Middle Fingers Up // Billy Hargrove x Reader

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵

Dinner had gotten easier after a while, and you'd settled into your chair just listening to the utterly dull conversations happening around the table. "So, are you going to do it?" Billy asks you, elbow leaning on the table as he got closer to you so you'd hear him despite his low tone.

"No." You say bluntly, blinking at him as he waited for a further response that you weren't going to give. "Come on, don't you want to graduate? I sure as shit do and you're apparently the only one that's going to get me there." He was trying so hard, obviously frustrated with you for not wanting to do it with him. 

What were you going to do though? Sling on a fancy lace neck brace and speak like it was the dinosaur age? - or, you know, whenever Shakespeare was a thing.

"That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem." Your smile was sickly sweet and not even a tiny bit genuine, though it does extend and shift into a wicked grin as an idea comes to mind. You lean forward in your seat, tongue darting out over your lips as you rest your elbow just next to his. "Although... Maybe if you beg me to do it I will."

Your words were only meant in jest, to tease and annoy him further about what happened previously but even you were getting whiplash from how different you were acting with him all the time, and he was certainly no better off.

 Billy swallows hard, features changing as he scans over you to try and figure if you're serious. He quickly glances to check nobody else heard that, and seems to settle once he sees the rest of the table still deep in their own conversation.

It's when you snigger and move back into your seat that he notes you were just kidding and rolls his eyes in protest, slumping in his chair. "It's one little scene. Come on, I'd owe you one." It was one final attempt to get you to agree and you had to admit, it was certainly convincing. "Owe me a favor?" You confirm with him and he reluctantly nods as you tap your chin, thinking deeply about what that could entail. 

"Fine. I'll do it." 

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That evening, once everyone was in bed, you were sat at your window and leaning out of it with a joint perched between your lips. It was too late to be awake but you couldn't seem to sleep, so figured this was the best way to help. 

Hawkins was dead silent at this time, the stars an endless blanket of twinkling lights in the sky. It had to be said, this place could be beautiful sometimes.

The sound of a door slamming across the street pulls you from your thoughts in time to see Billy storming towards his car. 

"Hey!" You shout, then realise the time and that everyone would be asleep, whisper-shouting his name as he tries to figure out who'd shouted at him the first time, "Billy! Over here!"

"(Y/N)!? What are you doing?" He walks over to your house, looking up at you from below. "Smoking a joint. Want some?" You offer, holding the smoking object out to him. He moves closer to the house and for a long moment you can't see him; you can only hear struggled sounds as he climbs the trellis outside your window.

His face pops up in front of you then and you almost fall off the window seat you're on from the surprise of it - despite being the one to tell him to come up.

"Hi." He states as he climbs inside, shifting awkwardly so not to shove you from the seat as he does so. He looks around your room and you're suddenly hyper-aware of the fact you haven't cleaned it since... lets just say a while. When he turns his face to get a look at the other side of the room, the glow of the streetlight illuminates an open gash on his eyebrow that was leaking a stream of crimson down his cheek.