The Neighbor's Cat (Billy Hargrove x OC // Stranger Things)

2. Harrington's is Better

Cats hated Randy.

She didn't know why. She was pretty sure that cats didn't know why, either. It was like some curse she had been destined with, some sad, mutual-disdain-for-each-other kind of curse, her and cats. Like some higher power thought it would be hysterical if the popular household creature tried to scratch out her eyes every time it saw her, or hissed at her if she tried to approach it. So the fact that Hargrove's cat actually liked her was pretty terrifying.

Forget the fact that it was an unusually fat tabby that was declawed and couldn't kill her even if it wanted to – the thing actually liked her. It snuck into her house whenever it had the chance, would follow her around, all purrs and fluff and chub, and would snuggle into her when she picked it up to carry it back to Hargrove's. And despite her allergies, she couldn't fight the sensation that she was actually liking the thing back.

How Hargrove could hate it and deny ownership was beyond her. Maybe it was just a strong reflection of his character, which was already poor from his reputation for sleeping around, bullying, and mouthing off to just about every authoritative figure in the book. It was simply made poorer because of his hatred of a perfectly reasonable feline that even she enjoyed.

Maybe it's because it really isn't his cat?

She pondered this for a moment. She shook her head.

Nah, she thought, grabbing her backpack and housekeys. He was just embarrassed.

The front door closed with a click behind her, and she stuffed the keys into her pocket as she made her way down the walkway.

Her departure was just in time to witness Hargrove's, who was making his way to his Camaro with his typical "hotter than thou" expression.

"Hey, dipshit," he called in greeting.

"Hey Hargrove," she called back. "How's the cat?"

He stopped walking and clenched his jaw.

"Are you always this obnoxious? Or is it simply around me?"

Randy pretended to ponder this.

"Mmmm," she hummed, "I think I'm this way with just about everyone."

"Oh, good," he said with false relief. "Now I don't feel special. I thought this might be your crude way of hitting on me or something."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but you're not really my type." She pulled an apologetic smile. "Maybe if you had a nicer butt?"

"Baby, you can't get any nicer than this."

To emphasize his point, he gave his hips a little kick. Randy grimaced.

"I don't know... Harrington's is pretty hard to beat."

Billy's arrogant smirk fell, and he turned to head to his car.

"Whatever, nerd," he snapped. "Have a nice walk."

"I will, thank you!" she replied with glorious exaltation, as if it was the nicest thing he'd ever said. Which, despite his sarcasm, probably was.

"You're such a dipshit," he muttered.

"You know, you call me that quite often, so I'm just gonna take it as a compliment."

"Whatever makes you happy."

"Sometimes you can be such a nice guy, Hargrove."

Billy flipped her the bird, and she grinned as she lifted a hand in goodbye, knowing he was thoroughly annoyed and she had done her job well.