If You Post Billy Hate Or Even If You Hate Him But Don’t Post About It Either Block Me Or Get Blocked

And if I only could,

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to rewrite season 4 episodes 8-9

hey, tag this with a food people get really upset about you not liking

I’m just gonna put this here

🙂

I GOT YOU

Billy in the upside down and Steve brings him back.

(I did this before vol 2 but I couldn’t finish it before vol 2 released LOL)

The bus always drops Billy off exactly a block from home. They took his car when he failed a vision test from his chronic migraines, so there isn’t much of a choice. Which is fair. He really doesn’t want to drive anyways after his accident. But, the bus isn’t always on time.

He’d been visiting Max at the hospital to play catch up before the new year. There’s always a good excuse to go visit her, but today especially. There’s fireworks going off like crazy from all the drunk hicks celebrating the passing of another year. Fireworks that terrify Max because she can’t even see them, after losing her vision in the battle for her life.

He’s lucky he got out of the hospital earlier that night because Max requested an extra strong dose of her meds to drown out the sound of the fireworks.

Unfortunately, there’s too many of those same drunks to cart around that the bus hadn’t made its way to the hospital until an hour after it was supposed to pick him up. He’d meant to be home by 9, but it’s already after 10.

Even on his eventual walk home from the bus stop, drawn out by his limp and his cane, the sky is full of smoke and colors. And noise. Lots and lots of irritating, terrifying noise.

Billy walks the last stretch faster than he should. He’s eager to get home to Steve for their first new year together anyhow. He’ll blame it on that instead of the lick of fear in his stride from the booming.

Right away as he shoulders the door open on his good side, the one not leaning on a cane, he calls out into the house, expecting Steve to be right there since he’s running a little late, “Baby?”

But there’s no answer. That’s not so unusual. They’re usually in bed by now anyways, aged at least three decades by the events of two summers ago and basically every day since. He’ll just hang up his coat, kick off his stretchy old man shoes, and try again.

“Steeeevie?”

Still nothing.

One too many times panicking from not knowing Steve’s exact location has taught him to calm down a little, and get his head on the right way before he starts tearing the place apart looking for him. Taking his time so as not to hurt himself in the process, Billy decides to go upstairs and check before he makes the ruling that Steve’s MIA. For his sanity.

He finds his boyfriend disguised as a pile of blankets on their bed, and he almost misses him because the lights are all out.

Right.

Fireworks are pretty rough for Steve too. Nothing brings more sensory overload than colorful death bombs in the sky. Billy sighs. He hates this town and the constant cacophony of fear it brings. Can’t they ever have a moment of peace?

He climbs into bed next to Steve, announcing his presence with a clearing of his throat before he plops down next to the curled up figure under the comforter.

“What’re you doing in here?”

The quiet response from Steve comes out barely audible, “Hiding.”

Yeah. Billy kinda wishes he could hide from a lot of things too. But right now, this is not about him,

“What from?”

The blankets rustle and a small mumbled response comes, “Loud.”

Just to be sure, and so Steve doesn’t have to do as much talking, Billy clarifies, “The fireworks are too loud?”

Again, there’s a shifting sound of Steve’s hair against the sheets, as he nods gently.

Billy wants to hold him. He’d like to strike down every last motherfucker that made Steve feel like this too. He can settle for lifting up the blanket and sliding under it with Steve, and talking gently to try and soothe him.

“I think so too. They uh.. remind me of..”

His voice breaks off from the quiet whisper into just nothing. Even now, even trying to be strong for Steve, there are some things that are too hard to talk about.

Steve’s face goes scrunched up with sympathy. Like he’s trying hard on purpose to feel bad for Billy, though that’s not really how it goes in his head. He even apologizes, though that isn’t what Billy wanted at all, “I’m sorry.”

Instantly, Billy rushes to reassure him, “Stevie, you didn’t-“

But it doesn’t change what Steve was already determined to tell him. They don’t talk a lot about the serious things. About how they’re both disabled now, and certainly both jam-packed with more trauma than the sky is packed with lights tonight. Maybe they should, so Steve won’t sound as guilty as he speaks,

“I’m sorry I’ve always been like this and you were made into this.”

That makes Billy pause. He has to catch his breath and then turn on his side to look at Steve’s face, centering on his nose so accidental eye-contact won’t happen.

No way is he letting Steve blame himself for this, any of this.

“That’s not true. I hated fireworks before too. We’d watch them on the beach, and I’d get scared because the water looked like it was on fire.”

Just from that tidbit, Steve tears up. Billy tears up. They both know what part of the story is coming next, and suddenly Billy remembers that he told this story before and simply forgot, but it’s too late to stop now.

“Momma held me and told me that it wasn’t real, but.. after momma left.. I was always afraid of irrational shit like that. Still am. Just today I was scared the hospital would burn up from the fireworks if I left Max there. Or I’d choke on the smoke on my way home. And then I got back and I couldn’t find you and I just-“

Yeah. Steve gets it. They’re both trying their damndest, even when another pop sounds in the near distance, and Steve presses his headphones a little closer to his ears.

The not quite silence speaks more volumes than their words. Steve spreads his arm out, and makes a soft little humming sound. An invitation for Billy to come close and wrap his arms around Steve. They need each other right now.

Billy dives into the offered cuddle. He’s been waiting for this moment all day. The moment where he could just sob into Steve’s chest, and feel Steve’s own tears wetting his hair. Sometimes, this is what it takes.

Laying in bed and purging out all their bad emotions isn’t exactly the ideal way for two ex-King’s like them to spend their New Year’s Eve, but it’s how they’re going to, and neither would ask for any other way to move into another year. They fought hard to be able to do that.

Nobody can take that away.

They don’t talk again until Steve is ready. With all the noise and chaos, Billy doesn’t mind the silence, just listening to Steve’s steady, unsteady, one-two-skip, heartbeat. He hears Steve’s words rattle up in his chest as he speaks them, “Fireworks are stupid.”

That makes Billy crack a smile. They both know all this crying isn’t about the fireworks. Not that it helps, but that’s not the point.

Maybe fireworks will be the spark that lit the fire. From now on, it’s about opening up a little more.

“Yeah. What’s so great about all that toxic shit in the air anyways?” Billy meant that in more ways than one, but whether or not Steve got the double meaning about all that glory covering up the ugly truth, isn’t what he focuses on.

Steve lingers on the idea of the bad air, and Billy’s asthmatic lungs, and lets the worry come back, “I didn’t even think about that. You okay?”

Billy nods against Steve’s chest, and pulls back a little so his head is resting by his arm instead, and they’re face to face now, “I’m just fine.”

It’s such an automatic answer, Steve catches it too. Satisfied that he noticed, he points out, “You sound just like Max.”

He does. It feels like it’s already been an eternity since he got back in Steve’s arms. He forgot that today was the same day he visited Max. His memories get mixed up like that sometimes.

The silence after Steve’s little teasing must eat away at Billy’s mask, because Steve makes a small sound of worry, like a gruff sniffle, and asks, “Was she okay?”

Trying hard to remember today’s visit over yesterday's or the day before's or nine months before that’s, Billy gives details by the moment he remembers them, “Still tired. But alright. Got her to smile.”

“Did you tell her-“ Every single day Steve asks the same questions. He cares so much about doing the right thing.

Seeing him now, all curled up in bed and sad on a day that’s a celebration for everybody else, makes Billy even more sure that he’s going to do the right thing as well. Right now, that’s reassurance,

“Yep, I said ‘hi from Steve.’ And I made sure to tell her you miss her. All the usual.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come.” Steve went once, and that was all it took for the constant beeping, rushing, wheeling, to trigger a meltdown. Never again.

But Billy’s alright with that, and Max was too the last time they talked, “Baby, we’ve told you. It’s fine. I can barely get my ass on the bus either.”

Steve doesn’t look like he believes him. His eyes are wide and teary again. His nails scratch at his palms, so Billy gently takes his hands and keeps them separated.

“Promise?”

Billy kisses Steve’s knuckles on each hand, soft and barely able to be felt as a graze across warm flesh. He’s going to do anything to make Steve stop worrying about the harder things they’ve been through a few times now.

“I promise.”

Billy reaches out slowly, ever so slowly so Steve has time to assert his boundaries before Billy's hand makes contact with his face. Instead of stopping him though, Steve blinks slowly and closes his eyes, and allows Billy to gently hold his cheek. His skin is flushed warm, despite it being so cold out. He’s the softest thing Billy’s ever had the privilege to hold.

Next he wants to taste. The angle they’re at is awkward and it hurts Billy’s back. He taps Steve’s cheek as a silent way of asking him to be the one to initiate their kiss and fix their tangle of limbs. Steve obliges, without opening his eyes, shifting off of his hip so his chest is against Billy’s now, and their faces are just inches apart.

Billy isn’t even sure which of them actually closes the gap, but in the next moment he’s kissing Steve slowly and carefully like either of them could break at any second.

In the next moment, Steve does break, only in that he separates the kiss.

“Wait a sec.”

Billy’s eyes are half open, his face warmed by the love he felt from the kiss, which left him too lax and calm to be worried about Steve’s interruption, “Hm?”

Not for no reason. Steve’s panic looks a lot different from his lightbulb ideas, and right now, Billy can tell before Steve even speaks it’s going to be the latter. One of his good ideas.

“We have to save up our kisses for midnight.”

Not exactly the most thrilling idea ever. Billy instinctually scrunches his nose as an expression of doubt, but Steve’s eyes are still shining with his own brilliance.

“I don’t know, babe..”

“It’s good luck!” Steve swears it like it’s a revelation, and he’s just cured all that ails Billy.

Seeing him that happy, instead of shaking and hiding from the overstimulation like earlier, Billy could say that Steve’s just about done that for real.

Billy plays his role as the skeptic though, pouting over-exaggeratedly so Steve knows he’s not serious, “Didn’t know that meant we had to wait.”

It earns a laugh, more akin to a delighted giggle, out of Steve, who decides on a compromise for their imaginary plight, “You can have one kiss on the cheek for now.”

He leans over and just barely pecks his cheek, soft lips ghosting over Billy’s skin and making him shiver with the feeling of goose pimples popping up on his neck. The small kiss transforms with the shape of Steve’s smile from Billy's reaction, and then Steve gives him another, slightly stronger, press of his lips.

“Thank you, Stevie.” Billy makes doubly-sure Steve knows he’s not really as pouty as he was playing to be. Really, any affection from Steve makes his entire day better, after months where they weren’t able to have these moments between doctors visits and monster battles. The peace of just being in one another’s arms, finally safe from all of that, is enough. “Love you.”

Declarations of love always give Steve a reason to show his happy hands. He taps the tips of his fingers in a rhythm against Billy’s collar bone, and returns the declaration in a silly, stimmy voice, “I love you too.”

Their bliss is interrupted by another thundering firework outside. A distressed squeak cuts off Steve’s words, and he buries his face into Billy’s form, hiding along the contour of his arm, with his face pressed against Billy’s ribcage, so he’s as close to Billy as possible, and as far away from the threat.

It’s not really a comfortable position, but if it keeps Steve feeling safe, Billy can live with a dead arm for a while.

“I got you, Steve. Those fireworks aren’t gonna get us, babe.”

“Too loud.” Steve repeats his sentiment from earlier. That’s a nice affirmation that this is all rational. They’ve both had their share of fear driven breaks, which are much harder to solve.

Since this one’s the kind that doesn’t scare Billy, he keeps joking with Steve to keep him from slipping into that worse place.

“Want me to sing for you? Drown it all out?” He questions, knowing full well he can’t hold a tune worth a damn.

“Please no.” Steve’s so polite about telling Billy what he already knew. It’s really sweet actually.

Billy chuckles lightly, suppressing his laugh so he doesn’t jostle Steve too much, “I hear you. We’ll just be nice and quiet then.”

After so long like that, without any more booming interruptions from outside of their safe spot, Billy’s eyes start to get heavy. He caught Steve the same way, blinking extra hard so his eyelashes danced over Billy’s skin, and so his eyes wouldn’t shut without him.

Normally he’d just let him sleep, and he considers it for a moment, but it’s the celebration of the new year, and Steve would be devastated if they missed the midnight kiss.

Billy realizes they’ve been laying here for so long, he doesn’t even know what time it is, “I’m gonna peek out of the blanket. Check the time.”

Steve doesn’t waste energy on responding beyond a simple nod.

Billy uses his free hand that isn’t under Steve to pull the heavy comforter back down to let the real world back in. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the room again, and then he squints at the clock to see how close they are to the moment.

“Oh shit. It’s 11:56. Only 4 minutes left.” He announces, and Steve pops up beside him from under the blanket eagerly, every bit of tiredness gone from his face and replaced with glowing excitement.

“Are we gonna count them down?”

Billy smiles and shrugs as much as he can with Steve’s weight still on his one arm, “Don’t see why not.”

They count the minutes down together quietly. That’s too long to do it out loud and wear Steve out before it’s even time. Their way of doing that consists of Billy laying still and letting Steve tap out each passing second against the scar in the center of his chest.

When they finally reach an achievable countdown, Billy starts with, “10.”

“9.” Steve takes the next, and they do it in alternating order, although from the way Steve is vibrating with excitement, he’d probably rather skip this step altogether

Still, Steve is so loving with him, even when Billy feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“8.”

Billy would hold him through anything it took to make Steve feel safe expressing that kind of love.

“7.”

They fought so hard to be this comfortable. Last year, Billy was still in a coma, and Steve was still too scared to even touch him to hold hands.

“6.”

Their first kiss was two months after they started dating, leaning around stitches and big emotions to both finally feel like everything was in place.

“5.”

Someday, they’ll be totally in sync and know when those hard times have passed, but right now it’s a loving, tender work in progress.

“4.”

And maybe someday, they’ll get out of Hawkins, and far away from all the chaos here.

“3.”

Billy gets stronger every day, mentally and physically. Steve gets more in tune with his own needs and self-worth. That’s what a support system and a whole lotta care will do for a couple of guys like them.

“2.”

Most importantly, they’re getting better all the time at communicating, building up the foundations of their relationship.

“1!”

Steve initiates the kiss, grabbing both sides of Billy’s face and smashing their lips together rather than kissing him. It’s reminiscent of their first kiss, in all its clumsy, anxious glory. Billy thinks that’s a good momento to end the worst year of their lives with, and start into what will hopefully be the best.

“Looking forward to another year with you, baby.” He promises, when they break apart and finally get a breath.

Steve wears a delightful smile, “Here’s to another.. hm.. 100?”

That sounds nice. Just him and Steve for the rest of time, no matter how many years pass or how many painful explosions happen.

“Yeah. Cheers to that.”

My serotonin for the day

😌

Don’t mind me,

Just spreading awareness 😌

[ actor!billy’s insta stories, pt.1 ]

steve is here

I don’t know if you’re still taking requests in particularly for writing, if not you can just react to this idea that’s been banging about in my head rent free and it’s the scene where Billy and Steve come to blows at the Byers house except Steve is a trans man, already has had a rough night, with the binder on and hasn’t taken it off since the day before and he’s been fighting monsters and crap, and the kids (mainly Dustin) is freaking out because he knows and before Billy and Steve properly start fighting inside, Steve takes one or two hits and can’t breathe and collapses and Billy kinda just freaks along with the rest of the kids and we get to see a bit of protective little brother Dustin with Billy catching on and helping out. (Then he (Billy) gets dragged along by the kids with Steve to the tunnels, because like hell Steve’s up for running and fighting and Billy can’t just leave them.)

I tried to write it myself but my motivation hasn’t come back from it’s holiday.

Hey!! I'm always taking requests for writing, even if it might take me a little bit to get to said requests sometimes 😅😅 But I love this so much!! Thank you for coming to me with this!! (And felt that motivation thing 😭)

----------------------------

Steve's night had been... rough to say the least.

Interdimensional monsters, having to look after a very rambunctious group of middle schoolers, and on top of all that, a binder that felt like it was a few seconds from squeezing his soul from his frame, had never been on the agenda. And yet here he was.

But, as if that wasn't bad enough, of course life had to throw him another curveball. One with sharp teeth and piercing blue eyes that bore daggers into him. One that possessed a mean right hook and an even meaner left.

And Steve had keen reflexes, or at least he would if it were any other day, if he hadn't quite literally been to hell and back just hour before. So, it catches him by surprise when he shoves Billy back into the Byers' kitchen table with a sharp huff only to be met with a harsh blow to his cheekbone seconds later, followed by one of the most menacing, frankly crazy laughs he'd ever heard.

Steve couldn't think straight, cupping his cheek as he staggered back somehow even more out of breath than before. The screams coming from Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Max were all muffled by the harsh ringing in his ears, chest feeling tighter than ever as he in took a rugged breath from his nose, letting it out through quivering lips. He barely had enough time to look up and make eye contact with the blonde teen in front of him before he was knocked down for the count.

Billy's solid fist made contact with the soft fat covering his fragile ribs. It was as if he was seeing the world in slow motions, body betraying him, knees buckling, stance faltering, torso suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs as he fell backwards. Even in his weakened state he had enough sense to try to catch himself, elbow jutting back to catch his fall.

The room felt uncharacteristically quiet when he made contact with the floor, letting out a soft pained noise, elbows catching him just enough to he didn't hit his head, but gave quickly letting his back fall against the hardwood. He squeezed his eyes shut with a long groan, only opening them back up when he heard Dustin at his side.

"Steve!" he shrieked in his normal high pitched way, gently smacking Steve on the cheek as if to wake him up, like he had ever been knocked out in the first place, "Shit, c'mon, Steve!"

Steve blinked up at him once before scowling, swatting his hand away " 'M not dying, Dustin," he mumbled, eyes falling to just behind Dustin where now Max was holding the end of his nail bat against the chest of a very concerned looking Billy. He couldn't help the strange bloom of pride that spread inside of his chest, right along side the pain.

Dustin seemed to let out a little breath of relief, "Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, falling from his knees back onto his ass. While Lucas backed up Max, Mike came over to where he was lying on the floor, "What's wrong with him?" he asked Dustin worriedly, like Steve wasn't even there.

The other boy just swallowed, looking down at Steve, he knew. This was probably the worst it had ever been, but Dustin wasn't a stranger to the fatigue Steve faced when having worn his binder for too long. And seeing as he'd been wearing the same clothes for nearly a day and a half, Dustin thought it was pretty safe to say the binder had stayed on as well.

Shit.

"Shit, Steve," Dustin sighed, shaking his head, 'shit' and 'Steve' seeming to be the only two words he could come up with tonight. Steve felt the burn of shame deep in his gut, but was it really his fault? It's not like he even had time to think about something like that when he was quite literally fighting for his life. But maybe if he stayed like this for much longer he'd be fighting for his life for a different reason.

"Christ, Dustin," Mike scolded, "What the fuck's going on?" Dustin just looked from Steve to Mike, back to Steve with a semi sympathetic look. Almost as if he was asking Steve for permission to tell. Because the thing was, Dustin was the only one who knew about his situation. Well, besides Carol, and Tommy, and his parents, but you get the point.

Nobody else in Hawkins knew he was trans and Dustin didn't want to be the one to ruin his secrecy if he didn't want to tell. Steve just frowned, looking to the side, not knowing what to do. He hated that it had to come to this, that it had to come out this way, but he also knew he had to tell them something. He cursed himself, feeling the signature sting of tears brimming his eyes, half hoping that maybe one of those demodog things would come back and rip him to shreds.

Dustin was the first to notice, giving him a sad look of understanding, quick to comfort him, "Hey, hey, hey," he rambled, wedging a hand behind Steve's back to lift him up, almost scared in the way Steve winced at the push of his spine shifting his confined ribs, "Okay, it's okay," Dustin slid his hand so instead it was wrapped around his entire back, lifting Steve up as slowly and carefully as possible.

Steve hadn't even realized they were now all staring at him until he was properly sitting up, eyes falling to Max who's head was turned, Lucas' the same, and Billy who was looking over their shoulders.

He gave them a teary-eyed glare before quickly thanking Dustin for helping him sit up, thankful that he was given at least a minute to recover before having to stand, though he had high hopes that the task might be easier given his current position.

"What the hell is going on!" Mike snapped, now fully and openly freaking out. Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow, not used to seeing him so uncool under pressure. But Steve also couldn't help to think that it meant he cared.

" 'S hard to explain," Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose with the side of his wrist, grimacing at the snot before wiping it on his shirt. He couldn't help the slight upturn of his lips when he reached a hand out for either Lucas or Max to take and they both gave him a grossed out expression, leaving Dustin and mike to get up and each take an arm, clenching their teach as they pulled Steve's dead weight up off the ground.

He hadn't even been thinking about his cheek until he scrubbed a hand down his face, wincing as the feeling of the forming bruise.

Billy, right.

When Steve dared connect their eyes Billy didn't scrunch his nose or snarl like he expected, but instead looked at Max who had finally lowed the nail bat and then looked at the floor like a kicked puppy. Steve wanted to kick himself for thinking he looked kind of cute when he let down his guard, almost not scary at all, almost.

"Steve, hello? Earth to Steve," Steve was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by Dustin, gripping his shoulders. The brunette blinked down at him, head still feeling a little foggy from everything. The quizzical look Dustin gave him left him puzzled.

"You gotta take it off," he whispered, leaning in close enough so that Steve would be the only one to hear him. Steve's frowned deepened, sniffling again, but the waterworks didn't return, "I know it sucks, but it's gonna suck worse if you don't take care of it now."

Deep down Steve knew Dustin was right, that if he didn't take off his binder now, he would be in even deeper shit later. But what was he supposed to do without it? There was no way he was about to leave without it on. He was relatively flat, the one trait he was glad he got from his mother, besides his hair, but not that flat. People would look, people would stare, people would ask questions that he really didn't want to and really didn't have time to answer.

He just wasn't ready, "Steve," Dustins voice was firm but caring, laced with a hint of pity. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Mike beat him to it.

"I feel really out of the loop here, guys." Steve rolled his eyes as did Dustin.

Finally Steve caved, for the sake of his sanity if of nothing else, "Fine, I'm going to the bathroom," he announced, heart softening at the toothy, grin Dustin gave him dropping his hands from his shoulders.

Just as Steve was about to leave the room and round the corner into the hallway he turned around, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but," he grumbled, pointing, but only with his forearm, not wanting to face the pain of lifting his bicep, "Hargrove," Billy's head snapped over to Steve, "You're in charge."

He didn't even give the kids time to argue before stalking off, disappearing into the Byers' narrow half bath. When he closed the door behind him he stayed there for a moment, pressing his back against the door, closing his eyes. He was pretty sure he could fall asleep right there, standing up like a horse, it it weren't for the throbbing pain in his cheek and the sore rub of his chest.

His Nikes squeaked across the tile, making him cringe slightly as he made his way to the sink, or rather the mirror, giving himself a good look. He really did look like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes, a cut on his cheek from what he could only assume to be Billy's ring, framed by a nasty purple bruise. Steve sighed, grabbing a towel from a hook beside the counter, wetting it, before pressing it gingerly upon the wound. He hissed at the contact, lips pursing as he dabbed the warm cloth to his, face, even paler than usual.

If he didn't know any better he would have guessed he was sick, scarlet red blush splotching paper white flesh. But this was only the first of his problems, next came the more serious matter.

Carefully, Steve slid his Member's Only jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, metal zipper clanking on the tile. his hands shook like a leaf as he reached for the hem of his shirt, taking a deep breath that sent a sharp pain down his spine. It really was time to take this thing off. Slowly he grabbed the bottom, sliding it up, the task proving to be more difficult as he went higher. In the end he was cringing, grinding his teeth with a short grunt until he finally got it off, discarding it onto the floor.

Now Steve was just left with his binder, looking at himself in the mirror with sad, almost scared eyes. He hated seeing himself without one. Because he had it in his head that if he never saw his chest then he could just convince himself that it wasn't there, that the breast he loathed so much didn't exist and all he had were the flat expanse of pecs.

He made the executive decision to turn around, thanking God that the binder had a zipper on the front. He grabbed the zipper, feeling a slight panic run coarse through his veins before he began pulling, with each new pull of the teeth it felt like his lungs grew a size bigger. Breathing getting easier and easier until he had fully unzipped the compressive material.

Steve looked ahead at the tile that lined the shower as he shrugged it off his shoulders, taking the deepest breath he could muster before releasing it again. It was freeing in the worst way. His ribs still ached and his chest was just all around sore, but at least he could breathe a bit better.

He dared to let his hands wander, rubbing smoothly over his ribs, pointer finger being able to feel the subtle jut of each one as he went along. He could feel the binder rash against his sides, bicep rubbing against the raw skin making him flinch.

Steve didn't want to turn around, but there was that voice in the back of his head, the one that always lingered there. Telling him he needed to face his true self, who he really was. And deep down he knew it wasn't true, that he was just as much a guy as any cis guy. But sometimes he let it get the better of him. So he did, he turned around, staring into his own eyes at first before he let them dip lower.

He bit his lip, not being able to take looking for more than a second before looking up that the ceiling, tears forming stubbornly in the corners of his eyes. His nipples were hard and chaffed, the rash directly under the swell of his breasts even worse than the rash on his sides.

He squeezed his eyes shut, image imprinted on the backs of his eyelids. Steve cried silent tears, wet streaks of disingenuous shame ran down his face until his crying wasn't so silent.

Billy was sitting in the living room when he heard it, sending Max who was explaining everything to him a quick ", Shh." And when that didn't work a firm, "Shut up, Shitbird," as he worked hard to drown out her complaining at the nickname and focus on the soft noise coming from the hallway.

When one particularly loud sob rang through the house everyone stopped talking, all eyes pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

Dustin was the first one to make the move to go, quickly being shut down by Billy, "Hold it," he said, reaching out a hand gesture to halt him, fearing the worst after hearing what Max just told him, "I'm going."

He was reaching for the bat at Max's side when suddenly- "No!" Everyone looked at him with wide eyes, "You- You can't," he babbled, shaking his head. Billy just furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"Like hell I can't," retorted, gripping handle with a firm hand, using it to propel himself up out of his seat. Dustin did the same, pushed himself up out of his seat, with a huff and a stubborn cross of him arms.

Billy gave him a look, or rather a glare, to which Dustin himself returned, tough kid. "Look, something's wrong in there and if it's something... something bad I don't need any of you shitheads," he gestured with the bad towards the group, "getting hurt, kapish?"

Dustin stared at him a second longer before falling back into his seat, deciding that if it was a demodog Billy stood the best chance. He would just have to pray, for Steve's sake, that he had things handled in his department, so Billy didn't learn anything he could use against him later.

Billy approached the bathroom door quickly but carefully, not wanting to waste any time if Steve was actually about to get mauled by some creature, "Harrington?" he called, knocking on the solid door three times, pressing his ear close.

Nothing.

"Harrington, open up!" he demanded, fear level only going up when all he heard was the persistent sound of Steve's cries, "Harrington I swear to God-"

Suddenly a new sound came from the bathroom, a scream, not high enough to be one of fear, but rather of frustration. But Billy didn't have enough time to think about that, just that Steve could be in trouble. In one swift movement he twisted the door handle and pushed through, quickly returning both hands to the bat where they belonged.

Steve didn't even notice Billy's presence until it was too late, until he was standing in the door way with a look Steve couldn't tell was shock or disgust. He quickly went from clutching the side of the sink to having his arms crossed over his chest, trying to hold onto what little dignity he had left.

He looked at Billy like a deer in headlights, like at any second Billy might flip, this time doing more damage than the first.

They stayed like that longer than they should have, Billy staring at Steve and vice versa, cold air from outside the bathroom sending a shiver down the brunette's shirtless form.

"Please..." Steve pleaded softly, what he was pleading for he wasn't sure. And Billy just blinked, tongue darting out out wet his lips which had gone dry. He took a cautious step froward, causing Steve to step back. The fact pained Billy, causing him to shake his head slowly and drop the bat, the object toppling to the floor with a crash, like some bizarre peace offering.

But it seemed to work for Steve who's posture visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, exhaling from his lips, but that didn't mean he wasn't still guarded.

Billy's expression remained confused, eyes darting from Steve's chest to his face, and back to his chest, "Want to take a picture? It'll last longer," Steve scoffed, turning a little bit on hopes of blocking his view.

Billy cleared his throat, eyes wandering now to the floor, "I'm sorry I just- I didn't-" he stumbled, but thankfully Steve was there to finish his sentence.

"Didn't expect me to be such a freak?" he grit, almost as if they weren't Billy's thoughts but his own.

But the blonde quickly recovered, "No!" he exclaimed, "No, not at all," he assured, "At least not because of this." His lame attempt at a joke actually landed, pulling a wet laugh out of Steve's exhausted lungs.

"You really know how to make a guy feel good about himself, Hargrove," Steve retorted, corners of his lips upturning into a soft, yet sad smile, Billy's smile about the same.

"Yeah, well..." he started, eyes being pulled back down to Steve's exposed side, thanks to the new angle, getting an eyeful of the rash that resided there, "Shit, man, that looks nasty."

Steve just looked down almost bashfully, "The flatter never ends," he mumbled, but the words held no real malice.

Billy shook his head, "No, I mean- I didn't mean it like that. Just looks like it hurts," he explained, to which Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Like a bitch," he admitted, subconsciously chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

Billy nodded too, in consolidation and in thought. There was a beat of tension filled silence before Billy spoke again, "Y'know if there's any lotion lying around I could help you with that," he offered, hoping that he wasn't over stepping any kind of boundary.

"You, Billy Hargrove, that guy that tried to rock my shit, less than thirty minutes ago, want to help me?" Steve questioned with disbelief, eyes wide as they met Billy's.

Billy just shrugged, scratching the slowly growing stubble on his jaw, "Change of heart, I guess." Steve scoffed, but not out of disbelief, rather out of humor.

And maybe saying no was the sane thing to do, but when was Steve ever known to make the right choice.

"Yeah, alright."

rockstar!steve albums

Final “Harringrove for RAICES”-piece, for @13callieb who basically gave me free reign, so I doodled a scene from their story “We slip and slide”, which is a wonderful, fluffy, feel-good-y post-S3 fic which you all should read.

The deadline for the “Harringrove for RAICES”-works was October 1st, if I’m correct, so I’m cutting it a bit close … but here it is, finally! Thanks for waiting, and I hope you like it, @13callieb!