okay okay centerfold au (like....the song by the j geils band) where billy mas moved out and away from hawkins (he hasnt quite made it to california yet, hes not ready) and hes starting to let himself be gay and think gay thoughts and ya know indulge himself every so often
which obviously means he picks up a magazine from the back corner of the corner store he frequents
he does for something a little tamer, maybe throws in a few playboys just because hes nervous (which doesnt even matter because the cashier doesnt even spare the covers a glance once scanned)
gets home and eagerly flips through it, feeling excited that he can have gay porn out in the open in his living room without fearing for his life
hes mostly just idly looking through it, folding down a few corners of pages he'll revisit when hes in the mood, just kinda reveling in the freedom of it
until
he flips to the centerfold, the showcase, the main event and it's–
"steve?"
billy fucking drops the entire magazine, it lays open, teasing billy with those big brown eyes and tantalizing moles
its a good shot honestly, pretty tasteful, definitely not modest, but billy can appreciate the artful quality
of course not in this moment, in this moment billy is panicking?
who the hell told steve harrington he was allowed to do that?
billy finds himself staring at the photo; steve as the centerpiece, draped across several laps, being groped by way too many hands for billy's liking, steve's got a half hard cock in one hand, the other possessively wrapped around the thigh of a man standing next to him, everyone's sweaty and there's splatters of something all over everyone, and there's hard and soft dicks and muscular legs and soft bellies and flexing muscles but only one face
steve stares at the camera–at billy–with an enticing stare that seems to ask "what are you waiting for?" and the barest hint of a tongue pokes out–
billy cant look away but wants to tear his gaze away to anything else, he wants to memorize the page, he wants to burn it, he wants to frame it, he wishes it never existed, he wants to be in that room
billy thought he was over this silly crush on straight boy steve but heres he is, gripping another man's cock, letting another man's cock rest on his leg, letting other men hold him and touch him
it might be fine if billy hadn't seen steve in years, hadn't seen steve since he left that fucking hellhole behind but no, no!
steve harrington, the man who happened to be the centerfold of the one single gay magazine billy happened to pick up, was his upstairs neighbor
///
billy stares at the ground as he stops to get his mail, hoping, praying, that he'll be lucky and not run into anyone on his way home
prayers not answered
"hey billy, i haven't seen you in a while, you doin' okay?" steve asks cheerfully as he wiggles his own mailbox open.
"yup, doing just fine, thanks for asking" billy slams his box shut and hurries to the elevator without running and jabs the close door button a hundred million times
"woah hang on, hold the door!" steve calls after him, juggling his mail and his groceries that billy somehow didn't notice
steve makes it
fuck
steve's blabbering on about.... something, billy can't hear a word he's saying, he focusing on thinking about anything other than–
sweaty
magazine
dick
nude
moles
dick
dick
dick
billy is begging for any thought, anything, to cross his mind, anything but that stupid centerfold
"hey are you sure you're okay?" steve asks in a far too nice voice
"i told you i'm fine, please just leave me alone?" billy grits out
"i thought we were past all that" steve says in a sad voice
billy sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose
"we are, i'm just having an off day, got this killer headache ya know?" he lies through his teeth
"oh okay, gotcha, i'll be quiet" steve mimes zipping up his mouth
why is that worse why is that hot?
it's billy's floor and he can't get into his apartment fast enough
pulls out his dick and jerks it a few times before cumming right there in his kitchen floor
///
things don't get better
at all
billy avoids steve like the plague, which it wasn't like hung out on the regular, but theyd chit chat in the elevator or say hi when passing each other
so it was just awkward when billy would see steve in the hallway and immediately turn the other way
so it's not that surprising to wake up on a saturday morning to angry pounding on his door
"i'm coming, i'm coming, hold your fucking horses" billy grumbles as he pulls on a shirt and walks to the door
yanks it open to find a grumpy steve with his hands on his hips
"what gives hargrove? you said we were fine yet avoid me any time we so much as make eye contact? did i do something?"
billy has not had enough sleep to handle this conversation
"no you didn't do anything, it's kinda hard to explain just–" billy opens up his door to invite steve in
steve shoulders past billy and plops onto the couch
"coffee?" billy asks as he rubs his eyes
"im good" steve bites out
great
billy rolls his eyes and gets busy making himself a pot, trying to figure out how to say this, what to even say that would make this remotely okay
"oh my god" steve gasps
"what?" billy groans
he turns around and sees steve holding the magazine, clutching it really, something close to horror drawn all over his face
billy left it out on the coffee table as some sort of sick twisted 'fuck you' to neil
"shit shit SHIT i can explain–"
"no no i get it, um... i think i'm going to go, just... yeah i'm sorry i'll just–"
and with that steve was gone
///
this is worse, so so so very much worse
they either need to talk about it or billy needs to fucking find a new apartment
billy comes home after a long day at work to find steve knocking at his door
"hey–"
"jesus christ you scared me!" steve jumps into the wall
"sorry i kinda... snuck up on you, what are you doing at my door?" billy adjusts his backpack
"i, um... i wanted to explain? or talk? i get why you were avoiding me, i honestly forgot that came out this month" steve is twelve shades of the prettiest blush billy has ever seen
"hang on, let's go inside, i don't really wanna talk about this in the hallway"
steve's shoulders relax and he pressed himself into the wall to let billy open his door
steve sits awkwardly on the couch as billy hang up his bag and jacket and starts taking off his boots
"i... don't really know where to start" steve chews on his bottom lip and fidgits with his fingers
"i'm gay" billy blurts out
"what?" steve laughs
"i mean, i have a gay porn magazine, you're all nervous, i figured i'd break the ice?" billy shrugs
steve laughs and looks ten times lighter
"those pictures are older, i did them to help pay some bills while i was inbetween jobs, it was for a smaller thing, a blog or something, i dunno, it payed good so i said yes, i was desperate"
steve tuns his hands through his hair and breathes
"the guy who took the pictures asked if i'd be okay with him selling them to a bigger magazine, he said i'd get half the profits so i said yes"
steve shrugs and looks out the window
"so you just... did it for the money?" billy asks
"yes and no, i'm gay–well not gay, i'm bi but i'm... into dudes and all that, but mostly just to pay the bills"
steve finally meets billy's gaze with an almost scared look but more of a 'what are you gunna do about it' look
a lot like the one in the magazine
"that's cool, pretty brave too" billy says casually and leans back into his chair
"yeah... i'm kinda scared my job is going to find out that my dick is all over a magazine" steve laughs nervously
"you'll be fine, if it helps, you'd make a killing as a porno model"
billy grins wickedly in steve's direction
steve tries to smile back but it turns into a grimace
"i don't think it's weird, by the way... and while i don't think my crush on you from high school has quite gone away, i'm not going to like, make a move ot try to do anything" billy nudges steve's toe with his own
"okay" steve smiles for real this time
"okay" billy smiles back
"you really had a crush on me in high school?" steve smirks
"oh god, yeah, it was so bad, i didn't know what to do so i was just... an ass!" billy laughs
steve laughs along too and it's just comfortable, more comfortable than they've been ever
"do you wanna go get dinner?" steve smiles lopsidedly
"what!"
"like a date, do you want to go on a date with me?"
"it won't be weird?" billy asks earnestly
"not unless you make it weird"
billy grins and stands
"then let's go on a date!" he hold out his hand an hauls steve up
///
they're walking in comfortable silence, bumping into each other's shoulders, trying to make the other drop their left over box
they get to billy's door and kean against it, very much in each other's space
"you wanna know a secret?" steve asks with a mischievous glint in his eye
"sure"
"i had a crush on you in high school too" steve smiles and rests his forehead against billy's
"oh yeah!" billy leans into steve's touch, their noses bumping
"hell yeah" steve closes the distance and presses a soft kiss into billy's lips
This is annoying for several reasons, the main one being that giving little gifts to his boyfriend is one of Steve’s greatest joys in life. Or rather it would be, if said boyfriend would only shut up and take them. But oh no.
“What’s this shit, Harrington?”
Strange how Steve is always ‘Harrington’ when Billy is pissed.
Taking a deep breath, Steve prepares himself for the upcoming battle.
“It’s a shirt,” he says, simply, as if it’s obvious. Which it is.
“I can see that,” Billy says with disdain and holds the offending item out in front of him. “Why did I find it on my car seat?”
Here we go, Steve thinks. “Because I bought it for you,” he says, keeping his voice light. Before Billy can speak he adds, to make his intentions perfectly clear; “It’s a gift.”
Billy’s face twists into a grimace and the red fabric crinkles as he grips it in his fist. “I don’t need your charity, Harrington.”
“It’s not –“
“I can buy my own shirts.”
“I know, but –“
Billy pushes the shirt into Steve’s chest. “And anyway, I don’t want it.”
That is a blatant lie, and they both know it. Steve was with Billy at the mall and saw the way he looked at that shirt. Watched as he ran his fingers over the fabric, took the hanger off the rack, and then finally put it back, wincing, once he’d glanced at the price tag. Steve knows with one hundred percent certainty that this particular shirt is right up Billy’s alley and he knows that his boyfriend would love it, and wear it, and would have bought it himself if it had been cheaper.
But of course now, since Steve was the one who bought it, suddenly Billy doesn’t want it anymore. Because god forbid he accepts a goddamn gift from his boyfriend. Who can very well afford it by the way, thank you very much.
But while Steve thinks all of this, he doesn’t say any of it out loud. Because he knows that he’s not going to win this one. “Fine,” he says instead with a sigh, giving in. “I’ll return it.”
(He won’t. He’ll keep it, and then after long enough time has passed he’ll try to sneak it in among Billy’s belongings like it was always there, and hope it goes unnoticed. He’s succeeded before, twice, and that accomplishment may or may not have gone to his head. The back of his closet is now full of things meant for Billy.)
Anyway, this whole refusing-gifts thing. It’s annoying, is what it is, and it’s getting to be a problem. Spoiling the people closest to him has always been Steve’s way of showing that they’re important to him. And Billy is important – perhaps the most important.
Robin says that it’s a pride thing, and that Billy wants to prove that he’s independent – which is crazy, because he doesn’t have anything to prove to Steve. The guy moved out the same day he graduated, for fuck’s sake, into the shittiest little apartment Hawkins had to offer that he had somehow arranged to rent beforehand without telling anyone, and he’s currently working two jobs to be able to provide for himself and to save up for the future. He cleans his apartment when it’s needed, unashamedly goes to the laundromat once a week, and pays his own bills. No one with working eyes or ears can ever say that Billy Hargrove is not independent.
(Meanwhile, Steve is still living at home – but he’ll argue that his parents are so rarely there, so it’s almost like he’s living on his own – and is lucky enough that he doesn’t have to pay his own way. Which is just as well, really, because Family Video doesn’t actually pay that much. But that’s neither here nor there.)
Independence is, objectively, a good trait, but of course Billy doesn’t do anything in moderation. His stance on gifts has forced Steve to get … creative.
Once, when Steve had found the perfect present – a silver dagger earring with a tiny blue stone the exact color of Billy’s eyes – he didn’t even try to give it to him. He simply poked it through the hole in his pocket so that it fell to the asphalt when he walked ahead of Billy across the parking lot outside the dinner, and let Billy “find” it. Pretended to be disgusted as Billy excitedly picked it up from the ground and everything, even though on the inside, he was preening at Billy’s delight over his “find”.
See? Steve can be sneaky, when he wants to or when the situation demands it. And when it comes to showering his boyfriend with gifts, the situation definitely demands it.
Luckily, there is one thing that Billy will grudgingly accept even if he hasn’t bought it himself – one thing in the world that Steve can give him, that Billy won’t reject outright or start a fight about – and that thing is chocolate.
Expensive, luxury chocolate, to be specific. The kind that comes in golden paper boxes, or wrapped in cellophane, or packed in high-end tin containers with etched pictures of cities on the lid.
Billy won’t say no to a cheap chocolate bar bought at the gas station either, but that isn’t quite enough for Steve, who by now has a burning need to spoil Billy somehow. So, luxury chocolate it is.
It was an accident, when Steve first discovered this exception. Billy was spending the night – like he so often does when Steve’s parents aren’t home, because while he has his own place now, Steve’s bed is both more comfortable and big enough for the two of them – and they’d been bickering about what to make for dinner. Billy was cooking, because of course he was, and he’d been rifling through the cupboards looking for the fancy pasta when he’d emerged with a crinkled plastic bag that he’d apparently unearthed from the very back.
“What’s this?” he’d asked, frowning at the little brown lumps inside the bag.
Steve had taken one look at it and made a face. “Oh, chocolate biscotti. Mom bought them from Italy last year. Give me that, I’ll throw it out.”
Billy had looked positively offended at that, and cradled the bag to his chest. “Throw them out? Why?”
“Uh, because she bought them last year?”
That hadn’t seemed to deter Billy though, as he’d snuck one out of the bag and bit into it. Steve grimaced at the dry crunch of it, and took the opportunity to yank the bag out of his boyfriend’s hand while Billy was busy chewing and looking thoughtful.
“Disgusting,” Steve said as he threw the bag of stale old cookies into the trash can. “You’re gonna get sick.”
Billy had just grinned at him and thrown the last piece of biscotti into his mouth, eating that one too. Had even licked his lips, after, and eyed the trash can like he maybe wanted to try raiding it for more of the stale cookies. Steve was a good boyfriend though and hadn’t let him – had, in fact, distracted him quite competently – but he’d already seen the way Billy’s eyes lit up at the taste, and the next time he spoke with his mother, he asked if she would bring another bag home with her.
(She had been in France at the time, but she’d been happy to call the hotel she’d stayed at in Venice the last time she was there and arrange for a couple of bags of biscotti from the ‘cute little bakery down the street’ to be delivered halfway across the world, as well as bring back a veritable smorgasbord of baked treats from Paris.)
It was a game of trial and error for some time, while Steve tested his theory. Baked goods worked, although Billy seemed to favor cookies over buns and flaky things like croissants. Sweet flavors went over better than savory in general, which were hit and miss. But the real winner was the chocolate. All kinds, all flavors.
The first time Steve had brought out a box of chocolates (Swiss chocolate, purchased in France), he’d put it on the table during a Party movie night, for everyone to enjoy. (Billy rarely refused food when it was obviously meant to be shared, although he never ate anything until someone else had done so first.) It worked like a charm – under the cover of the dark and in the low light from the TV, Steve saw Billy reach for no less than five pieces of chocolate.
Unbeknownst to everyone, Steve had gotten two identical boxes of chocolate. Over the next couple of days, he sneakily filled up the first box with pieces from the second box, and made sure to leave it out on the table whenever Billy was over. And as it had been established to be a communal box of chocolates, Billy didn’t have any qualms about eating from it, which meant that Steve was repeatedly treated to the sight of Billy closing his eyes and smiling around a piece of chocolate, visibly enjoying each bite. It was a win-win; Billy got his sweets, and Steve got to provide for his impossible boyfriend.
Since then, Steve has made a point to ask his mother to bring home chocolate from all the places she visits, as well as ordered from several specialty shops outside Indiana. His mother is happy to provide, as she has always enjoyed shopping for the finer things in life. She no doubt thinks that Steve is using it to woo some girl.
Well, she is half right.
Steve thanks her every time she brings something home, and then he puts it away until his parents leave again, at which point he will come up with increasingly convoluted ways of making sure Billy gets to enjoy it.
“Oh, that? Yeah, mom brought it back from New York. I don’t really care for it, to be honest. It’s too sweet for me” and “My aunt gave this to me – her boss gave it to her for her birthday but like, she’s diabetic so she can’t eat it. You want it?” and “I don’t know why mom insists on buying sweets, she should know by now that I’m not big on them … But I don’t want to hurt her feelings, you know? So I just smile and accept them” and “I think I’m allergic. It’d be a shame to throw it out, though. You’d honestly be doing me a favor if you just took it with you.”
Billy, who is ordinarily too smart to fall for schemes like this, miraculously hasn’t caught on yet. (Or maybe he has, but plays along because deep down, he wants what Steve gives him. Steve prefers that theory.)
Of course, Steve has to continue his attempts of gifting his boyfriend with non-chocolate items as well, even though it’s mostly for show, because a) he doesn’t want Billy to catch on his strategy and also b) one of these days, he’ll get Billy to say yes.
He’ll wear him down soon, Steve is sure.
Until then, he’ll just feed Billy fancy treats and fill up the back of his wardrobe – maybe Billy will get a pretty red shirt for Christmas. It’d be rude, even for Billy, to refuse gifts on Christmas.
can we talk about how the only time there's been someone to actively show they care about steve and sound protective towards him he's unconscious and doesn't hear any of it
Steve and his mom have had a fairly rocky relationship.
When he was really little, they were close. She was a stay at home parent, and she genuinely loved playing with her toddler every day. Teaching him the alphabet, playing with dolls and trucks on the living room carpet, putting him in his high chair so he could watch her cook.
Things got tense when he started middle school. Steve was going through a severe awkward phase, and he didn’t really like anyone looking at him for too long. Including his mother. He started pushing her away, and she let herself be pushed. She started volunteer work with some other women in Hawkins, throwing galas and fundraisers at the country club.
Once in high school, Steve refused to be a momma’s boy. He was finally good looking, and he didn’t want girls to be weirded out by the fact that he spent more time hanging out with his mom than anyone else. He’s heard the rumors about Jonathan Byers. No thanks.
But, something happens in 1981. Something that meant Steve was about to bond over with his mom.
Princess Diana.
They are both obsessed. Steve’s mom let him stay up all night with her to watch the wedding live on TV. Steve would come home from school to see magazines with Di on the cover and riffle through it as fast as he could so he could talk to him mom about the latest photos, the latest philanthropical endeavor, the latest fashion moment.
It was something they always shared. Even when they didn’t share anything else.
When Steve fell in love with a man. And his parents cut him off. When he and Billy fled to the city at eighteen, nineteen.
Steve hadn’t even spoken with his mother in nearly a year, when she called him to ask if he’d seen the news, that Princess Diana had shaken hands with an AIDs patient.
They talked for hours, and Steve cried on the phone, and he cried after. Because the last time he’d seen his parents, his mother called him disgusting and his dad had called him something even worse, and now his mom was calling him because Princess Diana didn’t wear gloves to shake a man’s hand.
Steve’s parents got a divorce six months after Diana did. Steve bought his mother a cake and an apartment five miles away and a recreation of the revenge necklace.
His mom pounded on his front door a few months after that. She was sobbing when Billy answered the door, and she hugged Steve harder than she ever had when she told him that Princess Diana was gone.
They both cried, and Billy made them tea and didn’t say anything because he thought their obsession was a little silly, but he would’ve killed Diana personally if it meant his mother holding him like that.
And nearly fifteen years later, at his mom’s funeral, Steve spoke about the two women that raised him. That his mom taught him how to forgive, how to be kind, and how to love, because Diana taught her those things. And Billy surprised Steve by playing Candle in the Wind on the piano.
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