Work Text:
Cradle me
I'll cradle you
I'll win your heart
With a woop-a-woo
Pulling shapes just for your eyes
So with toothpaste kisses and lines
I'll be yours and you'll be-
Steve and Billy’s first kiss was long after their first fuck. Even longer after their first sloppy blowjob behind the school bleachers.
So, when Billy stayed the night after one of their rounds, Steve couldn’t help but glare at him.
Usually, he’d go away after everything. He’d jump in through Steve's window, they’d undress and fuck, Steve with his face glued to the pillow and ass sticking up in the air and Billy taking him from behind. Then, he'd get dressed again, jump off and, in five minutes Steve would hear the blue Caramaro's engine roaring into the night.
Steve never asked about Billy’s busted lip or why sometimes he had fading bruises over his face. Why, one time he was walking funny and had a weird mark all over his chest, like he had been kicked.
Billy never asked as to why Steve was sometimes crying when he jumped through the window or why he’d have all the lights on in the house, even if he was all by himself. Specially if he was all by himself.
They never talked, ignored each other at school, didn’t even touch during basketball practices. Never talked about the night before, never talked about when the next night would be. Billy would come by and Steve would take him whole because he was alone and needed someone. And if that someone was Billy Hargrove, then he’d take whatever he was willing to give.
It was always like that.
Until it wasn’t anymore.
Until Billy came by with a busted lip, a black eye and an ugly cut right above his eyebrow. Until Billy undressed and ugly, purple marks were shown all over his back, as if he was thrown against something. Until Steve found himself so worried he raised his hand to touch the scratches, almost asking what the fuck had happened.
Just so, he changed his mind and undressed himself, giving whatever Billy wanted that night. Laying stomach down, he faced the pillow and took Billy in. Swallowed him whole, mingled their bodies together, moaned and cursed, sweat glistening both their skins and, like all the other times, it felt like Hawkins didn’t exist anymore and they were the only living beings in the entire universe. Only for those moments.
When everything ended and Steve sat on the bed, back up against the wall, he couldn’t help but stare at the naked boy kneeling on his floor, busying himself with his pants. But, instead of pulling them up his legs, the blond only took a cigarettes package from the jeans pocket, a lighter and sat on the bed, next to Steve.
They weren’t touching — Harrington’s bed was big enough for them both sit comfortably — but he could still feel the heat. He could still feel like he was behind the smoke of the blonde’s cigarettes and he couldn’t help but stare as Hargrove tilted the package to his general direction, a silent invitation. Take one.
Smoke with me.
And maybe it could mean something. Or maybe it meant nothing. It was only a cigarette but Steve took it with care and placed on his lips. And, as he reached for the lighter, he felt Billy’s calloused fingers on his bare, still sweaty neck, tangling around his nape’s hair and pulling his head towards him.
And, in silence, Billy Hargrove lit Steve Harrington’s cigarette with his own. And it felt like the most intimate thing they’ve ever done. More intimate than having sex in Tommy’s H. bedroom during a party. More intimate than giving each other head inside their cars while waiting for Dustin and Max to come out of school. The dark, with small, thin orange lines end of Billy’s cigarette burned through his and he could feel the smoke forming already, seeping up from his mouth and going through the back of his nostrils.
He inhaled and felt the smoke burning it’s way down his lungs, painting his insides in black and grey. Felt as Billy’s fingers played with his hair and it hurt but he didn’t dare to move. Felt the blue, piercing gaze breaking through him and he never felt more exposed. Opening his mouth only the slightest, he let the smoke out, cigarette still dangling on his lips, not touching Billy’s anymore.
And he felt as hot and burning as the ashes falling on his bed once did.
Holding his breath, he ever so slowly raised a hand to Billy’s face, eyes following as his touch grazed slightly over the purple right around the blonde’s right eye, thumb smearing the blood from the cut over the shape of his eyebrow.
His eyes fell back on Hargrove’s and he watched as the boy’s irises deepened, the blue ocean full of waves he couldn’t recognise. Fear. Shock. Pain. Care. He felt dizzy, almost sick, as he leaned in. As his hand fell, grazing over Billy’s cheekbones, fingers dancing over the hair that fell on top of his ear, the earring feeling cold against his knuckles.
He felt the boy’s breath hitch and his face twitch as Steve’s fingers kept going down, thumb grazing the blonde’s lips, touching the small trace of blood that had formed because of the cut and dripped down his chin as he bit his bottom lip while they fucked. He heard Billy hiss but didn’t move away as his fingers hooked his chin, thumb still working on the boy’s bloody complex.
He gazed Billy again, eyes cautious like he was ready for the other to jump away and bolt down the stairs. And, when the other boy’s eyelids dropped and he tilted his chin, accommodating it in Steve’s hands, he used his other hand to take both his and Billy’s cigarettes from their mouths, where they dangled forgotten in between moments.
And then, Steve Harrington leaned in and kissed Billy Hargrove.
Chaste at first, cautious, worried even. Only a press, a quick peck. And, as he was about to move away, he felt Billy’s hand move, forcing his head down and back, where their lips collided again, this time deeper, open mouthed and with tongues swaying together.
It wasn’t like he’d expect. It wasn’t like a storm in the sea, turning boats upside down or like being in the eye of a hurricane. There weren’t fireworks or butterflies fighting inside his stomach.
It was calm. Tender. Tongues sliding together and tasting each other, the cigarettes, some cheap whiskey and coffee. He felt his own hand cup Billy’s jaw and they kissed for what felt like ages, never rushing, never moving too much. Only sharing a small space and time in the universe. In one of the million possibilities that could be happening right now.
And maybe, somewhere Billy and Steve had kissed long before that. Maybe somewhere their kiss was hotter, quicker, dirtier. Maybe somewhere, they were fucking while kissing.
And Steve couldn’t help but feel bad for all those Billys and Steves that were spread out somewhere, in all parallel existences and universes, the infinite possibilities of enemies to lovers. Because, as he snuggled his face in Billy’s neck and felt the boy kiss the top of his head, he couldn’t picture any scenario that would ever feel better than this.
Maybe, Nancy hadn’t broken his heart so badly.
Maybe, just maybe, he could love someone else.
Lay with me, I'll lay with you
We'll do the things that lovers do
Put the stars in our eyes
And with heart shaped bruises
And late night kisses
Devine
(Toothpaste Kisses — The Maccabees)