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The queue started around the corner. Heaps of people, all wanting to experience the party of the year at the best club in the city. Billy walked past the line, feeling bold tonight. He wasn’t giving any of the crowd any attention while he was yelled and whistled at.
Billy smirked at himself.
Why be a good boy and wait in line for the dirtiest gay club in town.
You needed to play the same game.
Tonight was his night. New Years Eve. Billy was going to fucking drown in booze, dance till his legs would give up, forget the previous year happened and start the new one in style.
Billy was out. Out of the house. Out of the closet. Discovering.
Turning around the corner, he grabbed his gloss to give his lips that extra shine.
Billy had a mission. Because there was one tiny little problem at the fucking gate to heaven for people like Billy Hargrove who couldn’t bother waiting in line.
The bouncer. Those guys were always massive, towering over everyone. Big and all muscle. Most of them were fucking intimidating.
Billy had eye for one particular bouncer, one he hoped to see again. Maybe tonight even.
Getting in the front, Billy spotted him. Standing tall and strong, dressed in a tight black suit, showing off his fucking perfect body. The guy always wore sunglasses to look tough, even in the fucking dark. Billy hated it that he loved it.
Billy had admired that perfect styled hair, wishing to gaze into his eyes, count his moles, and hear him talk. Because last time he saw him; Billy only got a nod before he could enter.
Today, Billy concluded, wasn’t going to be so easy.
But he was going to throw in everything he had become to get in before the ball dropped.
His mullet was styled to perfection, his curls softly bouncing with every step he took. Billy swayed his hips in the skort (his new favourite discovery) that barely covered him up. His shirt was a delicious see through mesh that turned heads. He wore his high boots, showing off so much skin, that it would be a crime not to have him enter to warm up. Because Billy was freezing.
It was so fucking cold. But it would be just for a short while.
Billy’s long black lashes more than ready to bat at the cute guy and have him enter within seconds.
The bouncer eyed him, looking over his sunglasses as Billy passed the line right to him. Billy wasn’t going to back off, hoping the guy liked what he saw. Billy fully well prepared to just walk past, pretending he was at home. All following dress code. No trainers. Not even wearing knickers. Wishful thinking.
“There’s a line,” the bouncer nodded towards the pile of people all huddled up in their coats and hats. “you’re on the guest list?”
Billy could try, holding out his hand, his palm down, nail polish on sight, “Billy Hargrove, can’t miss it.”
The guy didn’t take his hand, neither looked at how good Billy looked in his attire he worked so hard on, quickly looked over the list, clicked his tongue. “Sorry babe, you’re not on it.”
Billy tried looking over the list, finding himself caught. The list quickly disappeared, but Billy had now the most beautiful brown eyes focused on him.
“My friends are inside already,” Billy bluffed, “they’re on the list. I saw them.”
“No can do,” the guy leaned back, pushing up his sunglasses in his hair.
“But it’s my birthday tonight,” he tried, giving the guy a smile, hoping the shiny gloss would work magic. Demanding the guard to look at him, at Billy’s lips.
The professional look never went past Billy’s eyes.
“ID?”
Fuck, Billy cursed himself.
“Mr. Doorman, stop teasin', I'm freezin' out here.” Look at me, Billy begged. Look at how I look. “I’m not even wearing knickers, my balls are freezin’ off here.”
“Only hot people allowed,” the guy said, now with a smile. What a fucking tease. The man gestured at the line, letting in the next group of people, leaving Billy all cold and bothered standing there on the sideline.
“What do you want, pretty boy?”
“Call me Steve,” the guy replied, after putting the velvet rope back on.
Billy whipped his hair back, “Steve, honey, the people are needing me there,” pushing his lips in a shiny pout, and Billy could see his eyes wandering. Finally.
Right where Billy wanted him.
“If only hot people are allowed, any way you could help me warm up?”
Those dark eyes were grazing over him, and Billy not only shivered from the cold, but also anticipation. Billy copied the bouncer, looking him over, wagging his tongue.
“What’s it gonna be?” Billy crooned. “You’re not gonna leave me all cold and sad outside?”
“The club would love to have an ice statue at the entrance,” Steve grinned. “Strike a pose?”
“If I do, will you let me in?”
“You don’t like my company?” Steve asked, “because I do.”
Billy’s eyes widened slightly, not expecting Steve the bouncer to flirt.
“Ice statues don’t talk back, so where’s the fun in that. When’s your shift over?” Billy had to suppress the chatter of his teeth.
Steve was still working, and while Billy stood next to him, watching as another batch passed the gates. This wasn’t where Billy wanted to be. The company of Steve was fun, but he rather be in the club instead of standing and keeping the bouncer company.
Billy was holding himself, trying to contain some warmth in his chilling body. The queue was getting shorter and he found himself slowly regretting not waiting in line. He saw familiar faces of ones he passed, giving him looks. Billy didn’t want to give in on his thoughts that maybe Billy wasn’t hot shit. If this kept up, Billy was the only one standing outside, being left behind.
Billy moved in with the next batch when he noticed that Steve was distracted, only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled back.
“Not your turn, honey.”
Steve’s hand was warm, and Billy felt a tingle go through his body. Maybe he not only wanted to dance, but the guy was doing something for him. He wasn’t aggressive, almost gentle in his touch. Billy started to get annoyed.
“You’re cold, babe.” Steve stated.
“No shit, asshole. I could’ve been hot and bothered inside. Maybe even lose the shirt, you know?” Billy pulled at the see through mesh. “Or maybe more.”
“There’s not much more, anyway,” Steve answered, looking him over, “right? You’d be terrible at strip poker too.”
“Depends on what your goal is,” Billy shivered. “Maybe that’s what I want. Or maybe I’m really good.”
Steve laughed. “Would love to see.”
Steve let in a couple in, crossing the names, scribbling something down, and Billy noticed how there were none left. He mumbled something through the microphone, listened through his earpiece.
Billy didn’t have much more charm left to convince the guy to let him in. This wasn’t going to work. His idea of breaking free and letting go crumbling every second he was left in the cold.
He looked around, people passing, giving him looks, the queue more than entertained that Billy, looking like a fucking slut, didn’t get in the dirtiest gay club. Slowly he felt himself become smaller.
It was starting to become a bad idea, when he felt heavy fabric draped around his shoulder. It was a fleece zip-up. Steve looking at him, “got ten more minutes?”
“Why?” Billy wasn’t sure if he was asking why he was given the hoodie, or if he got time.
“You said it was your birthday, right?” Steve smiled, almost shyly. Billy felt a bit of a blush creeping up on his cheeks, pulling the hoodie tighter around him. It smelled like a musky perfume and it was even a little bit big on Billy, which rarely happened with the size he already was.
But time was going quickly, with two more of Steve’s colleagues joining, looking at Billy with interest but not engaging. Steve looked at his watch, then patted one of them on the shoulder, “Hagan, thanks.”
“No problem man, see you later. Don’t cause problems, yeah?”
The other guy, Carver, gave him a fist bump, “enjoy.”
“I might, especially with you,” Steve looked at Billy with a grin. “See you inside.” Steve then moved away, leaving Billy with Hagan and Carver, around the corner.
“What time is it?”
“A bit before twelve,” Carver answered, looking at his watch. “Why?”
Billy looked back at the line and deflated. Here he was, still outside with his only opportunity now gone, feeling kind of left and cheated on. Steve was a fucking tease, leading him on, dropping him the moment he could. Honestly, he didn’t feel like flirting with the two guys. They looked kind enough, but Billy knew he wasn’t going to get in.
“Happy New Year,” Billy forced a smile. “see you guys.”
Billy was going to keep his pride. At least he wasn’t freezing his ass off anymore, as he moved away from the entrance, from the men.
“Wait man, where are you going?” Carver moved to Billy, “I think you misunderstood.”
“What? I’m not waiting any longer, it’s clear I’m not getting in.” Billy bit back. “I’m not here for your entertainment.
Carver shook his head, “you’re in. Harrington put you on the guest list. He’s gonna get changed.”
“Harrington?”
“Steve.” Hagan informed him.
“Steve’s waiting for me inside?” Billy breathed out, feeling the warmth of the hoodie finally seep in his body.
“Obviously.” Carver said, “get in, Harrington will be at the first bar at the right.”
Billy felt adrenaline surging through his body as he finally passed the velvet rope into the darkness of the club, feeling the temperature rise with every step he took. Billy tied the hoodie around his waist, moving around.
The crowd started counting down, overpowering the music.
Billy had gotten in right on time.
Ten.
Billy brushed his fingers through his hair, checking if they were still in place.
Nine.
Eight.
Billy put on some more gloss on his lips.
Seven.
Six.
The bar was finally in sight. His heart started pounding. He looked through the crowd for that familiar face.
Five.
“Hey,” a voice loudly spoke in his ear.
Billy turned around.
Four.
There Steve stood, hair perfect. Eyes sparkling. Wearing so much less. No suit. Just a shirt. A crop top. Moles scattered on his skin of his arms.
Three.
Billy smiled, they found each other.
His lips were close.
Two.
One.
“Happy New Year, Billy Hargrove.” Steve kissed Billy, and Billy pushed back, greedily taking those lips. Billy’s hand was on his cheek, the other one in Steve’s perfect hair while Steve held him at the waist, slipping lower, teasing at the rim of his skort.
“You said no knickers, right?”
“One way to find out.” Billy murmured against his lips, feeling Steve’s rough fingertips dip under.
“Happy New Year, Steve Harrington.”