Not To Incite Ship Wars In My Comments, But You Can Always Tell Which Ship Is "loosing" Based On Who

ITS APRIL 13 YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS

FETCH ME NEIL

There's a Starman, Waiting in the Sky

greetings and salutations! second semester has taken me out back and old yellered me,,, but fear not for i have finished up this angsty bingo fill for @harringrovewinterbingo!! this is for A3, with the prompt "Stargazing" AO3 link if you'd prefer!

i rarely write angst so this was a fun, refreshing lil experiment! ty to my lovely beta reader @daisies-and-domming and i hope you enjoy :)

Summary: During a fight with some particularly nasty foes, Steve is rendered unconscious. In reality, it’s only for a few moments, but to Steve? It’s more like twenty. And for better or for worse, he spends those odd minutes back at an all too familiar meeting spot, with an all too familiar blonde.

✪Rating: Teen & Up ✪ Word Count: 2620 ✪ Tags: Hawkins (Stranger Things), The Upside Down (Stranger Things), Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Unconsciousness, Soft Billy Hargrove, Past Relationship(s), Stargazing, Angst, Betaed

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The breath shot into his body like a bullet, sparking his heart and pumping his blood. His eyes flew open and there he was, in all his former glory. 

Billy’s head was crooked, a smug smile plastered on his face as he leaned over Steve's body where it was sprawled out on the ground. His curls had formed near perfect ringlets that hung around his head like a veil, casting a shadow on his usually bright complexion.

“So, you come here often, stargazer ?” 

Billy asked, pulling out an old nickname. The kind of nickname that someone calls you just a few times, before it gets forgotten, abandoned, and left to collect dust on the shelves of your memories. 

“Billy-” Steve started, his mind still catching up to his eyes. 

Oh God. He had to be dead. Through the fog in his mind, he remembered Dustin, or maybe Lucas, calling out his name. Then his knees buckled and he went down. His sense failed him before he hit the scorched earth beneath him, his hearing going first, replaced by a ringing and then- dark . 

And then here he was. It was still dark , he noticed, but here it was merely a moonless night. The kind of nights he liked. The kind of nights he and Billy used to steal from the month’s supply of days, sneaking off to dream amongst the stars and whisper things they shouldn't say. 

Which meant, this must be heaven. He must be dead and this must be heaven. And Billy was some sort of heaven employee, tasked with escorting him to the pearly gates. 

“Am I dead?” 

“Dead?!” Billy fell back out of Steve’s line of sight, a cackle rolling off his tongue.

“You think you’d go out that easy, Stevie? Hell no you’re not dead, you moron.” 

Ok, well good to note that he wasn’t dead. But if he wasn’t dead then where the hell was he? Or was this some fucked up game Vecna was playing with him? Showing him his greatest hits on rerun one last time before the end?

Steve didn’t move, his back remained pressed into the gravel beneath him. He focused on the stars, his eyes catching as they hung above him, recognizing constellations in an instant. He stopped himself from cracking a smile, relishing in the dull prick of rocks digging into his shoulder blades. At least he had figured out where he was. 

The lake. 

Maybe, ten feet from where the water crawled weakly up onto the shore, brushing the sand before retreating back into itself. The coordinates were probably encoded into his DNA at this point. 

But that didn’t fully answer his question. Sure, his weird dream self was technically at the lake, but just moments ago his real self was slinging an axe at those hell bats before bam , lights out.

“Fine. Then if I’m not dead, then where,” he paused, jolting up and finding Billy’s gaze, “then where the fuck am I?” 

Billy matched his stare for a moment. Steve kicked himself for forgetting how blue his eyes were; how softly they used to look at him. 

“I’m not actually sure if I’m being honest.” 

Steve's nose scrunched and the beginnings of a grimace were showing themselves at Billy’s lackluster answer. 

“Honest to God Stevie! I just sort of showed up here when you did!”

He threw up his hands, his brows shooting up with them, visualizing his truthfulness. Steve bought it. Billy was never one to lie, anyways. He would cheat, and steal, and yell, and hurt. Those were some of his favorite things, actually. But lying? That was a hard no. Steve knew that well enough. 

He took a breath in, looking around at the spot, their spot. He hadn’t been there in months but it was just as he remembered. He twisted his spine to take a glance behind him and smiled, there was Billy’s Camaro, his baby , parked next to his own car. As it always was. 

The crickets still chirped their obnoxious song to his left, the brush still moved with the breeze the same way it always did. The branch that had fallen in a lightning storm many years ago was still precariously perched in the tree canopy. It was all still the same hue of green. He mused it must be summer in this fantasy-land he was in; the leaves were vibrant, shining, still full of life and sun and air. Much unlike its current state back in reality, wherever that was, likely frozen over and gray. 

He turned again, shifting his weight to get a good long look at the boy sitting next to him. He felt the tension in his shoulders melt away like the frost on the first mornings of spring. For the first time in months, the muscles holding up his neck relaxed and his ribs expanded all the way out in a breath. 

Billy’s legs were curled up towards him, his arms folded and resting on top of them. His freckled arms were on full display in the low cut white tank top he was sporting, Steve hadn’t noticed until just now, but they almost resembled the stars they had spent so many nights beneath.

They hadn’t meant to become amateur stargazers, but their meeting place just so happened to be the perfect vantage point. Naturally, Steve checked out every book on stars he could find at the Hawkins Public Library, and he even started to learn some of the names of the constellations. Billy had just barely restrained himself from throwing the stack of books into the murky water when Steve had sheepishly pulled them from his bag.

Steve grinned at the memory as his eyes carried themselves down Billy's body, his tight jeans, his scuffed biker boots. The glimmer of light from the gold pendant that hung off his neck may have more beautiful than any star in the sky. Steve’s lungs tightened. He wished he had a camera, with a brand new roll of film to capture this place, this heaven, in its entirety. 

He blinked, looking away from a shockingly quiet Billy. There was still a faint whisper of smoke in the air, and the lingering scent of a few too many Camels. Their distinctive menthol smell blended with Billy’s all too powerful cologne and he rather selfishly took in gulps of air, letting it penetrate his senses.

He wouldn’t ever tell anyone this but after the mall, he went out and bought the same cologne Billy used to wear. It was some fancy shit, Paco Rabanne ; bullshit is what it was. But he still wears it every day like it’s a religion. Robin complained for weeks, begging him to stop assaulting her airways like that. He didn’t have the guts to tell her the truth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been out here.” 

Steve spoke, his eyes coming back to find Billy’s gaze. 

“It’s been- weird. Not being here with you , ya know?” 

Billy listened, silently. 

“I guess, it’s just, I don’t really have any reason to come back out here.”

There was a beat, Steve waiting for Billy to jump in with a quip, come to his rescue and lighten the mood. But that relief never came. So they sat, drowning in silence. He waited another second longer, holding his breath as he tore his gaze from Billy, forcing himself to watch the lake’s water move. 

"I miss you.” 

Steve’s voice was low, a quick whisper; had you not been paying attention his words would have passed you by. 

Billy remained silent. Not even his face reacted.

“It’s weird man. It’s not like a breakup or anything. I think I would have preferred that, actually. But this? I have to walk through this shithole everyday. And every goddamn day, you’re not here.” 

Steve’s voice crescendoing as he explained, he took a shaky, sharp breath in before his monologue continued. 

“The nights are the fucking worst, man. I have to pretend like I’m not waiting to hear your engine roll up on my driveway. Or see you coming into Scoops on your way to the pool. You never got anything, just stood there batting your fucking eyelashes at me and holding up my goddamn line,” he laughed, an exhausted, cynical laugh. 

“Do you know how fucking hard it is? To pretend . I mean, hell, I have to pretend that we weren't even friends . I run into people, still cursing your name and making fun of everything that happened. They make jokes! Jokes! Like you didn’t matter . Like nobody even knew you! Like you didn’t have any fucking friends or anything . And I can’t say shit to those assholes because nobody knew - they didn’t know about our little meetups, and all the nights and the stars. Nobody knew!” 

His voice warbled, breaking as he added,

“Nobody knew that I-” 

“Steve.” 

Billy’s voice was smooth, stopping Steve’s racing mind in an instant. He outstretched his legs to inch closer to Steve, he ignored the hitch of Steve’s breath as he rested his hand on Steve’s thigh.

“I knew.”

“What-”

“-I knew, Steve. I know . I think I always knew.”

The silence crept back up like a fog rolling in. It prickled Steve’s flesh like hot knives, the tip of a blade being drug down his spine. Not enough to break skin but enough to hurt . 

He huffed, a ‘ hindsight’s 20/20 ’, kind of huff.

“I don’t know why I never said it when you were-” he stopped himself. 

“Alive?” 

“Yeah. That.” He swallowed, it felt like molasses going down. 

“We were scared.” Billy answered, surprisingly serious. 

“Yeah right, you’re not scared of anything.” 

“I was scared of this.” 

Billy’s words settled into the corners of Steve’s mind. There was a beat of stillness before Steve whispered again.

“I wish we could have gotten the hell outta here.” 

Steve looked away from Billy yet again, leaning back into the sandy gravel floor. Billy followed suit, his hand drifting to rest atop Steve’s. The pair looked up, like they had always done, and latched their eyes onto the white dots of stars that freckled the navy blue sky. 

“If that was an option, you know I would, Steve.”

“I know.” 

“Bad timing, eh?”

“Yeah, something like that.” 

There was a sharp pain near his temple and he jolted up, his eyes fluttering shut as a scene of Robin shaking his shoulders desperately played out before him. Her hands gripped into his skin and he felt, for a moment, wet blood seeping in through reality, staining this fantasy. 

A flash of red appeared in front of them, just at the shoreline. It was like a portal. There, a tiny window to Dustin chanting his name, Nancy’s worried eyes as she instructed Robin to prop up Steve’s head, Eddie was pulling at his hair and pacing, reassuring Dustin with baited breath. Robin’s hand came to lightly tap Steve’s cheek, quietly pleading for him to wake up . 

Billy sat up and watched the red window grow darker, a gust of wind following as it grew in size.

“I’m no genius, but I think that’s your sign to head back pal.”

Billy’s suggestion was calm on the surface. But it held a painful bite to it, an unconscious undertone that only Steve had ears to hear. 

“Can’t I stay, just a little longer?” 

“C’mon now, don’t do that. You know I want you to, but I don’t think that’s how it works, Stevie.” 

Their eyes met, both sets glazed over with the promise of tears. The portal was getting impatient as it sent whips of wind at them, whirling and whining as it circled around. Steve’s hair flew into his face, his heart spiked. 

“Will I see you again?” 

“Maybe. But right now those knuckleheads out there need you.” 

Steve’s gaze broke and he looked to the ‘knuckleheads’ on the other side of the whirlwind of deep red smoke. His brows furrowed, glancing back to Billy’s silhouette. His golden curls danced around his shoulders, his pendant swayed back and forth. His eyes were settled gently on Steve, their bright blue had almost dulled, but nevertheless they begged Steve to leave.

He took another look through the window, Dustin had tear marks racing down his cheeks, and Steve felt the ghost of a hand over his neck, likely looking for a heartbeat. The crowd listened anxiously for Nancy’s reply.

Something in him splintered and on wobbly legs he stood, making a few steps towards the terrifying red stain on this perfect dream, his perfect dream. Billy stood with him, walking a step behind, over to the shoreline. 

He kept himself centered on the window, watching as relieved cheers came from the knuckleheads as Nancy exclaimed she had found his heartbeat. He felt it pound in his chest. Getting stronger as he shuffled closer to the mouth of the whirlwind, threatening to burst right out of his ribs.

“You better keep my brat sister safe Harrington!” Billy called over the howling wind. 

They stood just inches off the edge. Steve’s eyes flitted to the two dents in the sandy floor that their bodies had made, it called out Steve’s name like a prayer. 

Billy refocused him, grabbing his shoulders and turning his head towards his. The first tear slinked down from his waterline and he quickly blinked it away, he refused to have his last seconds be blurred by tears. 

He took in Billy’s features, and instantly he wished he had been more of a photo guy when he was alive. All he had was the shitty yearbook photo and a single polaroid. He heart stung knowing he would never see this face again; this face that looked at him like that . That always smiled at his dumb jokes, that shaved his iconic mustache for a week when Steve complained about kissing him, that always searched for him in a crowd, that looked at him instead of the stars most nights. 

Steve wanted to speak. Say something profound, or stupid. Maybe both. But the words dried up and died on his tongue. Too much to say that nothing came out. He hoped Billy could see it in his eyes. He did. 

“And you can call me a sap for this, but I love you too, stargazer .” 

Steve witnessed the smirk paint itself on Billy’s face for only a moment before the rough hands on his shoulder shoved, and sent him careening into the red smoke.

And like taking a second bullet to the chest, his breath was shot back into him. His heart pumped into overtime and he exhaled out a white puff of air into the frigid February sky, followed by his eyes snapping open, quickly adjusting to the light.

“Steve! Holy shit, Steve! ”

“He’s alive holy shit he’s alive !” 

“Of course he’s alive, you moron!” Robin snapped back, her mitten covered hands still cradling Steve’s bloody head. 

“He was out for, like, not even a minute!” 

The faces of everyone finally came into focus. Battle wounded and bloody but there they were. 

“You didn’t think I’d go out that easy, did you?” 

Steve gave a pained smile, stealing the quip from Billy. He knew he would have to tell them eventually what happened, but for now, he could bask in the warmth of his friends' faces, delighted to have him back earthside. 

Their smiling faces and watery eyes lasted only a second before their ears perked at the horrifying screechy sounds of demo-whatever the hell they were, coming from the east. The group collectively sobered, zipping their coats, tensing their muscles, and slinging their jerry rigged weapons over their shoulders. 

Back in the saddle again.

No matter what happens in Stranger Things s5, I promise I'll write some nasty, smutty, sleazy Harringrove to celebrate the last season. 🥰🤞

my turn!!

SCOTT PILGRIM AND HARRINGROVE???

life doesn't get much better than this folks

I made this when this was trending a little bit ago but now that I'm posting i can't actually share it!!!

saw this beautiful post about a billy steve height diff and it got me thinking:

Imagine Billy, utterly infuriated that Harrington is even slightly taller than him. Sure, the difference is only an inch, but if anything that makes it worse for Billy. Because now he's *almost* there, but not quite. Even with his everyday biker boots he doesn't surpass Harrington. It would honestly be better if Steve was a solid three or four inches taller, than it wouldn't even be a point of contention. But a single inch? Billy would stew in anger about this for months.

Then one day, he rolls up to school with- cowboy boots? Everyone's looking at him kind of funny, because what business does Mr. California have wearing fucking cowboy boots? As if Billy gives a shit, he swaggers up to Steve with this shit eating grin, and that's when it clicks. The substantial heel of these new boots bumps Billy's height up an inch past Steve. Steve is in speechless, he didn't realize heights even mattered past junior high.

But Billy is so damn proud of himself for this stunt, he doesn't even care that these boots cost him a quarter of his paycheck. He's technically 'besting' Steve, and that's all that really matters to this guy.

Steve will never hesitate to use "you're one inch shorter" card.

Billy ends up not waiting till Monday, trying to strangle him on Sunday.

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”

*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)))