[ Just to get his own back, he sends a pic. It's taken from over his shoulder and his shirt has ridden up his waist to expose his hips, joggers low. On his couch, knees spread and a curve to the line of his slightly sweaty spine that arches his ass up in the sunshine. It's a cute summery pic, a little spicy.
It feels like playing basketball with Billy again, shoving back when pushed. ]
[He’s been doing stuff, before. Cleaning away his clothes, tidying away his video accessories. Now he’s on his bed sprawled out in summer exhaustion, privately soothed by the back and forth, feeling a little loose.
He hums, blinking at the ceiling. ] Hm? Hold on, [and checks wit this phone hovering his face. He knows, he fucking knows his breathless, startled little groan is audible. Knows he’s just conceded some kind of loss here, because he shouldn’t zoom in, shouldn’t rake his eyes over every inch of Steve Harrington’s back and ass, knows that Steve really, probably, shouldn’t have sent this.
He swallows, exhales hard. ] Shit. Yeah. Always pegged you as a tighty whitey’s kinda dude.
[Steve Harrington’s going to get him in so much fucking trouble.]
[ It's said with a certain degree of fondness, though. He feels a little naughty, having sent that pic; a little guilty. He doesn't regret teasing him, it feels warm and friendly and he's sure Billy would tell him where to go if he crossed a line. ]
I don't know what I'd do without having you both here. Go out of my mind, probably.
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It feels like playing basketball with Billy again, shoving back when pushed. ]
You're so rude.
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Did you get it?
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He hums, blinking at the ceiling. ] Hm? Hold on, [and checks wit this phone hovering his face. He knows, he fucking knows his breathless, startled little groan is audible. Knows he’s just conceded some kind of loss here, because he shouldn’t zoom in, shouldn’t rake his eyes over every inch of Steve Harrington’s back and ass, knows that Steve really, probably, shouldn’t have sent this.
He swallows, exhales hard. ] Shit. Yeah. Always pegged you as a tighty whitey’s kinda dude.
[Steve Harrington’s going to get him in so much fucking trouble.]
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You think the stupidest things, sometimes. You and Eddie both.
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Must be why we get on so nice.
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[ It's said with a certain degree of fondness, though. He feels a little naughty, having sent that pic; a little guilty. He doesn't regret teasing him, it feels warm and friendly and he's sure Billy would tell him where to go if he crossed a line. ]
I don't know what I'd do without having you both here. Go out of my mind, probably.
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And you're the worst of the worst, huh?
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[he’s still himself, under this softer exterior. still all the things Steve hated, even if they’re a little less appealing to reach for now.]
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Yeah. You have no idea.
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