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Billy’s been back for three weeks.

Exactly three weeks and two days ago Steve got a phone call, which he answered very prepared to curse the person on the other side of the line into next year, because he’d just fallen asleep, and he was covering the opening shift at Family Video, which meant he had to be there in four hours, even though no human being in their right mind would come to rent a tape at nine o’clock on a Monday morning, and everyone and their mother knew Steve never slept, but that still wasn’t a good enough reason to call his apartment at five in the morning, and.

His eardrums very suddenly, very violently got assaulted by what Steve guessed was Max in the middle of a hysterical fit, screaming something like Billy and alive and home.

Steve hung up, left the phone off the hook, and got back to sleep.

Retrospectively, not his best move. To his defence, Steve had been really tired, and really sleepy, and really, really stoned. Smoking before bed was like, one of the few good things left in his life, sue him.

He woke up, got to work, and promptly forgot all about last night’s incident.

Until - a few hours later, when the door of the shop opened with a bang, sending the poster for The Goonies flying through the air, and Steve found himself faced with a very angry, very red-faced Max, hesitantly followed by a very confused Dustin.

Steve opened his mouth to ask exactly why the two of them were skipping school, maybe to give a speech about the importance of education, depending on the severity of the situation, and then.

‘Shit,’ he said, because he really was an idiot. ‘Did you say Billy’s alive?’

Max - glared at him. Her mouth had been left hanging open since the moment she came crashing in, probably ready to let Steve know exactly what her opinion of him was, after like, calling to inform him her dead brother was very much not dead and getting outright ignored, eyes blinking rapidly, and Steve thought she’d look almost intimidating if she didn't have like, pink clips in her hair.

‘Shit,’ Steve said again, because this really was a double shit kind of situation, because he was running on three hours of sleep, and Steve firmly believed that dealing with something like my dead brother who everyone saw getting skewered by an interdimensional monster is not dead anymore required at least five hours of shuteye, because he had absolutely no idea how to deal with any of this. ‘How is he?’

Max glared at him some more. ‘I can’t even - how are you so - ’ she started, then stopped, took a breath that sucked about half the oxygen in the room, said, ‘He just came back from the dead, you idiot. How do you think he is?’

Honestly, what had Steve’s life become. Getting bullied by middle schoolers whose brothers returned from the other world, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Still, he figured he kinda deserved that. What with hanging up the phone last night, and all.

‘Okay, yeah, I mean - ’ he sputtered, looking at Dustin, who was always nice to Steve and never shouted at him and was being supremely unsupportive at the moment, ‘I mean, how is he? Like, is he - I mean. Okay? I mean, as okay as someone who was dead and now - ’

He cut himself in the middle of the sentence, because Max’s glare had reached new levels of rage, and Steve really wasn’t keen on getting murdered by a fifteen year old in Family Video.

Max heaved a long-suffering sigh that reminded Steve suspiciously of Robin. ‘He’s - he’s different, I guess. Like, more quiet? But not - not like, in a weird way. He’s just not so - loud. And he has a beard.’

Steve blinked. That was too much information to process on a good day. On three hours of sleep, the visual of a not-dead, quiet, bearded Billy Hargrove was having a strange effect on Steve’s mind. Like, he could feel his brain cells melting, and he didn’t have that many to begin with. He could really use the few left.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘That’s - good, I guess?’

Max sighed, again. Steve was extremely grateful Robin’s shift didn’t start until four. He didn’t think he could handle the two of them in the same room.

‘My brother, the one who everyone saw dying to save us, is alive, Steve. That definitely qualifies as good.’

That was three weeks and one day ago, and Billy’s been back, and Steve still hasn’t seen him, or his beard.

The town has been thrumming with the rumours of the boy who died a hero and then came back from the dead, and it seems like everyone has had their moment with the boy-wonder, except Steve.

Even Nancy got to see Billy Hargrove’s beard. He told Steve everything about it three days ago, and Steve knows it’s irrational, but he’s jealous. How dare Billy Hargrove be alive and have a beard and not come looking for Steve?

Steve briefly entertains the idea that wrecking Billy’s car back in July may have something to do with it. He dismisses it immediately. There’s no way Billy would be hung up on something as petty as that. Probably.

Robin, who's spent three weeks listening to Steve ranting about Billy Hargrove’s beard, calls him a doof and tells him to go get laid before you break a blood vessel, dingus. Steve thinks she may have a point.

So Billy’s been back for three weeks, and Steve still hasn’t seen him around town, is kinda going out of his mind trying to picture a quiet, bearded version of him, especially at night before going to sleep, which almost always ends with him shoving a hand in his boxers and jerking off to the idea of beard burn on his thighs, and that.

That’s a lot to process.

And then one day Steve is at work, sweeping the floor, and he's already bumped against The Return of The Living Dead poster Keith insisted on putting up for Halloween three times, and Halloween was five days ago, which means that Steve's been forced to read They're back from the grave and ready to party! five days too many, and then.

The little bell jingles, and the door opens, and Steve drops the broom.

He's spent three weeks imagining Billy and his beard, and none of it comes even remotely close to the real thing.

Billy has a beard, and he wears his hair in a bun, and he’s also somehow, impossibly, gotten - more.

Bigger, buffer, musclier.

It's unfair, really. No one should look like that, especially if they're fresh from a meeting with the afterlife.

Billy says hey, pretty boy, the same time Steve mutters oh, fuck me, and. They freeze.

Billy's still in the doorway, hand on the handle, like maybe he's not allowed to come in, and Steve's standing in the middle of Family Video, his hand closed around a broom that's currently lying on the ground, wishing he was that broom.

Someone coughs behind Steve. Robin coughs behind Steve. Steve kinda - forgot she was there, to be honest.

Billy's beard is really fucking with his brain.

‘Well come on in, Hargrove,’ she says, and Steve is eternally grateful she exists and is willing to put at least half her energy into saving Steve's dignity. ‘Don't just stand there like a ghost.’

Billy looks at Steve, and Steve winces, because Billy's never met Robin, because he's not used to her sense of humour, because you don't call a guy back from the dead a ghost, Robin, jesus, and then Billy's mouth does a thing, and Steve is horrified to realize Billy's smiling.

Steve has never seen Billy smile before.

Well. Not before diving headfirst in a fistfight, at least.

Billy's alive, and he's got a beard, and he's smiling.

Steve is ready to tear his clothes right there at the floor of Family Video, maybe make it less family.

He picks up the broom and runs behind the safety of the counter, Robin's smirk be damned, because he's halfway through getting a boner, and all Billy’s done is smile.

Billy struts towards them, beard and all, leans on the counter, stares at Steve.

Robin looks between them. Clears her throat. Says, ‘Well, I'll leave you two to catch up.’ Pinches Steve's arm, hard. Walks to the back room, closes the door.

Steve takes every good thing he ever thought about Robin back. He hates her.

‘So,’ he says, breathless, ‘you look good.’

Billy's eyes rake over his face. ‘Yeah?’

Steve blinks. He's spent a whole summer establishing he's disastrous at flirting. This is way out of his league.

‘Yeah, I mean. For a dead guy, and all.’

Billy - laughs.

Steve's dick is actively trying to rip its way out his pants.

‘What, you think the beard suits me or something?’ Billy says, all cheeky and cocky and Steve really wants to shut him up with his mouth.

He hums noncommittally.

Billy just - can't let it go. ‘Come on Harrington, I wanna know. Do you like it?’

Steve has spent the last three weeks soaking through his underwear thinking about Billy's beard, and that was before he even saw the thing, and he's currently sporting a particularly persistent hard-on that seems intent to make all his decisions for him, so he really can't be blamed when he opens his mouth and -

‘I mean, I'd really like to know how it feels like against my ass.’

He hears a choking sound coming from the back room. He needs to remind himself to kill Robin later. If he survives this.

It's a good thing all the blood of his body has traveled south, because he'd probably be having a stroke right about now if there was any left in his brain.

Billy's gaping at him. Steve thinks he's about to find out how it feels to get punched in the face by a fucking zombie, and then.

Billy smirks. Flutters his eyelashes. Raises his hand, combs it through his beard, and he's definitely doing it on purpose, the resurrected bastard.

‘Been thinking about my mouth near your ass a lot, pretty boy?’

Steve is mentally drawing lines on one side of the board. Not sure which one, yet. ‘I mean, I gotta make you shut up somehow, Hargrove. Taking a trip to the land of the dead didn’t seem to do the trick, so.’ He shrugs. ‘Maybe eating my ass will.’

Another choking sound travels from the back room, louder this time. Steve is seriously beginning to worry about Robin’s health.

Billy licks his lips, and this must feel weird now, what with all the hair blooming around them, and Steve is dying to find out for himself. His dick twitches in his pants.

‘Still living in that palace of yours, princess?’ Billy asks, and Steve has to force himself to look away from Billy’s lips, and Billy’s tongue, and Billy’s beard.

He needs his brain to be at least semi-functional. Coming up with answers is complicated when Billy’s doing whatever it is he’s doing. Like. Existing.

‘Wha- no, I - I have an apartment. Two blocks from here,’ he manages, and he really shouldn’t feel proud for being able to like, use words in the presence of Billy and his stupid beard, but. He kinda is, anyway.

‘Good. I’ll meet ya here and we’ll walk there together. What time do you get off?’

‘Fi- five?’

Billy smiles, all predator-like. ‘Baby, if I have anythin’ to do with it, you’ll be getting off till dawn.’

Steve winces, again. That’s a line for the you suck column if he ever heard one. His dick has never been this hard before.

He swallows down the lump in his throat. ‘I’ll see you at five, I guess.’

Billy - honest to god winks. Steve has never had this much swagger in his King Steve days, and he’s also never been dead one moment in his life. He’s considering the possibility that Billy is some kind of super-human, or something, and then he stops thinking altogether, because Billy’s walking out of the store, and he’s gotten bigger, but apparently coming back from the dead leaves a guy no time to go shopping, and the town mall was kinda destroyed by the entity that possessed him, so he’s still wearing his old jeans, and they were indecently tight to begin with, and.

Steve has never wanted to take a bite out of someone’s ass before, but. He’s discovering a lot of things about himself lately.

The moment the door closes behind Billy, Robin is out of the back room.

‘Okay, that was the grossest, most awful experience I've ever had to suffer through in my life, and I've been literally tortured by Russian spies, but. It worked. I can't believe I'm saying this, but it worked. You're finally getting dick.’

She sounds sincerely surprised. Like Steve is thoroughly incapable of getting laid.

Which - is fair. She has a whole summer worth of cringe-worthy pickup lines to attest to that.

Still. A little trust in his dating skills would be greatly appreciated.

Steve is still reeling from the whole Billy's alive and buff and wants to rub his beard against my ass, and he's only truly shaken by two of these facts, the wrong two, so. He's not in the mood to sulk at Robin at this particular moment.

The prospect of getting Billy's face anywhere near his crotch is exceptionally more interesting.

It also proves to be extremely distracting. Steve knocks down the poster six more times until the end of his shift. Each time, the zombie wearing the leather jacket seems to be mocking him.

Billy is waiting for him outside at exactly two minutes to five, which is lucky, because Steve had frantically left Family Video at half past three, ran home, took a very thorough shower, ‘cause like, he's not about to let the guy who just came back from the dead get grossed out by Steve's ass, like, Steve thinks Billy’s probably been through enough as it is, and Steve has never had anyone's tongue nowhere near there, ever, so he's not exactly familiar with what the etiquette of having your ass devoured entails, so.

He spent forty minutes scrubbing his ass. And thinking about Billy’s tongue in his ass. And Billy’s beard on his thighs. And maybe he had to jerk off like, twice, to take the edge off.

Point is, he’s only been back in Family Video pretending he never left to like, make sure his ass tastes great for exactly twelve minutes, and Billy’s early, and that.

That means they’re doing this.

Steve has gotten off twice in as many hours, and the sight of Billy’s smile surrounded by all that hair has already got him leaking.

His day is going exceptionally better than anticipated.

They walk to his house in silence, because Steve has no idea what the protocol of talking to your former nemesis who got possessed by John Carpenter’s second cousin, died saving you and your friends, then came back to life, and is now offering to put his tongue in your ass is, and it should be awkward, and.

It’s not. It’s kind of - nice, really.

Max was right. Billy is quieter, but not unnervingly so, he’s just - not as loud as before. Not so intense, so invasive as before.

It’s nice.

It’s nice, until the door of Steve’s apartment is closed behind them, and they’re alone in Steve’s tiny place, and Billy’s right there, and then he’s even closer, caging Steve against the couch, forcing Steve’s spine to curve back, draping himself over Steve.

His mouth remains outrageously not connected to Steve’s.

He raises a thumb, drags it across Steve’s bottom lip. ‘How do you wanna do this, princess?’

Steve would object to approximately three things at the moment, and all three of them involve Billy’s body being anywhere but where it currently is, pressed against Steve’s, and Steve really didn’t think that’s how his Tuesday would go, like, if someone had asked him that morning what would be the craziest thing he thought would happen today, Steve would’ve probably imagined something like renting a PG-15 to thirteen year-olds, or counting how many Cheetos Keith can fit in his mouth, or maybe watching Robin flail her way around Becca Tilder, and Billy Hargrove eating his ass would not even make an appearance on that list, so.

‘I - I don’t - I’ve never - ’ he sputters, and he used to be smooth, didn’t he, like, what happened?

Billy rolls his eyes and Steve thinks there may be a smirk hidden under that beard, there.

‘I mean, where do you want me to bend you over and rip you apart with my tongue, pretty boy?’

Steve can feel his brain short-circuiting. There are fuses burning, and lights going wild, and Billy’s licking his lips, and that doesn’t help, at all, and Steve needs that tongue somewhere inside him really fucking soon.

His legs have probably lost the ability to function, and he's already spread over the back of the couch, and if his dick gets any harder he'll probably die, and Steve has fought monsters from other dimensions three times, and survived all three of them, contrary to Billy, who managed to get possessed and then die the first time he faced exactly one entity from another world, like a little bitch, and Steve refuses to die before Billy's tongue has thoroughly explored his insides, so.

‘Just - here, right here,’ he says, just on this side of desperate.

Billy's definitely smirking now. ‘Yeah, alright. Turn around for me, princess,’ he says, and then he. Turns Steve around himself.

Dying hasn’t taken the bastard outta him, apparently.

He turns Steve around, and hooks his fingers on Steve’s belt loops, draws him close, pushes his dick against Steve’s ass, and it’s a good thing Steve is dead set on feeling that beard against his ass, because he’s starting to get other ideas. Like. A lot of them.

And then - Billy brushes the hair against Steve’s nape aside, plants a soft kiss there, right on the bone, stays there, lips barely touching skin, breathing Steve in, and Steve can feel every little hair of his beard, scratching the soft skin of his neck, sending shockwaves through his veins, little sparks of wantwantwant.

And it's so intimate, so unbearably tender, until - Billy drops his hands lower, lower, grabs Steve through his jeans, starts unbuttoning them, dragging the zipper down, says, ‘I'm gonna wreck you, princess.’

Steve - he's ready. To get wrecked. Thoroughly.

He makes sure Billy is aware of that with a string of grunts that keep escaping his lips, and Steve should feel embarrassed, like, Billy hasn’t even gotten to skin yet, and Steve is ready to blow in his pants, but Billy’s hand feels so good against his cock, so right, and Steve is moaning, and rolling his head to give Billy more space to do - anything, anything Billy wants to do to him, and it feels so good, and.

Of course that’s when Billy decides to - stop.

He stops moving, hand hovering over Steve’s crotch, not pressing, just there, lips a ghost against Steve’s neck, and for the single most terrifying moment in his life Steve thinks this is it, he’s gonna wake up in his bed, and Billy will be dead, and his sheets will be soaked, and his mouth will be closed around someone's name, someone who’s not there.

He whines, and Billy huffs a breath, a breath, alive and here and really fucking hard against Steve, and licks the space behind Steve’s ear, and that has never been a weak spot for Steve, or maybe he didn’t know it was, because his knees just - give in.

He’s bent in half over the couch, and Billy - Billy laughs, like, ‘Makin’ my job real easy, here, pretty boy,’ and then he - he drops to his knees, and drags Steve’s jeans with him, downdowndown, grabs Steve’s ass, bites.

Steve makes a sound he never knew he could before.

He's making a lot of discoveries about himself today.

Billy grabs, and bites, and laughs, and grips Steve's arms, forces them behind his back, makes him grab his cheeks, says, ‘Hold these open for me,’ and Steve knows what's coming, he knows, and.

Billy shoves his tongue in Steve's ass, and Steve screams.

Billy's not even - doing anything, just licking, and tasting, and teasing, not even close to being in yet, and Steve is ruined. His cock is trapped between his body and the couch, dripping, and Steve makes a mental note to sterilize the cushions, like, he has movie nights with the kids here, and then Billy's tongue presses, and presses, and goes in, and Steve loses any ability to form coherent thoughts he ever had.

And it's just the tip, just a tiny taste of what Steve needs, and Steve has never had anything in his ass, ever, and it's already the best thing he's ever felt. Like. No pussy could ever compare to the feel of Billy on his knees behind him, tongue barely breaching his entrance, beard intensifying every little touch.

It's too much. It's perfect.

He moans, and moans, and Billy exhales, and oh. Steve can feel everything.

Billy starts pushing in, starts opening Steve up, slowly, carefully, and Steve said I've never, but he didn't think Billy would so good about it, so mindful, and Steve can feel every slide of his tongue, wet and insistent and perfect, and the press of Billy's hands against the back of his legs, the only thing keeping him standing, anchoring him to the ground, keeping him from floating away, and the scratch of Billy's beard against the inside of his ass, leaving expanses of red, irritated skin in its trail, and it's overwhelming, how good everything feels.

He has to remember to send gift baskets to everyone responsible for bringing Billy back.

Billy licks, and licks, and Steve is already so close, and Billy gave him a task, told him hold them open, but Steve's aching, and the cushion below him is probably ruined, like, irreversibly so, and he needs just one little push, so he takes one hand, wraps it around his cock, starts thrusting, and he almost loses himself in it, this moment of relief, the moment every piece has come together, and then.

Billy stops, grabs Steve’s arm, forces him to bend it behind his back, just on this side of painful, holds it there with one hand, raises the other and - he slaps Steve.

The apartment is so quiet, too quiet, now that Steve's moans aren't echoing around it, and the sound the strike makes is deafening. Steve can feel every inch of Billy's palm against his ass, knows it's gonna leave a handprint, red and raw and dooming, a message if Steve ever heard one, this belongs to me, and it shouldn't feel as good as it does, as hot as it does, but his cock kicks, rivers of pre dripping on the couch below, and.

That's one more thing Steve is finding out about himself today.

Billy rubs his face against the skin his hand landed on, beard scratching and burning and driving Steve to madness, but his tongue stays mercilessly out of his ass.

Steve whines. ‘C’mon, Hargrove, you gotta lemme come.’

‘I don't gotta do anything, princess. You want me to make ya come, we’re gonna do it on my own terms. You come when I want you to.’

It's a power play. Steve is - okay with it. More than okay. He takes a breath. Nods. ‘Gimme all you got, wonder boy.’

Billy laughs. Gives each cheek a kiss, stupid and tender. ‘Be good for me,’ he says, and then - he holds Steve's ass open on his own, like, if you need something done, and he buries his face in it, beard and all, starts fucking Steve with his tongue, slow and deep and perfect, and Steve is two seconds away from exploding, from dissolving, melting back to his atom form.

He's moaning uncontrollably, like, there's no way he can filter himself right now, and his cock is so hard Steve thinks he's past the point of coming, but Billy said be good, and Steve is, and Billy must think so too, because he brings one arm to Steve's cock, wraps it around it, starts tugging to the rhythm he keeps thrusting his tongue, in-out, and drags one nail down his slit, hums against Steve’s ass, a permission, and Steve - falls apart.

The couch is definitely ruined now, and it's a good thing he's already slumped over it, because the intensity of - everything Billy just did to him would've made him, like, black out or something.

Billy promised to wreck him and - he did. Steve is wrecked.

Billy works him through his orgasm, tongue licking and pushing and sending Steve higher and higher and higher, until his body becomes a dead weight, and he’s barely conscious of anything that’s not Billy, until it’s so much, it’s too much, and Steve whimpers, spent and sated and dazed, and.

Billy chuckles against his back, kisses the bottom of his spine, gets to his feet, turns Steve around, forcing them face to face, and -

He raises one hand, cups Steve’s jaw, rubs circles with his thumb, raises the other to his own mouth, and it’s the hand he used to jerk Steve off, and it’s filthy, and wet, and covered in Steve’s come, and Billy brings it to his lips, starts licking it clean, with that tongue that was in Steve’s ass two minutes ago, and he’s sloppy about it, droplets of come staining his beard, mixing with the spit gathered there, and.

Steve’s dick is making several valiant efforts to get really fucking hard three minutes after having its most intense orgasm since, like, ever.

But the thing is - Billy’s licking Steve’s come, and his eyes are pools of black, and his jeans are still really fucking tight, and Steve can see just how much Billy enjoyed going down on him, and Billy like, just got a pulse again, and Steve really wants to play around with it, find out how easy he can make it run wild, so.

He turns them around, switches their positions, lets Billy lean on the couch this time, really fucking hoping he’ll need to, like, Steve is very determined on making Billy lose control, making him have to hold on to something solid, because there are many worlds in this universe, and both of them know how it feels to come face to face with the horrors of another, and Steve is fixing to rock this world for Billy, the one where they’re both alive, and breathing, and here, and.

He drops to his knees, starts unbuckling Billy’s really fucking tight pants, and Billy grabs his jaw again, urgently, says, ‘You don’t gotta do that, princess,’ and his voice is raspy, like, eating someone’s ass will do that to ya, but it’s also kinda broken, like he genuinely thinks Steve isn’t drooling over the thought of having Billy’s dick in his mouth, like he thinks Steve got what he wanted, and maybe that was the end of the deal, and.

Steve can’t have that.

‘Hargrove,’ he says, familiar and soothing, ‘I have a hamper’s worth of ruined boxers because of you and your fucking beard. Just lemme give this to ya.’

Billy's eyes are searching Steve's face, and his thumb is pressing against his bottom lip, and Steve opens up, allows the tip on his tongue, bites down, softly, and it unlocks something in Billy's face, like that's all the answer he needs.

Steve gives a final nibble on Billy's thumb, and opens his jeans, just enough to take Billy's cock out, and it's already so red and wet and swollen, and Steve thinks his first time sucking dick is gonna be really fucking short.

He looks up at Billy, and his eyes are wide and awestruck and a little bit lost, and Steve wants to kiss him, and taste him, and keep him.

He holds the base of Billy's cock on one hand, lowers his mouth on it, takes just the head, licks it clean of the pre that's steadily dripping, feels the taste of it on his tongue, decides he's already addicted to it.

It's just a lick, and Billy's head is already thrown back, his hands tangled in Steve's hair, neck taut and exposed and heaving breath after breath, and his mouth is open, spilling moans that sound like Steve's name, and moans that sound like nothing approximately close to intelligible, and Steve's only just begun.

He grips Billy's hip bones, because he needs to touch, to know he's allowed to roam freely, and moves his hands higher, meeting skin that's smooth and skin that's not, and Steve can't think about that now, can't think about gifts of blood and teeth and nightmares, not when he's on his knees, not when he's tasting dick for the first time in his life.

And Steve knew, he knew it wouldn't last long, and he takes Billy's cock in his mouth, as much of it as he can fit for like, his first time giving head, and gulps around it, and Billy moans, so sweet, and his voice chokes around a Harrington, and Steve knows what that means, and there's a momentary flash of panic, like, I'm about to find what come tastes like, and then a moment of absolute clarity, I'm so okay with that, and.

He moans around Billy's cock, and Billy's coming, and coming, and coming, and Steve has never sucked a dick before, and he's kinda choking on it, so.

He draws back, leaves only the head in his mouth, lets Billy come down from his high like that, still in Steve's mouth, kicking and pulsing, and Billy's hands are still in his hair, like, it would be so easy for Billy to just - drag Steve forward, and he doesn't, so.

Steve swallows, makes sure Billy can track the movement, kisses the tip of Billy's dick, his navel, his abs. Helps Billy crouch down next to him, sits them both side by side, backs against the couch, breathless and grinning and sated.

They stay like that, and it's - it's good. It's comfortable. And like - Steve had Billy's tongue in his ass ten minutes ago, his mouth on Billy's cock, and it shouldn't feel comfortable, not with their history, and. It is.

‘So,’ Billy says, ‘that was good.’

Steve hears it for the question it is. ‘Yeah, it was. I mean. You could try lasting more than like, four minutes next time.’

Billy looks at him, a slow grin doing nothing to mask the surprise on his face, doing wonders to make Steve's heart beat overtime. ‘Yeah, I. I could do that, I guess,’ he says, and he's right here, face open and inviting and so, so close, and Steve is hit with the sudden epiphany that they still haven't kissed, and he's instantly dying to feel Billy's lips against his own, feel Billy's beard scratching his chin, burning the skin there, and Billy's leaning in, and in, and.

Billy pushes away, stands up, scrambles to the bathroom, and Steve's still sitting there, leaning in, mouth open and waiting for a kiss that never comes, and really fucking confused.

He stands up, starts walking towards the bathroom, and he can hear Billy moving inside, and that's good, that means the past hour hasn't been some alarmingly tangible hallucination Steve's sleep-deprived brain came up with, it means Billy's actually here, and his tongue got very familiar with Steve's ass, and his mouth refused to meet Steve's, and.

And Steve's very confused, and more than a little annoyed, and also kinda grouchy, like, he really wanted to know how Billy's lips taste like, and he raises his hand, leaves it hovering over the doorknob, ready to rip the door open, curse Billy to hell, which should be like, familiar territory to him by now, and then -

Billy opens the door, and Steve's still standing there, frozen, and Billy's on him lightning-quick, and pushing him against the wall, and shoving his tongue in Steve's mouth, and.

He tastes like Listerine, like toothpaste, like he's spent the last five minutes scrubbing his teeth, and washing his mouth, and making sure he tastes fresh and clean and perfect for their -

Their first kiss.

Steve's such an idiot. And he probably tastes like dick, and sweat, and Billy's come.

Billy - doesn't seem to mind. He seems really intent on exploring every corner of Steve's mouth, licking and kissing and biting his way inside, and it's Steve that usually laughs into kisses, like, that's his brand, but there's a laugh floating between them, and it hasn't come from Steve, who is very breathless, and very dazed, and very willing to let Billy's tongue take up residence in his mouth.

His beard is - surprisingly soft against Steve's skin. Like Billy actually takes the time to groom it, make sure it's well-kept, and isn't that a wild thought, and it tickles Steve when Billy moves his mouth just so, and.

It's the best first kiss Steve's ever had. Will ever have, probably.

Steve thinks maybe he doesn't want any other first kisses, not ever again.

Billy pulls back, and Steve is already feeling the loss, already craving his mouth, already forming whines in the back of his throat, ready to ask, ready to beg, and Billy cups his face in his hands, kisses the tip of Steve’s nose, mutters, ‘I should get goin’,’ and it doesn't sound like he means it, not even a little, and Steve can’t have that, is winded by his need to make Billy stay, so.

‘I mean. I don't have anything else goin’ on today,’ he says, shrugging, oozing fake nonchalance. ‘You could just. Stay? If you want. We could - order takeout and then you can - you can make good on that promise, next time and everything.’

Billy looks at him, all squinting and cute, because he refuses to move away from Steve's face, and Steve can't blame him, feels the need to have Billy close deep in his bones. ‘Yeah?’

Steve nods, and kisses him, and nods again.

A second goes by, and Steve sees his whole life flash before his eyes, three close encounters with death and all, and then -

‘Yeah, alright,’ Billy says, and Steve sees relief mirrored back in blue. ‘Yeah, we could do that. I - That’d be nice. I can stay,’ and then, ‘I want dumplings. And prawn crackers. And spring rolls,’ and he's grinning at Steve, still an asshole, still Billy, still fucking here, against all odds, against every law of nature, and.

Steve kisses him, because Billy's still Billy, and Steve knows how his mouth tastes like now, knows it tastes like mint, and smoke, and Steve, and Steve's mouth tastes like Billy, and Steve’s thighs are marked red by that stupid beard, and.

Steve gets Billy dumplings, and prawn crackers, and spring rolls. Just to see him smile again.

Billy - does.