Chapter Text
Steve moves silently between the trees, a silver-tipped arrow already knocked against the string of his favorite maplewood recurve. His eyes scan carefully back and forth through the dark woods but find no threats – much to Steve’s relief, there hasn’t been any activity in weeks; not so much as a peep from the Upside Down and certainly no signs of any werewolves. The young hunter is pretty sure the last time he saw a werewolf around Hawkins was over a year ago, just after…
He knows he won’t be seeing any of those horrible beasts tonight, regardless. The moon may be waxing but it isn’t full, and were-creatures can only transform when it is. Plus, any werewolf who still has custody of a functioning brain has been steering clear of the Harrington territory ever since… Well, ever since a feral wolf with moon-fever ripped Steve’s world straight out from under him. Ever since the night his parents were brutally murdered by a supernatural fiend while doing their best to protect the town.
Not that anyone in Hawkins knows the truth.
No, most people think Steve’s parents died in a tragic car accident. They pity the lonely young man, sitting all alone in his big house with no one to keep him company (except the gaggle of teens he used to ‘babysit’ in high school). But that reputation is good for him, good for his cover. The less the citizens of Hawkins know of the truth, the easier it stays for him to carry out his family’s ancestral mission: keeping the supernatural at bay.
“Well, I think that’s good enough for tonight.”
As the moon begins to set and the sun slowly emerges from the opposite horizon, Steve decides to head back home for the day. Maybe he can even manage to get a cup of coffee in before Dustin shows up with the others.
Tonight is game night, after all.
“Morning, Steve!”
“Hey Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Max, El,” Steve greets everyone as the five teens parade into his kitchen. When El is the last one to come through the door, Steve leans back against the counter and asks, “Where’s Will?”
“He and Jonathan are helping their Mom with some yard work until lunch,” Lucas shrugs. “But he’ll be here in time for the game.”
“He’d better be,” Max huffs, “We won’t be able to take down the Thieves Guild without him.”
“Why am I hosting this entire campaign, again?” Steve inquires, “Why isn’t Eddie, the actual Dungeon Master, keeping track of you nerds every Friday night?”
“Because you have an actual house to yourself,” Max asserts. “All Eddie has is a trailer that smells like beer, sweat, and shitty weed.”
“And because Mrs. Wheeler got tired of us yelling when Mr. Wheeler was trying to sleep,” Dustin adds. “So Mike’s house is a no-go.”
Mike rolls his eyes, one arm sliding low and possessive around El’s waist (which makes Steve want to roll his eyes, but he’s an adult so he refrains). “Sorry that my parents are lame, guys, but at least we have Steve.”
“At least we have Steve?!” Dustin and Max scoff as a unit. The back of El’s hand smacks into Mike’s shoulder and he looks up at their host apologetically.
“Sorry, that was rude of me to say, and totally not how I meant it to sound. Thank you for letting us hang out here to play D&D. You’re the coolest adult we know and it’s really nice of you to let us use the basement.”
“You’re damn right I’m cool,” Steve flicks his hair out of his eyes and cheerfully listens to their chorus of responding giggles and snorts. “Your apology is accepted, but you’re on cleanup duty tonight.”
“Fair,” Mike grins. He’s usually on cleanup duty anyway, since tossing all the trash after they're done for the night is a habit leftover from his many years hosting campaigns. “Thanks again, Steve.”
“No problem, guys. Are we still planning on pizza?”
“We always plan on pizza,” Max beams. She’s really come out of her shell since moving to town a couple years ago, and Steve is proud of her progress. He gives her a high-five and puts her in charge of ordering whenever they get hungry.
“If that’s all the business we have for now, let’s get to the dungeon!” Lucas declares, tugging Max closer to the basement door. Steve watches the line of teenagers disappear as quickly as they’d arrived, until it’s only him and Dustin left standing in the sunny kitchen. He sighs into his mug of coffee; the teens he once considered his ducklings are more like geese now, moving in a flock and forever pestering those who dare to bother them.
“I can’t believe you’re almost twenty-two, man,” Dustin smirks at his de facto big brother. “That’s insane.”
“Shut up,” Steve groans, covering his face with both hands. His next words are muffled but understandable: “I’m so old now, practically ancient. Any day now I’ll wake up looking like Gandalf.”
“Psh, whatever. I’m just starting to worry that your love life is permanently over. You have a house–” Dustin gestures at the basement door and then himself “–six kids, and a decent assistant manager job at the hardware store. All you need now is a wife or something.”
“I’m doing fine in the love department, thanks for your concern, even if it is a little harder getting dates without Robin here to act as wingman. And before you ask, no I do not want you coming to parties with me and talking me up to college girls.”
“Damn,” Dustin sighs. “I was so close.”
“You were miles away,” Max snipes from the top of the stairs, making both boys jump and clutch at their chests. She shakes her red ponytail before jerking her chin at Steve. “Do you still need to get the BMW looked at?”
“Yeah, I was planning on taking it over to Al’s shop sometime next week.”
“Fuck that noise, dude. My brother just moved to town and got a job at Jerry’s Auto-whatever on the west side. Ask for Billy and tell him I sent you, he’ll make sure it gets fixed right and he won’t charge you extra for being a rich idiot with nice eyes.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Thanks, Max.”
“No problem. You coming down or what, Henderson?”
“On my way!”
Steve hides a chuckle behind the rim of his coffee mug as they scamper down the stairs; Max is terrifyingly light on her feet for an otherwise loud and outspoken teenage girl. It always makes him wonder how she’s gotten so stealthy without any formal training. Clearly it was nothing like the training he’d received while preparing to hunt the evils of the night, but it was instinctual in the same way. Silence is ingrained into her very being.
And as much as Steve loves Dustin, cherishes the curly-haired little cretin like the sibling he’s never had, Max is the only one of his ducklings who’d make a decent protégé. He’s been debating asking her to try a few basic hunter-training exercises with him for weeks, and if she’s any good he might finally have someone to pass the mantle of Protector onto once he’s finished. The only thing stopping him is selfishness; the many dangers still lurking within the shadows of Hawkins don’t need access to yet another person Steve Harrington loves.
They’ve already taken enough.
“Hi there! Is, uh, is Billy available?”
A musical, masculine tenor wafts into the garage from just outside and Billy immediately perks up. The young werewolf lifts his head from where he’s scrubbing grease off the floor near his station, trying not to make it too obvious that he can hear other peoples’ conversations. Otherwise his coworkers will get suspicious… But he can’t help listening in when he’s the subject at hand.
“Why, you upset about some of the work he did or somethin’?” Jerry grumbles. Billy’s interest in the stranger only grows when he replies:
“N-No! No, of course not, sir. His sister, Max, sent me over here to get my car tuned up, actually. She said Billy’s a skilled and trustworthy mechanic, that he won’t bullshit me.”
“Did she really?”
“Yeah, why? Is he… Is he not a good mechanic?”
The werewolf focuses hard on controlling his instincts, close to outright preening when his boss snorts at the question. Jerry’s tone verges on defensive, “He’s one of the best and most dedicated employees I’ve got. For only being twenty-one that kid is damn good at what he does. And if Max sent ya then I won’t get in the way of– oh, I see that smile. You know exactly what kinda devil that girl can be, that’s why you were curious. I’ll get him for ya, he should be free this afternoon.”
There’s a brief pause. He can hear the stranger’s heartbeat rabbiting nervously against his ribcage. Then Jerry shouts:
“Hey Billy!”
“Yeah, boss?” Billy calls back, trying not to cringe at his own volume.
“Got a customer for ya! Max sent him over!”
Billy jogs out of the garage and nearly slams into Jerry and the customer. Apparently the melodious tenor and speedy heartbeat belong to a tall, pale young man whose absolutely devastating brown eyes match his flowing brunette locks. Billy blinks in shocked confusion when the man in front of Jerry floods his highly perceptive nostrils with the scents of surprise and, most bafflingly, attraction. The mechanic’s hand shoots out automatically, the Wolf just as hungry for contact, “Hi, I’m Billy Hargrove.”
The man shakes it firmly, their calloused palms sliding together for one white-hot moment. “I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington. Steve Harrington.”
“Harrington? Sounds familiar,” Jerry’s forehead wrinkles thoughtfully. “Does your old man own the–”
“Yeah, probably, he owned a lot of stuff. You know, before he and my Mom...”
Jerry nods solemnly, "Right, forgot about that."
Billy’s instantaneous urge to roll his eyes at the problems of some pretty, rich idiot gets violently elbowed aside by the tidal wave of sadness, hurt, and loneliness that rolls off Steve Harrington at the mention of his parents. Maybe he and Billy are more similar than the werewolf initially thought.
“So, what can I do for you?” Billy asks, pretending like he doesn’t already know. Jerry, perfectly aware that Billy can handle this appointment alone, heads back to his own station and tucks himself beneath Mrs. Wheeler’s minivan.
“I just need a tune-up, I think? Can’t say I know much about cars, but Max swore up and down that you wouldn’t rip me off, and I quote, ‘because I’m an idiot with nice eyes’.”
Well, she was right on both counts. You have lovely eyes and I won’t rip you off.
“It’s bad business to charge different rates to different people,” Billy frowns like it’s obvious (because it really should be). Steve smiles back and the sun goes dim over the taller man’s shoulder. The entire world narrows down to a singular point of light: the honest joy shining through Steve’s ever-shifting scent. It’s warm. Comforting. It makes the Wolf at Billy’s core want to howl in rapture.
“So do I just… give you the keys or?” Steve bites his full bottom lip between his teeth and both halves of Billy want to growl. Steve’s teeth are blunt and human, Billy’s would be so much better… Steve squirms in discomfort, “Sorry. Like I said, I don’t know much about cars.”
“No need to apologize, pretty boy,” Billy smirks. He and the Wolf are equally pleased by the light flush that steals across Steve’s face and the whiff of embarrassed satisfaction they catch in the breeze. “Do you have a ride home from the shop? I probably won’t be able to finish checking over the whole thing until early tomorrow afternoon.”
“I can walk just fine, my place isn’t that far.”
“You sure? Jerry won’t mind if you live close and want a lift back.”
“It’s really no big deal, Billy, but I appreciate the offer. It’s sweet of you.”
If he had a tail in human form, it would be wagging at the sound of his name in Steve’s soft pink mouth.
“Not many people would call me sweet,” Billy crosses his arms over his chest. His oil-stained coveralls are unzipped to the waist and tied around his hips by the sleeves, leaving his chest covered only by a dirty white t-shirt. Steve’s brown baby-deer eyes flicker down to the werewolf’s crossed arms and then widen. His teeth capture his lip again and arousal tinges the air. Billy clears his throat to save them both from embarrassment and Steve squeaks at an almost sub-audible level, his gaze returning instantly to the shorter boy’s face. “So, where’s the mystery machine?”
Steve giggles at a surprisingly nervous register and runs his hand through his floppy chestnut hair, releasing another burst of joy that gets Billy damn-near high. “It’s right over here.”
The interior of Steve Harrington’s cutesy maroon BMW smells absolutely fucking incredible. Billy is slightly overwhelmed by this fact the second he pokes his head inside to look around. His intention had been to simply check the tan leather upholstery for any damage or necessary detailing, but his capacity for intelligent thought flees his mind in the wake of Steve's mouthwatering scent.
Billy’s nostrils flare a bit when he inhales; he allows himself the chance to be greedy and noisy about it, too, since no one else is around to see the Wolf behaving so rudely. Steve has imprinted himself into the very fibers of the driver’s seat. The leather there carries notes of coffee, hairspray, cigarette smoke – its presence too light to be anything more than a rare stress habit – and the human’s natural smoky amber. Billy wants to roll around in the backseat like he's a prepubescent puppy again, too instinct-driven to know human norms from those of the Wolf.
He hears footsteps approaching and reins himself in, jotting a few notes down on his legal pad to clear his head and look productive.
"You done taking inventory of Richie Rich's wheels?" Eddie drawls, leaning against the BMW.
"Get offa this thing before I have to buff out more scratches than there already are, asswipe," Billy growls. Eddie sticks out his tongue but obeys, likely reacting unaware to the predatory threat in Billy’s voice. That particular side-effect of the bite has been useful.
“Steve likes me well enough, you can just point the finger if he gets mad.”
“You hang out with that guy on the regular?”
“I play Dungeons and Dragons with the kids he hangs out with on Friday nights. Why’re you so interested, Hargrove? You wanna join the campaign?”
“Not particularly interested, just curious,” Billy shoots his coworker a frown. “Anyway, why are you bothering me?”
“Oh, it’s closing time. Jerry told me to tell you to pack it up and get lost.”
“Let me just put this away and I’ll be out of here.”
“Anything you need me to pass along to Harrington? I’m headed to his place after this.”
“The car’ll be done before noon tomorrow, so he can pick it up then.”
“Alright. Later, man.”
“Later.”
Billy pretends the jealousy swirling in his gut doesn’t exist; there’s no reason for him to envy Eddie for getting to spend hours every Friday night wrapped up in a scent he doesn’t even notice. No reason at all.
“Hey Eddie,” Steve greets the DM as he sails through the front door. “How was work?”
“Howdy,” Eddie waves. He glances around the otherwise empty kitchen. “It was work, you know? The new guy is doing a great job with your car, by the way. Says it should be done by noon tomorrow.”
“Thanks for letting me know, I appreciate that Billy works so fast.”
“He’s a good guy. How are you doing, though, man? How’s Robin?”
“She loves college, but what else would you expect from someone who considers arguing a sport?”
“More like an art form,” Eddie chuckles. “She could have argued Mr. Carter under the table and dug him a grave while she was at it, man. English class with her was wild. Are the nerds already herded?”
“I think Dustin might be vibrating with excitement at this point, dude. You should definitely go put those dweebs out of their misery.”
“Noted,” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. “Nice seeing you, Steve. Catch up after?”
“For sure.”
Eddie’s descent into the basement is met with mixed cries of joy and dismay – some characters are more likely to die in this campaign than others, so he’s been told (several times over by several different Party members). Steve pulls the phone off the cradle to order pizza and spares a passing glance at the large hanging calendar he keeps above the sink.
There are six more days until the full moon.