Chapter Text
It was two weeks after high school graduation in 1985 in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy Hargrove hadn't left yet.
He told himself that it just made sense to save up as much as he could, since the Camaro gulped down gas, especially the way he drove, and California was so much more expensive than Indiana to live. He needed a cushion in case the first job he found didn't pay enough for rent on whatever beat-up shoebox he found. And that was true, a little, but Billy had been saving to leave his dad for two years now, ever since he could hold down a job. He'd squirreled his stash away in pieces in five or six innocuous places: taped to the bottom of Max's dresser, the space behind the glovebox, the undersides of some of the kitchen drawers. Never in his own room. It was more than enough for gas, food, and rent for a couple of months, and Billy knew it. The money thing was really just a story he was telling himself. Really, he was staying for Max.
Max, who was only just learning to navigate the tides of Neil's temper. Max, whose mother couldn't shield her any more than she could shield herself. Max, who had a mouth on her and hung out with mostly boys and who slammed around the house in obvious displeasure for hours after Neil and Billy had a 'private conversation'. Max, who he'd apologized to in January, after the most miserable Christmas of his life, the first one since she and Susan moved in where she hadn't slipped a badly drawn card with a crude joke under his door early Christmas morning, or bothered to play happy families to placate his dad. Max, who he was kind of okay with now. Max, who he'd die before telling but die before he let her get hurt.
Max, who knew how to push all his goddamn buttons, he thought, as she elbowed his ribs from the passenger seat.
"You've already apologized to everyone else! You have to tell Steve you're sorry too," she hissed at him.
"Who says I'm sorry?" he asked her, just so she didn't feel like she could boss him around without a fight
Max snorted. "You hang around longer when he's here," she said.
Billy glared at her, but it didn't mean anything and she knew it. The elbowing graduated to a two-handed shove. "Go!" Max said.
Billy went.
They were parked outside the arcade and Harrington had just dropped off Henderson - it was his last playdate or whatever before his camp thing. Billy kind of hated that he knew that shit now, but it was worth having Max not hating him any more. Harrington was four cars down and clearly about to pull out before Billy stepped over. Harrington eyed him warily and only opened the driver's side window a crack.
"Can I have a word?" Billy asked, trying to catch Harrington's eye.
"You're crazy if you think I'm getting into a car with you," Harrington told him. He pointedly clicked the locks.
Billy winced. He guessed he deserved that. "Doesn't have to be in the car," he said. "Here? In the arcade?"
Harrington lifted his eyes from about the level of Billy's jaw to meet his eyes, finally. "I'm not," he said, talking slowly like Billy was stupid, "talking to you - anywhere - without witnesses. And I don't want you around the kids, either."
"Did they tell you I apologized?" Billy asked before he could help himself.
"Yeah, they did," Harrington said, "but talk's cheap, Hargrove, and I've got a lot of actions that speak louder from you."
Billy clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms and counted to five. He reminded himself of the feel of Harrington's face splitting under his fists. He deserved this, he repeated to himself.
"I've got work so I can't meet you at the diner or something," he said, "but are you going to Heather Chandler's party tonight?"
"I could be," Harrington said. The look in his eye was a little less hostile at the idea of a party. No matter how he'd finished high school, Billy thought, Harrington still liked to have a good time now and again.
"I'll be there," Billy said. "Can we talk then?"
"I guess we'll see," Harrington said.
The music was pounding out of Heather Chandler's house when Billy pulled up, loud enough that he felt it shake the floorboards of the Camaro. It was late enough that there was already some drunken whooping coming from inside and at least one couple screaming at each other on the lawn - Billy had had to take Max to some last minute kid thing that he was half sure she'd made up to punish him for his unsuccessful apology to Harrington. He didn't see the BMW anywhere as he got out and walked in, but he was still hopeful that Harrington might be there. The house was in the same ritzy neighborhood that Tommy and Carol had said Harrington lived in, back when Billy was new in town. Maybe he walked.
The noise and heat of the crowd seemed to pick up when Billy walked in, and usually he'd revel in it, feed off of it. But he was a man on a mission tonight. He didn't want to know how bad he'd screw up apologizing to Harrington if he got drunk. So he kept to one plastic cup, to settle his nerves a little, and looked for the crown of hair that should have been visible above the crowd.
It wasn't easy. High school had just ended, and the dregs of his status still clung to Billy, helped along by the lifeguard job - one of the few cool occupations available in Hawkins. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Billy didn't want a piece of any of them right now, though, so he brushed them all off, fake grinning so hard his cheeks hurt as he struggled not to snap. He didn't need to come to Harrington high off a fight.
When they realized he wasn't seriously drinking or interested in hooking up - "gotta get my little sister later," he fibbed, rolling his eyes, whenever anyone asked - the crowd dissipated a little. Enough that Billy could catch glimpses here and there. Finally, he spotted Harrington. He was leaned up against a wall, caging a chick in with one arm and his body. Julie something, Billy thought. His throat felt tight. She looked pretty happy to be there. Probably he shouldn't interrupt. Probably would make his apology ring hollow if he interrupted Harrington hooking up to give it. But Billy was always full of bad ideas. Never had much in the way of impulse control. He headed over anyway.
He didn't pull Harrington away from the girl, much as he wanted to. He simply crossed his arms and leaned against the wall next to her, a little too close to the both of them for comfort, and said, "Harrington! Think you owe me a little talk."
Julie or whoever huffed, and Harrington turned to face him, straightening up. "I didn't agree to shit, Hargrove," he said.
Billy smirked at them both, all teeth. "Yeah, but you showed up," he said. "Kind of seems like you wanna hear me out."
"Whatever," Julie said from beside him, rolling her eyes. "I'm not sticking around for this macho bullshit. Steve, when you're done here, come find me?" She gave Harrington a flirty grin, Billy a decidedly less friendly look, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Harrington stared after her for a moment, and then turned his full attention to Billy, who shivered a little. The look in Harrington's eyes was stormy. It sent a thrill through Billy to get that intense look turned all on him. It was like that night, almost, only Billy knew he wasn't gonna lose control, so he was free to just enjoy it.
"Say what the fuck you want to say, then leave me alone," Harrington said in a low voice Billy had to struggle to hear over the party noise.
"Not so fast," Billy said. "I won't take you away from the witnesses, but I don't want anyone to overhear us."
Harrington glared at him for a few long moments, and Billy thought he might actually walk away, go chase after Julie maybe. Then he growled out, "Fine," and grabbed Billy by the bicep, towing him out the back door out towards an immaculate storage shed. They could be seen through the windows, Billy was pretty sure, but they were far enough out that the specifics of their conversation wasn't audible.
"Well?" Harrington said, leaning up against the shed. Billy thought he might be kind of drunk, actually. He was less nervous than he was earlier, more confrontational, and he seemed to like propping himself up, like he wasn't quite sure of his balance. "What the fuck do you have to say?"
"I'm sorry," Billy forced out, staring at Harrington's shoes. "For - well, for beating the shit out of you and not stopping. That was fucked up. I was fucked up. I'm sorry for being a dick the rest of the time too, but that time takes the cake."
They stood in silence in the humid Indiana night for a while. Billy wished he'd lit up a cigarette or something when Harrington pulled him out here, just to have something to do with his hands. He looked up, finally, and met the other boy's eyes.
Harrington was still studying him with that same intensity, brows turned down and arms crossed. "Did Max put you up to this?" he asked eventually.
"What?" Billy asked. It wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.
"Did she make you say sorry to me?" Harrington repeated. "I know you've been trying to make nice with her."
"She asked, but I wanted to," Billy said, and the words felt clumsy in his mouth no matter how true they were. "I just kind of needed a push."
"A push," Harrington repeated disdainfully. "You know, Hargrove, I have a lot of trouble believing that. And a forced apology just doesn't ring true."
Billy pulled at his hair and tried to breathe deeply. "I can't make you believe me, Harrington, what do you want me to do?" he asked. He wanted to stomp off, give up on this, but Harrington had him pinned with his gaze.
"I want you to prove it to me," Harrington said. "I want you to get down on your knees and work for it."
Billy's mouth went dry and his whole body was hit with a wave of heat, head to dick to toes. His fingertips tingled. It took him two tries to get any sound to come out of his mouth. "Here?" he croaked out, trying not to look up at the lit-up windows of the house.
"Not right here - I don't want to get arrested. But here, at this party, where anyone could walk in and see. I want you to risk something for me. Then I'll know you're sorry," Harrington said.
Billy would be risking a hell of a lot more than Harrington knew, doing this. Putting this boy's dick in his mouth with half the graduating class doing shots on the other side of a door. But if it did come out, did get back to his dad, he had his money, worst came to worst. And he wanted this. Wanted Harrington's electric-hot gaze on him while he looked up from his knees. Wanted to feel his jaw stretch around a dick again. Wanted this boy in particular.
"Okay," he said, and prayed he didn't sound too eager so Harrington wouldn't call this off.
Harrington's gaze sharpened with something like surprise before he grabbed Billy by his bicep again and dragged him inside the shed. Someone could have seen them go in. Billy didn't check. He couldn't care right now, with something he'd wanted for months within reach.
It was dark once Harrington closed the door, and it smelled like gasoline and gas clippings from the lawn tools spread around the space. It didn't matter. Billy felt Harrington get settled against the door, put one hand on his shoulder, and Billy was dropping to his knees.
This close, Harrington's body heat had Billy sweating in the stale, humid air. He ran his hands down Harrington until he found the waistband of his jeans. He unbuttoned them and shoved his hand in, getting a nice handful of Harrington's dick. It was half-hard and getting harder, and Billy had to stifle a groan, feeling the hot, soft skin beneath his fingers. He leaned forward and inhaled, hoping Harrington couldn't hear. This close, he could smell the intoxicating musk of Harrington's sweat and arousal. A man's sweat and arousal. God, he'd missed this. He couldn't wait to get a taste.
Harrington shifted above him. "You gonna suck me through my jeans or what?" he said. His voice had gone gravelly.
"Or what," Billy said, giving the cock in his hand one final stroke to enjoy how it stiffened for him before he let go. He pulled Harrington's jeans and briefs down around his thighs and briefly wished there was a light in here. He'd love to see the pretty picture Harrington made. Then he focused. He had an apology to deliver.
Billy started out slow: a hand to the base to steady Harrington's cock, which felt deliciously big, the other on Harrington's hip to steady himself, and several slow, steady licks up the length. The first drag of his tongue up the underside of the head won him a gasp and a tremble from Harrington, so Billy did it again, slower, and again, and felt Harrington's dick twitch. Hands pressed down on his shoulders, and Billy took the hint and got on with it.
Harrington gasped again when Billy's lips closed around the head and he started to bob, slowly and shallowly at first. The weight of Harrington, the salty-skin taste of him, was making Billy's head spin and his own cock come to achingly hard life. He squeezed Harrington at the base and moved his head a little faster, sliding his tongue along that sensitive spot he'd discovered. He was rewarded with a little groan and a quickly aborted stutter of Harrington's hips.
"God, you're actually good at this," Harrington gasped from above him. Billy sucked harder, and he grunted. "I expected you to be bad, but - I might actually believe you're sorry at this rate."
Billy took him deeper for that, meeting his hand with his mouth and then pulling back. He'd give Harrington the best damn apology blowjob Hawkins had ever seen. He'd make him bust down his throat.
Harrington moaned a little when Billy sucked on the head again before diving back in as deep as he could reach. His hands left Billy's shoulders and made it to his head, sliding through the crunch of hairspray to yank. He let go, quickly, but not before Billy had had to stifle a moan by taking Harrington deeper, trying to swallow him down - not easy after months out of practice.
"Oh," Harrington gasped, surprisingly high-pitched, "yeah, like that." There was a thunk, like his head hitting the wall. "I'm gonna fuck your face, Hargrove."
Billy could have pushed him away if he wanted. But he was burning up with the reality of Harrington putting him on his knees when he'd fantasized about it so often, with the heft of his cock and the smell of him, with the way it made arousal coil warm in his gut when Harrington bossed him around, so instead, he moved the hand around Harrington's cock to his other hip, freeing the full length of it to go down his throat.
Harrington groaned. "Yeah, that's it," he said, pulling Billy's hair again. "You're gonna take what I give you and you're gonna like it." He thrust a few times, shallowly, testing, before he pushed his way into the back of Billy's throat.
Billy gagged. He couldn't help it. Harrington was long and thick enough to make his jaw ache. But he was right - Billy did like it, and so when Harrington tried to pull back, Billy leaned in, ignoring the sting in his scalp, and swallowed.
"Ohhhhhhhh," Harrington moaned, at the feel of Billy's throat closing around him. "Yeah, that's good, Hargrove. God, your fucking mouth. Wanna stay here all night."
Billy's fingers dug into his hips as Harrington let him up, giving him a second to breathe before he started rocking his dick in and out of Billy's mouth. He wanted it to last all night, despite the near-pain of his hard cock in his jeans, despite the ache in his throat and the tears in his eyes. This was the best he'd felt since Neil dragged him to Hawkins, and on the next pull back up, he played his tongue over Harrington's head, sucking extra hard. It was so good for him just having Harrington's dick in his mouth.
Harrington moaned again and started to thrust faster. "You've got me so fucking close," he panted. "You're such a good cocksucker. I'm gonna come down your fucking throat." He shoved Billy's head down again.
Goddamn right you are, Billy thought, relaxing his throat as much as he could. He wished he could see Harrington come. He wanted to picture his face when he jerked himself off.
"Ah, ah, ah," Harrington gasped. His hips stuttered, his cock never quite leaving Billy's throat. "I'm fucking - I'm gonna -" He whined, and his dick twitched, and then he was spilling down Billy's throat.
Billy swallowed it all - not that he could help it in this position - before pulling back. Harrington's hands had dropped to his shoulders when he came, and the other boy let him sit back to breathe without a struggle. Harrington sounded like he was having a little trouble getting it together, and his heaving pants were making Billy's dick leak inside his jeans.
"Jesus," Harrington finally said, and Billy heard the noises of him finally putting his cock away. "Guess you really are sorry." He opened the shed door and slipped back into the party, leaving Billy achingly hard and still on his knees.