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Steve Harrington had made peace with the fact he was going to die in a giant tractor tire. He was forty-seven minutes from pissing his pants and his ass had fallen asleep half an hour ago.
Despite surviving monsters that fell out of ceilings and dogs with too many teeth and not enough eyes and burning tunnels and Billy Fucking Hargrove trying to cave his face in, he was going to die from getting stuck in a goddamn oversized tire.
And it was Carol Fucking Perkins’ fault with her judgmental bubblegum snapping.
They were at the annual school-hosted bonfire night, held at the public park near the school. It was for high school students only, and it was an unspoken rule that no one brought alcohol or drugs, for fear of never getting a bonfire again. Parents and teachers joined to cook and serve hotdogs and hamburgers and chips and punch like they were in middle school again. No one really complained about it, because it was free food and an easy night to send off for fall break.
Steve, still bruised and wobbly from earlier in the month and single as a sad little broken Pringle, stayed on the fringes. Most people weren’t too sure what to make of him. Nancy and Jonathan were obviously in love, Steve felt too awkward to join them, and—
Well.
Steve didn’t really have any friends, alright? He was lonely as hell and no one really wanted to be ostracized by associating with the “fallen king” or whatever the hell they were saying nowadays. His only real friends were a bunch of toddlers that had tried to kill him.
He only had six more months until graduation.
But Carol had spotted him, and her judgy little bubblegum snaps zeroed in on him like a little honing beacon. Tommy was slow to forgive, but Carol—Carol forgave Steve maybe just a little too easily. It’s what Steve liked about her—that she would forgive him of his fuckups when even his parents couldn’t stand the sight of his disappointing… everything.
Like a coward, Steve had hurried quickly through the crowd, dumping his trash in the obnoxious blue metal barrel as he sought refuge. He’d found it in the giant tractor tires some farmer had donated to the playground decades ago and had slipped in before Carol could notice.
Well. He assumed she hadn’t noticed because he’d been there for nearly an hour and he had tried to get up half an hour ago when his ass fell asleep and had found out he had wedged himself in and, despite being extremely athletic and flexible, thank you very much, he couldn’t bend the right way to get back out.
His only saving grace was that it hadn’t rained, recently, and so at least he didn’t have a wet ass on top of being stuck.
Several students had peeked over the rim to make sure no one was inside before sitting on the tire. When they saw him, their eyes widened and they scampered away before he could ask for help.
Rude, honestly.
There was a thump. Someone running into the tire, probably. Hard enough to make a sound but not hard enough to jostle the giant tire.
And then there was an ass in his face. Plump and sinful in too-tight jeans.
Listen. Steve was a boobies man. But when presented with a nice ass? It was almost as good. He wasn’t too picky. He shook his head. No. Wait. He wasn’t allowed to drool. He was supposed to be mad.
Steve slapped the ass in his face with the back of his hand. “Hey! Look before you sit, asshole! What, were you raised in the city?”
The ass wriggled and squirmed and disappeared. An asshole replaced it.
“City-slicker,” Steve sneered.
Billy grinned, feral and wide, blond curls falling through the hole in a wild tangle. His necklace tapped against his chin, which Steve could only tell because he'd been hidden in the dark tire long enough for his eyes to adjust. “Pretty Boy,” Billy crowed, suddenly disappearing.
Only to reappear feet first.
“Hey! No, no. There’s not—Billy!”
Billy didn’t listen to his protests. Steve could only watch in horror as Billy wriggled his way in those sinfully tight jeans into the space across from him. Billy’s legs were draped over Steve’s, warm and firm even in the late November chill. He must have just been by the bonfire. Even when it was almost December and almost too dark to see, Billy kept his button up unbuttoned to his navel, leather jacket open and showing off his great tits in the dim light.
Okay. Yeah. Steve was man enough to admit Billy had some great boobies and it was rather unfair that he liked to parade around gym without a shirt.
But he was supposed to be mad, damnit. And not drooling over his—frenemy?
They were—they were something. Steve had apologized, told him it was a misunderstanding. Billy had apologized right back, never explaining anything other than it had been a bad day. Steve’s fall from grace had put him in the shadows—no one really talked to him, bothered him, whatever. Even Billy had kept his distance.
Except for now.
Billy pulled out a cigarette and went to light it. Steve snatched the lighter and cigarette before he could even try to light it. “You can’t!” he hissed, wincing as he tried to fold forward to shove the items at Billy’s bare chest. His chest burned Steve's fingers. “If they find any alcohol or cigarettes or drugs they’ll stop the bonfire nights.”
Billy sneered. “Why’s that matter to me? I’m graduating anyway.”
Steve couldn’t help his eyebrow quirking. “Because the rest of the school will shun you if you’re the reason it’s been canceled.”
“Ah.”
Awkwardly, Billy shoved the cigarette back into the pack and shoved it and the lighter back into his jacket pocket. He rested his wrists on his knees, looking down his nose at Steve. “Why are you hidin’ in here, Pretty Boy?”
Steve sighed and thumped his head against the tire. The smell of dirt and mud and thick industrial rubber had coated his throat ages ago but it was still a strong stench. Coupled with sharp sting of Billy’s Marlboro Reds and the thick smoke from the bonfire was making him a little dizzy. “Carol.”
“Hmm?”
“I was hiding from Carol and I got stuck,” Steve admitted.
Steve Harrington had made peace with the fact he was going to die in a giant tractor tire. He was forty-three minutes from pissing his pants and his ass had fallen asleep almost forty-five minutes ago.
At least he had something pretty to look at when he died.
“Dumbass,” Billy muttered across from him. Almost… sounding fond?
“You’re stuck here too.”
The smirk fell from Billy’s face. “What?”
It was Steve’s turn to smirk. “Go on. Try to get out.”
Steve cackled as Billy tried to wriggle his way out. With his leg's slung over Steve's thighs he couldn't really get good enough leverage and really he only slumped down further, somehow. He couldn't even use the lip of the tire to try to pull himself out; it was too slick with not enough give to catch his fingers on. He kicked at Steve's ribs but Steve was laughing too hard to care.
Well. Steve cared a little. With Billy's legs over his thighs and his wild curls and unbuttoned shirt and—Well. Look. Look. Steve was just a man. Just a man! Billy looked unfairly good all tussled and breathing heavy with his legs spread like that. Steve couldn't help but look. He was but a man, and Billy looked really good like this, like he was spread out under Steve. He'd seen Billy naked, he knew he was good looking. Steve knew what he liked. He may be a boobies man, but, damn, a dick really did get him going sometimes.
He just had to stop staring at the jeans snug across Billy's dick.
Steve gulped and looked up when Billy stopped squirming. There was a strange look in his eye. One that Steve wasn't sure he liked.
Oh well. He was about to die anyway. Might as well make it mean something.
"I like boys," he blurted out, like an idiot. "Who can beat me up," he clarified at Billy's bewildered look. At least Billy hadn't immediately gone to trying to murder him. Not like he could effectively, anyway. There wasn't a whole lot of space to move around and it wasn't like Billy could lean forward to stab him or strangle him. He could kick him, without much leverage, though.
But no. Billy was just... staring at him. Face pale and eyes a little too wide, gaze flickering up to the hole, like—
"Oh," said Steve, shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. "No one can really hear us. Not unless we yell real loud or they're at the hole or whatever."
Billy's eyes flickered to the opening again. Frowned. Looked down at Steve. "You're queer?"
"Yeah, man." Steve shrugged again at Billy's wide-eyed stare. "Byers beat me up last year and I got a weird crush. You beat me up and—Yeah."
"What the hell."
Steve shrugged again, leaning back and trying his best to look cool and unaffected despite his heart racing. Billy still wasn't moving. "Well, figured I might as well tell someone before I die."
"What the actual fuck, Harrington."
"I don't see anyone helping us out of here. They'll find us eventually, I guess. I hope it's not a kid, though. Don't wanna traumatize the poor kid."
"You're so fucking dramatic."
"I'm a realist."
Billy rolled his eyes but smirked, something soft and fond, maybe. "Well, too bad we're gonna die here, I guess."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because you can't suck my dick."
Steve choked on his breath. "You can't just say that!"
"Can and I did." Billy's smirk widened, teeth gleaming in the low light. Steve could feel his face warming. Billy, like the asshole he was, licked his teeth.
Steve wanted Billy to lick him.
No. Wait.
"You're queer?"
Billy rolled his eyes even harder. "Of course I am. Why the hell else did my dad move us all the way to Bumfuck, Indiana?"
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
Steve eyed the opening. This news changed everything. He wondered who he could shout to for help to them get out. The football guys would probably try to flip the tire to get them out. Basketball team was straight out. Maybe a teacher or something. Maybe they'd have to call the fire department. That would suck, honestly. He didn't want to be known as the loser who got stuck in the tire and had to have the fire department called to get them out.
He had a vested interest in escaping his prison.
Look. Nancy had been great and all, he was heartbroken, yada yada.
But look. Listen.
Steve was just a man and Billy had implied significant interest and—
Well.
Listen. His parents weren't home.
"What are you doing?" Billy asked as Steve started to squirm and shimmy.
"My parents aren't home."
"What does that have to do with—"
"My parents—aren't home," Steve said a little too emphatically. "Do you wanna fuck me or not?"
"You want me to fuck you?" Billy's eyebrow quirked up. If Steve wanted to delude himself, he'd almost say Billy was blushing. But it was too dark to tell that clearly enough. But Steve could hope.
"Unless you want me to fuck you," Steve replied easily. "I'm easy. We could to either. Or both."
"Ugh." A curtain of reddish-brown waves fell through the hole. Carol looked almost disgusted as she sneered at him. Steve knew she was just teasing when she said, "You're such a slut, Steve."
Steve rolled his eyes, even as he felt Billy tense against him. "Shut the fuck up, Carol. Help us out."
She helped them out, pulling first Billy, and then Steve from the tire. She was deceptively strong, and Steve felt a little nostalgic, remembering slumber parties where she had regularly bested him and Tommy when wrestling. She still snapped her judgmental bubblegum as she stared at them, hands on her hips. "You better invite me to the wedding," she said between obnoxious chewing. She knew he hated it with a passion.
"What—"
"Don't say I never did anything for you!" she called as Steve started to walk away.
"Shut up. Thanks, Carol. See you later." Steve pulled Billy away, away from a cackling Carol, away from the warm bonfire, away from the other students and teachers and parents. "Follow me to my house."
Behind him, Billy huffed a little laugh sarcastic laugh. "Okay. Sure."
Steve narrowed his eyes over his shoulder. He'd dropped Billy's wrist once they had reached the Camaro. Billy had stopped at the driver's door, watching him. That just wouldn't do. So, Steve stalked back over to him, pushing him up against the door, face mere centimeters from Billy's. It was dark—no one would be able to see much of anything unless they were nearby. The park really did have terrible lighting. Billy's breath hitched as Steve pressed him against the door.
Good.
Steve let himself touch Billy, finally. Touch that warm skin on full display. Touch the goosebumps as his fingers trailed against Billy's stomach, up his ribs, cupping his tit. Letting his thumb brush against a hard nipple. "I'm not into hookups, anymore," Steve murmured, just a breath away from Billy's lips. "If you catch my drift."
"Show me a good time and I'm yours."
Steve smirked. A fire grew in his belly as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Billy's lips.
Earlier, Steve Harrington had made peace with the fact he was going to die in a giant tractor tire.
Looked like he had a long life ahead of him, instead.