Work Text:
Billy watches a Corroded Coffin show, maybe because he wanted to see them, maybe he was just at the right place at the right time. Shitting on vocals after the show.
Eddie's kinda pissed, 'cause how dare he? "What, think you can do better?"
"Probaly, yeah."
They arrange for him to come to Gareth's the next day, show them what he's got. The boys are a little scared, because that's Billy Hargrove, new King of Hawkins High, and a total fucking asshole. Eddie wouldn't say he's scared, per se, but he is totally prepared to hear Hargrove sing, tell him he sucks, and send him on his way. And maybe be a little scared after that.
So, Billy shows up, they do one song, hear him sing, and motherfucker he's good.
The boys pull Eddie aside, knowing him enough that he's about to send Billy away. They plead with him; his vocals just aren't it, and Jeff's not that great either. Oh, and don't even let them get started on Grant and Gareth. They need Billy if they ever wanna get anywhere.
Still, Eddie won't budge, he's not having Billy fucking Hargrove be their lead singer, over his dead body.
Jeff, however, is quicker, turns to Billy, says, "You're in."
Billy laughs, high pitched, and it grates on Eddie's nerves. "Who says I wanna join your little band of nerds?" Eddie's glad he says that, 'cause he doesn't want Hargrove and his pretty eyes, and pretty hair, and his tight jeans that frame his ass perfectly, in his band. He doesn't, really. He doesn't want Hargrove anywhere near him, actually.
Jeff doesn't give up though, "please man, we need you."
Hargrove seems to consider him, looks around the garage and each one of them individually, before landing on Eddie. He tilts his head, keeps eye contact, takes a few steps closer. "Beg for it."
Eddie barks a laugh, the nerve on this guy. "Hell no, nope, not happening!"
"All right, suit yourself." He turns on his heel, makes his leave, slowly.
The boys turn back to Eddie, start begging him, because they do need him. And okay, Eddie can admit that they need a better vocalist. Eddie can play the guitar, and he can write, but he just can't sing. They're right.
"Stop."
And Billy does, turns back around, looks at Eddie expectingly.
"Please-"
"On you knees."
"What?"
"You heard me." Hargrove says, gets in Eddie's space. "On. Your. Knees."
Hargrove's so close, his eyes not leaving Eddie's, and those words. God, those words.
Eddie swallows his pride, reminds himself that he's doing this for the band, and does as told. He gets on his knees, hands clasped together. "Please, Hargrove- Billy. We need you. Please join our band."
Billy cocks his head, purses his lips, fucking hums.
"Please, Billy, I'm begging you."
Billy runs his tongue over his teeth, smiles, and fuck it's getting hot in here, even though it's December and the garage door is wide open.
"Okay," he says, "I'm in."
Eddie hadn't realized how quiet it was until the boys start fucking cheering. He gets thrown back into reality; his position in front of Billy, how compromising it is, his sweaty palms, and how tight his jeans feel. It's fucking embarrassing, and by the look on Billy's eyes, Eddie can tell that he knows.
Though the boot to the face Eddie is experiencing never comes. Instead, Billy offers him a hand up, holds it just a little too long.
They continue on with band practice, the boys none the wiser of Eddie's situation. Except Billy, of course, who keeps looking at him, making Eddie sweat.
And, well, if Billy follows Eddie home that night, that, too, is between them.