuck.”
Billy moves closer again, knee pushing Steve’s legs apart, noses nuzzling together, lips like feathers, daring Steve to kiss him.
He moans instead, as the hand tickling his skin closes in an expert fist, possibly giving away just how many times Billy must have done the same notion to himself. A thought that delights Steve to impossible extends, knowing that the hand Billy jerks off with is now stroking him under the shirt.
“Fuck, Billy,” Steve whimpers and brings a hand to steady himself on Billy’s firm shoulder.
And he can’t wait any more; presses their lips together and is immediately met with the same fervor he offers up - soft lips in a hard embrace, touching each other as if they’ve always wanted this, as if all the strife in their past was just tension and unresolved shit that culminated to punches and bleeding noses.
The motion of Billy’s fist is relentless, and Steve has to break away to breathe. “A-ah, shit, Billy!”
He bites his way down Steve’s neck, painful and delicious, stroking his now fully erect cock like he’s eager to have him cum, wanting to watch Steve unravel and cry out his name.
And just as Steve is seconds away from ruining the shirt, Billy pulls off, leaving behind an ache that makes Steve cry out from the edge of release.
“Fuck! Billy you asshole, why-” he doesn’t get to finish that thought before he’s spun around, a hand on his upper back pushing him against the counter, head throbbing worse than his filled dick. “Billy- Billy!”
“Want me to stop?” Billy snaps a bit too loud, a bit too sudden, but the answer is inevitably,
“No,” and Steve is set on that.
He’s wanted this for far too long; suspects that he’s been craving Billy since before he graduated, but didn’t dare think about it too long. Spent some extra time restocking the porn section of Family Videos in the backroom behind the curtain, borrowed a few gay ones in secret. He was more than curious, he was interested.
Now he’s here, cheek pressed against the cold surface of their kitchen counter, eyes closed to the world as he focuses on how Billy’s holding him down with one hand, the other squeezing his ass, spreading him, exposing him, and-
It is slick and wet and weird when Billy licks his fat tongue flat across his hole. Not bad weird as far as he can tell from the way his entire body squirms with pleasure, his prick leaking, and he gasps when Billy does it again.
And again. He grabs on with both hands as he sloppily eats out Steve’s ass, sucking with wet lips, tongue sliding over the rim time and time again, the tip prodding at his entrance, making him moan out, whimpering for more without as many words.
Billy seems almost happy to oblige, shoving his tongue in, and Steve knows what that looks like, but to feel it? His body is on fire, burning hot and white, feeling better than he ever thought it actually would; he knows the men on those tapes are just actors, always just believed they were exaggerating, but no.
Steve has never been this aroused in his fucking life, 21 years old and hornier than he ever was as a teenager surrounded by hot girls. None of them he ever slept with made him feel this… incredible, and he has none other than Billy fucking Hargrove to thank for it. With every lick and suck and penetration he’s nearing the edge again, faster than he ever thought he could, to be honest, but it’s just not enough to get him there.
“Billy- Billy please, I’m so close, please touch me,” he begs with a voice all indecent, drooling a bit on the counter as he stays flat and powerless, simply unable to do anything.
Then he’s left alone, ready to complain and tell Billy, “Fuck you,” but when he glances over his shoulder, he sees Billy whip out his fat cock, and Steve sucks in a quick breath, eyes wide and amazed. He’s seen it before, in the showers at school, accidentally in the shower of their apartment, but never like this… so girthy and veiny, red and shiny with pre.
Billy grabs Steve by the hips, and for a moment he thinks that Billy’s just going to fuck him, right here right now, unprepped, dry, it’s probably going to hurt, but Steve’s so curious to finally find out what that feels like- what Bill’s dick feels like, what it’s like to have sex with Billy.
Yet he’s still relieved when he instead feels it between his cheeks, rubbing through the spit and across his rim. He gasps and moans all the same though, lets Billy control the pace as he with a bruising grip on Steve’s hips pulls him into his thrusts, skin slapping together in an obscene fashion that makes Steve’s cock drip and throb, keeping him on that sharp edge of orgasm.
“Shit, Billy, ah-h,” Steve whines out a plea.
When a hand closes around his aching cock again, he moans unadulterated, the pleasure of Billy’s every touch pushing the hangover into the background. The rhythm is erratic in a sense, quick then slow, all the way up or shallow, but in tact with how Billy’s hips meets Steve’s cheeks, keeping him from cumming as if he’s wanting to time it, have them both cumming together at once.
But Billy cums first; he’s quick to pull up the tee and paints Steve’s back with hot and warm semen, grunting a few times as he stops pounding against Steve’s ass. He then bends over to get a better grip on Steve’s cock as he jerks him to completion with a few practiced flicks of his wrist, Steve being loud in comparison and definitely less controlled, eyes rolling back to watch the fireworks as he spills over the cupboard beneath them.
In that moment he’s beyond thankful that Billy’s there behind him, supporting him and keeping him caught against the countertop, or he might just fall to the floor as his legs give out. As he lays there, for a moment in complete bliss with no headache, eyes closed, panting, he feels Billy wipe his back clean with a napkin.
“Can you stand?” he sounds all too amused, hands down on Steve’s hips, rubbing where his fingers might just have left a few bruises.
“I’m… I’m, ahh, yeah,” Steve exhales and pushes himself up and standing.
He turns around to watch Billy tuck himself away again, chest heaving a bit, a rather relaxed expression on his face, and when their eyes meet he smiles. Not a grin, nor a smirk, but an actual smile, and it makes Steve’s heart throb and bleed and hope.
“You can keep the shirt, I guess,” Billy shrugs all nonchalantly, as if they hadn’t just been doing whatever they were doing. “I’m gonna take a shower now, wanna join me?”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington
Series: Part 5 of Drabble & headcanon collection
Summary:
"So what? You think you can do it better?" Billy lowers his arms, the kids doing the same a second later, like a slightly lagged mirror.
