Chapter Text
Billy Hargrove had a horrible couch, especially for the likes of Steve. In fact, his current position revealed every single one of its flaws.
And there were many . First off, it was ugly. A mix of tan and navy plaid that was soft only because it was worn, making it baby blue along the arms and cushion edges.
The arms also had like, zero padding, which was all the more obvious when Steve was resting his neck against one. The back was oddly tall, making it a good height to vault over the back of, but shit when he tried to hook his ankle over it and stretch out his everything, as he currently was. One edge of the middle cushion was frayed and at the moment Steve’s shirt was riding up and he could feel it.
Not to mention the window, which was right by him, shining late-afternoon light onto his poor face as he hung his head back over the armrest.
Really, what kind of couch made it this uncomfortable to be in such an impractical position?
Couches were supposed to be safe spaces. Havens where Steve didn’t have to have sun in his eyes and one of his legs at an 80 o angle and still be comfortable. Especially on a Sunday. This was the day of not doing shit.
Thanks, Jesus people, for starting that trend.
Steve wiggled around and put one of his arms over his eyes. He felt a little better.
He heard the floorboards creak and a thunk of something on the coffee table (a coffee table that was technically a tall-ish cupboard turned sideways, but worked surprisingly well). Then he felt Billy crawl over him, his two legs trapping the one Steve didn’t have over the back of the couch, his forearms pressed down on Steve’s chest gently and his warm torso overlayed Steve’s pelvis.
Now, Steve was feeling a lot better. As he tended to feel when given a Billy-blanket.
“Hey, look at me when I’m busy lookin’ pretty,” Billy huffed.
Steve smiled slow, raising the arm he had hanging down by the floor. He felt around and got Billy’s bare shoulder, draping his wrist there.
“Mm, what if I’m blinded by such beauty?” Steve asked, cracking open an eye, but all he could see was his own t-shirt and a smidge of Billy’s arm.
“Then we’ll have to improvise with other senses.” Steve could hear the smirk. “And my good word that I’m always a beauty queen.”
Steve lifted his arm, resting it on Billy’s other shoulder and blinking open his eyes.
“It’s the one thing you’re honest about,” Steve said, because it was one of those universal truths.
That sun light wasn’t nearly as annoying when it shined down Billy’s face, showing the intentionally messy bun of hair on top of his head. His crooked smirk as he bit his lip, his chin resting on folded arms across Steve’s stomach. Oh, and he was shirtless, because this was Billy Hargrove. It was always best to assume pecs would be out when it came to Billy Hargrove.
“It’s useless to lie about these eyes,” Billy said, batting them to be a little dick. They were so blue, when Steve first met Billy he was convinced they were contacts. The sun caught his eyelashes alongside the scruff above his lip and over his chin.
Steve huffed out a laugh and Billy turned his head to nestle further into his own arms, and crooked his knee to trap Steve’s leg more.
“You need somethin’?” Steve asked softly.
“Mm, attention,” Billy said, closing his eyes.
Steve snorted and started running his hand over the stray curls that weren’t in the bun on Billy’s head, tucking them behind his ear, brushing them away from his eyes.
“Good boy,” Billy muttered, patting Steve’s wrist as his thumb ran along Billy’s temple. Steve laughed, and with Billy making his shit sofa a thousand times more comfortable he got ready to settle down for a nap.
Then Billy’s phone pinged loudly which was something Steve usually ignored except for Billy’s subsequent groan. The kind of groan that meant he was about to have a bitch fit which would--thankfully--not be directed at Steve, so Steve could sit back and enjoy some Billy-Angry-Face which was always fun. As long as he wasn’t mad at Steve . That part was very important.
Very.
They’d only just replaced Steve’s toaster.
“What is it?” Steve asked, watching their perfect position break up as Billy sat up Upward-Dog Style to reach back into his pocket and snag his phone.
“Stupid cycle calendar Max made me get,” Billy grumbled, settling back down onto Steve’s lap but this time with his oversized Samsung blocking his face from view, thumb scrolling. “It’s got the most annoying notifications. It’s been telling me shit I already know for like a week,” Billy’s shoulders lifted and fell as he spoke, and Steve could easily visualize his sneer.
“Like, ‘You’ll be experiencing pheromone increases soon’, or ‘Make sure to log any discomfort!’,” Billy let his phone drop to Steve’s chest with a small thunk , lip curled and already rolling his eyes. “And they’ve got this stupid Bee logo, and it smiles at you and lights up when I actually write stuff but what the hell does a bee have to do with me wanting to get fucked up the ass for five days straight?”
“Uh…” Steve said, eloquently, as he watched Billy’s hands fist on his sternum. Steve decided it was best to go back to rearranging Billy’s artfully-messy hair. “So your heat’s coming up?”
“Three days,” Billy sighed, leaning into Steve’s hand. “And I don’t need a stupid app to tell me I’m horny. I’m pretty aware.”
Steve listened and watched as Billy’s eyes drifted shut slowly, but his eyebrows stayed crinkled. Unfortunately, his mind was already racing to about nine different places. “So what’s your plan?” Steve asked.
“My what?” Billy muttered, seeming much more focused on Steve’s fingers starting to rub small circles on his skull.
“Like, heat plan,” Steve explained. “You don’t seem like a clinic kinda guy, you just gonna lock yourself up here for a week? Or have you got a friend who--?”
Billy’s eyes snapped open, bright blue, but his entire face twisted up. It took Steve by surprise, it happened so fast.
“What the fuck, Steve?” Billy asked disbelievingly, “Why the hell do I need a ‘friend’ when I’m fucking lying on top of my boyfriend?”
Ironically, Billy chose to sit up. He knocked the wind outta Steve’s chest as he pressed his palms down on his stomach, grabbing his phone and setting it on the cabinet-table while he did.
“Do you not wanna spend my heat with me?” Billy asked. He was completely crawling off of Steve now, resituating on his knees and staring down at Steve, with that one leg still trapped between his own. “You don’t wanna have the most fan-fucking- tastic excuse to fuck for a full week, Harrington?”
Steve sat up on his elbows, the leg he’d had hooked on the back of the couch falling. He was just confused .
“What good am I during your heat, Billy?” Steve shot back. “And this is your first heat with me, so like...” Steve sat up fully, his hand movements filling in the bits of awkward pauses as he talked. “If you’ve already got a routine set up, or a buddy that helps you out, I won’t be mad, it’s your heat, your body--so--so like--?”
“I don’t have some knot-head on call for my heats, Steve!” Billy snarled, a hand coming up to his forehead. “And why would you be no help? You have a dick,” he snapped.
“I have the wrong dick,” Steve hissed back.
“I like your dick!”
“That’s great, honey, but it still doesn’t knot,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair, looking beseechingly over at Billy’s weird modern art on the wall, “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“I know,” Billy rolled his eyes, “Freaky that I have to convince my boyfriend of five months to have sex with me, he’s usually on board.”
Now Billy was shaking his head at Steve in that fucking way of his.
“Billy, baby, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to spend your heat with you, but would it even work? ” Steve tried to explain.
“My heats are pretty simple, Steve,” Billy said, looking Steve in the eye, enunciating slowly, which was just a dick move, “I need to get fucked, and if I do, everything’s peachy.”
Steve held up his hands in a choking motion, making a ‘ mmmrrhff!’ sound.
“You see, Billy, there's just one problem. While you're pumping out 'fuck me’ pheromones my biological imperative is to cuddle.”
“Okay!” Billy said, throwing his hands up, “I can work with cuddling, just cuddle with your dick up my ass and we’re golden!”
“I’m programed to be helpful, to just, y’know, have everything ready,” Steve said, swirling his hands. “This is Dynamics 101, Billy, betas-- me-- are designed to get one half of the complimentary dynamics all nice and prepped for the other, then hightail it outta there before getting any important bits ripped off.”
Billy looked at Steve like he’d just turned into a headless chicken or some shit. “That is so stone age. The only time I’d rip your dick off is right now ‘cuz you’re being an idiot!”
“Billy, I just--”
“You’re just being a moron,” Billy spat, he flopped back so that he was sitting somewhat properly on the sofa, seemingly unconcerned with trapping Steve’s foot. Billy crossed his arms, glaring at Steve. “It ever occur to you that I don’t want to be fucked through a brick wall during my heats?”
“Uh…” was all Steve got out before Billy soldiered on.
“Thought so,” he smiled bitterly. “And, ya see, I’m not usually,” Billy scratched at his neck, stalling, “very placid during my heats. I guess I’m a bit immune to the magic alpha dick. I tried to get through a heat with an alpha like, once and we didn’t get along.”
“But, I’m--”
Billy rolled his eyes hard. “You’re a beta , yeahhh, you don’t have a knot and you’re not gonna possibly give me internal bleeding because of it, or break my bed frame, the horror . You won’t have to wear a damn mouthguard when we get really into it to make sure you don’t mate me. You won’t be a senseless fuck-monkey as soon as you catch a whiff of me. The humanity!” he groaned up at the ceiling.
Steve ran his hands through his hair again. He believed Billy, he really did, but it was still difficult to agree to. There were other things at play here.
“But what if day three you decide I’m not enough or something?” Steve asked. He scooted closer to Billy as best he could while the other man had his foot trapped. “I can’t just leave you alone at that point, and it’s too late to get someone else--”
“I won’t want someone else,” Billy persisted, staring down at his own lap. “Jesus, Steve, why wouldn’t I want to spend my heat with my goddamn boyfriend? So what if I say ‘ dick me’ and you just spoon me, doesn’t sound so bad.”
“But the cramps and fever if--” Steve was cut off when Billy slumped sideways, his head on Steve’s chest.
“You’ll be there,” Billy said, he sounded more petulant then reassuring, “so I’ll be fine. So shut up.”
“Okay,” Steve murmured, wrapping his arms around Billy. “And hey,”
“What?”
“My foot’s falling asleep.”
Billy laughed.
➵➵➵➵➵
The next morning, Billy woke up moaning.
And not in the fun way, either.
“ Shit, goddamnit, why,” Billy gritted into his pillow. Steve was only 40% awake then, and blearily turned on his phone for the time. The sudden light burned his retinas, probably, but his phone showed that it was 3:42am.
“Oh my god, why are you awake?” Steve groaned. He'd spent the night at Billy's place, just ‘cuz, but also not ‘just 'cuz’ because Billy hadn't let him out of his sight after he'd agreed to help with his heat. Plus, Billy's bed was significantly more comfortable than his couch.
“I'm in pain, dipshit,” Billy growled at him. Steve sat up on one elbow and squinted. Billy was loosely curled in on himself, one hand pressing just above his groin, the other under his pillow.
“Is it starting?” Steve asked quickly. “Do I need to like, fuck you?”
“ No,” Billy groaned. “It’s cramped up enough there as it is . This is stupid pre-heat shit, y'know, all my bits are shifting around a bit to like release the right stuff.”
“Oh, uh,” Steve watched as Billy bit at his lip, “I could blow you?”
Billy froze. He glanced up at Steve with squinty eyes.
“Will that help?” Steve asked. “As at least, a distraction?”
“It might,” Billy said. He started to roll over, but gritted his teeth and groaned hard at the movement. “But just don't get offended if it doesn't, uh, work. It's not you, it's just my plumbing.”
Steve huffed out a laugh. “I've always seemed to get a rise out of you before.”
“This is already a delicate situation, and boner puns will not help you,” Billy snarked, finally flopping onto his back with a wince.
Steve scooted down the bed. Billy'd already tossed the sheet off himself, so it was easy to set up shop between his legs. Billy wasn't hard in his shorts, which showed this really wasn't his heat kicking in a little early. Steve placed his hands around Billy's waist, his thumbs just on the inside curve of his hips. He pressed down gently, watching as Billy's bare abdomen tensed, then relaxed, under the pressure. Billy sighed above him.
“You could also give me a back massage, y'know,” Billy said as Steve worked his thumbs in small circles. “Just a thought.”
“Why choose?” Steve asked, leaning down to kiss Billy just below his navel, licking at the skin slightly. “Blow job, then backrub.”
“Mm, winning combination,” Billy sighed.
Steve untied the bow of Billy's gray cotton shorts with one hand, the other still massaging Billy's hip. He slipped his hand in to grip Billy's cock, slowly run up and down the length of it with his thumb.
Billy hummed, a positive hum, and Steve pushed Billy's shorts halfway down Billy's thighs with both hands.
Billy's dick was a bit hard, slightly reddened, but the foreplay that would usually work Billy right up would have to compete with his pain this time.
So Steve decided, if only for the sake of Billy's ever-important comfort, to get right to sucking.
Steve gripped Billy's dick in one hand and gently rubbed into the inside of his thigh with the other. Billy exhaled heavily.
“Stop actin’ like you don't see my dick basically 6 times a week,” Billy gritted.
“I'm just acting like it's beautiful no matter how much I see it,” Steve grinned up at Billy, eyes still crinkled up at his boyfriend at he licked the head of his dick.
Billy let out a little ‘ hhnh’ at the action.
Steve closed his lips around the head, the flat of his tongue sliding up against it lazily. He sucked gently until his lips pursed into a kiss, his lips roamed down the side, rubbing down the shaft, licking up.
Billy grew hard enough that Steve moved both hands back up, thumbs circling the inside of his hips again. Billy, being a little shit, nudged his hips up in Steve’s face.
Steve’s face snapped up. “Attitude is not gonna make this go faster,” he griped.
Billy huffed out a laugh. “This was your idea.”
“Yeah, because I’m an awesome boyfriend,” Steve explained, giving Billy’s hips an extra squeeze, which apparently felt nice, based on Billy’s deep groan. “Here I am being charitable--”
“Just suck my dick, Steve.”
“ Pushy,” Steve sighed, but he could see Billy’s point, so this time he actually got to work.
He kissed the head wetly, gently--because he was a dick--and couldn’t help the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile at Billy's annoyed groan. His boyfriend was seriously spoiled. So Steve opened his mouth and took about half of Billy’s dick in.
“I swear to-- fuck--” Billy gasped.
“Hm?” Steve asked, or some sound close to it as he started to bob up and down.
He pulled off to breathe, snarking out a quick, “That better?” to make it look as if he didn’t to take a breath. He didn’t listen to Billy’s answer before diving back in, opening his mouth more, sucking gently. Billy’s cock twitched in his mouth and it made Steve groan.
“Oh shit,” Billy huffed as Steve got more aggressive. Remembering he could breathe through his nose and tonguing at the slit always got nice reactions out of Billy. Then Billy let out this high, breathy sound and whispered, “I’m leaking, fuck.”
Steve, a bit busy trying to take Billy all the way, ignored him, bobbing faster even. Spit dripped down Billy’s shaft and down Steve’s chin. Steve hummed, though, to give the appearance that he was listening, even though he was more focused on the feeling of the head of Billy’s cock on the soft palate.
“St-Steve,” Billy’s hips jumped, “Steve slow down I’m gonna--I’m all messed up with heat shit I’m not gonna l- last, shit! It’s gonna--”
Steve bobbed a few more times before pulling off again with a gasp. “Babe?” he asked, focusing on the dribble of precome running down Billy’s cock instead of his face.
“I’m gonna--I’m leaking,” Billy breathed out, arching his back to raise up his hips.
“I see that,” Steve said, pointedly licking up the bitter drip of precome.
“No, dipshit, I mean slick,” Billy growled.
Steve snapped his eyes up to Billy’s face, to see that it was red and sweaty, his eyes glassy. Steve moved his hands then, the left squeezing Billy’s hip, the right sliding to cup his buttcheek. His middle finger--basically of its own accord, Steve swore--slipped up and yep that was wet.
Billy had never gotten slicked up over a blow job before, usually it took lots of encouragement, encouragement where lube was already in the mix. Now, however, Billy’s cock twitched, the head a deep red, still wet with spit, and his ass was wet and it was the easiest thing just to slide his middle finger a bit further, right in past the outer ring, up to the third knuckle like it was nothing.
“Oh fuck ,” Billy moaned and his cock spasmed, come spurting out and running down the sides. It got on Steve’s face, a little in his hair. Billy’s ass clenched and he shook as he came, falling back on the bed and trapping Steve’s hand.
“Holy shit,” Steve breathed as he felt come drip down his cheek.
“Back...rub...” Billy mumbled, mouth open and eyes shut.
➵➵➵➵➵
The next morning it was decided that two days before Billy’s heat seemed like a good time to raid CVS for all their necessary provisions.
Fluorescent lighting shined upon their hunting grounds and Steve was ready for this heat. Or--he was ready to prepare for a heat that wasn't exactly his , but still.
It was 10:00am on a Monday and the middle aged woman behind the register looked about seven minutes from a mental break down. Steve mentally noted to compliment her necklace when they finally got around to the money bit of this chore.
“So,” Steve said, clapping Billy on the bicep, then shamelessly groping him a bit because he was totally allowed to do that, and it was just so firm. “Whaddya need?”
“Like seven bottles of Advil gel caps,” Billy said, bee-lining for the generic meds. His hand absently pressed on his stomach. “They’re faster… I think.”
“Uh, what about, later in the week?” Steve asked, trailing behind him.
Billy bit his lip as he started grabbing bottles. Despite his earlier statement, he only grabbed two bottles of Advil.
“I'm gonna need towels, and condoms, wet wipes are always fuckin’ helpful. Always,” He actually paused to scratch his head , which Steve found adorable as he watched Billy toss his blonde curls around.
“Food?” Steve prompted.
“Salty shit, and uh, chocolate,” Billy turned to walk down another isle.
“That doesn't sound like the energy bars and stuff you're supposed to eat--”
“Yeah, well, those taste like crap,” Billy snapped. “We'll just get Powerade and call it a day.”
“Powerade is just sugar --”
“I know,” Billy huffed, looking over his shoulder at Steve and smiling.
Steve melted. And with the extra body heat Billy was giving off lately and his already tactile nature ramped up to a constant snuggle whenever they were seated, (that morning Steve had woken up for the second time to find Billy on top of him,) Steve felt his inner instincts squirming to the surface. Service. Prepare.
As they walked, Billy grabbed something off the end of a shelf. It was so fast, Steve almost missed it except for how Billy had to juggle the items in his hands.
Steve looked over Billy's shoulder and saw the self-molding mouthguard in his arms.
“Why do we need a mouth guard?” Steve asked. “I won't bite you.”
Billy just side-eyed him. “I've been known to get aggressive, Stevie.”
Well didn't that make Steve feel all warm and fuzzy.
“I’m both turned on, and afraid,” Steve grinned crookedly as Billy curled his lip up at him.
“Shut up,” Billy said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be all sweet and cuddly pre-heat?” Steve asked, leaning over close.
“I’ll fuckin’ show you cuddly,” Billy sniped, knocking shoulders with Steve.
➵➵➵➵➵
That evening it was almost impossible for Steve to go home. They’d dicked around a couple stores throughout the day getting actual food along with whatever else they’d need. Which wasn’t too much, since Billy said he already owned the more personal provisions.
They’d hung out the rest of the day back at Billy’s apartment, with Steve smiling to himself as he watched Billy subconsciously nest. Said nest was luckily on the bed and not the lumpy sofa or the laundry nook or the kitchen. It’d started with shedding his hoodie down onto the bed and griping about having to pick up Steve’s sleep clothes, only to toss them onto the bed.
Now it was almost 8:00pm and it’d probably be Steve’s only chance to get stuff from his own place. Which he needed to do, considering he hadn’t been there for two days and wouldn’t for another six, probably.
Steve would have left earlier, but he honestly forgot, and also Billy’d been all sweet-in-his-own-douchey-way on him all day.
But now Billy was cranky, so, might as well make it worse and leave.
“I just need to pick up some stuff,” Steve said, hopping around to get his sneakers on. Billy was hovering over him.
“Like what?”
“Uh, clothes,” Steve said, finally slipping the back of the shoe over his heel. It wasn’t like he was gonna unlace it or anything.
“Wear mine,” Billy said. “And in a day you won’t even be wearing any--”
“I gotta like, ask my neighbor to get my mail,” Steve said. “Since I’ll be here and you only decided to tell me your heat was coming a day ago.”
“I thought you’d notice,” Billy grumbled.
Steve was about to go hunting for his jacket, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to take it out of the ‘not a nest’ pile of shit on the bed, but willing to try anyway. It was nippy out, and Steve’s balls were all too important right now to risk freezing off.
“How, exactly?” Steve asked as he looked behind the sofa and the back of the front door for his jacket. “Differentiate between lots of sex and slightly more sex? I can’t exactly smell it like those-that-will-not-be-mentioned.”
“Betas can’t smell pheromones at all?” Billy asked, his face getting all scrunchy, which made his nose look softer. Steve loved that. He would’ve just stared, but alas, this wasn’t one of those rhetorical, angry-at-the-world questions Steve could just sit back and enjoy his angry-face at.
“I catch a whiff of what, for you, is the equivalent of getting slammed by a nasal freight train,” Steve said, finally poking his head into the bedroom and bingo, there was his jacket.
...underneath a towel and two pillows. Steve went to snag it but was instantly intercepted by Billy, who must’ve teleported or some shit to get between Steve and the bed so fast.
“Can I get my jacket?” Steve asked, trying to look over Billy’s bare shoulder, because, of course, the guy’s shirt was off an hour after they got home. Not that Steve was complaining, dear shit, no. The view was lovely. When the view wasn’t a human wall of abs between Steve and his jacket.
“It’s… under stuff,” Billy said. Which was a stellar excuse. “Just, uh,” Billy stepped over to his dresser and grabbed the black hoodie balled up on top of it. He then threw it at Steve’s head, and only years of basketball (that he hadn’t actually played in years, hah) saved him from getting smacked in the face with it. “Wear that.”
“This didn’t make the cut?” Steve asked. He found the bottom of it and frowned before pulling it over his head. He preferred… zippers. Farrah Fawcett and zippers had always gotten along. Billy’s teeth tended to mesh well with Steve in zippers also.
Billy shrugged, already on his way back to the living ‘space’/kitchen ‘area’.
“It’s fine, I guess,” Billy said. “Don’t really need it yet.” He side-eyed Steve as he followed after Billy, pulling the hoodie down his chest as he went. “You’ll be back soon, right?”
“Yeah, hun.” Steve stepped up into Billy’s space. “I’m literally only going because of you,” he said, wrapping his arms around Billy, who slumped against his chest with a sigh but didn’t raise his arms or do much of anything that required effort, which Steve respected. “I’m getting some clothes, any food that you might like that I happen to have over there, blankets...” Billy hummed against Steve’s collarbone at that.
“I won’t even be gone that long,” Steve assured Billy. He raised a hand to run it through Billy’s hair, hair that was so soft-- but that besides the point. ”An hour, tops.”
“Mmn, fine,” Billy grunted. And he might’ve said he agreed, but when Steve tried to step away, Billy leaned into him further, groaning, “Nevermind, just stay.”
“Billy, I’m not leaving leaving, I’ll be right back.”
When Steve tried to step back again, Billy did wrap his arms around Steve, trapping him in by the waist. “New plan: always be back,” he said into Steve’s chest.
“Billy--” Steve huffed, trying to gently push his boyfriend’s arms off. This was not a situation for gentleness, though, because every time Steve wriggled one arm free the other got clamped down on his other side. “Baby, just--”
“Stay still, dipshit,” Billy rubbed his face back and forth across Steve’s chest and Steve froze.
Billy’s face moved up so that he was tucked in against Steve’s neck, his stubbled chin rubbing against Steve’s throat. Billy groaned deeply, and his whole chest seemed to vibrate against Steve's own.
His face continued to move over Steve’s neck. Billy breathed deep and huffed out across Steve’s skin.
“Billy… are you...” Steve started, “are you scenting?”
Billy reached up, tugging at the collar of Steve’s hoodie and yanking it down, snuffling his face into the newly revealed skin. He inhaled again.
And moaned out an, “Uhg,” into Steve’s shoulder, completely slumping against him.
That’s when Steve smelled it. It seemed to twist up into his nose, covering the smell of faded popcorn that always hung around Billy’s kitchen.
It made Steve's nose tingle, his eyes droop, and he couldn't stop inhaling over and over again. The smell was sweet, but tangy… and kinda… too nice?
“Mm, you smell… you smell like fake cherry,” Steve realized, taking in little huffs through his nose. “Is that your shampoo--?”
“ No,” Billy downright growled, which was hot, but Steve needed to keep in mind that he was still trying to get out the door, and now Billy was actually clinging to him. “And I do not smell like fake cherry.”
The scents floating around the room kinda made Steve wanna do absolutely anything Billy asked.
“You kinda do, though,” Steve defended, shoving his nose down into Billy’s hair and sniffing deep. “Real cherries don’t smell this strong, y’know?”
“Well,” Billy was wiggling away now, his arms falling, “get fuckin’ used to it ‘cuz I’m not wearing blockers during my heat--”
“Nonono, it's good. I like it,” Steve said quickly, his hands going to Billy’s shoulders, keeping his nose shoved into Billy’s hair and sniffing. “Still smells like an Italian ice though.”
“Get out,” Billy gruffed, batting at Steve’s chest, but he was smiling when he turned his head up at Steve.
“You gonna be alright?” Steve asked, stepping away but still leaving a hand in Billy’s hair, carding through it absently. “Is that first scenting just gonna escalate things?”
Billy shook his head, but as he was doing it he also followed Steve to the door. “I’m good, it was just--like, gland shit, I don’t fuckin’ know…” Billy trailed off, staring dizzily at Steve’s chest.
“Babe, if you’re...” Steve started, he reached for his keys on the little hanging wrack by the door but stared at Billy for confirmation. “If you’re not feeling so good--”
“If you don’t leave now, I won’t let you,” Billy said, his voice getting all pitchy, like it wanted to go up but Billy wouldn’t let it. He was lazer-eyeing Steve’s neck, tilting his head to the side, his damn oral fixation coming into play as he licked at the corner of his own mouth.
“Uh--”
“ Now, Steve.”
Steve jumped for the door, snagging his keys and quickly pulling Billy’s front door shut behind him. As soon as the door clicked closed, Steve heard the shunk of a lock and a small thud.
“Billy?” Steve asked, his voice squeaked.
“ Go, Steve, Jesus fucking--” Billy grumbled through the door. “If you don’t leave I’ll drag you back in here for a month, I swear to god.”
“Okay, okay,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, staring at Billy’s door for a moment. “I’m leaving.”
“You’ve been saying that for fifteen minutes.”
“I’m leaving.”
➵➵➵➵➵
When Steve returned, he was lugging up paper Food Lion bags haphazardly stuffed with all his blankets, and a duffel over his shoulder, of the most immediate clothing he’d found upon getting back to his place. And shampo, as well as other hair products. Billy’s heat was happening in under 36 hours. All cleaning products were welcome in Steve’s mind.
He also brought a cake.
Because if Steve Harrington was one thing, he was an impulse buyer, and he thought it couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t a big cake, just one of those little circular ones with white icing and bright colored trim (this one was orange). The lady behind the counter at Food Lion, the closest grocer and Steve’s second home, had asked if he wanted anything written on it, which he’d valiantly chickened out on.
Then he’d asked for extra bags. For one cake. Cashier didn’t bat an eye, though, which Steve interpreted as true kindness.
And yet, was it really impulse buying if he had only arrived at Food Lion with the explicit purpose of buying a cake? Steve had no idea, but he knew he was gonna tell Billy it was an impulse buy, so.
Once Steve’d finally finished with the building’s staircase (with stairs that had these grippy plastic circles on some steps that simply did not work) he stood in front of his boyfriend’s door, wondering if he should be afraid of what was waiting for him on the other side and remembering that it was locked. Steve was down two thumbs at the moment, so that second thought was more important.
Down the hall from Billy's door he heard a high pitched sound, almost like a boiling kettle, before the door swung open.
Steve had only been gone around 45 minutes, but without that context, looking at Billy, one’d think he’d been missing for days.
Billy was leaning against the doorframe, chest heaving and in nothing but loose boxers and Steve’s jacket. Y’know, the one that had been ‘under stuff’. Billy was licking over his lips and his hair was a bit of a mess, but he didn’t look exactly like a crazy person.
“You’re back,” Billy said, and his mouth kept working even after he finished speaking, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. He also seemed to be shivering. That realization kicked Steve’s brain back online.
“Uh, yes, yeah,” Steve hurried for the door, almost crushing the cake situated awkwardly at his elbow. Billy turned out of the doorway to let him pass, but was still leaning against the wall slightly. “You okay? Anything happen while I was…”
Steve trailed off into silence as he looked over the apartment. His first in a series of rapid-fire thoughts was that someone broke in and tore the place up. The couch was bare, all the cushions gone. The beanbag chair in the corner was missing. The rug that was under the coffee table, hiding a strawberry smoothie stain that Billy had almost killed his younger sister over, was also missing.
Then he noticed the trail, or, the path really.
Of bathmats.
Steve had no idea Billy even owned more than two bath mats, but there they were, laid out to make a trail from the front door to the bedroom.
Steve looked over at Billy, who smiled back. Billy looked tired and a bit sweaty but overall not totally coo-coo, which comforted Steve despite the state of the apartment.
“Is that a cake?” Billy asked. Steve just nodded as Billy stepped around him, kicking the door shut without looking and taking the cake out of Steve’s arms. “A cake? Seriously? What, is there protein powder in it?” Billy laughed.
Then he saw the bags.
“Oh shit are those blankets?” Billy almost threw the cake onto the thankfully-close kitchen counter, then started grabbing bags out of Steve’s arms. But when Billy stepped up to him, grabbing at the bags, he froze.
Billy sighed deeply, pulling the grocery bags out of his arms only to drop them on the floor. The bag with Steve’s toothbrush and charger shit landed on his his foot but he didn’t comment.
Too busy staring at Billy’s pretty face, eyes half closed, mouth open, Billy’s ‘casual adonis’ look.
“Baby?” Steve questioned, just as Billy fell against him, his arms going around Steve’s waist, leaning forward over the bags to shove his face in Steve’s chest and breath deeply.
Billy let out a low hum, a half-erotic, “Mmhh.” Another burst of that maraschino smell spread through the room, making Steve’s nose buzz.
Billy clutched at the back of Steve’s borrowed sweatshirt, but before Steve’s brain could kick into gear and hug his own boyfriend back, Billy pulled away with a deep exhale. He scooped up most of the fallen bags and was off.
With two thirds of Steve’s blankets in his arms, Billy set off down the bathmat path towards the open bedroom door. Steve paused, adjusted the duffle on his shoulder, and snagged the one remaining blanket bag off the floor before following along. In the doorway of the bedroom was the living room rug, and the bed…
The bed was a nest. Plain and simple.
Billy started pulling out blankets, talking half to himself, half to Steve as he did. “I can’t believe you got a cake,” Billy laughed. “What? Candles too?”
Billy’s nest was… well, very Billy. Messy but surprisingly innovative.
The sofa cushions were laid out so they surrounded the bed, the two longer ones that lined the back sat around the foot of the bed. While the three others were split: one on the left--nestled between the corner of the bed and Billy’s blocky, one drawer, nightstand--and two on the right. He’d moved the tall lamp to the corner of the room and dimmed it with a blanket. Which was a fire hazard, if Steve remembered correctly.
The beanbag chair was on the floor at the bottom right corner of the bed, which Billy used as a stepstool up onto the bed.
And the bed… it was covered with blankets, Billy’d even tacked the downey grey quilt he only busted out… well, never, in fact.Steve had no idea Billy even owned this many blankets. Most of the time he only slept with the topsheet, shirtless, pantsless… stretched over the entire bed like some stupid soft porn posterboy--but Steve digressed. He’d tacked the big grey quilt up onto the wall at the head of the bed. A husband pillow Steve had never seen before was tucked into the top left corner of acted as the cornerstone for the body-pillow wall he’d made.
Which were then covered in blankets, and then there was the outerwear.
Every sweater Steve had accidentally left at Billy’s place was tucked between throw pillows or layed out over sofa cushions. A lot of Billy’s favorite tees got the same treatments.
Billy took the blankets Steve had brought and tossed them out over the edge of the bed so they waterfalled down the sides.
And all of Steve’s beanies… were shoved over the top bed posts. There weren’t bottom bed posts, Billy had seen them as unnecessary and sawed them off. And also sanded them, because sometimes when Billy destroyed things, he did it in a civilized kinda way.
He was Mature like that.
“Billy, uh,” Steve said, “I think if I sleep in that I’ll melt.”
“You don’t like it.”
“Uh...” Steve started, but he was cut short when that fruity scent Steve’s senses were only just getting used to soured. Steve tried not to sneeze at the smell of it.
Steve’s head shot over to Billy, who was kneeling on the middle of the bed, not facing him. Billy’s shoulders slipped and the smell in the room turned almost acidic.
“Billy are you--?”
Then he heard a long, angry sniff. Billy flopped forward into the pillows and blankets around him.
“It’s not for you-- mhn --so you can just fuck off , Steve,” Billy seemed to be attempting to yell, but the cardigan he’d burrowed his face into prevented that.
“Billy, baby, I’m sorry!” Steve dropped the paper bag in his hand once again to crawl up the beanbag chair. He almost fell off it he moved so fast.
Steve sat on the corner of the bed, not really sure at all what to do, other than feel guilty and awkwardly hold his hands out in front of him.
Billy whined , all high pitched and sad, and Steve didn’t know what to fuckin’ do.
“Don’t fuckin’ do that,” Billy yelled, actually yelled this time as his head snapped up and he sat up on his arms to angrily glare at Steve. “Don’t smell all sad it’s not helping,” Billy growled.
“Uh, shit, I’ll try to stop?” Steve said, which was difficult, because Billy’s face was red and his hair was extra messy.
Billy sniffed wetly through his nose, his eyes shined and his fists came up to rub at his face, pressing into his forehead. “God, I’m not even upset, but you’re just making it worse, god, fuck.”
“What do I do?”
“I don’t know, dammit!” Billy cried, a tear slid out of his eye and Steve felt something break inside him and he just started rambling.
“That’s okay, I’ll--I’ll figure it out, shit, uh, uh. I really don’t mind the bed, I’m just worried maybe we’ll knock stuff over when we get down and dirty, y’know? But it’s surprisingly well made considering this was a pile of laundry less than an hour ago--”
“It’s not about the bed,” Billy growled, then coughed, then sniffed again and it was killing Steve. Billy’s voice was really going all over the place while he turned around to lean on his wall of pillows, hands still rubbing at his face and throat bobbing. The smell of the room was so sour it crawled up Steve’s nose, down his throat, and pushed at the back of his eyes, threatening to make them water.
“Stop smelling all guilty and do something,” Billy said, tensing a bit, one hand slipping away from his eyes that were scrunched shut.
“Okay.” Steve got to work, quickly working at his shoes to kick them off and crawl up to Billy’s corner of the bed. He slipped an arm behind Billy’s back and Billy melted into it. “This… better?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, ugh.” Billy curled onto his side as Steve settled next to him, his head rested on Steve’s shoulder and the hand Steve didn’t have trapped under Billy ran up and down his arm.
Billy let out a long shudder and completely relaxed. He sniffed again. “I hate this shit,” he stated.
“Cuddling?”
“No, stupid biology, making me go, ‘He doesn’t like the freaky bed, Steve must fuckin’ die.’ Only I cry instead of punching you in the face like I should.”
Steve couldn’t help it, he laughed out into the quiet room. “Well, lucky me then,” Steve wrapped his other arm around Billy and poked his nose into Billy’s hair. “I like my face intact.”
“Me too,” Billy mumbled. “Most of the time.”
➵➵➵➵➵
When they woke up after the crying debacle, with Billy silently deciding they would never speak of it again, only one day remaining before Billy’s heat began.
The nerves were starting to hit Steve, to say the least.
Sleeping in the new bed-nest hadn’t been so bad, they’d ended up just sleeping on top of everything, pulling on or pushing off half a blanket if need be.
Steve’s first idea was to hang out on the couch, but he walked out into the living room in his underwear and remembered there was no couch.
There was only Billy, flopped onto his front in what was now the only comfy spot in the entire apartment.
So, really, truly, Steve had no choice other than to start a pot of coffee and retreat back to bed with him.
Honest