Middle Fingers Up // Billy Hargrove x Reader

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑰𝑽𝑬

While Eddie was gone, you left the couch to explore the rest of the party, telling the rest of your group you'd be back soon. You went outside for some fresh air, slipping a cigarette between your lips and patting yourself down for a lighter. 

Shit. Left it inside. 

You groan and turn on your heel, about to go back inside when you collide into a hard, bare chest. "Watch it, moron." Shoving them back, your drunken gaze clears to reveal your least favorite blonde, who was laughing at your outburst. "Always so nice." He remarks, holding out a lighter. "Need a light?"

He was acting suspicious, or at least that's what you thought. Snatching the object from him, you light your smoke and toss it back, taking a moment to fill your lungs with garbage before you speak, smoke bellowing from your lips when you do. "I don't need to be nice. What's your motive?"

"My motive?" A slow smirk rises one side of his mouth before it reveals a dazzling smile as he steps closer, leaning on the wall beside you though he swayed just a little which showed his altercation with the keg earlier had finally hit. "Do I need a motive to do something chivalrous?"

You snort out a laugh at that as you continue to smoke, wishing you could do so in peace. Your head was swimming and you felt a little dizzy from the cocktail of drugs and alcohol in your system. "Letting me borrow your lighter is hardly the most gallant move in the gentleman's handbook, you know."

The laugh he lets out sounded almost like real amusement, blue eyes raking over your costumed form and eating every inch of you up. You would have blushed, had you been some prissy little cheerleader type. He reaches out a hand, rubbing a loose peace of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "You look good tonight, (Y/N). Didn't peg you as the costume type."

"Didn't peg you as the desperate type," your free hand had risen to plant against his chest, pushing him back and away from you. His words didn't have any affect on you and honestly you found his efforts to be lacking. "What, hate me one minute, want to rail me the next? No thanks, baby." 

"I don't want to 'rail' you. I just want to talk."

"Riiiight." You couldn't help the disgruntled look you gave him, pulling your wrist from his grasp so you could cross your arms. "So talk. Dazzle me with your sharp wit and intelligent conversation."

"What's the deal with you and Munson?" His question catches you off guard and you scoff as you move away from him, though it's only to sit on the steps leading inside. He joins you, urging you to respond. "Well?"

"We're married. Three kids, a dog, the whole lot." You tease, laughing at the very idea of it as the thought of Eddie with kids comes into your mind. Nope. That would never happen. "Nah, we're friends. Always have been. Why?" Your tone was sharper than you'd intended but honestly, at this point you were just so accustomed to being a bitch to the boys at school that the tone was natural for you now. 

"Just curious," he counters, leaning back on his elbows. You take another drag from your cigarette and the nicotine makes your head thrum with electricity. You sway slightly and then feel hands on your biceps to steady you. "Okay, maybe we should get you home?" 

"Aw, Billy Hargrove is worried about me." You taunt him, feigning an over-dramatic faint as you continue, "I'm good. Eddie's taking me home."

"He just left," Billy informs you and you spin around to look at him, which in itself is a mistake since it almost wipes you out. The aggravated noise you make must make him understand you need more explanation because he carries on, "Yeah, saw him dip out with some rocker chick. Guess he got lucky."

It didn't sound right to you. Eddie would never leave without saying goodbye or making sure you were getting home safe. He especially would never bring home any of the hags from our school and there were no other 'rocker chicks' in your year.