Dumpster Fire

CHAPTER 11

It was cold. Billy trudged after Steve, bumping into him at the back door. It was almost worth laughing at the disgust on his face as he wiped at his now damp shirt.

"You can't come inside dripping wet like that." Steve winced almost immediately as what he said registered.

"That's not what your mom said." Billy jumped on the opportunity, watching Steve's face wilt with disdain at the joke.

"Gross, dude."

Billy rolled his shoulders, sore after whacking off the side of the pool like that, bending over to pull off his shoes, which slid off easily enough. Fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, struggled to yank the fabric off his arms, threw it down with a wet slap on the cement patio.

"I-I'm gunna go-"

Billy snapped his gaze up to Steve, beat red, hand over his face and looking away towards the house. Billy shrugged, hands paused at the button on his jeans before it hit him that he was stripping in front of Steve.

It doesn't matter. He inhaled, feeling the cold of the air and necklace dance over his skin, flexing against the chill unconsciously. We've showered together.

A little shake of his head. That was not the imagery he needed as he lifted a leg, pulled his sock off by the top. Switching to the other.

"You sure you wanna miss the show, Harrington?" He grunted, dropping both socks, fingers hooked in his waistband as he stepped closer, swaying exaggeratedly with the motion. "I could make it entertaining for you." A lift of his jaw, a wink.

The hopeless prayer that his shaking fingers were hidden by his tight fist, that he was the only one who could hear his hammering heart. Steve's shoulders jumped up to his ears, eyes went wide and big, dark and hungry and terrified.

Tongue danced across lips and Billy savored Steve's eyes glued to the motion.

"I should…" Steve trailed off, eyes dipping to the just opened jeans. "I-"

Billy loved it, he loved Steve's eyes on him, Steve wholly focused on him. He could feel himself preening under the attention. Steve's eyes not leaving him, trailing over Billy in such a way it was almost a physical touch. Then Steve inhaled like he hadn't been breathing, breaking whatever stasis they'd been in.

"I should get you a towel."

Billy nodded, shaking his dripping curls. "You do that."

The door slid open, but Billy was busy fighting wet denim off his thighs, underwear dragging down. For a moment he wondered if he should strip totally naked. The picture of Steve's face wrenched a smile out of him, but he pulled his briefs back up, peeling his jeans off his calves, thankful Steve wasn't there to see how ungraceful and decidedly not sexy the action was.

Pants in a heap beside all the other clothes when Steve reappeared, towel in hand, eyes flicking to Billy and back down. Repeatedly.

"Here," He handed the towel over suddenly, like he'd forgotten what he was doing. "It's gotta be freezing."

"Not exactly a warm summer's day." Billy took the towel, "Shame to deprive you of this glorious view." Steve huffed as Billy wrapped the towel around himself and entered the house, gladly closing the door behind him.

He hadn't realized how cold he really was.

"C'mon." Steve waved him to follow as he moved towards the stairs. "You can dig through my drawers and grab something."

Billy felt his heart double in time as he trailed Steve. Sure he'd been over, but always in the main living spaces. Being patched up, eating, sleeping. Sometimes a kiss or two, but nothing. Nothing.