Chapter Text
They’ve got ten minutes before Steve’s break is up and he has to go back to wishing for death with a smile.
It’s summer. It’s a Tuesday. Billy’s shown up for every one of his shifts.
Billy says he doesn’t drive all the way to the mall just for this the same way he says he doesn’t like Steve—at all—and, like, you don’t moan around a guy’s dick like Billy if you don’t like the guy the dick’s connected to just a little bit.
Steve takes it on the chin though. Billy says a lot of shit he doesn’t mean, like he totally didn't cry watching The Breakfast Club.
Billy’s a straight up asshole, but he’s not a downright monster. Steve would know.
So Steve rolls with it. Goes on his break with a quick salute to Rachel, happy to not have to paste on a customer appropriate smile and wonder what the actual hell he’s doing with his life working here and maybe he should’ve taken a shot at college even if he is worthless when it comes to, you know, thinking and being smart and shit like that. It has to be better than singing the trademarked Scoops Ahoy thank you song every single time someone tips.
He wakes up in the middle of the night with that song in his head. Hell isn’t the Upside Down, it’s a sailor themed dead end job in the middle of Indiana.
Billy tells him to keep the hat on. I’ve always wanted to do it with a sailor, he says. Calls him matey. Likes to say I’m raising the mast right before he’s about to suck Steve down.
Steve hates the hat. It covers his amazing hair. Makes him feel like he’s twelve dressing up for a play in the fourth grade.
Sailor puns make him shrivel up inside, quicker than usual.
He keeps the hat on.
Billy’s wrapped around Steve, proving he definitely did come here just for this by the way he’s kissing Steve hard, whole body hot against him, warming Steve's ice-cream frozen self up, and rubbing at Steve’s crotch with genuine gusto.
They’re in the insides of the mall, the rooms customers aren’t allowed in where, from what Steve’s seen, no one really goes. It’s creepy. Quiet. The hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand on end and make him paranoid and overthink everything, but it’s the only place they’ve found where they can do this without someone walking in.
It’s a small room. There are a bunch of folding chairs and folding tables and nothing else. Billy has Steve crowded against the only bare wall in the room—the closed door. It’s musty and there’s no vent or anything so the air just sits and Steve can actually smell the last time they had sex in here—yesterday. And the day before that. And the entire week and, and, and—and Billy definitely comes here just for this.
He can get in Steve’s face for telling a lie one time, but damn if the guy doesn’t just spew shit when he doesn’t have a dick in his mouth.
“Earth to Harrington.” Billy says and he’s pissed. Has that frown between his eyebrows that’s pretty cute. Steve’s going cross-eyed looking at him so close.
“Sorry.” Steve pecks his lips. They’re not in love. Steve doesn’t like Billy just like Billy doesn’t like him. Still, he kisses him sweetly. Feels dumb afterwards, but what’s new there?
Steve says, because Billy’s practically pouting and that should be harder to do when you got a hand wrapped around another guy’s hard on, “You’re wearing a new flavor.”
Billy glances away. Beige metal folding chairs are pretty interesting. Steve licks Billy’s bottom lip, sucks on it a little to feel Billy’s breath stutter out of him.
“Bubblegum?” Steve guesses.
Billy rolls his eyes. Takes his hand out of Steve’s shorts, which isn’t exactly ideal and not what Steve was going for, but Steve can work with it. He grabs Billy by the hips and brings him in close so they’re pressed tight together. Can feel Billy’s cock next to his.
Billy clicks his tongue. “Nope.”
Steve hums. Doesn’t care all that much about Billy’s new flavor of lipgloss. Brought it up because Billy has this awful habit of getting a little shy when Steve mentions it.
He kisses him again and Billy responds this time, bites at Steve with a nip that sends shivers all up his back.
“Raspberry?”
“You wish.”
Another kiss. Then another. Then Billy’s sucking on Steve’s tongue and Steve’s managed to get his hand down the back of Billy’s jeans to palm at his ass, squeeze it, makes Billy moan into his mouth, wrap his arms around Steve’s neck to get him closer—and Steve can so totally work with this.
There’s not a whole lot to be happy about in Steve’s life right now. A job with no future and no plans to change this. An ex-girlfriend he can't avoid because this is Hawkins and, like, twelve people live here. But there is Billy’s ass and Steve really loves Billy’s ass.
Like, on a scale of asses, Billy’s is top notch. Firm with all that muscle, but just a little bit of bounce to it that Steve can get two good, amazing, life affirming handfuls. If Steve was good with words at all, he’d be writing some Anne Murray type love ballads about that Hargrove backside.
Steve pulls back just enough to whisper against Billy’s lips, “Lime?”
Billy snorts. Mockingly says, “Lime? Do I look like a prude?”
“I guess you are pretty slutty.”
“Damn right.”