Chapter Text
"God, Y/N," Steve groaned from across the table, shoving his fingers deep inside the tangles of his hair. "Are we done?"
"Just one more minute," You chuckled lightly. You knew you hadn't been doing him justice by making him wait as you worked on your project for the past hour, but you didn't want to wait until you were home to finish it. Steve brought the straw to his lips and sipped, staring off into the distance like he'd lost his mind.
"I thought you already finished that," You spared him a glance before returning to your paperwork.
"I like sipping air through a straw. It rids me of boredom," He emphasized the last word, and you nodded reluctantly.
"Fine, fine, got it. Let's go,"
You'd never seen him stand up so quickly. He dashed for the door like he was being chased, and you laughed at his antics.
Steve had promised to accompany you as you went shopping. You could really use his opinions, and you just wanted to hang out with your best friend since he was still recovering from his recent heartbreak with Nancy. Plus he was just starting to turn over a new leaf, and no one was really ready to befriend the just-retired playboy yet.
There weren't all that many clothing stores in Hawkins, but you had a few favorites. As usual, he found himself a seat in front of the changing room and waited as you looked through racks after racks. After finally getting a handful of clothes, you raced into the changing room and pulled the curtain so that only your head showed.
"Are you ready for the show?" You wiggled your eyebrows.
"Never been more ready." He brought his hand to his face and lifted his non-existent sunglasses.
After a quick moment, you yelled from behind the drape. "Okay, here comes the first!"
You stepped out of the room and did a dramatic turn, showing off the floral crop top that you'd found lovely at the first glance. Steve let out a whistle before putting a thumbs up. "Ten out of ten,"
For the better part of the next ten minutes, you changed into the countless fabrics that you'd picked. A majority of them were approved by Steve, although he wasn't so fond of some. You'd always trusted your friend with dressing up since he had had so many lady friends, a past that he himself hated admitting.
"Ok, we're getting to the last one," You announced, earning a hum from him.
The last one was a pair of plaid jeans. As you struggled into the pants, you made a mental note to get a larger size later.
You whipped the curtain aside, hands fixing the waistband as you gazed down. "This doesn't quite fit but I like the--" The words went dry in your mouth when you looked up. Someone else had taken Steve's spot. That or he had somehow managed to snatch a wig and do some mind-blowing makeup in a matter of two minutes.
The boy who was totally not your best friend looked up from his pack of cigarettes, eyes piercing you under a raised brow. Gaze shifting from confusion to curiosity, he leaned back and sported a lopsided smile. He didn't look like anyone from school -- well, he could be, but you knew almost everyone, so he was at most a new face. He had brown hair that curled around his neck and blue eyes framed by lashes long enough to touch his cheekbone.
"I think the size's just fine," He commented calmly, eyes never once leaving your face. Warmth crept up your face like a forest caught on fire, but you managed to send him a narrow glare.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion."
"I do remember you coming out to show me."
It took everything in you not to groan. He was obviously toying around with you, trying to get on your nerves with that confident grin. Luckily, Steve was back before you could lose your cool. He didn't seem anywhere near pleased to see that his seat had been taken.
"Harrington!" The guy exclaimed in false excitement, to which Steve rolled his eyes.
"I left to take a look at the sneakers and you came in and stole my seat?" Steve turned to you with a worried expression. "He didn't do anything right?"
You opened your mouth, but the smug-looking guy cut you off with a shameless wink. "She did do a number on me,"
You gasped, an argument already forming in your head. Steve looked just as exasperated, but before the two of you could snap at him, a girl called from across the shop in a hurried tone. "Billy, we've got to get going!"
"Coming!" He got onto his feet and slapped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Take care of your girl for me, yea?"
You watched as he sauntered out of your sight, lips pursed at the exchange.
"I've never seen this guy. What's his deal anyway?"
"That's Billy Hargrove. He just moved from California, so it makes sense that you hadn't seen him," He sighed. You didn't have to ask to know that he'd already had the misfortune of meeting him before. The mere memory of him made you cringe inside.
"He kinda acts like King Steve," You attempted to break the tension with a little bit of teasing yourself, and Steve rolled his eyes heavenward.
"You're unbelievable." Despite his words, his lips curled into a smile without much resistance.
--
There were a few things Billy learned about you after the encounter at the store. First, you were popular among students as the student council’s president. Second, Steve Harrington was your best friend. Third, you were hard to flatter.
If Billy had to be completely honest, you didn’t seem all that special to him. Sure, you had a nice face and all, but there were plenty of girls like you -- independent, hard-working, with no spare time for boys and romance. No, it was something else that grabbed his interest-- your popularity. From the moment he stepped foot in Hawkins, his name was already passed on by everyone with enthusiasm and anticipation. It wasn't hard to dethrone Harrington, and perhaps he should be satisfied with being the king of Hawkins High, but he was born ambitious. If he could somehow deprive you of everyone's adoration, he would be the one true 'leader' of the whole damn school, respected and looked upon. No one would ever come to him for trouble. No one would so much as disagree with him.
It was supposed to be an easy job. With his easy smile and smooth flirtations, he should've been able to get you in his bed within a week then break your heart in the next. Well, the keyword was should've. You seemed to be immune to his tooth-rotting advances. Billy had seen girls who played hard to get, but no one was as strong-willed as you. Even when he was fatefully seated next to you in math, you were totally unbothered by him. Two weeks had passed since he first set his eyes on you. You didn't even smile at his teasing once.
"Hey, mind if I copy your notes?" He asked one time, leg bouncing rapidly under the table, gum in his mouth. You barely looked at him as you stared ahead at the blackboard.
"Maybe you should write your own. Start by bringing a pen and a notebook."
"That's the thing, pres," It was one of the nicknames he came up with for you. He had one for every single girl he had ever been with. Whether or not he remembered them was another story. "I forgot my bag in my car. Surely you're kind enough to lend me some of yours?"
You glanced up at the clock with narrowed eyes. "If you make your way to the parking lot now, you can be back within 5 minutes. The formulas will probably still be up on the board." When you turned to him, he was staring at you with a blank expression. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go for it."
He reckoned that he should probably give up and chase after some other chicks instead, but his ego was incredibly large, and you were a target he didn't want to let slip that easily. Surely there had to be some ways he could get you to fall for him, right?
When the last bell rang, you ran out of the room before he could initiate another conversation. He was quick enough to see you enter the council's room though. He took a peek through the thin slit you'd left open and found you looking through thick files in a paper box, muttering about something under your breath. Billy had never had the opportunity (nor the interest) to visit this room before. It was rather cramped with tall lockers standing in all four corners and a rectangular table in the center. It could be a great hideout for when he didn't want to do things in the back of his car or someone else's bed. There was faint sunlight shining through the dirty awning window, shining through the messy strands of your hair. As if sensing his gaze, your head snapped up to meet his. Caught red-handed, Billy entered the room with his signature suave smile, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.
"Whatcha doing, pres?"
"Finding records of Quiz Bowls from previous years," you said, hands skimming file after file before you pushed the box away. "What do you want, Hargrove?"
"I thought with how much we've talked we could get on a first-name basis."
"I think you meant with how much you've talked," you corrected him with a forced smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get to the library."
You dodged his tall figure easily and sneaked out of the room. Billy ran a hand through his messy hair before deciding to follow you out into the crowded corridor. He held his hands up once he caught up to your hasty steps. "Alright, I'll get to the point. What do I have to do to earn a date with you?"
It wasn't like him to be straightforward at all, but you had backed him into such a corner that he couldn't see any other alternative. It was either he died trying or let shown his true intentions. He could probably get to you if you gave him a chance. Plus he wasn't quite ready to be buried six feet under yet. There were still so many girls after him that he hadn't spent time with.
"Start by bringing stationery to classes."
"That's it?"
"Then get me a glass hammer from the hardware store."
The gears in his head struggled to turn for a second. Then you resisted a laugh through your nose, and he realized that he had been played like a fiddle. He had never been played like a fiddle. He looked down at the back of your head first, unsure of what emotion he should be feeling. A smile crept to his face nonetheless, and he shook his head in defeat. "You're unbelievable, pres."
The words slipped out of his mouth. He wasn't sure if he was just flirting instinctively. Either way, he was sure you didn't care for it.
You were silent for a while. Billy was just starting to consider leaving when you turned to him, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "Actually, that doesn't sound like a bad idea."
"What, the glass hammer?"
"No, about you earning a date with me."
Billy's eyebrows quirked up. Could it be that you have finally fallen into his trap?
"How about this -- I will go out with you once you have fulfilled five tasks from me,"
"Five? Like once a day right?"
You scoffed. "Of course not. I'll tell you when I need you."
"That's hardly fair, pres. What if you ask me to jump off a damn cliff? Or what if you request once a month?" Billy was starting to get pissed at your proposal. It took everything in him not to snap. No, he had to keep his cool and take you down step by step.
"Do I look that unreasonable to you?" Seeing the doubt on his face, you sighed in resignation. "Fine. I will issue all my requests within a month, and I promise not to get you into any fatal positions, okay?"
A month sounded like a painfully long time for Billy. He could get to know so many girls in a month, but if he really wanted you to fall for him, he couldn't risk letting you know that he was screwing around with some other girls when you were still in this deal of a sort. Hopefully, his sacrifice would pay off in the end and bring him what he most wanted -- popularity and power. He just had to wish that he wouldn't die from the lack of intimacy for 30 days.
"Well?" You pressed him for a response. "Do we have a deal?"
He stared at your now outstretched hand, knowing that he couldn't just back down now. He shook your hand. "A deal's a deal, pres."
--
To Billy's dismay, you didn't act on your end of the agreement until five days later. He was returning from basketball practice when he spotted you waiting in front of the boys' changing room, a thick file in your hands. Your nail was stuck between your teeth, and the serious expression on your face almost made you seem unapproachable. Nonetheless, Billy didn't miss the way you blinked your eyes every few seconds, nor did he miss the sunken circle around your eyes. You'd been looking worn out during the math lesson earlier today too.
"Hey pres," he flashed you a grin, trying to pull you away from your work. "Looking for me?"
Your brows furrowed, and you looked like you were going to poke his little daydream bubble for a moment. The retort never came though as you thinned your lips, no doubt running through devilish ideas in your mind.
"I was actually looking for Steve, but now that you're here, perhaps I'll make good on my words instead. Are you free right now?"
He nodded. Max had already gone home on her skateboard, unwilling to wait for his practice to end. Not that he cared. As a matter of fact, he appreciated not having to drive her home. God knew he needed the alone time in his car, short as it might be. Peace was scarce these days.
You closed the file and held it close to your chest. "Great. I need help making the props for this year's Quiz Bowl. You good to go now?"
"I'm soaked, flower," he pulled on his tank top, noticing the way your eyes glanced over his torso and the feigned annoyance on your face as you looked away. "Give me time to clean up. I'll meet you outside the council room in ten, yeah?"
"Sure." you rushed your response and walked away as if desperate to flee the scene. It was good to know that you weren't completely immune to him.
When he arrived at the room, you'd already had the designs and required materials laid out on the table. You were standing with your back to him, head hanging low as you went through the file you'd been cradling earlier. You'd just huffed through your nose when he knocked on the door, breaking you from your concentration with a start. You regarded the clock above the threshold. "You're late."
"Better late than never," He shrugged, making his way behind you. There was a stack of cardboard, markers in different colors, and a large rectangular felt that looked like it was made out of canvas. "What's the work here?"
"We have to write the questions onto cue cards, prepare seating cards for the participants, and decorate the banner--" You swiveled around when you heard him opening the lockers. "What are you doing?"
"Holy shit," He ignored your question, pulling out an entangled mess of tinsel. "Look at all this stuff,"
"Stop pulling or everything's gonna fall--"
As if on cue, the mountain of board games from the back of the locker tipped over. Billy brought his arms up in front of his face, cursing and stumbling as the boxes slammed into him. When the ruckus ended, his eyes snapped open, and caught sight of the mess he'd made on the floor.
"--Out." You deadpanned, turning away from the disaster. "You better clean it up,"
"I have a better idea," He smirked despite the circumstance, digging out the tinsel from under the boxes. He walked over to the closed lockers and started hanging them up like it wasn't the middle of summer. You watched with a raised brow as he went back to look for ornaments. "This room is way too bland. You should bring in more colors, y'know?"
"By decorating like it's Christmas?"
"By decorating like it's Christmas." He added some finishing touches by hanging red and green trinkets by the window. Noticing your less than impressed expression, he placed his hands on the table and leaned into your space. It wasn't any surprise that you didn't appreciate his handiwork, but you seemed more worn out than annoyed. "What's going on, pres? You look kinda gloomy today."
You shook your head, pulling a chair out from your side. "I've been staying up working on this stupid quiz bowl," The boxes on the floor got in the way and you had to kick them aside. "Also because you bring trouble everywhere you go."
"Do I trouble your heart as well?" He laughed as you groaned, sitting down on the opposite side and propping his leg up on the corner of the table. "You do look like you could use a break. Sleep deprivation isn't a good look on you."
You brushed it off with some talk about responsibilities before you got to work. The job was routine and rather repetitive, the two of you transferring texts onto the cardboards and folding the seating cards. At one point he took out a cig and got kicked in the shin for potentially creating a fire hazard.
Billy hated boredom. He'd rather spend his time with loud, screeching music and his dumbbells. He'd stopped writing for a while now, but you were still working away with the pen clenched tightly around your hand like it was a matter of life and death. Even with your struggling eyelids, your handwriting was still significantly better than his. He looked around for something that might pique his interest, but nothing was more intriguing than an actual person, so he craned his head to catch a glimpse of your face behind your graceful hair. "Hey pres," He whispered.
"What?"
"Wanna play a game?"
As usual, you only gave him an uninterested look.
"Come on," he drummed his fingers on the hardwood. "Let's play two truths and a lie."
"Let's play a game of silence,"
"You're sure to win since you're so close to falling asleep," He raised a brow. "It'll be fun, and I promise no pervy stuff,"
You squinted at him, waiting for the bomb to drop as if he was unable to make harmless suggestions. You were right, he wasn't. His lips twitched upward. "But the loser will be punished,"
"There it is," Despite your eye-roll, you had to admit that a game sounded better than being serenaded by the sound of pens scribbling. "What's the punishment?"
He held up the multi-colored markers, and you gaped. "No."
"Yes,"
It turned out that you were tired enough to agree to his childish idea. He was already thinking about all kinds of stuff he could paint on your face. Maybe he would start with a good old mustache. "Here's mine -- I can surf, I hate champagne, and I own a giant teddy bear in my room,"
You nibbed at the end of your pen, turning his words over in your head. It was perhaps a habit of yours-- biting on things when you were thinking hard. "You can't possibly have a teddy,"
Billy took the cap off the red marker. A gasp left your mouth as you tipped your chair back, "No way,"
"You underestimated me. Now come on," He beckoned for you to come forward with his fingers, and you reluctantly complied.
"Did you get it from one of your girlfriends?" You said as you closed your eyes, frowning when you felt the cold impact of the pen below your nose. It didn't take you long to realize that he was giving you fabulous facial hair.
"I don't call them my girlfriends," He said. "At least not all of them."
You tried to wipe the ink off your face with your finger, but nothing came off. Hopefully it wasn't waterproof. "Your turn," He said.
"I despise fish, I had five years of drawing classes, and I was born in Hawkins."
His guess came quickly, "You never had drawing classes,"
"Wrong. I wasn't born in Hawkins," Your eyes was glimmering with mischief as you leaned forward in your seat, tucking on his arm to bring him closer. "I only moved here when I was five. Close your damn eyes, Hargrove."
He chuckled, making a show of fluttering his lids before shutting them. The dry texture dragged across his chin and moved in dwindling circles on both his cheeks. Your hand was warm against his chin as you held him still.
"You do draw, then?" He asked.
"Stop talking," You warned as you held the pen still, scared that he would ruin your masterpiece. "But yea. I draw sometimes."
"Any pieces that you'd like to share with the class?"
You smeared a dot on the tip of his nose and sat back. "I haven't drawn in a while, and I have nothing delightful to share." That's what you said, but it felt more like you didn't want to show him any. He shrugged and let it slide.
The game continued as time passed unknowingly, your work cast aside as you laughed at bizarre facts about him. You were most shocked when he told you that he knew how to bake, but when you asked him where he'd learned it, he lied about having picked up a few tricks from an ex. Your grin dropped slightly at that, but he couldn't gather enough courage to tell you that it'd been his mum. You didn't have to know that.
Reality struck when the janitor passed by the entrance and greeted you with a warm smile. Apparently, you'd stayed after school often enough that you'd made friends with her. Billy and you had to rush to finish the assignment, and you wouldn't stop blaming him for distracting you. It was worth it to see the fatigue wear off from your face though. The outcome wasn't as perfect as you'd planned, and the letters on the banner differed in size, but he convinced you to take what you could get, and you weren't about to spend one more minute looking at the mess.
The sun was already setting when you climbed into the passenger seat of his car, pointing to him in the direction of your house. The marker stains were stretching his skin and he wished nothing more than to wash it off, but seeing the mess on your face made him feel a little better. Perhaps you weren't so uptight after all.
"One request down, four to go," Billy said, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. "Hopefully you'll come up with something more interesting for me next time,"
"I'm going to ask you to babysit my brother for me,"
"You have a brother?"
"Nope,"
He made a huff that sounded like a laugh. "Well, I don't mind as long as we're doing it together."
Your house came into view after he rounded the corner, and he felt his heart drop in his stomach. He didn't want to leave just yet. The mere thought of going back to his house felt repulsive. He hoped no one would be at home.
"Flattery won't get you anywhere." You opened the door and stepped out. He leaned over, trying to catch your eyes before you left.
"Haven't it?"
You rolled your eyes heavenward before walking off with a wave. He was sporting a smile, and unbeknownst to him, you were too.