- RETROMIX + HEATMETAL

[camarod]

Comments

[camarod]

I’ll open a window - [he’s done it enough times to know the way to lean. His beer is abandoned on the table, and getting Steve’s furthest window open enough takes a hot second. The relief to light up and inhale is so tantalisingly close to a high in of itself.

He enjoys it until his exhale, after which his eyes land on the shirt and linger. ] You and Munson, huh.

[Let’s Talk About That. Maybe it’ll kill thing in his chest at last. ]

[retromix]

[ As a cold slither of panic worms its way down his spine, he fixes Billy with a flat look to mask that jolt of alarm. ]

You missed the part where he and I became friends. He's an alright guy.

[camarod]

Friends swap shirts now?

[steven.]

I know him. I was probably his best customer on Spring Break.

[retromix]

[ Can a man not wear a random band tshirt in peace! ]

I borrowed it. Support circle ... something like that.

[camarod]

[He takes a longer draw, eyes narrowing as he thinks. Overthinks. Munson hated jocks. Billy remembers this clearly; remembers being ribbed about being on the team instead of doing something better like drumming.

He hums softly, turning to blow smoke out of the window.] You two do a little shirt exchange? Braid eachothers hair?

[He means it to be a tease, really. But he’s jealous, and stupid, and Steve Harrington suits the shirt. Suits the way it clings on his arms, the way it lines the shape of his chest.

He can’t say that though, can he?]

[retromix]

[ He has the most open Tell Me About It expression possible, goading. ]

Why do you care, man?

[ He'll wait. ]

[camarod]

[I don’t is on the tip of his tongue. A lie that is so easy and so familiar that he almost says it on muscle memory alone. He turns instead, back against the windowsill and his hips jutted forward, an elbow resting back and the joint hanging from his fingers.

He’s already confessed something so quiet that it might not have existed in Hawkins. Man or woman, both. He thinks maybe this would have been easier in California. ]

Because I’ve been hitting on you since senior year, Harrington.

[Casual, he knows. Too frightened of his own father for it to be anything else.]

[retromix]

[ Steve knows flirting. He knows when someone is hitting on him, and whatever gave Billy a reason to bother Steve didn't feel remotely like the friendly brand of it that everyone else used. Steve remembers flinching on the basketball court.

Flatly, hazarding a bewildered guess he's being messed with, he says, ]

You did not.

[camarod]

You are so goddamn stupid.

[Billy might be too. It’s fine. He exhales out, incredulous.] You don’t hit on a guy in a town like Hawkins like he’s a girl.

[Do you see. Not you don’t hit on a guy, period. ]

[retromix]

You don't hit on anyone the way you do!

[ Ohmygod. Billy Hargrove was hitting on him? Billy Hargrove? Maybe Steve is stupid but he has no experience in men flirting with him! Or very ... little.

His cheeks feel so hot as he realises Billy is deadass serious. ]

You flirt with someone like you like them, so they know!

[camarod]

I gave you basketball pointers -

[God's Little Idiot says like this is so obvious!] You think I fuck with someone and give them tips if I want to bash their face in? It's called subtlety you goddamn idiot -

[This is Also Flirting, in case Steve can't tell. ]

[retromix]

Oh, is this your classy idea of flirting too? Calling me a stupid idiot? Wow, Hargrove, you're on a real roll here! Gee, I'm so swept off my feet by your skills!

[ What's wrong with being flirted with in a nice way!! You psychopath! ]

[camarod]

Yeah.

[This is mortifying, actually. The mortification of thirty minutes ago means nothing now. This Is The Worst Thing Ever, because now he has to say:] Because you look cute mad, I don't fucking know.

[He's smiling though. If he doesn't he might panic, might decide actually, it's better to fuck his way through a city rather than try and make one meaningful connection with someone who knows him. ]

[retromix]

Oh my god!

[ Slumping back against the wall, he rubs his face and moans into his hands. Where has the ground gone? Reality? Is Steve tasting the toast he had for breakfast again because his worldview is turning on its head. ]

Why have I never noticed I had game with guys? Auuuuughhh!

[camarod]

Yeah, there's no game to be seen here.

[Steve gets to have his little moment, because Billy is too busy sucking in a fat inhale of smoke, wondering if all those knocks about from dear old dad have actually made him stupid. How else could he be here, admitting out loud that he's queer, bring pizza like this is a goddamn date - ]

[retromix]

[ He's ignoring that comment because past game is still game! ]

Are you still flirting, is that what this is?

[ The pizza is not an apology at all! ]

Because it feels a lot like you came here to tell me I'm an idiot for not reading your mind when you were being a dick to me at school and parties.

[camarod]

I came to make peace, actually -

[It's not his fault you're wearing a Metallica shirt like a slut Steve - !!]

You know what, you're right. My apologies. [This does a little sarcastic, and maybe it is. It isn't malicious, the way his sarcasm usually is. It isn't really mean, but it feels like his old defensive mechanisms, which yeah, is comforting. Makes him feel in control, which is all he's really wanted, isn't it? Control. Can't control dad, can't control mom, or Max, or anything, but he can control this, maybe. Enough of it, anyway.

Billy moves from the window. ] I'll give you the full Billy Hargrove seduction, how's that? Will that make you feel better, pretty boy?

[Steve doesn't want him mean? That's fine. He can pretend like it doesn't feel alien to act as blatantly flirtatious like Steve's Heather Holloway, like this wouldn't get him killed. It won't, here. Nobody gives a shit here about him, about this, about anything. He moves like a cat, all lazy strides with his shoulders tensed, ready to pounce. He approaches like he's on the hunt, like Steve is prey, and he might get close enough to lean in to his space, maybe. Put a hand next to his on the armchair neck, pinky close enough to brush Steve's, lean in close, lower his voice and say: ] How's this? This obvious enough for you?

[retromix]

[ Steve leans back a little as Billy saunters over, although he doesn't give any ground out of principle (even if he wants to). Knowing he's the subject of Billy's interest like that has a stalling effect on Steve's brain, he can't come up with any witty replies in the full face of it. His lips are so dry that he has to sweep his tongue over them. ]

Like you said, me and Munson.

[ It's not like Steve can give Robin advice then hide himself, that would be hypocritical in the extreme. He's not sure how else to make his point, is the problem, awkwardly navigating the situation as it comes. ]

[camarod]

[The movement of Steve's tongue catches his eye, gaze downward and holding against the curve of Steve's mouth. There's no point in hiding it, really. The silence after the fact is heavy, he realises. It feels charged, feels disappointing too. He lifts his gaze up again, looking into the brown of Steve's eyes like he's looking for a but - and there isn't one.

He nods, wets his own lips and steps back. Feels air rushing back into his lungs. ] You and Munson. [The jealousy doesn't go away. It feels ugly and painful as it twists in chest, but it isn't suffocating. It's bearable. He can endure it for however long it takes to get over Steve Harrington.

He puts out the joint with his thumb and forefinger, pocketing the remains of it again. The sofa beckons, and it's easy to sit, to spread again, to reach for his beer and a slice like he hasn't just bared some secret part of himself and had it turned back on him. ] Sit down, man. It's fine.

[retromix]

[ Time was, Steve would turn down multiple girls a night at a party without blinking. Currently he's never felt so incredibly far from the King Steve persona in his life, eyes on the way Billy is watching him; Steve's ears and cheeks are so hot and he isn't sure what to do. ]

Were you seeing guys in Hawkins? [ Except be nosy. ] Like, a lot or a few, or ... ?

[camarod]

Nah. Too small, too connected. Everybody knows each others business. 'Sides, most of 'em looked like Tommy H or fucking Carol. I have standards, Harrington.

[Girls and guys. Karen Wheeler was his only dry spell hope rip. ]

And my dad was breathing down my neck about girls. If he thought I was fucking guys too I'd have been dead before Starcourt.

[retromix]

[ That only makes him blush more, Jesus H Christ. How into him exactly is Billy? ]

But you have been with guys?

[camarod]

Yeah. A couple. Cali's a different place, not easier just - more space to breathe.

[Never anything serious. Commitment is - stupid. Sort of fake and exhausting. He shrugs. ]

I was less of a prick there, I guess. Outside home, anyway.

[retromix]

[ His head is spinning. Never expected to hear Billy call himself a prick, wow.

Also, ]

My dad would kick my ass if he, if ... uh.

[camarod]

Yeah, dads are like that. Assholes.

[Cheers to shit dads etc etc. ] Munson was your sexual awakening. Jesus fuck.