Ok Ok So The Idea Of A Camp Au Has Been Floating Around In My Head Forever And At This Point I Just Need

*meows obnoxiously at you*

*also meowing*: new harringrove brainrot whos excited!!! this time it has a dash of religion and a stolen scene from Home Alone. what a delightful treat! 

(ignore that this is literally two weeks post christmas) ((im still on winter break so i have been doing nothing but writing and editing)) (((thank you ssososooso much @daisies-and-domming for beta reading my slop)))

pspspsps hey you. are you looking for a short and sweet, fluffy, found family-esch stranger things thanksgiving fic that's jonathan byers centric? you are? well you are in the right place pal!!

not to incite ship wars in my comments, but you can always tell which ship is "loosing" based on who is meaner on the internet. like, one tag will be full of light and positivity and love and all things joyful.

then the "loosing" ship tags will be full of #antiXYZ and flat out mean and hateful and patronizing things!!! and it makes me cackle. ship discourse is just so... interesting.

i imagine him cartoonishly falling.

“ow. ouch! oof. ow. ow! yeowch!”

with classic old cartoon sound effects every time he hits a step

Billy’s life guard shorts should’ve been shorter

eric kripke from behind the camera watching jensen and misha do whatever kinda fucked up shit he's gonna make them do on the boys s5

Hold Tight, We're in for Nasty Weather

@harringrovewinterbingo post!! this is for space C1, with the prompt "Keeping Warm" enjoy!! also on AO3 if you'd prefer :)

Summary: The Hawkins High Varsity Basketball team is at an away game, it’s already snowing pretty bad when their bus pulls into the hotel parking lot. Their poor Coach messed up the rooms again and it looks like everyone is stuck in a single. And of course, Steve and Billy get paired together. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a few hours after they arrive the power goes out. Just their luck huh?

✪Rating: Teen & Up ✪ Word Count: 4085 ✪ Tags: Hawkins (Stranger Things), There Was Only One Bed, bc i have an unhealthy attachment to that trope, Sharing a Bed, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, No Smut, Smoking, Banter, Betaed

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“Oh well that’s just perfect -”

Coach Donaldson grumbled, bringing his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose as if to stave off the inevitable headache. He took a breath and sighed, turning on his heels to face the Hawkins High varsity basketball team and whistled, grabbing the attention of even the sleepiest players.

“Okay! Fellas! There’s been a slight change of plans, there was, erm, a mistake with the bookings. And it seems we only booked singles-” 

The crowd groaned, some rolling their eyes and others yelling profanities. Rock paper scissors and coin tosses broke out before Coach Donaldson could even finish explaining. Roommate trades were called out like an auction- “Hey I call dibs on Bradford! He’s small!” and “Someone trade me! Vic snores, I swear I can’t take it again this season!” 

“-Settle! I understand this is an, erm, unfortunate situation!” Coach called, waving his hands in the air to stop the teenagers' complaints. 

“But the important thing to remember is that everyone will have a room!” 

“Unlike last year!” An anonymous voice called from the crowd.

“Yeah, or the year before that!” 

Coach’s eyebrows furrowed. The basketball team never had any luck with hotel rooms it seemed.

“Alright alright, we get it! Just, form an orderly line to come get your keys, and please stick to your roommate assignments!”

The door moaned on its hinges as it was thrown open by a rather perturbed Steve Harrington. Not only was he rooming with the one and only Billy Hargrove, but about ten minutes ago the worst news he could have been given was dropped in his lap- they’d be sleeping together. 

Together , together. 

“Watch it! I’m not jazzed about any o’ this either but it’s just for the weekend. So go ahead and untwist your panties for me, hm?”

“I’m so not in the mood for your mouth tonight, Hargrove.” 

Billy threw his hands up in faux innocence, tossing down his bag onto the gaudy blue duvet. 

“My bad pretty boy, usually people love my mouth.”  

Steve winced as Billy’s tongue flitted out, obscenely running across his dusty pink lips. Steve ignored him, and Billy seemed to let it go as he flopped onto the bed, the springs squeaking beneath him. Steve’s internal celebration of Billy’s silence was cut to a quick halt, however.

“Did you and that Wheeler girl get in a fight or something?”

“Holy shit, do you ever shut up?” 

“Hm, no,” he responded cheerily, an overly fake smile lighting up his face. 

“And not that it’s any of your business, but we aren’t together anymore. We’re just- friends. ” 

“Harsh.” 

Billy dropped it after that- he just wanted to push Steve’s buttons, not start an impromptu  therapy session. His hand dipped into his bag, retrieving a battered novel and flipping to a dog-eared page near the middle. 

“ Firestarter ? Didn’t know you could read.” 

“Harrington, aren’t you still in sophomore English?” Billy asked, innocently, not looking up from his book.

Steve didn’t respond. Billy let out a satisfied hum. 

The clock on the wall ticked obnoxiously in the background. Steve looked around the room, noting that there was a second nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, a small television set on the dark wooden dresser, and two equally ugly blue chairs around the mismatched lightly stained coffee table. The walls stunk distinctly of cigarettes, despite the clearly posted signage prohibiting such acts.

Steve looked back at Billy, completely absorbed into Stephen King’s words. He rolled his eyes, assuming this was his way of claiming the bed. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Billy glanced at him from over top of his book. 

“I’ll take the floor.” 

Billy huffed, shifting his eyes back to the page. Steve sighed and stole two of the blankets and a few of the pillows from the bed, tossing them into a heap on the teal carpet. He moved to rifle through his duffle bag, pulling out a pair of sweats and a nearly completely faded Hawkins High swim team shirt. He glanced up, noticing that Billy was watching him carefully through half lidded eyes. 

“Can I help you?” 

Billy shrugged, but his eyes stayed on Steve. 

“‘K. Well, I’m gonna grab a shower, then.”

Billy waved him off, eyes focusing back on the pages. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed his duffle, slamming the bathroom door in his wake.

***

Minutes later Steve re-entered the bedroom, soaking wet hair dripping down onto his faded shirt. Billy had abandoned the bed and had his head stuck out the window, a lit cigarette absentmindedly dangling from his lips as he continued reading. He didn’t even acknowledge Steve.

“C’mon man-” 

“-my bad, where are my manners, want one?”

“Dude, no - well- yes .”

Billy motioned him over, resting his book open face precariously on the window sill. He took the cigarette from his mouth with a backward hand, his palm facing Steve as approached. When he was within reach, Billy held the cigarette up to him. 

Steve’s forehead crinkled in confusion, but Billy shook his hand, inviting Steve closer; he couldn’t help but oblige. Billy’s fingers grazed Steve’s cheek, his eyes watching as Steve wrapped his lips around the yellow filter and inhaled, the tip glowing a bright orange as Steve took in the burning tobacco leaves. 

Billy smiled, slow and easy, his eyes lidding slightly. Like he was watching something particularly erotic, not hand feeding a cigarette to another man. Steve ignored Billy’s slutty look and pulled off. He held it for a moment, debating whether to blow the smoke right at Billy or politely out the window. He opted for the polite gesture of blowing his smoke out the window, but this righteous act of kindness was quickly overturned by Billy taking a drag and puffing his smoke right into Steve's face. 

“Jesus, are you twelve?” 

“I just might be.” 

Steve rolled his eyes for about the millionth time that night, plucking the cigarette straight from Billy’s grip. 

“Tell me how you really feel, Harrington.”

“Can I enjoy one cigarette without you being a total ass?” 

“ My cigarette, and nah.” Billy hummed, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Figures.” 

Steve tilted his head, taking another long drag and blowing the smoke courteously out the window. The wind whipped his hair around his eyes, and carried the gray puff of smoke quickly away from them. He turned back to Billy, extending the crackling cigarette towards him, falling absentmindedly into a pattern of passing it back and forth.

“Why thank you Steven .” 

“It’s just Steve, actually.”

“Really? How unoriginal.” 

“Right, because Billy is so much more exciting.” 

“Gotcha there princess, it’s actually short for William.” 

Steve snorted as he exhaled, smoke coming out his nose. 

“Wait what’s your middle name then, just Steve?”

“Hell no.”

“Oh c’mon,” he leaned in closer, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

Steve’s face cringed and he shook his head to rid that horrible image from his brain. He sighed, and despite the lack of pressure, he indulged Billy’s curiosity without much of a fight. 

“Beatrice.”

“No fucking way.” 

“Fuck off, man!” 

“I’m sorry, but were your parents stoned or somethin’ when they named you?”

“ No , they weren’t stoned . It’s a long story.”

Billy gestured to the cigarette, albeit on its last leg, still smoking in his hand. 

“We’ve got time, pretty boy, lay it on me.” 

Steve sighed, bringing the near dead cigarette to his lips once more then passing it back to Billy. He took the last drag from it, his eyes squinting as it burned down his throat, then flicked it out the window, watching it tumble into the bright white snow below. 

“Great, now close the fucking window. It’s freezing.”

Billy shrugged, shutting it in a surprisingly gentle manner.

“Thanks.” 

“Anything for you princess. Now, tell me about this middle name,” he floated, the last of the smoke curling out from his lips. 

“Ass-” Steve muttered, but continued, “So apparently I was supposed to be a twin, like the doctors and all that shit told my mom that I was going to have a twin sister.”

“And so my mom gets the nursery ready for two babies right? One side is pink, the other blue. She’s got matching outfits, two cribs, the whole nine yards.” 

“So where is this sister now then? Because I would just love to meet her.” Billy winked, his mouth parting and tongue obscenely tracing his lips. 

“I’m getting there, anyways , she isn’t here because I, like, ate her. In the womb or some shit. So my mom just gave me her name as my middle name. Sentiment, I guess.” 

“You’re fucking with me-” 

“-I’m dead serious! I absorbed her or something, swear to God!”

“That’s such horseshit, Harrington!”

“You asked!”

“Fine, fine, but holy shit man.”

Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes while Billy snickered in the background. They fell quiet for a moment, then in a fluid motion Billy grabbed his book, dropped it on the bed and continued walking to the bathroom.

“Alright, if you want another pack it’s in the left side pocket, lighter too, just- don’t burn the joint down, got it?” 

“Oh, and my middle name is Michael. Pretty boring though, right Beatrice ?” 

Before Steve could retort, Billy had already slipped past the door frame and slammed it shut. Even past the door Steve could hear his laughter. He huffed, rolling his eyes before stealing a second blanket from the bed and easing into his makeshift cot on the floor.

***

“Gatsby?” 

Steve flinched in place as he looked up, he had even realized the water had shut off, nor had he heard the bathroom door open. He opened his mouth to speak but his eyes caught on the faint blonde happy trail that disappeared into the tantalizingly low towel tied around Billy’s waist. He snapped his eyes away, praying Billy didn’t take notice of his staring. 

He met Billy’s face, there was a sickening grin plastered on it, his hair fell down in near perfect ringlets across his shoulders, the drips sounding like a ticking clock as they fell to the ground. 

“It’s for Ms. Kelley’s writing class,” Steve blurted out, hoping to move past his obvious staring quickly.

“Huh, I didn’t know you could read.” Billy snickered, throwing Steve’s previous quip right back at him. 

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t make a lick of sense so maybe there's some truth to that.” 

Billy had shifted to the edge of the bed now, pulling out his own pair of sweats and an equally faded t-shirt with some band insignia printed on it. He scoffed at Steve’s remark, ripping the towel off him and tossing it back somewhere near the bathroom. 

Steve’s eyes went wide, cheeks warm as he buried his nose back into the crisp paperback in his hands. 

“God, you really are such a girl, Harrington.” 

“My bad for not wanting to see your junk.” 

“Who doesn’t wanna see my junk?” 

Steve’s face lit up red, and he pretended to focus on the page in front of him. 

“Hey you’re just lucky I’m wearin’ anything at all,” Billy started, pulling the sweat pants to rest low on his waist, “‘Cause usually I sleep in the nude .” 

He finished, popping the last syllable and sticking his tongue out at Steve who had given up on Fitzgerald’s words by now. 

“The hell’s your damage, dude?” 

Steve tried to add more bite to his tone, dropping his book for extra dramatic flair, but that didn’t stop the uncomfortable shifting, nor the lump in his throat he swallowed. 

Billy just laughed, that unhinged maniacal laugh he always did. Creeped Steve out every time. Billy had just opened his mouth, about to respond with another quip or maybe a filthy comment, when the lamp in the corner flicked. His attention snapped in its direction, catching as it flickered and went out, along with the overhead lights, and the radiator that sputtered and shook to a halt. 

“Oh you’ve gotta be shittin’ me…” Billy mumbled. 

Steve scrambled up and ran to open the door, Billy was quick to follow, peering his head out only to be met with a pitch black hallway. The silhouettes of the rest of the team started poking their heads out one by one, calling across the hall to one another. 

Seconds later the coach’s door nearly flew off the hinges as he stormed down the hall towards the lobby, cursing and muttering under his breath. The team waited by their respective doors until eventually Coach Donaldson slinked back towards them. The chatter hushed as he cleared his throat, standing at the base of the hallway. 

“It appears that the power has gone out and-” 

“No shit Sherlock!” 

“- thank you for the comment Mr. Metzer. What I was saying was that the storm has taken out the power, which also means that the heat has gone out-”

A collection of groans, curses, threats and complaints erupted from the boys, cutting off Coach Donaldson once again. 

“-and unfortunately!” Coach yelled, getting the attention of the team again. 

“And unfortunately, even if we wanted to find a different place, the snow has covered the roads pretty bad and the wind has downed a few power lines. So we are stuck here until the plows come tomorrow morning. For now, keep your windows shut and I suggest stuffing some towels around the doorframe to keep the cold air out-” 

The hallway’s shouting and whining came back in full swing. This time Coach Donaldson didn’t even try to say anything more, he just waved his hands in defeat and slunk back to his room. 

“Well isn’t this just the cherry on top of this dog shit trip.” Billy grumbled from behind Steve, his breath prickling the nape of his neck. 

“Well, I’m gonna go see if they have candles or some shit. Don’t die of hypothermia, ‘k princess?” 

He placed his hands on Steve’s waist, pushing him to the side, brushing the skin in the gap where shirt met sweats. Steve scoffed, backing away from Billy’s grasp. He sighed as the door swung shut; what kind of karmic debt could he possibly have to deserve this?

Minutes later, Billy returned, loudly barging through the doorway. Steve elected to ignore his noisiness in favor of keeping the peace, but all the insults he would have thrown vanished as he noticed the somewhat lumpy, cream colored candle resting in a tiny dish, held gently in Billy’s palms.

“You owe me big time, I really put on the charm for the stingy ass old lady at the counter, but I’m kind of irresistible. Especially with the older crowd,” he concluded, darting his tongue out across his lips.

“Eugh, you’re sick.”

Billy just breathed a quick laugh, quite satisfied in irking Steve. He fished his Zippo out from his pocket, popping it open and striking the wheel. He held the flame up to the wick for a moment and let it ignite. Steve watched, again surprised at his slow movements. As if the boisterous, quick Billy he had become so accustomed to, had magically been replaced with a smooth, calm version.

Steve resigned back to his cot, picking up his discarded copy of The Great Gatsby . A deep sigh escaped him as he opened up to where the sliver of paper stuck out of the edge of the pages. Beside him, the bed springs squealed. There was some shuffling, the sound of a zipper, more shuffling, then a dull smack as what Steve assumed was Billy’s duffle bag, hit the floor. After that, the pair was quiet for a while. Steve was stuck desperately squinting to see the pages in the dim candle light, and Billy hummed a song as he indulged in his own novel. 

After far too long of time for someone his age, Steve finally reached the page Ms. Kelley requested they read until. He tossed the book over by this duffle, good riddance.Then glanced over to Billy, his face relaxed as his eyes skipped back and forth across the page. 

Steve couldn’t help the start of a smile that blossomed on his face; maybe he shouldn’t have written Billy off so soon. I mean, sure, he had done nothing but tease and berate him this entire time, but he shared his cigarettes and could hold a fairly decent conversation, so it wasn’t all bad, he supposed.

“Are you starin’ again, princess?” 

“Yeah, in horror , at your ugly mug.” 

“Oh now surely you don’t mean that, sweetheart,” Billy mocked in a sugary tone, not bothering to lift his eyes from the page.

Steve pouted, proud of his quick comeback that was pitifully shot down by Billy. Regardless, he settled into his mess of blankets laid out on the floor in silence, too tired to snap back with anything. 

Billy chuckled, “Let me finish this chapter and then I’ll blow out the candles, hm?”

Steve, for whatever reason, felt a flush rush up his face. Billy’s statement was so- domestic? That didn’t sound like the right word at all. But he waved it off before he could think about it too hard, huffed a response to Billy, and curled into the blankets. Cursing at the poorly constructed and all too thin blanket provided by the hotel, the cold air sent goose bumps up his arms as it seemed to weasel its way through the woven material with ease. 

He shivered uncontrollably. He was turned away from the bed, staring mindlessly at the section of wall where the curtains didn’t quite reach the floor. Although he couldn’t be sure, he could feel Billy’s eyes on him as he squirmed and tried to pull the starchy blanket tighter around himself.

Behind him, he heard Billy sigh, and the sound of something being set upon the bed side table. 

“Alright-” Billy started, a certain inflection in his voice that Steve couldn't nail down, “it’s only gonna get colder, and we can’t have the only semi decent player die of hypothermia. So…” 

He trailed off, flipping back the heavy looking comforter on the bed as an invitation.  

Steve craned his neck, giving Billy a quizzical look. 

“I’ll take my chances with hypothermia,” and shifted back to stare at the wall. 

“How mature. C’mon, get up here.”

“Bite me.” 

“Alright, damn , just tryna be a gentleman.”

“As if.” 

Billy glanced over, watching Steve shudder and tighten the blankets around him. He looked at his book, then back to Steve, then back to his book. He rolled his eyes then flipped over, his back facing Steve, who was still pretending not to shiver on the floor.

He blew out the candle with a puff, the springs creaking as he settled back into place. Steve’s breath hitched as he shuddered again. He pulled the blanket impossibly closer, pulling his head under it to trap as much heat as he could. Billy held in a sigh, if Steve wanted to freeze to death that was his own damn problem.

Despite his former macho attitude, it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before Steve broke. He shot up from his cot, abandoning his stiff blanket and tiptoed his way over to the bed. As slowly and quietly as he could, he lifted the comforter and slipped in. He watched Billy’s shoulders bounce as he snickered at the sudden dip in the bed and the creak of the springs.

“Not a fucking word Hargrove. Not. A fucking. Word .” 

Billy hummed. Steve could practically hear his shit eating grin as he spoke, directly disobeying Steve’s rather clear instructions.

“Remember, you can look, but don’t touch, sweetheart .” 

Steve scoffed, but they both held their tongues, their spines brushing gently as Steve snuggled into the much warmer bed.

***

Billy’s eyes eased open, barely registering the light pouring in from the windows and the birds outside chirping as he came nose to nose with Steve. He blinked, the sensation of his legs wedged in between Steve’s and his arms thrown around his waist. 

He swallowed, his heart rate climbing and sending shockwaves through him. But like a deer in headlights, he remained perfectly still. Something felt- off, inside his chest. Almost as if he didn’t hate this, but he actually liked this, which only raised his concern. But feeling Steve’s soft, sleeping form hugging him like it was made to do so, the concern seemed to melt away. He focused on how his chest rose and fell against his own, the way the light from the window poured in through the slats of the blinds, casting a yellow glow onto the bed. 

A tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like his father, was screaming to push Steve from the bed, rough him up a little and make him promise that nobody ever found out about this. But a more powerful force within him, allowed him to relax into Steve. Soaking in the contact that he knew would never, and maybe should never, happen again. 

Steve made a quiet noise which made Billy jolt back on instinct. Unfortunately the movement only further woke Steve, who’s own limbs began stretching out and his eyes fluttered open, immediately growing to the size of saucers.

“Hey,” Billy said, covering the awkward-ness with his self proclaimed swagger.

Steve blinked at him, noting that Billy’s morning voice was gravely and low, because of course it was, and there was already a smirk pulling at his lips. Steve quickly ignored how his train of thought came to a screaming halt at the ‘you know what Hargrove’s morning voice sounds like’ station. 

“Oh- oh my God-” Steve started, eyes darting down to their tangled bodies. 

Billy laughed, quiet and low, not making any effort to move off of Steve. Instead, his hand drifted from Steve’s back to his hip. He relished in the bright red color Steve’s face took on. 

“I swear to God I didn’t-”

“-I don’t really give a fuck, Steve .” Billy cut him off, his voice breathy and quiet, the use of Steve’s first name catching him off guard.

Their eyes locked, slanted aqua ones meeting wide brown ones.

They said nothing, just stared in silence. Billy’s hand remained firmly planted on Steve’s hip and their chests were still flush together. Both caught in the purgatory of being too scared to be the first to back off and equally scared to be the one to keep this going. 

A shiver ran up Steve’s spine as Billy broke and pulled him closer. Steve inhaled sharply through his nose, noticing Billy’s hand trail further up his side, slipping under his shirt to rest higher on his torso. Billy smirked, his eyes breaking the tense contact to flick down to Steve’s lips, which hung slightly agape. 

“What’re ya doin’…” Steve started, not speaking above a whisper and not really caring about the answer, just needing to say something .

“Dunno.”

Before either could say or do anything else stupid, there was a pounding of fists on their door. Like scared cats, both the boys scrambled up and away from each other, stumbling off the bed and racing to the door. 

Billy opened it so just he was visible, a painfully faked smile on his face and smoothing his hair back in place in an attempt at nonchalance. His eyes met their point guard, Kenneth, with a shit eating grin 

“Morning.”

“Someone better be fucking dying.” 

“Nah.”

“Damn, coulda fooled me with your idiotic pounding on our-”

“ -okay whatever, Coach just wanted me to tell you that you dickwads have like an hour before the buses leave, got it?”

“Oh we got it, Kenny.” Billy deadpanned, throwing up a half hearted salute.

“And it’s not Kenny! Its Kenn e-” 

Before he could finish the door slammed in his face, a smirk toying on Billy’s face.

“So, uh, what’d he want?” Steve asked, clearly wanting to skip over the whole ‘woke up in each others arms’ thing.

“Nothin’. Kenny’s a moron, what's new. Buses leave in an hour.”

“Cool.”

The two stared at each other for another few seconds, neither knowing what to say in the face of what they had woken up to. Wordlessly, they broke their tense eye contact, and with flushed faces started moving around the room,  clothes and packing their things. 

Both of them prayed that neither would bring this incident up ever again and yet, they simultaneously hoped they’d be assigned as roommates for the rest of the season. 

alright folks i’m calling it quits bc i have a 9am lab tmr and i need my beauty sleep, but i’ll leave you all with a final destielection meme:

i always find out ao3 is down at the most inopportune times. i had my tea steeping and comfy clothes on, ready for a cozy night in bed reading the many tabs i have open.

and then i am hit with “error 503”