You don't wanna know the answer to that question, ( Steve says, wryly, like it's a joke that's not that funny. and honestly, it's not. Billy might be an asshole, but not even he should have to be neck deep in all of this terrifying Upside Down bullshit. it's a nightmare, Steve feels certain it has ruined his entire life. he used to be something, at least more than he is now. and now he's alone smoking the last of his shitty weed with a guy that broke a plate over his face, just to feel slightly less miserable for a little while.
keep to the parties, is the point. it's better than the alternative.
is he easy? Steve has to pause and genuinely contemplate that one. he's not entirely focused, when Billy leans toward him again. there's less of the uncertain thrill of the first time, if anything it's easier. Steve knows what to expect and thank fuck Billy didn't decide to be a tease for the sake of being a dick about it. Steve feels like he needs the hit enough that he doesn't even care that it comes directly from Billy's mouth.
so he tilts forward to take it, not enough to close the distance, but enough to that the lack of distance left feels noticeable. Billy's eyes are stupid blue, aren't they? somehow it makes sense on him, beachy blonde and ocean blue. he's like a walking ad for the wonders of California. Steve lets his breath catch to hold the smoke longer than he likely should, because he's gonna make the most of this borrowed buzz. it's really his buzz, anyway, if you think about it. since it's his weed. so it is reasonable to linger just a little too long with Billy Hargrove perched just over his mouth.
and then the moment is over, because he has to cough, and to Steve's credit he does reach forward to push Billy's face away from his when he does. half cough, half laugh, though nothing continues to be very funny. )
Maybe, ( Steve agrees, the worlds most delayed answer. really, what's wrong with being easy? better easy than confusing or distant or constantly wondering if you're even getting anywhere. Steve finishes what is left of his half demolished Twinkie and asks through the bite, apropos of nothing, ) Isn't that wasting it, kind of? You know. The gap.
( yeah, Billy, isn't it wasting a shotgun to no homo it? just saying. )
[ Steve takes it real well, glazed doe eyes and parted mouth, breathing in deep. And it feels dangerous to hover here, holding himself up over Steve Harrington's face, breathing out smoke, filling Steve's lungs until he's full to bursting. Then he's coughing and pushing Billy away, and he goes, snickering. A little evil. A little boyish.
Easy. Steve must've been easy, but in that way popular boys are. Still breaking girls hearts when they don't go for them, wetting their dicks elsewhere. Billy's going to make a joke about it. Easy. Then Steve opens his mouth, and Billy breaths through his nose. ]
Oh yeah? Am I wasting your weed?
[ There's a moment where he almost reconsiders. Doesn't do it. But he bites, instead grinning wide, showing white teeth. He leans back on his edge of the couch. Holds the joint up. He can go again, and he issues a lazy challenge. ]
( snickering like a goddamn gremlin is relief, considering the laughs Steve has heard out of Billy Hargrove before. it takes awhile for the smoke to fade from his lungs, for the cough to fade into a laugh. it's dumb, to laugh at somebody else laughing. but that's a good sign, Steve is aiming for that sort of stupid. making the entire world floaty and funny. that pitch perfect place where nothing matters as much as it should. almost normal, just rose tinted and fuzzy at the edges.
Steve sucks at some of the sugar left behind on one of his fingers, lifting accusing eyebrows. ) Well, yeah. ( obviously they're wasting it, with half the smoke soaking into his mother's ugly throw pillows. Steve didn't particularly mean it as a challenge, just an idle thought.
and yet a challenge it clearly is, from the smile with too many teeth, the drawl that makes it seem like Billy has already decided he'll whit out. the Steve on the faltering edge of a half-abandoned high had been coherent enough to kick himself for wondering about things he shouldn't want. the one that's slipped a little too far in not worrying about anything isn't quite as reserved. Billy can condemn him for all sorts of things; being a bitch, being a priss, not planting his feet, not being the fight Billy seems to so desperately want. but Billy can't call him a coward, because it only takes a half a breath to decide, yeah, he'll come and get it.
kinda funny, to push Billy away one second and drag him closer the next. Steve has his head is lazily thrown over the back of the couch, though, so Billy has to come to him. it's not a kiss because there's an objective. sort of like mouth to mouth, right? just sharing air. the finger he sucked on is a wet hint at the back of Billy's neck, and honestly this way is almost easier this way, because Steve doesn't feel compelled to keep his eyes open when they're this close. )
[ The thing is, Steve Harrington couldn't drag Billy anywhere he doesn't want to be dragged. But it's such a goddamn surprise to have Steve take the bait that Billy lets himself go, and he grins like a shark the whole way, because there's no universe where Steve actually does it.
Except apparently in this one. There's no finesse because it's not like they're kissing, but Steve's hand, a little wet from being a fucking animal, sits on Billy's neck like maybe it's muscle memory for him. And some of this is muscle memory for Billy too. It's why he's got one hand on the couch for support and his mouth holds still for a moment before it parts and he — breathes out. It is easier. No wasted smoke ghosting past Steve's lips and over his cheeks, just straight into his pipes.
When it's nearly gone he breathes through his nose and — his mouth softens, tongue soft when it runs over his lip, which means running over Steve's lip. The slight angling of his head that makes this a move to be played on a girl in the back row of the Hawk while some shit movie plays. Then Billy kisses Steve hard, for just a moment, with plenty of time to plant a hand on his chest and push himself off, laughing viciously, like it's all a big fucking joke.
A big fucking joke. ]
How was that? Waste any?
[ He's still snickering, hovering above Steve with that wild buoyed energy simmering in his chest, though cottoned by taking three hits in the span of a — well not that much time. ]
( Steve doesn't get the Billy Hargrove appeal. he's aware there's supposed to be something there. Tommy has been a lot more respectful of their friendship divorce than Carol, who still likes to show up and lean on Steve's locker when he's trying to get his textbooks and mind his own damn business. heralding the panties Billy has been dropping and the parties he's been demolishing around a lollipop that makes her mouth a little too red. like each and every feat is a jewel plucked from a crown Steve gave up on purpose, is how he remembers it going. the hottest thing about Billy Hargrove is his car, not the fact he likes to lounge against it in jean-on-jean like he's Bruce Springsteen with worse hair.
and then Billy runs his tongue runs across Steve's lip — not in his mouth, technically, but maybe not not in his mouth, because it has to be open to take the smoke — and tilts his head in just that right way —– and Steve isn't entirely sure when it happened but it's almost like what they're doing shifted somewhere else. a total play, like Steve is some girl and he needs to be impressed to let Billy's hands wander, because there's gotta be some kinda compensation for being a complete goddamn asshole. Steve can't comprehend why any girl would let Billy kiss them, considering the shit that comes out of his mouth. and then it happens, and he hates that a part of him suddenly gets it.
Steve exhales again, the last of his shitty weed stuck in a closed system between them. does that make it better, actually? he can't decide; it feels like his mind is ticking two beats too slow, and that's a dangerous game to play with present company. it's over, though, which is good because Steve is finding something warm and leaning over him a little too easy to enjoy, right about now. trusting Billy to pull back on his own was his first mistake, as Billy makes a point of doing exactly what you don't want him to. he bears forward instead and Steve huffs a surprised mutter of a noise, grip tightening on Billy's neck like the guy is a kitten that can be scruffed and dragged off for his own good.
not that Steve manages to drag him back until the worst is already done. if Billy Hargrove gave him a fat lip from a shotgun with too much teeth (shotgun, that's what that was), it is going to completely ruin his buzz. ) What the fuck, ( is all that can occur to Steve to say, at first, his mind slow to wrap around the situation. Hargrove laughing, the smell of his aggressive cologne somehow overpowering the weed. laughing, because it's a joke. obviously it's a joke. a Hargrove Classic, wherein no part of it was actually funny. Steve wants to be mad, he should be mad. shouldn't he? he'll have to blame the buzz that what bubbles up instead is a laugh. incredulous, relieved — a strange thunder of thrill that Steve hasn't felt in awhile.
well, at least not in a way that didn't make him think he might be about to die. )
Jesus, nevermind. Who taught you that one, the... the... the shark from Jaws? ( it was a slow dig, but he got there! Steve releases Billy to try and shove him back by the shoulder instead, because he's too goddamn close, and the moment is decidedly over. whatever the moment was. ) How about you chew on something that can't bleed, ( Steve aims for dismissive, picking and tossing a Little Debbie monstrosity that got unfairly crushed between them, like if he's opting out of being Billy's chew toy he has to provide something else. Steve letting his tongue catching in a spot behind his lip that feels especially smart from the puncture of Billy's teeth is a slight blow to the facade. )
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no subject
Date: 2022-09-19 04:39 am (UTC)keep to the parties, is the point. it's better than the alternative.
is he easy? Steve has to pause and genuinely contemplate that one. he's not entirely focused, when Billy leans toward him again. there's less of the uncertain thrill of the first time, if anything it's easier. Steve knows what to expect and thank fuck Billy didn't decide to be a tease for the sake of being a dick about it. Steve feels like he needs the hit enough that he doesn't even care that it comes directly from Billy's mouth.
so he tilts forward to take it, not enough to close the distance, but enough to that the lack of distance left feels noticeable. Billy's eyes are stupid blue, aren't they? somehow it makes sense on him, beachy blonde and ocean blue. he's like a walking ad for the wonders of California. Steve lets his breath catch to hold the smoke longer than he likely should, because he's gonna make the most of this borrowed buzz. it's really his buzz, anyway, if you think about it. since it's his weed. so it is reasonable to linger just a little too long with Billy Hargrove perched just over his mouth.
and then the moment is over, because he has to cough, and to Steve's credit he does reach forward to push Billy's face away from his when he does. half cough, half laugh, though nothing continues to be very funny. )
Maybe, ( Steve agrees, the worlds most delayed answer. really, what's wrong with being easy? better easy than confusing or distant or constantly wondering if you're even getting anywhere. Steve finishes what is left of his half demolished Twinkie and asks through the bite, apropos of nothing, ) Isn't that wasting it, kind of? You know. The gap.
( yeah, Billy, isn't it wasting a shotgun to no homo it? just saying. )
no subject
Date: 2022-09-27 03:53 pm (UTC)Easy. Steve must've been easy, but in that way popular boys are. Still breaking girls hearts when they don't go for them, wetting their dicks elsewhere. Billy's going to make a joke about it. Easy. Then Steve opens his mouth, and Billy breaths through his nose. ]
Oh yeah? Am I wasting your weed?
[ There's a moment where he almost reconsiders. Doesn't do it. But he bites, instead grinning wide, showing white teeth. He leans back on his edge of the couch. Holds the joint up. He can go again, and he issues a lazy challenge. ]
Come and get it then. [ And he breathes in. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-09-28 03:54 am (UTC)Steve sucks at some of the sugar left behind on one of his fingers, lifting accusing eyebrows. ) Well, yeah. ( obviously they're wasting it, with half the smoke soaking into his mother's ugly throw pillows. Steve didn't particularly mean it as a challenge, just an idle thought.
and yet a challenge it clearly is, from the smile with too many teeth, the drawl that makes it seem like Billy has already decided he'll whit out. the Steve on the faltering edge of a half-abandoned high had been coherent enough to kick himself for wondering about things he shouldn't want. the one that's slipped a little too far in not worrying about anything isn't quite as reserved. Billy can condemn him for all sorts of things; being a bitch, being a priss, not planting his feet, not being the fight Billy seems to so desperately want. but Billy can't call him a coward, because it only takes a half a breath to decide, yeah, he'll come and get it.
kinda funny, to push Billy away one second and drag him closer the next. Steve has his head is lazily thrown over the back of the couch, though, so Billy has to come to him. it's not a kiss because there's an objective. sort of like mouth to mouth, right? just sharing air. the finger he sucked on is a wet hint at the back of Billy's neck, and honestly this way is almost easier this way, because Steve doesn't feel compelled to keep his eyes open when they're this close. )
no subject
Date: 2022-10-05 10:04 pm (UTC)Except apparently in this one. There's no finesse because it's not like they're kissing, but Steve's hand, a little wet from being a fucking animal, sits on Billy's neck like maybe it's muscle memory for him. And some of this is muscle memory for Billy too. It's why he's got one hand on the couch for support and his mouth holds still for a moment before it parts and he — breathes out. It is easier. No wasted smoke ghosting past Steve's lips and over his cheeks, just straight into his pipes.
When it's nearly gone he breathes through his nose and — his mouth softens, tongue soft when it runs over his lip, which means running over Steve's lip. The slight angling of his head that makes this a move to be played on a girl in the back row of the Hawk while some shit movie plays. Then Billy kisses Steve hard, for just a moment, with plenty of time to plant a hand on his chest and push himself off, laughing viciously, like it's all a big fucking joke.
A big fucking joke. ]
How was that? Waste any?
[ He's still snickering, hovering above Steve with that wild buoyed energy simmering in his chest, though cottoned by taking three hits in the span of a — well not that much time. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-10-17 03:47 am (UTC)and then Billy runs his tongue runs across Steve's lip — not in his mouth, technically, but maybe not not in his mouth, because it has to be open to take the smoke — and tilts his head in just that right way —– and Steve isn't entirely sure when it happened but it's almost like what they're doing shifted somewhere else. a total play, like Steve is some girl and he needs to be impressed to let Billy's hands wander, because there's gotta be some kinda compensation for being a complete goddamn asshole. Steve can't comprehend why any girl would let Billy kiss them, considering the shit that comes out of his mouth. and then it happens, and he hates that a part of him suddenly gets it.
Steve exhales again, the last of his shitty weed stuck in a closed system between them. does that make it better, actually? he can't decide; it feels like his mind is ticking two beats too slow, and that's a dangerous game to play with present company. it's over, though, which is good because Steve is finding something warm and leaning over him a little too easy to enjoy, right about now. trusting Billy to pull back on his own was his first mistake, as Billy makes a point of doing exactly what you don't want him to. he bears forward instead and Steve huffs a surprised mutter of a noise, grip tightening on Billy's neck like the guy is a kitten that can be scruffed and dragged off for his own good.
not that Steve manages to drag him back until the worst is already done. if Billy Hargrove gave him a fat lip from a shotgun with too much teeth (shotgun, that's what that was), it is going to completely ruin his buzz. ) What the fuck, ( is all that can occur to Steve to say, at first, his mind slow to wrap around the situation. Hargrove laughing, the smell of his aggressive cologne somehow overpowering the weed. laughing, because it's a joke. obviously it's a joke. a Hargrove Classic, wherein no part of it was actually funny. Steve wants to be mad, he should be mad. shouldn't he? he'll have to blame the buzz that what bubbles up instead is a laugh. incredulous, relieved — a strange thunder of thrill that Steve hasn't felt in awhile.
well, at least not in a way that didn't make him think he might be about to die. )
Jesus, nevermind. Who taught you that one, the... the... the shark from Jaws? ( it was a slow dig, but he got there! Steve releases Billy to try and shove him back by the shoulder instead, because he's too goddamn close, and the moment is decidedly over. whatever the moment was. ) How about you chew on something that can't bleed, ( Steve aims for dismissive, picking and tossing a Little Debbie monstrosity that got unfairly crushed between them, like if he's opting out of being Billy's chew toy he has to provide something else. Steve letting his tongue catching in a spot behind his lip that feels especially smart from the puncture of Billy's teeth is a slight blow to the facade. )