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“You have such a big fucking crush on me,” Billy slurs from the spot where he’d parked himself on the lawn five minutes ago when Steve went inside the house to get him some water. “You wanna kiss me so bad, it’s embarrassing for you, Harrington,” he hiccups, laughing a little to himself.
“Honey,” Steve answers exasperatedly, trying to get Billy to hold the cup properly, “we’re married.”
“Yes,” Billy crows triumphantly, pointing his finger in the air and almost turning the entire contents of the cup on Steve, “you wanna kiss me forever, so fucking gay, Stevie.”
Steve looks heavenward for the thirtieth time tonight; this is the first time in a while Billy has allowed himself to really drink, in the safety of Joyce and Hopper’s new bungalow with the kids spread around a bonfire screaming, periodically rushing over to tell them something else they remember from their first year of college.
It feels good, like this is how things should always be.
Joyce lets out a guffaw from where she appeared a while ago to smoke a cigarette in the relative tranquility of the wraparound porch. She and Steve share a fond look; between them both , they’ve seen Billy a myriad of different ways, most of them too heartbreaking to dwell on. It’s nice to have this contrast, Billy looking completely relaxed and a bit goofy, when he's been such a serious guy lately.
"Stevie, you should sit," Billy says, a determined look on his face. He pats the ground a bit unsteadily. “You should sit here on my lap. I have important things to say."
Dustin looks like he has some choice words to that declaration from his perch further down on the porch. Hopper allowed him a single beer, though, so he's slower than usual, enough that Steve can intervene in time, miming that Dustin should zip it or face an untimely death. It's so rare to get Billy in a talkative mood lately, rarer still that he initiates a conversation at all.
Selfishly, Steve wants to see where this is going. So he delicately rearranges Billy's limbs from his sprawl and, once they're situated, turns around and shoos the peanut gallery away. Just because Billy is on the declarative stage of his drunken journey doesn't mean everyone gets a free show. Steve, of course, isn't everyone, because he's got husband privileges. He’s considering this his in kinda sickness, but mostly health.
"Alright," he says, once he's satisfied they're alone enough (Nancy is guarding the door, so it should be fine.) "Tell me your secrets, Bills."
"Oh, wow, you're very pretty," Billy says instead, patting Steve's cheek to the best of his ability, blue eyes big and shining. Steve can't say he's mad at this turn of events. "I think it's very hot of you to be this good looking and marry me, the best looking," Billy laughs, trying to sip his water and mostly failing.
"Uh-huh," Steve says, holding the cup once again. Billy should have something non-alcoholic in him at this point. He's been going steady since Hopper patiently taught him how to barbecue, and he went from maybe a little spooked to a bit teary-eyed.
"You think I should look into becoming the best looking, then?" Steve asks, jokingly, putting the empty cup away from Billy's reach, "Maybe go lift some weights, change some hearts in my direction?"
"No," Billy says, struggling upright in his urgency, "no, Steve, you should always be exactly who you are," he finds Steve's eyes with his own, his hand coming to rest on Steve's cheek. "I want you to always be you," he finishes simply, but his eyes betray his complete sincerity.
It hangs between them like a vulnerable thing, like Steve could shatter it with one poorly chosen word. It never fails to humble Steve when Billy looks at him like this. In his heart of hearts, he’s always wanted to be trusted, to be given something precious to hold. Billy did. He still does in the oddest, most mundane ways; with a look, a word. Giving up his tight leash on himself for a second to be silly and drunk.
He’s always seen Billy as something wild and uncontrollable, too busy thinking about himself to be able to meet someone where they needed him. Then he saw Billy brought to his knees on a mall floor. Then he learned Billy had always been barely hanging together.
It keeps him awake at night, the thought of causing anything else to be taken away from Billy’s aching hands. He only ever wants to ease his burdens, but he knows he can be clumsy, too much of a mess himself not to slip up now and then.
That’s marriage, he’s been told by Joyce time and again during late-night phone calls, or in the easy companionship of a shared smoke break when Steve goes down to Philly. Joyce’s little house sits there like a hug made of wood and chipped paint, their unofficial base in the east coast, now that they’ve all more or less moved there. Indiana can keep its nightmares, in Steve’s opinion.
He gives himself another moment to think, to feel Billy’s rough fingertips on his face with the reverence they deserve. Sometimes hurt can’t be helped, he muses, but right now, he can afford to be careful.
“Would you believe it if I said the same thing to you?” he asks, finally. “Because it’s true, I like you very much, did you know that?” He turns and kisses Billy’s palm, an answer to his own question.
When Steve moves his hand away, Billy’s fingers close after him, as if to keep the kiss safe in his hand. They stay silent for a while. From their little pile on the ground, they can see the fire burning merrily away. The summer night is warm, but the wind promises rain soon enough and makes sitting together all the better. Billy seems to agree, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and letting out a content sigh and then a hiccup, one after the other.
“Do you know why I fell in love with you?” he asks a while later, turning Steve’s attention away from Bob Seger’s voice floating out of the closed front door.
Steve feels his eyebrows reaching his hairline because getting Billy Hargrove to be this open about anything ever, willingly, takes weeks’ worth of work and deflection. Billy likes to keep what's his very close to home. So it can’t be taken away from him, Steve likes to think, when he’s not feeling frustrated about it. If Billy wants him to know this now, he must have his reasons, even when he’s already said so much more than most nights.
“Are you implying it was something other than my dashing looks, silky hair, and amazing ass?” Steve says around a smile, giving Billy an out if he feels like taking it.
Billy’s laughter rings like bells in the night, wild and charming. Undoubtedly, one of Steve’s favorite sounds in the world.
“Ah, no,” Billy says, still smiling, “but it sure helped.” His hand makes its way down Steve’s chest, making lazy circles as Billy continues to talk.
“I knew I wanted you the minute I stepped foot into Hawkins and saw you prancing around with your stupid little legs,” he continues, matter of fact, his words still a bit slurred here and there, “I knew I loved you when I realized you just couldn’t help but give people your whole heart.”
“Oh,” Steve says, unable to go on. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how sober he is, remembering why they got Robin to officiate their illegal rooftop wedding in the first place. Having someone to break the tension helps if you need to hide for a second.
“I know people have a lot of shit to say about you, and sometimes it makes you feel like you should act different,” Billy taps Steve's forehead with his finger before Steve’s able to protest, “I know you, sweetheart,” he says with a small, almost bittersweet, smile. “You always feel like you’re not enough.”
Steve, stunned into silence, can only shake his head a little. Billy allows him to look away for a second but keeps talking anyway. Steve knows he won’t allow him the same reprieve twice; once set in a course, Billy sees it to the end.
“Kills me sometimes how kind you are, did you know?” Billy continues, holding Steve's hand between his own. “You listen to people, even when you don’t understand a single word of what they’re saying. You try to help even when you have every right to walk away. You always stay, you always choose to stay," Billy lowers his head so Steve's eyes meet his own, so blue and full of unguarded affection, “that’s why I love you.”
Overwhelmed, Steve finds himself kissing the first part of Billy his lips can find. It turns out to be an eyebrow and half an eyelid, but Billy doesn't seem to mind, laughing happily into it.
"Ah, that's the shit," Billy says, taking the onslaught of Steve's kisses with all the grace and dignity of the half-drunk, that is to say, they both end up spread on the ground flushed and grinning, limbs everywhere.
They stay there for a minute, enjoying each other’s embrace, no words but the silent ones they exchange through unhurried gestures, Billy’s hand running through Steve’s hair, Steve’s smile hiding in Billy’s neck.
“Can I ask what brought this on?” Steve says eventually. Billy’s heartbeat under his ear suddenly reminds him of its absence in the past few weeks, when Billy had been distant, quietly reticent like he is every July.
Billy hums, his hand repeating its tender path through Steve’s hair.
“Just some advice Hopper gave me,” he says with a sigh, “made me think about things that I should tell you more often.”
Steve raises his head, a question in his eyes. Billy’s hand slides down to smooth the frown on Steve’s forehead. He doesn’t smile reassuringly like he usually does when he thinks Steve is being dramatic.
“El found another one of her brothers, Joshua,” Billy says, almost like a non sequitur. The abrupt subject change makes Steve frown deeper, but Billy shakes his head when Steve tries to talk, his own frown promising there is more to it.
“He can manipulate memories,” Billy explains, “El called me last month, said he offered to erase the mind flayer from my brain, but I’d forget everything related to it too.”
Steve gasps without meaning to. Even after all these years, he knows Billy still bears the weight of his actions while possessed by the mind flayer. He knows it weighs on Billy down to his bones. Billy carries it with grace for the most part, but it doesn’t mean that it isn’t monumental work, that it doesn’t take a toll on him. It shames him, then, that as soon as Billy says somebody could take it away, his first reaction is to think, “but what about me?".
He’s transported back to the Starcourt floor, Billy on the ground and Steve, trying desperately to make his way to him. Letting Billy’s head rest on his lap as the world around them screamed. Regret and grief for a boy he didn’t really know but suddenly wished he did.
They got together while Billy laid on a hospital bed slowly knitting himself back together, Steve trying to help the best way he could.
Steve did his growing up by Billy’s side, learned how to love, how to care, how to be a man he’s proud of. But the upside-down, all its trauma and horror, has always been heavily tangled with both their stories, alone and together. It might no longer loom over their heads quite so heavily, but it’s undeniable how it shaped their relationship, how they still heal together every day. He will always want what's best for Billy, of course, but he can’t help but wonder who he will be in the life of a Billy who doesn't remember the years they’ve spent together in the same way.
With a start, he realizes maybe Billy has been saying goodbye this entire time, and the thought alone is too much to bear. He doesn’t know what his face is doing, but it makes Billy hold on to him with both hands, “Steve, honey,” he says, voice firm and clear, “I need you to breathe.”
“Sorry,” Steve says through wretched gasps, “Sorry, Bill, I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Billy asks, looking genuinely puzzled.
“I-, you-,” Steve starts but can’t finish, frantically trying to search for the truth in Billy’s eyes without having to ask and risk hurting them both. When he can’t, he closes his own, gathering the strength to say what he knows he has to.
“You should do it,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat, “if you think it would be good for you, you should do it.”
“Look at me,” Billy says, meeting his eyes unwaveringly, but giving nothing away for once tonight, “you want me to do it? You’d throw your memories away like this?”
“I don’t know,” Steve says, turning away.
“What if I forget everything about you,” Billy barrels on, now sounding almost angry, “you’d be okay with that? You still want me to go ahead?"
“That’s not fair,” Steve says, sitting up again. Billy stays on the ground a shocked expression on his face, “that’s not fair, of course, I want you to remember me, of course, I want to be fucking selfish, it was my first thought, and I hated it, but this isn’t about me. Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t!” Steve finishes, breathing heavily again.
Billy deflates, all the fighting leaving him in an instant. “Hey, no, come back down here,” he says, making Steve rest his head on his chest again, “sorry, I know, I know what you tried to do.”
“If I had to give you up, it’d kill me,” Steve admits from the safety of Billy’s collarbone, “but if you needed it, I would.”
“I know,” Billy says again, “I said no, though, just to be clear.”
Relief instantly flows through Steve’s entire body. Still not trusting himself to speak, he limits himself to saying, “Oh?”
“Joshua explained he could try to shape my memories so I’d still know you and most of our lives, but he didn’t know the real consequences,” Billy says, “I couldn’t risk it in the end, but I won’t lie and say to you I didn’t consider it. I know I’ve been a bitch to live with lately.”
Steve laughs a little, “as opposed to all the times you’re just fun and delightful?” he needles, trying to lighten up a little.
“Shut up,” Billy laughs too, but then turns serious again. “I asked Hop if he thought I made the right choice earlier,” he explains, “and he told me he knew you’d accept my decision no matter what. That they all would without judgement, but there was real bravery in deciding to remember and keep trying every day too, especially when it’s hard.”
“He said,” Billy continues, his voice shaking a little, “that he knows how difficult it is to accept love when we feel, you know, all fucked up inside. But there’s happiness to be found still, even hurt can make us remember we’re alive.”
“Oh, Bill,” Steve says, trying to rub the tears away from Billy’s face. Billy sniffs inelegantly and clears his throat.
“It just made me think,” he says, “even through all the pain, and the stupid shit that happens to us sometimes, I really love you and want to build a future with you. And that’s good enough for me most days. I wanted you to always be sure of that.”
Steve swallows a couple of times before answering, but even then, what can he even say to that?
“I love you,” he says, finally, meeting Billy’s lips with his own.
The kiss starts passionate and full of meaning, but soon enough they’re back to who they are. Just two boys making out on the grass, with no regard for the living room full of the nosy people they call family.
“Hey, you perverts, there are children present,” Robin calls from the door, eventually, where she’s covering Will's eyes while he laughs and protests.
“Fuck off, Robs,” Billy yells back, making her gasp dramatically.
Steve starts laughing when Billy dislodges him to fight her better. He can't say he's not shaken by their conversation, and from his advantage point, he can see how Billy's hands are still trembling. But for now, he decides to enjoy the respite Robin provided them, and knows to thank her when they get a moment alone later.
“Honestly," he says, bravely joining the fray, "you two should just get a fucking room, already.”
Steve knows the people he's saddled with, and what he needs to do to help Billy feel centered right now. Angry blondes may be his weakness, but never let it be said he doesn't go in consciously aware he’s about to get roasted within an inch of his life.
Maybe Billy is right and the fact he's so ridiculously in love is very embarrassing. He’s happy to say he doesn't care.