dobbydreamsofsocks
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Summary
From what Billy could recall, Steve wasn't very good at losing.
Like, was a loser, a total loser, but that didn't mean he was good at it.
What Steve was good at, apparently, was poker. Within three hands that was obvious, the stack of chips in front of him inching higher every time.
Billy tapped a plastic chip against his chin and turned his beer bottle on the table. He needed to learn how to count cards.
Or, Steve joins Tommy's weekly poker night and Billy can't help but rattle Saint Harrington's chain. -
burn the page (my little dark age) by eternalgoldfish
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
30 Oct 2022
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Steve kept his car door between them like a shield, that much Billy could see. He was sure Steve’s eyebrows were bent, mouth half-open. Almost winded. “Am I dreaming?”
“You dream about my car breaking down in the woods? Look, I’m kind of fucked. And normally I wouldn’t be asking, but could you give me a hand? My tire blew and I dropped my fucking keys and can’t find them.”
“You need a hand?” Steve asked, deadpan.
“Or you could leave me to die out here. Your call.”
Or, Billy's having a bad night. The cult in Hawkins Cemetery is just the cherry on top.
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"These are flowers," Steve says, staring at Billy's extended bouquet. Billy holds them away from his body like they personally offend him, like he doesn't know why the fuck he's holding them, and honestly--
"What else would they fucking be?" Billy says.
Steve might be the stupidest person alive, because he nearly says flowers again before his brain catches up with his mouth. It’s cold on his front porch. The sky above threatens snow. He asks, "Where did you get them?"
Who gave them to you? Who are they for?
"The store, Harrington, where people buy flowers." He shoves them in Steve's direction, stiff-armed. "Are you going to take them or what?"
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the love you build your house around by eternalgoldfish
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
06 May 2020
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“This is a baby,” Dustin said, hoisting the car seat in the air.
Steve gaped. “Who the fuck trusted you with a baby?”
“They didn’t, Steven. Who the fuck would trust me with a baby? It was just here!”
“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, snatching the seat from Dustin’s grubby fingers. “Don’t fucking shake it, you’ll hurt it.”
“It’s obviously a wishbaby,” Dustin said. Which was, in fact, not obvious.
Or, Steve finds a baby on his porch and Billy Hargrove is real fucking weird about it.
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Summary
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Billy sat in the dark, eyes closed, listening to the clock on the mantle tick and the refrigerator hum. Steve Harrington was nothing to him, a regret, maybe, a bitter taste in his mouth, but not a friend. If Billy was resentful, he thought maybe he’d see the logic in the afterlife pinning them together, but he didn’t feel a sense of longing or torment, didn’t feel like he was being pulled between life and death, or between realms. He just was, painless, lead in his belly as he sat on the floor by Steve’s feet.
If he was meant to be trying to get somewhere, he didn’t know where. Was he supposed to pass on? He curled his knees up to his chest and watched Steve sleep, Steve’s lips shiny with spit and hair hanging over his forehead.
Or, how to find love as a ghost.