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making up horrors

Summary:

“Do you read anything that’s not horror?” He asks when Billy comes in from the bathroom, just one of their fancy, fluffy towels that were a gift from Steve's mother wrapped around his waist.

 

harringrove harvest week, day 4

Notes:

day 3 can be found on tumblr only

prompt: technically the following quote by shirley jackson that i took as inspo to go batshit insane about horror lit in general though: “All I could think of when I got a look at the place from the outside was what fun it would be to stand out there and watch it burn down.”

title is from this quote by stephen king: we make up horrors to cope with the real ones.

can be found on tumblr as well

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It’s early on in their time living together when Steve notices it for the first time. There have always been stacks of books on Billy’s bedside table, even when he was just staying over for a little while he never seemed to arrive with less than at least two books. Only now Steve is properly looking and finally sees a common theme. 

“Do you read anything that’s not horror?” He asks when Billy comes in from the bathroom, just one of their fancy, fluffy towels that were a gift from Steve's mother wrapped around his waist. His curls are still dripping, clinging onto his upper back and shoulders. Steve is obsessed with watching how it's slowly growing down Billy’s back. 

“Yeah, I read thrillers too,” Billy says dead serious, only a little twitch around his mouth betraying him.

“Very funny, Hargrove,” Steve scoffs, trying not to blush.

Billy sits at the end of the bed by Steve’s feet and starts rubbing his hair dry with another towel before he properly begins to answer.

“For the most part, yeah. I like horror and thrillers and everything that’s gothic literature. The fucked up the better, really.”

Steve’s eyebrows draw together at that, even if Billy himself is laughing it off. 

“But- isn’t it, like, scary?”

Billy looks up at him through those thick lashes of his, “Now you just want me to make fun of you, don’t you?”

Steve pouts, “I’m serious.”

Billy laughs at him for a moment before he actually answers. 

“Yeah, it’s scary. Sometimes, that is. Most of the time it’s just, well, a book. Nothing that can actually harm, you know? It’s just words. Sure, they can scare me a little, if it’s really well written, and that’s fun in its own way but,” While he speaks he leans over Steve’s stretched out legs to reach his own side of the bed and stretches until his fingertips reach the topmost book on his nightstand. When he sits back up straight, he starts thumbing through the pages while continuing, “Even when Miss Jackson writes about a haunted house incredibly well that haunted house can’t do shit to me. I can close the book and the horrors are gone.”

Steve hums and looks at the way Billy’s still running his hands over the book, sometimes he stops at a page and runs his fingers over the words. 

There’s something there that’s unsaid, directly under the surface. The books are safe to Billy, safer than his home ever was.

Steve sits up and scoots behind Billy until he can wrap around him entirely. He crosses his legs around Billy’s waist and his arms close around his torso to pull him close against his chest while he rests his chin on his partner's shoulder and quickly presses a kiss against his cheek. Billy lets one hand drop to Steve’s legs in his lap and rubs up and down the sweatpant covered skin while the other continues to hold the book. 

“So it’s like an escape sort of thing?”

“I guess,” Billy shrugs. “It’s also nice to be reminded that there are more fucked up people out there, I don’t know.”

They’ve been at this point a lot. Billy still has trouble seeing himself as anything that’s not a monster or worthless. Steve doesn’t mind reminding him that’s not the case. Though right now it feels more explanatory, not like something that’s been actively on Billy’s mind. Steve still kisses his shoulder and nuzzles impossibly closer. It makes Billy laugh a little. 

“I do like the scary part too, like King. Though really, especially the classic gothic novels aren’t even scary, not exactly. Just fucked up. Like Wuthering Heights or Dorian Gray.”

“Nerd,” Steve can’t help but whisper. The responding laugh bursts out of Billy, shaking his torso and vibrating against Steve’s chest. 

“Get fucked, Harrington.”

“Later. If you ask nicely.” 

Billy’s hand squeezes his leg and he lowly chuckles again.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, a lot of the books aren’t even scary but the ones that are are just sort of exciting. Almost like being on a rollercoaster.”

Steve hums again, he doesn’t get it entirely but it sounds reasonable enough. He reaches down and traces the title of the book in Billy’s hand. “What’s this one about? You said a haunted house?”

“Yeah,” Billy begins. “It’s this house in the middle of a bunch of hills-”



Sometimes Billy will read him something so Steve falls asleep easier. Billy's voice is the best cure against his insomnia he's found.

It did take a while to get used to the concept of "bedtime story" meaning gore, murder and psychopaths.

Billy will always just pick up the book he's reading at the time and start wherever he left off, leaving Steve to just follow the sound of his voice and focus on his breathing. 

To his own terror after multiple reads of the books Steve had picked up a fondness for Thomas Harris' books. There’s something strangely addictive to the story of a cannibalistic psychiatrist and the FBI agents that depend on him to stop other killers. Both he and Billy are incredibly fond of the character of Clarice Starling too. When the movie came out they’d bullied basically everyone they knew to see it too. It remains one of their favorites to watch. Now, they both can’t wait for the newest book to come out. They’ve been waiting for Hannibal long enough really. It already has a designated place in their library and Steve needs to know how the story will continue.

When they moved into an actual house they never even properly made the decision to have a library. There was just one room that didn’t have a proper purpose yet, squished in between their bedroom and a guest bedroom, and Billy’s books wouldn’t ever all fit in the living room, not with both their records and Steve’s VHS collection. 

So the library came together, mismatched shelves and a ratty little two seater with an armchair, and so many books. 

The gothic and horror books were joined by crime and even the occasional fantasy novel (most of those presents by Dustin.) Billy keeps them all organized but Steve’s never tried to understand his system. The only thing Steve knows for sure is that Billy keeps the books about Hannibal Lecter on a shelf directly across the door so he can find them easily. They’re supported by a framed picture of the two of them at Billy’s graduation. 

They both spend a lot of time in the room though for Steve it's less about the books and more that he enjoys being in a space that is mostly Billy’s. He picked the calm green color for the wall and he arranged the shelves and he’s the one who adds and adds evermore books. 

It's a well practised routine for Steve to go and grab a book in the middle of the night. When he enters the room he knows he has to hurry over the cool wood to the worn down carpet that’s in front of the shelves, because their cat Nikki likes to lay in the sun there, or otherwise the cold will seep into his feet and it will take ages to warm up again. He grabs Silence of the Lambs and hurries back over the cold floor towards their bedroom. 

When Billy sees him and the book he’s holding he groans, “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve steps over the sleeping cat in the middle of the room and makes his way towards his place in Billy’s tattooed arms. 

“C’mon, we’ve gotta reread them before the new one comes out,” Steve drops the book on Billy’s chest and then settles next to it. “I’ve let you read me books about goddamn killer clowns and exorcisms and so much murder, Billy, so much murder . You can read me this one again.”

An exasperated sigh later Billy grabs his reading glasses that he denies owning and slides down further so he can hold the book comfortably around Steve.

Under Steve’s ear Billy’s heart is beating steadily and with the vibrations of his voice it’s such a soothing sound that Steve falls asleep when they barely one chapter in. 

“I want to tell you the circumstances in which I first encountered Hannibal Lecter, M.D.”



Steve wants to draw the line when it comes to their kids. Sure, Billy’s an adult and can choose to freak himself out by reading terrifying stories, and Steve might indulge sometimes too, but he does not want to deal with their kids crawling back into their bed because they’ve started being afraid of the Tooth Fairy thanks to Dad’s bedtime stories.

Billy huffs when he voices that opinion, “I’m not going to read them Red Dragon . Actually, you are the only person ever to want to read Red Dragon as a bedtime story.”

“Not the point! The point is you can’t read them horror at all. Normal kids don’t know about Pennywise or Rosemary’s baby.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’m not gonna read them those either. Not yet anyway.” He looks way too contemplative at the thought. 

“Hey, nah, you’re not reading those to them ever. They’re too young and they will always be too young for those stories,” he says while he walks another line across the fluffy carpet of their bedroom.

“You’re not making any sense, you realize that, right babe?” Billy’s openly laughing at him now.

“I don’t want them traumatized!”

“They won’t be traumatized. I’ll let them know it’s a story, and if they end up scared I’ll just show them your bat to prove that Daddy will protect them should any of the monsters from the books decide to become real.”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on their bed, flannel sleeping pants on his legs a stark contrast against their white sheets. Somewhere at the back of his mind Steve makes a note to get out the thick duvets and covers like he always does when Billy goes from sleeping in underwear to stealing Steve’s trousers. 

“Very funny.”

Steve somewhat knows that’s the actual issue. That he doesn’t want their kids to ever even have to guess that there are actual monsters.

“They’re tough little shits, you know? Delilah told me the other day she’d punch a cashier for me.” Billy looks too proud of that one, and if Steve weren’t too preoccupied with protecting his children’s innocence he’d probably dig up just why she’d even offer to attack a cashier.

“They asked for a scary story, Steve. I’m really just giving them what they asked for.”

“I don’t care,” he pushes his hands against his sides and faces down Billy. “I’m not letting you read our kids horror books!”

“You’re doing your mom-pose again. Are you gonna threaten me with a towel next?” Steve fucking hates that Dustin took a liking to Billy and told him all about when Steve used to babysit.

“Anyway, it’s horror for children, relax,” Billy snorts. “Promise you, you’ll be more scared by it than they will be.”

“No. Read them fairytales.”

The smirk he gets in response should’ve warned him.

 

It takes exactly two days until the question comes in the middle of the afternoon. Steve is grading tests and Billy’s on kids duty until they have to head out to visit Max in the evening.

“C’mon, do you guys wanna hear a story?”

It’s a rhetorical question really. Both of their kids love books as much as Billy does and they’re on top of the couch with him in seconds.

Billy starts to read and Steve grows horrified. 

About half an hour later their kids are busy looking at the pictures in Billy’s old fairytale book and Steve pulls Billy with him into the kitchen. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“A fairytale, Steven.”

She was murdered .”

Steve knows vaguely that the book is a translation of the fairytales Billy’s mother used to read in her childhood, and the ones she in turn told Billy, which doesn’t explain why there was murder in it.

“I mean,” Billy looks way to smug. “She tried to murder Snow White.”

“They made her dance. Until she died. In red-hot shoes. What the fuck?” Steve really doesn’t remember any of this from the Disney film

“So you don’t want to know what happens in the original Sleeping Beauty story either, huh?”

 

Steve comes home two days later and finds both Delilah and Luke in bed with Billy. They’re all cuddled up, one kid on each side of him; he’s got his left arm wrapped around Delilah, her tiny frame swallowed by the tattooed muscles while Luke is lying on his chest. 

Billy’s also holding a book. It doesn’t look like a fairytale book. Neither the fucked up Grimm one nor the normal, childfriendly Disney stories. Steve is going to divorce him. 

"What are you guys reading?"

Luke jumps up at the sound of his voice, pushing his little fist right on Billy's solar plexus as he goes if the huff of pain is any indication. Steve would feel worse if he couldn't practically feel the horror story in the air. He's momentarily distracted when he has to catch the small bundle of kid that throws himself into his arms from the bed, clinging to his neck and then planting a kiss on his cheek.

The easy affection could've maybe even made him forget about it if it weren't for Delilah who happily exclaims, “We’re reading Coraline , Daddy.”

Coraline , huh?” Steve is going to have to murder Billy. He can see the cover now and it’s enough to give him the creeps. He also remembers enough from when Billy read him parts of American Gods . It wasn’t particularly child-friendly. 

As if to prove his point Luke says against his neck, “Her mother has button eyes!” 

Billy very pointedly has not looked up, he’s fully invested looking at the still open page and running his hand through Delilah’s hair. There’s that stupid smirk on his face that Steve has hated since High School. He sounds smug when he speaks up, “Did you have a good day, honey?”

“Just peachy,” Steve answers through his teeth. He makes a mental note to stick his cold feet against Billy’s legs tonight in bed and to sign him up for the next supervision in school. 

Luke demands that Steve listens to the story with them and like a puzzle piece Steve fits into the formation of his family on the bed. 

Once he’s close enough Billy turns and smiles at him. A real, truly happy smile. The smile Steve would do just about everything for and the one he has to reciprocate. 

Billy kisses him quickly and sing-songs, “They like it.”

 

(When Halloween comes around and Delilah announces she wants to go as Coraline Billy is disgustingly self-satisfied.)

Notes:

i hate everything! except gothic literature and billy hargrove! goodnight!

forgot to add some of my random headcanons for this that are sort of mentioned:
the fairytale stuff is all real bc i am german and grew up with these stories as they have been told for ages, such as the evil queen has to dance in red hot shoes at snow white's wedding until she falls dead. and then they lived happily ever after. so basically i am also insinuating that billy's mom was german.
billy has a full sleeve, very old school american tattoos around his skull. he has multiple steve related tattoos like one of the bat. also multiple for their kids. and one of ghostface. thank u for ur time
delilah offered to punch the cashier bc they were being rude to billy due to his appearance (aka tattoos and v much metal still and badass scars)
steve signs billy up for supervision bc the moms at their kids' schools flirt with both of them and so retaliation for petty fights is "dealing with awkward flirting for one day despite being ina very open homosexual relationship"

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