Billy Hargrove x Male reader
"You really aren't coming?" Y/N asks his mother — who for some goddamn reason — refuses to go to his games. She usually drops him, but she's being an asshole at the moment.
"No, Y/N. I'm busy." She replies with the most monotone voice as she stares at the TV.
Y/N huffs a humorless laugh. "You know what? Never mind." He throws his bag over his shoulders, "Since you're just sooooo busy, I'm gonna take the car." He grabs the keys off the wall without waiting for a reply.
He wants to say he'll be back before 7 but he knows she wouldn't even notice if he came home at all.
He throws himself into the car, shoving his bag with his equipment on the passenger seat. He sighs and rests his head against the steering wheel for a moment — trying not to punch the window at the thought that nobody will be at his game again. He's used to it by now, but it would be really nice if someone actually came and watched him play.
He drives onto the road, and blasts the radio. He's bopping his head to some Metallica as he turns into the school. He parks and he sees some of his teammates waiting with their families before they need to start warming up.
He stays in the car for a second, looking around the crowd and spotting Billy fucking Hargrove. He's only heard bad things about him — and Y/N is a bit worried as to why he's there. He really hopes none of his teammates end up getting a black eye by the end of the night.
Y/N gets out, grabbing his bag and heading towards the field. His coach and some teammates are already at the bench, so he greets them accordingly.
"If you want, you can have your family sit over here beside the bench — they can see a lot better over here." His coach says, gesturing to the area he's talking about.
"Yeah. Yeah I'll let 'em know." Y/N mumbles as he puts on his cleats. He slides his shin guards into his thick socks and stands up. At this point he's very close to kicking his coach in the nuts.
He's not thinking about the fact that no one is there to watch him destroy this other team, he really isn't. He doesn't need his asshole of a mom or his useless dad to win the game.
Just as Y/N is getting into his position, he spots Billy again. He's sitting on the hood of his Camaro, a cigarette in his mouth. He tries not to stare long, but he thinks Billy catches him because he sees a grin take over his face.
The whistle blows, and Y/N gets in the zone. When halftime rolls around, they're up by 4 — the score being 6 - 2.
The game finishes and Hawkins' High has won 8 - 2, Y/N scoring 6 of the goals. He talks with his team for a bit, then makes his way to the car.
Before getting in, he sees Billy. Who seems to be looking in his direction with a concentrated face. The weirdest part is, Billy hadn't moved the whole game. Stayed sat atop his Camaro, and didn't talk to anyone. Y/N doesn't stay long though, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads back to his house.
Y/N has another game. That as usual his parents don't want to go to.
He drives into the school again and parks, waiting in the car. He's just chilling with the music and air conditioning on for a moment before he hears the familiar booming that is Billy's Camaro.
Y/N tries to think of a reason as to why Billy would be here again. It doesn't make any sense, because this really isn't Billy's crowd. A basketball game seems more fitting for him — since the soccer games have a quieter crowd, with no parties afterwards.
As Y/N gets out of the car, he realizes that Billy parked a lot closer than he thought he did. Y/N walks past Billy, flashing a small grin. It looks as if Billy was going to wave because he lifts his hand that isn't holding his cigarette up — but he just moves to scratch at his chest.
While he's on the field, he feels someone staring. He wants to say that it's Billy, because god knows no one comes to watch for Y/N — but he really can't pin point it because of how intense the game is.
But to no one's surprise, Hawkins wins again. Y/N scoring 5 goals. He's wiping his sweat as he walks to the car and is startled by a figure leaning against the driver's side.
"You're on my car."
"I know that."
Y/N sighs, he really doesn't want any trouble. He's just tired and he seriously wants to shower. "Look man, I don't know what you want from me — "
"Who said I wanted anything?" Billy says, pushing himself off the car to walk towards to Y/N. "I just wanted to tell you that — "
"Did Greg do something again? I suggest you take that up with him and not me." Y/N interrupts, adjusting his bag on his back.
Billy's a lot closer now and he smiles and — woah this guy is a lot more attractive up close. "I'd understand the attitude if you guys lost, but you made that team eat your dust."
Did Billy Hargrove just compliment him?
"I don't think I follow.."
Billy laughs at that. "Didn't think Mr. MVP would be so humble." He throws an arm over Y/N's shoulder, despite how sweaty he must be. "I'm tryna' say that you killed it out there, dude."
Y/N has to fight a smile at that. Despite being known at school for playing on the soccer team, nobody's taken the time to actually go and tell him that he did a good job. "Thanks. Thank you. I tried."
Billy pats Y/N's back, moving to walk away. "Keep up the good work."
"Wait — " Y/N says without thinking and Billy turns around, "Did you come here for me?" There's a pause. "Last time you were here you didn't talk to anyone."
"You watching me, creep?"
"You didn't answer my question."
With the field lights glaring down on them, Y/N can see the red tint that comes up to Billy's face. "Don't let it get to your head, punk." He smiles and struts towards his stupid Camaro.
Y/N smiles to himself. Maybe this Billy Hargrove isn't so bad after all.
The next couple games go by quickly, faceless teams losing — Y/N doesn't remember much, other than after the games. He and Billy would lean against his car and talk for as long as it takes for the field lights to turn off, leaving them laughing in the dark.
On the night of the championship game, Y/N's mom drops him instead of having him take the car because she has a late meeting.
Y/N steps out of the car, and just as he does — hears that damn Camaro, he hates to admit that it's become music to his ears.
Billy pulls into the parking spot while Y/N waits for him to get down. "Mommy dropped you today?" He says jokingly.
Y/N lightly punches his shoulder and hands him his bag to hold. He's already put on all of his equipment, but he's worried that it'll rain tonight — he doesn't want his bag to get soaked.
"Good luck, hot stuff. Not that you'll need it." Billy says and Y/N can't help but mentally shut down at that for a minute, then he decides to fire back.
"If we win, you gotta drive me home." Y/N winks, knowing damn well what the outcome of the game is going to be.
Billy laughs and the tips of his ears turn red. "Yeah — sure. Whatever."
The game is nerve wracking for both teams, but Hawkins' has the lead in the first half. Y/N sends glances towards Billy, smiling at him every once in a while.
Towards the second half though, the opposing team catches up. The score is 4 - 4, Y/N having made 2 of the goals. There's about 10 minutes on the clock left, and it starts to rain, hard.
It's a lot harder to play with the weather like this. The two teams struggle to get the ball under control. Despite this, Y/N is able to dribble the ball. He's close to the goal and is about to shoot before some dude comes and rams into him — effectively tripping him in the penalty box.
There's an "ooooo" that is heard through the hard rain and the ref blows the whistle. Y/N gets up, and realizes that it's time for him to take the penalty kick.
He lines up the ball with the dot, as the goalie bends his knees and gets into his position. The ref tells the team that this is the last play.
Y/N hops up and down for a bit, trying to conjure the energy he needs for this shot. The goalie seems nervous, especially because of the rain, but it's bad for both of them.
A deep breath in, a deep breath out, a running start, a well calculated kick — and Hawkins' High are the champs.
The ref blows the whistle and there's screaming, car horns beeping, and banging from the bleachers. Y/N drowns everything out as his team hoists him up in the air.
A little later, the rain has calmed down. Y/N walks towards the direction of Billy's car, but nearly shits himself when it isn't there.
He jogs a little bit to make sure it really isn't, when suddenly a loud honk came from behind him. "Jesus fuck — " Y/N turns around and flips the bird aggressively at Billy.
"Where'd you go?" Y/N asks as he opens the passenger side door.
"To find someone." Billy says nonchalantly. He isn't as cheery as he normally would be — Y/N thought he would be happy that his team won.
Y/N stares at him. "Who?"
"Number twenty-six." Billy mumbles around a cigarette, bringing the lighter to his lips. Y/N stares for a bit longer before it clicks.
"You — dude, did you beat him up?" Y/N looks around for the other team, sighing when he sees that they've already left. "Falling is part of the game, Billy."
Billy turns to look at him. "He tackled you." He takes a long puff from the cigarette. "I just told him to fuck off, I didn't touch 'em."
Y/N groans at that, rolling his eyes. "I don't need your protection, honey." He pulls his jersey over his head, dumping it on top of the Camaro.
Billy glances towards him and turns into a tomato. "Did — did you bring extra clothes?"
"No," Y/N shakes the rain out of his hair, "Just thought I'd go shirtless."
It looks as if Billy can't decide whether or not to look in Y/N's direction. Glancing at him constantly, but also trying to distract himself with the cigarette.
Y/N laughs. "C'mon, take me home."
The car ride there was energetic. Filled with laughter and praise. "I mean seriously — you should play for a national team or something."
"I would but uh — my parents don't care much for my soccer shit." Y/N stares out the window. "No biggie though, I'm cool with just playing for Hawkins."
Billy slows the car down a bit, which is surprising considering he's broken at least 30 street laws in the span of 6 minutes. "You mean, they don't care for your talent?"
Y/N shrugs. "Nah." He turns to Billy, "Like I said though, I don't really care."
"Is that why I never see them at your games?"
"What?"
"Your parents."
Y/N stares ahead of them. "Yeah. They're busy."
The car goes quiet. Billy's going 15 in a 30. "You know," Billy turns to him. "I think that you're an amazing player and — person."
"Yeah?" Y/N grins, "You think so?"
Billy slows to a stop. "Y/N, you're — cool as hell." Y/N starts laughing. "No — I'm serious, like — you're the shit."
Billy turns to him fully. "I'm sorry that your parents are fucking dickheads, and can't see how talented, amazing, and handsom — awesome, their kid is."
Y/N sighs a bit. "Thank you, Billy." He looks out the window once more. "My house is actually right here."
He opens the door and hops out, cringing at the wet seat. "Sorry — didn't realize how sweaty I was."
Billy glances at it and waves a hand. "It's fine." He gestures to Y/N's body, "It was worth the view."
Y/N laughs and grabs his bag. "You're adorable, Hargrove." He closes the door.
The window rolls down, "I'll see you later, champ." Billy blows him a kiss, and Y/N catches it and throws it in the trash bin on the lawn.
Billy fakes an offended look and flips him the bird as he speeds off.
Guess Y/N's got himself a fan.
Published 9/17/2023
Last edited 9/17/2023